#Work of Ivory m. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chrollogy · 4 months ago

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SUNSET DREAMS ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

kageyama tobio x afab!reader

╰┈➤ part of house of solis occasum’s summer fic exchange for @mcdonaldsnumberone !

synopsis: The tall, raven-haired surf instructor catches your attention during a private surfing lesson with your friends but due to circumstances, there was no space for small talk. Later that afternoon, you cross paths once again at a beach club—a sign from the universe to grab the opportunity, and get to know him better. This quickly leads to a turn of events where you both end up naked in bed, and eager to explore each other’s bodies but there’s just one thing though, he’s a virgin.

content warning: beach au, surf instructor!/surfer!kageyama, poor depiction of surfing, bartender!hinata cameo, alcohol use, awkward flirting, i am making kags PATHETIC, summer fling/beach romance, nsfw, smut (mdni), virgin!kageyama, bottom!kageyama, top!reader, virginity loss (m), porn without plot, handjob, cum eating, unprotected s*x, creampie, multiple orgasms (m), not beta read.

word count: 6.3k

notes: eeeeep it’s my first time writing for mr tobio but i absolutely had fun !! i hope you enjoy mac :3 divider: cafekitsune.

The scorching sun amongst the cerulean skies kissed your warm skin, the scent of salt, and sea lingered in the air as a summer breeze blew by; sounds of heavy waves from the crystalline water, and distant chatters from avid beach goers filled your senses. It was hot, and humid with no ivory clouds in sight—the perfect formula for a quick summer getaway. The beach buzzed with liveliness; colourful hues of towels, and essentials laid upon the white sand, kids with plastic buckets, and shovels eagerly building sand castles, surfers chasing the endless azure waves beneath the blazing sun.

Just the sight of swells had your heart thumping with adrenaline rush, a vivid imagery of yourself attempting to ride the waves formulated in your mind. You’ve never tried surfing before but today was the perfect time to do so—a completely out of the blue suggestion by one of your friends, not that you were complaining. It was always nice to try new things, anyway.

“How do I look? Did I put on too much sunscreen?”

A saccharine voice to your left reeled you back to reality; looking over at the owner of the voice, an emerald gaze stared right back, her eyes sparkling beneath the searing rays of the sun. Scanning your friend’s face for any white cast from the sunscreen, you shook your head, and smiled, “You look fine, Alisa.” Taking your word for it, she mirrored your smile before placing her sunnies over her eyes. You, and three friends were clad in a rental jet black skin tight wetsuit provided by the surf school, preparing for today’s private beginner lesson.

You weren’t going to lie, the thought of braving the waves made your heart pound from nervousness, and excitement but seeing as you were going to experience this foreign activity with your friends—who also haven’t tried it before—it put you at ease; you just hoped the instructor was could somewhat save you if you happen to fall off the surfboard, and onto the warm waters beneath.

Speaking of the instructor, Hitoka spoke up, a subtle devious smile on her face as she worked her hands on her flaxen strands, deftly tying it up in a low ponytail, “I bet our instructor is hot.” This earned silent chuckles from the rest of you, shaking your heads at the blonde who just shrugged in response. “Laugh at me all you want now but if I’m right, you owe me a free drink at the beach club later.”

Playfully rolling your eyes at her newfound determination, you waved a dismissive hand at your friend, mirroring her smile,

“Sure, whatever helps you—”

“I’m so sorry for the wait, everyone! I’ll be your surfing instructor for today.” A dulcet voice cut your sentence short, it belonged to a tall man clad in a wetsuit—he looked to be around your age. Blinking twice up at him, your eyes raked his physique up, and down before taking in his handsome beauty—cropped raven hair that framed his face, and the sharp gaze of his dark blue eyes were the cherry on top; a blend of an innocent yet sultry appeal. He emanated a subtle intimidating aura, especially paired with his looming height but his voice was as soft as the first rays of the early morning, something you could get used to hearing everyday.

You were already considering buying Hitoka that free drink because god was he fucking hot—the skin tight surf suit did not leave much to one’s imagination with the way it hugged his lean build; dips, and curves of his muscles accentuated by the waterproof fabric. It was beyond shameless to ogle your instructor because you’ve completely missed his name, instead, your eyes were focused on the way his muscular legs shifted as he leaned his weight from one bare foot to another.

Next thing you knew, his sharp gaze was on you, an expectant look on his handsome face. Snapping out of your trance, you hesitantly looked to the side—at your friends—clearly unaware of what was going on, ‘Your name. He’s asking for your name.’ Kiyoko mouthed. Letting out a sound of realisation, you smiled up at the instructor, and introduced yourself, ignoring the sudden warmth that crept up the column of your neck, and to your cheeks.

After brief introductions were out of the way, the five of you headed down to the beach—surfboards securely tucked beneath an arm—to start off today’s lesson. Hitoka fell into a step next to you, hissing at the white scorching sand beneath her bare feet, angling your face over to her, you spoke up, “Hey, what was our instructor’s name again? I didn’t catch it earlier.” She looked at you, that devious smile back in its place, brows furrowed, free hand shielding her sweaty face from the blinding sun, “Why? Too busy ogling his hotness?”

Yes. But you weren’t going to tell her that—god, no, she’d never live it down because she was right.

You mustered your best uninterested expression, however, the corners of your lips were itching to curl upwards at her blatant teasing, clearly hitting the nail on the head. Hitoka briefly returned the same deadpan expression, narrowing her chestnut eyes at you before letting out a sigh of defeat, “Kageyama Tobio. Full name, even.” She snickered before going on to complain about the hot sand, and the equally hot summer weather.

“Kageyama Tobio.” You muttered underneath your breath, satisfied at how it easily rolled off your tongue—little did you know, you were going to be moaning it out like a shameless common whore hours later, as though it was made for your tongue only.

As the group neared the deserted azure waters, the scent of salt grew stronger; the sound of small waves crashing on the shoreline filled your ears as you came to a halt just a few ways from the water. Kageyama started the lesson by skilfully explaining the safety guidelines, surfing etiquette, and basic techniques; you tried your best to listen in on the briefing since this was a crucial part of the lesson but his dulcet voice slowly faded along with distant noises from the background as you stared up at his face.

Your eyes gently traced over every dip, and curve of Kageyama’s features, lips parted in slight awe, completely lost in his serene beauty as the late morning sun casted a warm glow upon his skin. This has never happened before—sure, you’ve stumbled upon other jaw-dropping faces in the past that had your heart skipping a beat or two but this was different, you were shamelessly drawn to him; as though you were a moon affected by gravitational attraction, falling into an orbit around a planet named Kageyama Tobio. Though, you mostly chalked up your absentmindedness to nerves taking root deep beneath your skin, as each minute grew closer to hitting the swells of the vast ocean.

After getting thoroughly briefed through safety measures, and basic techniques—such as paddling, popping up, and maintaining balance—the next part of the lesson was getting into the water. Despite your heart pounding with nervousness, paddling wasn’t too bad, the coolness of the wavy waters calmed your nerves a tad bit—a daring contrast from the scorching sun directly above your head.

Fortunately for you, Kageyama was amazing at his job—even though the group practised on shallow waters with small waves, getting the hang of popping up, and maintaining balance on the board was tricky, and he was there to ensure an easy experience for you. The feeling of Kageyama’s firm grip around the back of your thigh had your heart hammering as he supported your weight, gently guiding you to stand up on the board,

“Good! You’re a natural. Remember to keep your knees bent—that’s it.” His praise went straight to your legs, knees slightly buckling; it absolutely caught you off guard, almost losing balance but luckily, you didn’t let up, and tried your best to navigate through the small wave.

The lesson carried on for another hour—it went smoothly despite unceremoniously falling into the water a couple of times with your friends but this earned you several words of encouragement from your instructor which definitely did not have you pressing your legs together; god, you just hoped Kageyama didn’t notice with the amount of times you’ve done it throughout the span of the lesson—you’d rather willingly drink the salty sea water instead.

It was already late afternoon, and the summer sun was beginning to set; blue skies turned into hues of cotton candy pink, and pastel orange which casted a vibrant warm glow over the beach, as though it was a scene from a movie. The group leisurely walked along the stretch of the beach, heading for the beach club mentioned earlier. The three indulged themselves in a mellow conversation, raving about their newfound surfing skills, your mind, on the other hand, wandered elsewhere.

Gaze locked on the warm sand beneath as moments from the lesson vividly replayed in your head; you could still feel the warmth of Kageyama’s palm against your clothed skin, the way his fingers ever so slightly dug into your body whenever you wobbled a little.

As if the universe somewhat knew the truth of your mind, Hitoka exclaimed, “Hey! Isn’t that our instructor from earlier?” At the mention of him, your head shot up, eyes following the direction of her pointed finger; as your gaze shifted all the way to the sparkling waters, you recognized Kageyama’s familiar physique.

There he was in his own world, propped up on his surfboard, deftly riding the afternoon waves. As expected from a pro surfer, Kageyama’s body moved with such accuracy, and intricateness as though he was the one controlling the water—clad only in black board shorts, he looked absolutely divine beneath the sunset skies, the golden glow of the sun bouncing off his bare torso.

“He was a little too intense for me, if I’m being honest.” Alisa momentarily stared at him before shifting her gaze. “Really? He seemed fine to me. Just a little stiff.” Kiyoko responded, brows subtly furrowed as though she was in deep thought; this earned a hum of agreement from Hitoka before rambling on about how intense Kageyama’s gaze was.

Hm, you must be the odd one out because in your eyes, his personality was warm, albeit, a little awkward, and blunt but despite that, it was manageable—hell, you even enjoyed his praises no matter how flat or awkward his tone was.

The conversation carried over to the beach club located along a tranquil coastline; greeted with a mix of elegance, and topical accents, you scanned the place in awe—wooden cabanas draped with ivory curtains, and outdoor sunbeds lined the white sands which overlooked the still, azure waters. Apart from the ocean itself, the pool was also an option to swim in, offering a mini bar that you had your eyes set on.

Kiyoko, and Alisa decided to explore other amenities of the club whereas Hitoka opted to lounge at a sunbed, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sun setting behind the horizon, and as for you, your feet were already taking you to the mini bar situated by the pool. After that lengthy, exhausting lesson, all you needed right now was a little alcohol to wash down thoughts about a certain surfer that plagued your mind.

Tropical beats spilled from the speakers, creating a lively atmosphere for its patrons to enjoy; luckily, the poolside wasn’t too congested, and you were able to secure a vacant stool. Opting for the farthest corner in the outdoor bar, your eyes thoroughly scanned the miniature, azure pamphlet on the counter which contained a curated list of cocktails, and other beverages to indulge oneself in.

“If you’re having trouble choosing a drink, I highly suggest our signature cocktail ‘Sunset Dreams’! I can turn it into a mocktail if you’re not interested in alcohol.”

Looking up from the menu, and at the owner of the buoyant voice from behind the counter, you were greeted with a radiant smile that reached his eyes as though he was the epitome of sunshine; his spiky, orange hair that mirrored hues of the sky were not easy to miss, standing out against the neutral colours of his clothes—a beige linen button up shirt that had a few buttons loose, paired with ivory shorts.

The man held a metallic cocktail shaker, vigorously shaking it above his shoulder with both hands a few times before pouring its contents into a chilled highball glass, and sliding it over to a customer just a few seats down.

“So! What would it be for you?” He tapped the counter, returning in front of you before slightly leaning forward; he had an expectant look in his doe, chestnut brown eyes—a look which one, including yourself, couldn’t help but adore. You caught a glimpse of a small, golden nametag glimmering against the beige of his shirt—bold, ivory letters read ‘SHOYO’.

You contemplated his suggestion for a moment, “Okay. I think I’ll try the signature cocktail.” This earned a gleeful expression from the bartender, eagerly nodding at your choice of drink, “Good, good! You’re gonna love it! I’m Shoyo, your bartender for the night. If you need anything, just call out my name, and I’ll be there!” He pointed a finger at his name tag before working on the signature cocktail.

Smiling to yourself, you felt at ease being serviced by such a lively individual; Shoyo cheerfully greeted, and bid customers goodbye every now, and then—you subtly watched him do his job though he was part of a live entertainment.

A few minutes later, Shoyo sets a pretty, gradient cocktail before you, “One Sunset Dreams for you. Enjoy! Call me over if there’s anything you need!” Giving the bartender a warm thanks, you admired the beverage, it imitated colours of the sunset—a vibrant hue of red sitting on the base which gradually faded into a light cotton candy pink topped with two cherries on a swizzle stick, and a straw.

You didn’t hesitate to pull your phone out, and quickly snap a few photos to send to the group chat, instantly earning a thread of replies from Hitoka gushing about how amazing it looked. Before you could properly take a sip of your cocktail, Shoyo’s radiant voice filled your ears as he greeted an oncoming customer,

“Heeey, Kageyama! I haven’t seen you all week!”

At the mention of the surfer’s name, your ears unabashedly perk up. Sure, there were probably thousands—if not hundreds—of other Kageyamas out there but you only knew one person with that name, and he happened to be standing just two seats away from where you sat. His raven strands were damp, glistening beneath the golden sunset rays; he donned a plain white tee, and blue boardshorts which had no business making your heart pound like crazy.

The chances of meeting Kageyama here weren’t exactly slim given his job but you didn’t entirely expect to meet him here, let alone make friends with the beach club’s lively bartender—you didn’t make him out to be a person to regularly attend places like this.

As if he sensed your curious gaze, Kageyama looked to the side, navy blue eyes meeting your own. You waved—you fucking waved at him like he was an old friend who was here to meet with you; embarrassment gnawed at your skin, warmth creeping up from the sides neck of your neck, and onto your cheeks, resembling small, sharp kisses.

To your surprise, Kageyama dipped his chin in return before sauntering over to the vacant seat beside yours. “You two know each other?” Shoyo mused, brown eyes shifting between you, and Kageyama. The latter bluntly shook his head before pointing a thumb at you, “Had them for a beginner’s class earlier today.” You nodded at Kageyama’s reply.

“Also, just the usual mocktail for me.” The taller male added, taking a seat next to you, completely catching you off guard—you didn’t expect him to actually sit next to you but hey, maybe this was the universe’s sign to get to know the man better; how? You were about to find out for yourself. Shoyo returned a bright response, saluting at his friend before getting to work.

Despite the lively atmosphere of the poolside with distant chatters, and soft beats playing on the speakers, the air between you, and Kageyama turned awkward pretty quickly. Talk to him. Talk to him. Talk to him, your mind screamed but all you could do at the moment was take a long sip of your cocktail—maybe getting a bit of liquid courage would help you in this dire situation, after all, as they said, a little goes a long way.

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you spoke up, “So . . What made you interested in surfing?” Good. This was a good conversation starter; you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for quickly coming up with a question before the atmosphere got too silent, and uncomfortable to talk in. Kageyama met your eyes, cool gaze bringing an icy shiver down your spine; his dulcet voice engulfed your ears as he explained about his love for the sport.

Surprisingly, he had a whole lot to say about surfing—not that you were complaining, you listened to every word that slipped past his lips. You keenly watched how his relaxed expression gradually turned into something more passionate the more he talked about his job—eyes gleaming with pure enthusiasm, and the corners of his lips subtly curling upwards, it was adorable.

“Sorry. Did I bore you? I kind of went on a tangent there.” Kageyama sheepishly scratched his nape. “No, not at all! It was interesting to hear about it, really . . I think you’re really cute.”

Oh god.

Oh my fucking god. That wasn’t supposed to slip out.

Now would be a really good time for the ground to swallow you whole. Though, the only thing swallowing you whole was embarrassment, and to make matters worse, Kageyama wordlessly blinked at you with the most blank expression known to man—you were unsure whether it didn’t phase him at all or he just decided to ignore your blatant flirting altogether. Whatever the reason was, you were better off not knowing.

You could practically see the gears turning in his head as soon as the sentence slipped out. Though, in Kageyama’s defence, he didn’t know whether you were flirting with him or plainly just complimenting him—sure, he also found you cute but would it be weird if he said it back, and you just meant yours as a compliment, nothing more?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Kageyama was overthinking this whole conversation a little too much, he needed to give a response before it becomes unbearably awkward—

“Oh—um, thanks . . I think you’re cute too.” He practically mumbled the last part of his sentence but whatever, he wasn’t going to repeat it again, not when his cheeks turned awfully warm, and his heart skipped a beat or two. Kageyama tried his best to break eye contact but god he just couldn’t; he found your eyes beautiful, the way they shone beneath the warm glow of the sunset.

Maybe you were just being extremely delusional but did you hear Kageyama’s words correctly? He thinks you’re cute as well? Nonetheless, it gave you a boost of confidence, an invitation to shoot your shot, and see wherever it takes you. The raven-haired man subtly squirmed in his seat, deep blue eyes boring into your own; a small blanket of pink coating his cheeks

Was it just him or it felt really, really hot today? Even though the sun had dipped into the horizon, Kageyama felt like he was right beneath its scorching rays—all of a sudden his body felt uncomfortably hot, he felt sharp prickles kissing down his neck, and onto his chest. Kageyama had never felt this hot, and bothered under someone’s presence before—not to mention the growing sensation deep in his core. He felt pathetic, really, being all turned on from just a little flirting; if your words affected him this much, Kageyama wondered how he’d act underneath your touch.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Not the appropriate thought to think about right now.

He mentally cursed his mind for wandering to such impure thoughts rather too quickly because clearly it did nothing but further fuel the shameful feeling growing inside him—carnal desire. Oh, this was absolutely embarrassing on his end, it hasn’t even been at least ten minutes in your presence, and yet he’s getting needier by the minute.

Earlier, Kageyama was lucky enough that he was engrossed in the lesson, and therefore wasn’t too distracted by your presence—all he got was a pounding heart whenever he held your clothed body but that was just about it. Plus, Kageyama wasn’t one to muck around during his job since the safety of the class depended on him, he couldn’t afford some petty distraction, even if it meant pushing down his innocent feelings.

Though, Kageyama wondered if the feelings he had right now could be even called innocent.

As the raven-haired male squirmed in his seat once again, you caught a glimpse of the growing hardness between his thighs, the thin fabric of his shorts did so little to hide the tent at the apex of his legs—you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit to squeezing your legs at the sight.

It was barely above a whisper but Kageyama heard it just fine, a faint ‘I can help you with that.’

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but truthfully, you haven’t even finished your glass of cocktail, and it wasn’t even enough to get you tipsy—the next thing you knew, your thoughts swiftly flew out of your mouth before being able to stop yourself.

He gulped, nails digging into his palms at the erotic sight he just envisioned in his mind. Oh, god. Was this really happening right now? Did you just offer to help him with his growing erection? Kageyama’s throat felt dry. Where the fuck was Hinata with the drink he ordered? Why was he taking so long to make it? The whole situation felt surreal—a wet dream—too good to be true; he felt dizzy, and it didn’t stop there when he responded equally quietly.

If Kageyama was being honest, he didn’t hear his own words over the buzzing of his ear, and the thumping of his heart—all he knew was that it must’ve been a damn good response with your eyes widening, and lips curling up into a seductive smile, one that had his cock throbbing beneath his shorts.

It was all a daze from there, the rush of pure desire coursing through his veins, the spinning of his head; Kageyama vaguely remembered Hinata calling out to the both of you, assuming his mocktail was ready for him but he didn’t bat an eye, a mere beverage would simply do nothing to satiate the thirst he harboured—Kageyama needed you, only you could quench this growing ache between his legs.

Kageyama’s feet felt light against the pavement beneath, his flip flops scraping against it with every uncomfortable step taken. Hues of the fading sunset engulfed his mind, pretty pinks, and oranges slowly turned deep blue as you walked back to your accommodation—it was only a five-minute walk but god it felt like an eternity.

Your lips were on his as soon as the door to your room slammed shut, you swore the walls shook from impact but whatever, it was none of your concern. Kageyama’s lean arms caged you as your back hit the soft mattress beneath, fingers digging into the sheets at the dizzying kiss; no one has kissed him with this much drive, and passion before, the way your soft lips eagerly moved against his own, guiding him with each searing kiss.

Soft moans, and grunts slipped from Kageyama’s throat in between kisses, the sheer intensity from it was enough to make him cum untouched right then, and there; he could practically feel his body vibrating with lust—fuck, he couldn’t even think properly with the way your hands caressed his body up, and down, up, and down before sliding them under his ivory shirt, and gently clawing at his bare skin.

Heaven. Absolute heaven.

Kageyama moaned into your mouth at the feeling of your nails scraping his sensitive skin, trails of goosebumps forming beneath your sinful touch. And as he opened his eyes to meet your gaze, tears quickly pooled around them—from what? Kageyama didn’t know. Maybe it was from sexual frustration, maybe it was from the heavenly feeling of your nails, or maybe it was how each blissful emotion hit him like a truck, and took the air out of his lungs.

Momentarily pulling away from the kiss, Kageyama breathed out a string of incoherent words, a look of uncertainty crossing his crimson-painted face. “What—what was that?” You let out soft pants, dropping your head on the pillow beneath as you cupped his warm cheeks,

“I’m—I haven’t done this before . . I’m a virgin.”

You blinked up at him.

There was a slight pause—a heartbeat—as Kageyama’s confession lingered in the thick, warm air of the room; sweat already lined his forehead, raven strands sticking to his skin. “I’m sorry—Are you turned off?” He quickly peeled himself from your body, a rush of faint coolness momentarily engulfing you from his lack of presence. Kageyama sat on his knees, a bashful look painted on his face.

Quickly sitting up to cup his face, you shook your head, “No, no! Not at all . . Did you want us to stop? I don’t mind at all.” Now, it was Kageyama’s turn to vigorously shake his head, “No. I—I want to do it with you.” He breathed out, eyes glazed with pure lust.

You clenched your cunt at his words—just the thought of taking someone’s virginity, let alone Kageyama’s it felt like a whole lot of expectation had been placed on your shoulders but you weren’t backing down now, not at all, you were going to give him the most earth-shattering first time with how much trust he gave you.

“Take off your clothes, and lie on the bed.” As though time was of the essence, Kageyama hastily stripped his top off, shamelessly flinging it somewhere in the room. Your eyes keenly watched as his thumbs dipped beneath the waistband of his raven shorts, slowly dragging it down the length of his long legs ‘til it pooled around his ankles.

Kageyama wordlessly looked up at you, the fabric of his underwear still on him, cock painfully straining against it with a noticeable wet spot. “All of your clothes.” You added. The male’s cheeks warmed before shyly slipping it off, hard cock bouncing against the tufts of raven hair on his stomach, it shamelessly leaked of pre-cum, beads of pearlescent liquid sat prettily on his red tip.

“Good. Now, on the bed.” An icy shiver ran up his spine at the purr of your voice, velvety, and low as you pat the empty space next to you. As Kageyama situated himself on the bed, his bare back flush against the wooden headboard, he watched as you stood at the foot of the bed, hands slowly coming up to strip yourself.

What a tease.

Kageyama watched with eager eyes as each article of clothing slipped off your skin, Adam’s apple bobbing with each noticeable gulp—fuck, you looked divine; his hands ached to pleasure himself, fuck his cock on his fist as he watched you deftly unclasp your bra. Cursing beneath his breath, his gaze traced over your naked chest, eyes circling over your pert nipples, and down the valley of it. He was practically drooling at this point, rosy lips parted in complete awe at your raw beauty.

Oh, how he wanted to touch you so bad, roam his large hands all over your body, and squeeze, and rub at parts he’s never held before. Kageyama’s mind went absolutely wild, he wondered what your moans would sound like under his touch; would you enjoy his fingers on your sensitive clit? Moan his name out into oblivion? Cum on his hand?

You crawled up the mattress, situating yourself between his parted legs, just before his hard cock. Kageyama waited for your next move with a bated breath, toned chest heaving up, and down with anticipation, his hands gripping the ivory sheets beneath.

Deep, blue eyes widened as you curled over yourself, coming face to face with his dick; oh, you just knew that length would absolutely do wonders inside you. Kageyama bit his lip, stiffening underneath your touch as you circled a hand around his cock, languidly dragging it up to his tip to spread pre-cum down his shaft. Kageyama melted like putty at the first stroke, his head unceremoniously resting on the wall behind as pleasure consumed his body at the speed of lightning— he could already feel the building pressure in the pit of his stomach.

“Ah!—Fuck. T-that feels so, so good.” Kageyama moaned to the ceiling, his voice was airy, and light, a clear sign of pure bliss completely taking over his sanity. He’s never been touched by anyone before so this was a foreign experience for him; it felt different from when he pleasured himself with his own hands—your touch drove Kageyama to madness, and he was absolutely addicted to it.

Satisfied with his reaction, you picked up the pace, and brought another hand down to gently massage his balls which earned a loud whine of your name. Oh, fuck. Kageyama was floating on cloud nine, and this was only pleasure from your hands, what more if it was your wet cunt? Would he even last sheathed deep in your velvety walls? He doubted it.

As the pace picked up, Kageyama’s moans also grew in volume, his stomach clenched, and unclenched at the sheer pleasure that consumed his whole body, all because of your hands. “Fuck! Fuck! Fu—I’m cumming!” The raven-haired male let out a wanton moan, eyes closed shut, knuckles white, and muscles taut as the knot inside his stomach finally snapped. Pure bliss rocked through Kageyama’s body like never before, as though he was engulfed in a million pleasurable kisses.

White, hot ribbons of cum shamelessly spurted from his cock which coated your fingers, and wrist. Kageyama slumped against the headboard, all fucked out, and covered by a light sheen of sweat; his lips were parted as he desperately chased oxygen,

“Want you—I need you. Please . .” Kageyama panted, his lustful gaze locked onto your own; even though he just orgasmed, his cock was still rock hard. How needy. His breath hitched at the lewd sight before him as you languidly licked a long stripe up your wrist, gathering his cum on the tip of your tongue, and eagerly swallowing his essence down. It was like Kageyama’s brain short circuited—he’s only ever seen this sight on his laptop screen during sleepless nights, never did he think he’d see his own cum licked, and swallowed from one’s hand.

Was it possible to faint from such a sinful sight?

Sitting up, you inched closer to Kageyama’s lap, thighs on either side of his slim waist, and clothed cunt hovering his cockhead. With keen eyes, the raven-haired watched as you deftly pushed your panties aside, catching a glimpse of your glistening cunt. He licked his lips as though he was a predator silently stalking his prey, waiting to pounce. Kageyama wondered what you’d taste like on his tongue, your sweet slick smeared all over his mouth, and chin—he could only fantasise.

The violent thrumming of his heart filled his ears as he watched you shift your weight over his lap; this was really happening—Kageyama was about to lose his virginity. He felt a rush of every single emotion from A to Z, all things good but mixed with a bit of nervousness; what if he couldn’t satisfy you enough? What if he accidentally cummed way too soon? What if—

“Ohhhhh—fuck! Ngh—ah!” Kageyama violently threw his head back against the wall, fists gripping the sheets below as you slowly inched down his red tip. Oh god. Oh god. You hugged him so, so tightly, your cunt felt hot, and wet around him but in a good kind of way; he let out short breaths, his chest quickly heaving up, and down as he tried his best to ground himself. It was like his sanity snapped in a split second as soon as you made raw contact with his dick—this feeling was beyond cloud nine, as though he was one with the cosmos.

You bit your lip at his pornographic sounds, letting out low whimpers as Kageyama’s cock desperately twitched inside you. With your hands gripping his bare shoulders, you slowly inched down his cock, grounding yourself as the head kissed intimate parts of you that no one has ever reached. A unison of heavy pants filled the thick air after bottoming out; you momentarily stilled, giving yourself ample time to get used to Kageyama’s length because fuck it drove you absolutely insane.

“P-please move. Need more, please . .” He whined, desperately moving his hips beneath your weight, causing his tip to momentarily brush against your g-spot ever so slightly. Moaning at the contact, a string of colourful curses slipped past your lips, toes curling at the sudden wave of pleasure.

Without wasting any more time, you lifted your hips all the way up to his tip before slamming back down, earning muttered curses of your name from Kageyama. His hands immediately flew to your hips as a way to ground himself, as though holding onto anything else would immediately deprive him of this heavenly bliss.

Soft, wet squelches bounced off the walls with every languid roll of your hips, Kageyama couldn’t peel his eyes away from where to two of you connected—it was wet, and slippery, glistening from all your arousal; everything felt so sinful that it made his head spin, not the mention the bounce of your breasts with each movement of your hips. Every moan that slipped past your lips went straight to Kageyama’s cock, he was the one making you moan this loud, not to mention the look on your face—hooded eyes, and lips parted to chant his name every now, and then; pride blossomed in his chest.

Shared pleasure ate away at your bodies like a rabid animal, gnawing at your skin with nothing to stop it ‘til it reached your bones—it was immense, a toe-curling sensation with every relentless bounce of your hips; the way Kageyama’s cock repeatedly kissed your g-spot, the way your velvety walls sinfully wrapped around him like it was meant to be. Your thighs burned with exhaustion, a mix of pain, and pleasure completely taking over your body but you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to, not when Kageyama felt this amazing inside you.

You could tell the raven-haired was getting more, and more greedy for pleasure from how his nails painfully dug into your sweaty skin, the subtle upward thrust of his hips to meet your own, taking him even deeper into your wet heat. Heavy balls slapping onto your ass fuelled your desire further, the slight burn of it had you clenching around him.

“Ah!—Kageyama! Ohhhh fuck! You’re so deep . .” He closed his eyes at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, voice as sweet as honey. Kageyama wondered if he could be a little more greedy, “Tobio—ngh! Call me Tobio.” He panted. It took all of his sanity to string the short sentence together, Kageyama couldn’t even hear himself over the loud skin slapping mixed with your endless whines.

Vigorously nodding, you moaned his name, “Tobio! Mhm—You gonna cum for me? Yeah?” It was Kageyama’s turn to nod at your gasped words, eyes momentarily screwing shut at its effect on him.

He wasn’t going to last any longer after just cumming his brains out from your hands a few minutes ago. “Oh, god!—Can I cum inside you? Please? Fuck, I want to stuff you full of my cum—ngh!” Words spilled from Kageyama’s mouth, blabbering out any coherent thought that came to mind. Truthfully, he’s always fantasised cumming inside someone, the feeling of emptying his balls, and shooting his thick load while sheathed deep inside was probably his biggest dirty secret—and he just shamelessly bared it to you.

“Yes—ah! Stuff me full of your cum, Tobio! Want your cum deep inside me, please.”

The desperation in your voice was all it took for Kageyama to snap, his fingers clawed at your hips as he painted your walls white, body stiffening under the immense pressure of pleasure. It didn’t help how your cunt gripped him like a vice, pulling him further, and further down the rabbit hole called bliss. You came with a loud moan of his name, curling over yourself, sweaty forehead resting on Kageyama’s bare chest as you desperately rode out your orgasms.

Both of you stayed still for a moment to catch your breaths, the sticky, uncomfortable feeling of warmth slowly engulfed your bodies as the high wore off. Kageyama didn’t even do much but he was absolutely spent, and drenched in sweat, he could only imagine your state, especially your thighs from all that bouncing.

“A-are you okay? That was—that was amazing . .” Dulcet voice sliced through the thick air, it earned a chuckle from you, you could only return a weak nod at his concern, your body too heavy to even move an inch. Kageyama’s soft breathing slowly pulled your to the borders of sleep but the summer heat against your skin was unbearable,

You mustered every strength to peel yourself off of him, “Shower with me?” Your lips wickedly curled upwards, hands gently caressing Kageyama’s bare chest. What a temptress.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel tired anymore. —

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

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eekism · 9 months ago

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mama!

: ̗̀➛ lucifer morningstar x dom! f! reader : ̗̀➛ warnings: overstim, sub! lucifer, dacryphilia, mean! fdom if you squint, mommy kink : ̗̀➛ notes: wooo first post lets get it

“fuck, please —” lucifer’s desperate. after countless orgasms, you had him teetering on the edge for what felt like an eternity now. “i—i have to cum, i have to —!!”

his eyes rolled back, jaw hanging open. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. the pleasure was mind-numbing, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

“aww, honey,” you cooed, delighting in the way he whimpered in response, “you can do it, i know you can! don’t run from it,” gentle hands continued to work around his cock, which was fiery red and impossibly hard.

more tears leaked out as ruby eyes squeezed shut, a hopeless attempt in grounding himself. he needed to calm down, needed to breathe. “mm!! puh—please, please mommy please!!” he didn’t even know what he was begging for. “hurts! ahhn — fuck, it hurts!”

showing mercy, you slowed your hand movements, squeezing his base gently. “you’re doing so good, baby. such a good boy for mama,” he cracked his eyes open, chest heaving under you. “that’s it sweetheart, catch your breath. ahh, you’re so good. my perfect angel.”

big, watery eyes looked up at you. “’m a good boy for you, mama,” he nodded, “please let me cum. i really wanna — wanna cum!” he bit his lip as your fingers trailed up to his sensitive tip.

smiling, you placed a sweet kiss on his shiny lips. “then cum for me, my baby. let yourself go,”

ivory thighs shook violently against you as he grew closer and closer. his hair became a disheveled mess under him as he thrashed around, simultaneously chasing and running away from the stimulation.

“oh, mommy! fuck, i—i’m gonna cum! i’m gonna cum! oh—” his breathing was sharp and quick, dark brows furrowed over hazy eyes, “—’m cumming! cumming!”

the pleasure was blinding. lucifer’s body was strung tight as a bow before he shot off, a scream ripping from his throat. you worked him through his orgasm, torturing his tip, using his cum as lubricant. the fallen angel continued to let loose broken moans, his head tossing back and forth against his pillow.

“f—fuh—” his feet slipped against the bed beneath you in an attempt to put some distance between you and his aching cock, “fuck! [name]!”

you smiled innocently. “what is it, my love?”

lucifer gasped harshly, teary eyes nearly crossing, “no more, please, no more — ‘s too much!! i can’t,” he arched his back, wiggling his hips away from you best he could, “i can’t cum anymore!”

you cooed as his claws frantically searched for purchase, finally settling on shredding the pillows by his head. “but baby, i thought you said you wanted to cum? hm?” you were unforgiving, squeezing harder and slower than before, “mommy’s just trying to help you cum and you’re being so ungrateful!”

he whimpered at your pout, hissing and groaning. “s—sorry mama, th—thank you for helping me cum,” lucifer managed in-between sniffles, voice broken. “i love you, thank you, th—thank you, mmn!” his voice cracked as another whine let loose from his raw throat.

your heart and stomach warmed at his sweet words. lucifer looked so beautiful underneath you, soft hair sprawled out, cheeks, neck, and ears the same shade as his damp ruby eyes; the very essence of venusian beauty. no matter how many times he’s come undone beneath you, it was always extraordinary, each time more wonderful than before.

“i love you too, my sweet boy,” he sniffled as you let go of his sensitive cock, smiling weakly as you planted a kiss on his sweaty forehead. “you’re so good for mama. you’re always so lovely.”

he closed his eyes, allowing himself to float and sink into the bed as you cleaned him up. “mmn. thank you,” his raspy voice was thick with exhaustion.

before you could get up to get up to put the soiled rag in the bathroom, you felt a warm hand pull you back gently. “hm? what is it, baby? does something hurt?”

he looked so fucked-out. “kiss?” lucifer asked softly, face still flushed. he’s always been so needy after your sessions. but of course, you indulge him.

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quokkacore · 2 months ago

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FRIGHT NIGHT [jeno & johnny] (m)

summary: your boyfriend has been acting weird. his new neighbor won't stop staring at you. you’ve started having dreams involving fangs and hands that aren’t your boyfriend’s. these three statements are unrelated. probably.

pairings: nerd!jeno x cheerleader!reader, vampire!johnny x human!reader

genre: horror, romance, based off of the 2011 version of fright night with a few things added in!

warnings: sexual content (minors DNI!), general violence, gore, explosions, wet dreams, misogyny, jaemin may or may not be an incel (i'm sorry king), evil aged up johnny (looks about late 30s-40s, is actually like 400 something), vampires, biting, blood, car sex, fingering, dubcon (i <3 the vampire mind control trope), breeding kink, dacryphilia, cucking kind of not really???, infidelity KIND OF NOT REALLY, blood kink, scent kink if you squint?, fear kink, cunnilingus, reader is a cheerleader but no specific body type is mentioned - though she’s described as being physically strong, connecticut

word count: unsure yet! maybe 15k? this current sneak peak below the cut is 518 words!

“Look,” Johnny grunted, eyes much less warm than they had been a second ago, “I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. If I can just come in I’m sure we can work—”

“No.” Jeno’s voice was harsh, but from behind him you could tell he was moments away from shitting his pants. The hand holding yours was trembling. “No, you won’t come in.”

“Okay, I won’t come in.” Johnny threw his hands up in the air, before grinning. “Y/N?”

The tension was so thick you could practically feel it in the air as you started to step out from behind Jeno. Your boyfriend quickly followed, continuing to cover his body with yours. “You don’t get to talk to my girlfriend. You need to leave. Now.”

“Very controlling boyfriend, aren’t you? I was talking to her. Y/N. Sweet thing.”

That tone. That voice. Sweet thing. You turned rigid as your body threw itself into contradiction. So many sensations seemingly antithetical to each other bashed around in your skull, your body responding in turn. Every single hair on your body stood upright, but a warmth pooled in your stomach and upper chest. Your throat felt dry, but you swallowed down the lump in your throat anyway. You felt flushed, feverish. Tears burned in your eyes.

“Y-yes?”

Jeno turned to look at you, but froze when realizing your expression. You appeared to be in shock, catatonic, even; his stomach sank as one word came to his mind. A trance.

In your mind, every single of the strange dreams you’d had flashed through your mind. The man whose face you could never see, but whose voice was now unmistakeable. The hands all over your body with unnaturally long nails. The touches and scratches that should have frightened you, but you welcomed. Burning, metallic-tasting kisses starting on your lips before trailing down, down, down. Pain, pleasure, married together in a maiming claim to your body, starting in the side of your neck before spreading throughout.

The same question the voice had asked you at the end of every single one of them, after he had taken you apart and promised you that you’d be together soon enough.

Would you let me in if I asked, sweet thing?

“Can I come in?”

A tear streaked down your cheek as you met Jeno’s eyes, shaking his head violently. You remembered the first two times you had denied him—tried your damnedest to conjure that version of yourself. Begged to god as Jeno’s chest heaved, watching your mouth move, no sound coming out.

But she no longer existed. Instead, stood the girl who had replied the third and final time.

“Yes.”

Johnny’s smile peeled back, dark eyes pooling into black. Two unnaturally sharp, ivory canines glittered in the light. He paused, before his hands grabbed the frame of the door.

A moment later, he crossed, without hesitation, across Jeno’s threshold. He scoffed as Jeno’s eyes widened in terror, and against your will, your body cried out for the older man.

“You said I won’t,” The taller man pointed out, “You never said I can’t.”

PART I: BIND - OUT OCTOBER 17TH

PART II: BREED - OUT OCTOBER 30TH

a/n: blame colin farrell and my relationship becoming long distance for my comeback. pls comment and/or reblog to be tagged when the first part is updated!

#nct x reader #nct smut #nct kinktober #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno smut #lee jeno angst #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #nct 127 au #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream scenarios

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trendywaifus · 2 months ago

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ok, but i just KNOW zhu would be just a whimpering mess after you’re between her thighs ravaging her with your tongue after a long day of work 😩😩

righttt!! like lemme spoil you!

one evening after a long day of work, zhu yuan walks through the door with knitted brows, soft frown on her lips, and a tired look present in her usual determined face. you knew right then and there that you had to take care of your wife after she worked so hard.

so here you are, buried between her legs, been doing nothing but eating her pretty pussy for the past hour. zhu yuan’s a quivering mess, producing all the most angelic whines and whimpers she can muster. your slimy tongue swipes down her sloppy folds, before swerving it in every direction and down her drippy slit. you hold onto the underside of her firm thighs while you make out with her puffy entrance,

slurrrp!

a strangled whine claws from zhu yuan’s throat, shaky hips lifting off the mattress to move away from your filthy mouth but you chase after her. “ stay still, big girl. i can’t give her some loving while you’re moving around. “ you mutter, spreading her folds with two fingers before running your tongue flat against her pussy. she grips the crumbled sheets so hard, her knuckles turn ivory white. one of many whines leaves her as you press hot kisses to her abused clit and sucked on it.

“ t’s too much, hnngh. .” she whimpers, retraining herself from closing her thighs around your head as a reflex and potentially hurting you. you hum, lapping up the juices leaking from her hole. “ you can take it, you always do, pumpkin. here, hold my hand. “

you offer her a hand, she’s hesitant to take it. “ a-are you sure? m-my reflexes. .”

“ i’m sure. your reflexes won’t stop me from comforting you. “ and she takes it, tentative fingers intertwining with yours firmly.

not even like five minutes later, she cums hard and gives your hand a bone crushing squeeze.

“ baby, baby—m-my hand! “

“a-ah, i’m so sorry! “

you were left with a broken hand but at least your wife was well taken care of, right?

#trendythirsts #zhu yuan x reader #zhu yuan smut #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz women x reader

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chwocolatte · 2 months ago

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♪ 𝓪 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂-𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓸𝓷𝔂 𝄞♭♪ . .

yūta okkotsu x reader ﾉ sfw — fluff ﾉ pianist mr. okkotsu eheh . . based off a sweet dream i had da night prior . . (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀི) ﾉ ‘angel’ used as a pet name tew refer tew reader ﾉ mentions of reader feeling down ‘n upset ﾉ perhaps dis littl ficlet cld b a mini source of comfort for urself when stormy clouds try tew rain on ur day . . ಇ

quite a small piece for m’ first work here on da blr . . ‘m vrrie nervous tew share m’ writing but .ᐟ fingers crossed ‘s well perceived .ᐟ 🥺

adoring pairs of eyes follow the way his slender digits dance along the piano's ivory keys, the melody a lilting tune that fills the air with its sweetness. the song is a favourite of yours, one he crafted especially for you, a gift born of his love and affection.

every note is imbued with tenderness, each chord struck with the utmost care. floating effortlessly into your eardrums, the sonorous sounds wrap around your heart, their warmth a familiar comfort. they are the threads that stitch the fraying edges of your soul, the patchwork a mosaic of colour and vibrancy.

final tones ring out, and the last echoes dissolve into silence, the hush that descends upon the room a blanket of quietude.

your lover turns to you, his visage illuminated by the soft glow of the lamplight— an angel sent down from the heavens above, his celestial grace a testament to his otherworldly beauty.

"did that soothe you, angel..?"

the question is one he poses often, the answer a given. still, he asks it anyway, his tone tinged with a hopeful lilt, his eyes searching your face for the slightest hint of displeasure.

you smile, a gentle upturn of the lips, and reach for his hand, your digits tangling with his. a squeeze is his response, and the answering pressure is a reassurance, a sign that yes, the performance was a welcome respite from the noise in your head.

“always..”

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tag-if · 1 year ago

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THE ADVISOR'S GAME ;

[DEMO]

You are an assassin, a professional, a contract killer. The pay is good, and your clientele are more than happy to keep your identity well under wraps. You take whatever work comes your way, and you don't ask questions.

Until.

An anonymous job offer. An envelope with cash, an image of your target with surprisingly crisp quality, and a non-descript note, left on the doorstep of your home.

'Kill the eldest royal for the other half of your pay.'

That's how you ended up here. Undercover in the royal palace. As the newly appointed royal advisor.

---

Are you a bloodthirsty killer, or do you kill out of pure necessity? Do you want to fish around for your mysterious employer, or do you want to live in blissful ignorance?

Make or break alliances, and maybe (reluctantly) fall for someone, as you navigate the intricacies of royal life, all while trying to figure out exactly why you were sent on such a risky job (and by who).

Do try not to get fired, and good luck. ★

"The Advisor's Game" is an 18+ (for mentions of death/violence, non-descript gore, etc.) mystery-romance, with 5 (subject to change) gender-selectable romance options, as well as cast of characters to befriend or antagonise.

[note; one RO will be gender-locked non-binary, however all ROs will be romanceable by any gender of MC]

NSFW TAG (to block, if wanted); a palace scandal

[more under the cut]

ROMANCE OPTIONS;

[AGES]

A. Bellefleur ; Aleron - Alize / the crown royal (your target) / m/f

The (supposedly) well-loved eldest child to the reigning monarchs, they appear in public regularly and often participate in council meetings— clearly someone takes issue with this...probably.

A. has lightly freckled ivory skin and grey-blue eyes, in similar fashion to their siblings. Their hair is a dark-ish auburn and messily cut to the top of their ears (fem A. has it similarly messy, however it falls to their chin in choppy waves)

[neutral to friends (to lovers) ; neutral to disliked ; neutral to respected] ★

K. Valiev ; Kostya - Katja / the head guard / m/f

An odd figure, unassuming, almost strangely approachable. They are quiet, and kind, and always smiling...so why do the older guards seem terrified of them?

K. is an olive skinned individual with a small scar running up over the right side of the jaw, and their eyes are dark brown. Their hair is a chestnut brown and is kept in tight curls, though they occasionally braid them (when they have time).

[friends to lovers ; neutral to friends (to lovers) ; friends/neutral to disliked] ★

A. Caras ; Altair - Arali / the royal physician / m/f

Their bedside manner leaves much to be desired, they are no nonsense to the point of being borderline rude, yet the whole palace sings their praise as though they are an angel (you don't see it, personally, but maybe you will eventually).

A. is an individual with vitiligo, leaving patches of their naturally sienna skin instead a pale ivory, as well as whitening some strands of their fringe. Their eyes are a bright green, and their honey blond curls are kept short (fem A. has longer curls, around chest length, that she keeps up in a ponytail for work).

[neutral to respected ; neutral to disliked ; neutral to friends (to lovers)] ★

T. Bellefleur ; Talbot - Tallis / the middle royal / m/f

The younger, but not youngest, sibling to the crown royal. They don't like you much (then again they don't like many people much), but you're not sure about that knowing glint in their eye when you interact— what do they see in you?

T. has heavily freckled beige skin and almost eerily pale blue eyes. Their hair is a fiery auburn and cut into a messy undercut (fem T. has shoulder length hair, covering an undercut at the back).

[enemies? to friends (to lovers) ; enemies? to respected] ★

M. Serrel ; Marin / your fellow assassin / nb

You had to do a double-take when you saw them, and so did they, it seemed someone wanted you two in the palace at the same time...but why?

Marin is a sienna skinned individual, with hazel eyes (on the greener side) and almost black-brown hair. Their hair just brushes their shoulders in length and falls in soft waves, though they quite often have it pulled into a half up bun/ponytail.

[rivals to friends (to lovers) ; friends (to lovers) ; friends to rivals ; friends to friends with benefits (to lovers)] ★

NOTE; for all romances MC must befriend the RO of their choice first, otherwise they won't consider anything beyond some light flirting. Additionally, in the case of A. Caras and T. Bellefleur, the romances will be slower burn (especially Caras).

#interactive fiction #twine game #twine if #twine wip #current wip #if game #masterpost #if intro #tag-if #the advisor's game

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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

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Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I. SACRILEGE

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II. CARNAGE

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge

♢ Ch. 17 || Our Old Friend Death (c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 18 || Il Diàvulu Biancu

♢ Ch. 19 || Empire of Lies

♢ Ch. 20 || The Fog of Silent Hills

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ Ch. 26 ||

♢ Ch. 27 ||

♢ Ch. 28 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0082 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastic @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19@justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @copinghex@alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @mischievouslittlecreature @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @red-riding-wood @lokigirlszendaya @jjovin3221 @06nasyrah13 @randomcreator-09

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sanjoongie · 5 months ago

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𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒅

🍄Pairing: Fae Prince! San x Mushroom Guard! Reader

🍄Au: royal au, fantasy au, fae au

🍄Trope: prince/guard, power dynamic

🍄Genre: smut

🍄Rating: 18+, MDNI

🍄Warnings: descriptors of reader because you are a mushroom fae, dom! reader, sub! san, fear play, begging, making out, rutting/wet humping, degradation, verbal instruction, penetrative sex with no barrier, psychedelic sex (san got high from fucking a mushroom girl), consent before said high sex, pussy-drunk san, oral (f), hair tugging (m)

🍄Word Count: 4,259

🍄Summary: you were created for one sole purpose: to guard the nephew of the Unseelie King. Choi San was arrogantly confident that you would keep him from Death's Door; for if he died, so ended your life as well. But what you did not expect from your Fae Princeling was that he was just as dedicated to your body as you were his.

🍄Author's Note: happy birthday to the man that never fails to make me smile. your hard work and dedication to your craft and to make others around you happy never ceases to amaze me. Here's to your large heart (and even bigger tits)

San entered the ballroom with all the impudence of an arrogant Fae Prince. Nephew to the current King of the Unseelie, San was one of the most important Fae in the room. But he was also very much in danger.

That’s how you came to be created. No allegiance could be sure, in the Fae realm, and even an oath binding could be wiggled out of with a few loophole words. So, life was breathed into you, as a mushroom. You were created in a woman’s image and your bond to San was that unlike any sworn servant. You see, your life was in San’s hand. You were created to be his loyal guard, and if he so happened to die, then your life would be taken from you as well.

The whispers ran through the crowd like a wave retreating from the coast. Your deep russet hair, with random white spots and dull ivory skin had not been seen before. The simple rush of being the attention flushed through your body.

“Where did you dig up this beauty, San?” A bored voice drawled.

San ducked his head in greeting to multiple people but smirked towards the one asking this particular question. “From the dark, musky part of the forest.”

You scratched the back of your neck and turned your head to hide your flush.

“Does she guard your body well?” Another asked.

Your sword whipped from its sheath by your side and wavered at the chest of the Fae who dared demand you did not complete your life's duty to the best of your ability.

San pushed your sword down with two fingers, chuckling. It drew your sword down the body of the male fae, who looked a little turned on by it, if you were being honest. “Careful now, Wooyoung, that sword is poisonous.”

“Is your uncle really that worried about you?”

San shrugged like he hadn't a care in the world.

A spring dryad walked with an extra sway in her hip to your charge. You intercepted her immediately. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was bid to entertain the prince,” The dryad responded, sending a gratuitous wink towards San.

You smiled but it was full of bitter recognition. “No one is allowed to come near the prince, dryad. Go find someone else to weakly hump.”

The dryad let out a loud ‘humph’, clearly insulted, and found a more receiving Fae Lady.

San leaned into you from behind to whisper into your ear. “Jealous?”

“No one is touching you,” You insisted, keeping your face blank.

San mingled during the ball but he did not ask for anyone’s hand to dance. He conversed and drank, spilling out anything that wasn’t approved by you. You ate and drank anything he consumed first, to make sure it wasn’t poisonous. You, of anyone, were the best at discovering if something was poisonous or not.

But soon, your Fae Prince tired of socializing and was ready to leave the ball. It was truly sad that he was unable to attend the final waltz of the evening. He danced so well. You shook your head. This was no time to get your head full of images of San.

The quiet roar of the crowd fell behind the both of you as you left the ball. San’s smart shoes clicked rhythmically against the wood floor polished with age and use. You kept your ears and eyes open for any threats that thought they could take advantage of the early morning hours.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many eyes more interested in someone other than myself,” San said.

You scoffed at his statement. “Oh, you had plenty of eyes on you, My Lord.”

San cocked his head curiously, turning on his heel to look at you. “Did you want to squish those offending eyes with your fingers, Red?”

Your hand tightened on the grip of your sword. “My Lord,” you growled in warning.

San smiled impishly, playing with the black opal bracelet on his wrist. “But it's so fun to tease you!”

You jerked your chin in the direction of San’s rooms. “Shall we get to where it’s safe first and you can tease me all you want?”

San sighed wearily. “Fine, have it your way.”

A tiny bit of stress left your shoulders the minute you closed the door to the suite of rooms that were due to the Unseelie Fae King’s nephew. San did not move to his bedchambers nor did he begin to disrobe, like you had hoped. He was looking to wriggle under your skin with his words like a worm in a rotting apple.

“I should have insisted you wear a more revealing dress,” San teased, his eyes alit with malicious merriment. “Perhaps that would have lured Yunho to caress that perk little bottom you were created with.”

“My Lord--”

“San, please, Red. We are in my rooms and you shall address me as I prefer. I am your lord, as you say.”

“San, your self destruction is almost an art.” You rolled your eyes.

“Is it self destruction to--”

You gracefully swung your sword from its sheath and had the tip delicately touching San’s neck, just below his Adam's apple, in mere seconds. “--yes, it is.”

San held himself still, glancing down at the sword and then back to meet your eyes. “You can’t harm me.”

“Wrong,” You corrected him. “I cannot kill you.”

You leaned in slightly and a small cut bled immediately from San’s neck. You gasped when you felt a nick of pain on your neck. You reached up with your free hand to check and came back with black ooze.

“See.” San smiled crookedly, revealing his canine teeth. “I told you, you can’t harm me.”

You twisted your lips in a grimace. Even your poison would have no effect; San consumed an antidote for your poison every day, for the sake of you simply being unable to harm him. You should have guessed that along with your lives being intertwined, you would be harmed when he was harmed as well.

In a small fit of rage and rebellion, you whipped your sword in the air and then twirled it to sheath it. San opened his mouth as if to question the sudden embellishment of swordsmanship and then gasped when his decorative armor fell from his body.

“It is time for you to go to sleep, little lordling,” You commanded.

San slipped both his hands into the deep pockets of his satin pants. “Put me to sleep?”

You rubbed your face tiredly. “That, most definitely is not a part of my job.”

San stood there, topless, folding one arm behind his head while scratching the back of his neck. “I would like it to be.”

“I am supposed to be guarding you,” You growled. “I can’t do that if you’re inside of me.”

San sent you a boyish grin. “What better way to guard my body than to be as close as you can be?”

You searched what you assumed was your heart, to see if this was the right choice in your path of your new life. You could feel your heartbeat but was it for the Fae Prince because if his heart withered, yours would go with it? Or was it because the roguishly handsome Lord really had grown on you enough to bed him?

San took a step forward, cautious of your abilities with your sword. He ran a finger along your bare shoulder. “You’re not even a little bit curious?”

“I didn’t have time to be curious,” You spat.

This wasn’t the first time San had propositioned you. Nor would it be the last if you declined. He was adamantly vying for your body. Something about tonight was pushing you towards finally folding for him.

“You’ve got time now,” San said. He walked around you, still trailing that finger along your skin. He was behind you now. “So how about it?”

He was temptation, with his muscles gleaming and the satin clinging to his legs. San knew that, you knew that. And of course you were curious. But was the risk worth it?

“If you ask me, I think it’ll only bind us even more,” San whispered, now on your other side. “You will have known me in my most intimate moment and will always be able to protect me.”

“I think someone had a little too much Fairy Wine, my lord,” you mused.

“Nay.” San shook his head. “You would know me as a giggly fool if I had drunk truly. I am sober and looking to finally bring down your barriers, Red.”

“Want me desperate for you when typically I am reserved?” You mocked him.

San stood in front of you once again. His face was a combination of seriousness and lust. He put his hands on your shoulders and pulled you against him. You didn’t resist him. Your chest was pressed against his when he murmured, “Don’t our hearts beat as one? Shouldn’t we be connected in this final way?”

You tipped your head and kissed your sworn liege lord. His lips were soft and wet and when he sighed into your mouth, your tongue sought to tangle with his. San cupped the back of your head, tilting his head, and deepening the kiss. You allowed him to back you up to his bed and tumbled onto it with him. San managed, with his strength and grace as a Fae, to turn you around so that he hit the bed and didn’t even break the kiss.

You ate at his mouth like he was honey and you couldn't get enough of the sweet, sticky substance. You could feel your body tingling from the kisses but San was fairing much worse. When you broke the kiss, his tongue came out, chasing yours. He lied there, his pupils blown, looking like a panting dog.

��San, are you quite alright?” You wondered.

“You are like the sweetest, strongest brandy I have ever drunk.” San smiled lazily.

You sat back. San appeared… he could not lie so he wasn’t drunk before you began to kiss. The situation was odd.

Now that you sat back, however, you could not deny what was waiting for you under San’s satin pants. The Fae prince moaned lowly as your ass put pressure against his straining hard-on. His hands found your hips, and he held you in place, so he could grind up into you. “What will it take for you to let me slip inside of you?”

You frowned delicately. You petted your braid in thought. There was something off about this but you could not put your finger on it for the life of you. “Have you been taking your antidote potion regularly?”

“ ‘course I do. Don’t be silly.” He groaned as he pushed his cock between your lips, with only his satin pants as a barrier. He was ruining the garment but it didn’t seem like he cared at the present.

“Very well,” You shrugged.

You grounded your lower half against San and his back arched off the bed. “Please,” he whimpered.

“What do you want, San?” You said coolly. “Tell me and I may be able to fulfill your demand.”

San’s eyes widened, as if in an attempt to push off whatever stupor was pulling him in. Was he simply the type of man who became a slave to a cunt until he was satisfied. “Take me, take all of me, deep inside of you. I need to feel encompassed by you.”

“My sweet Fae prince,” You cooed mockingly. “All high and mighty because of his mushroom guard but the minute he gets behind closed doors, he’s a whining mess, rutting up into a pussy that’s always been denied to him.”

San pouted. “You’ll let me have it, right? You won’t let me lie here, begging, will you? Please, I’ll be good.”

You clucked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, moving your hips against San again. “Be good? You don’t know the meaning.”

San raised his hands from your hips and laid them on either side of his head, in abeyance to you. He even kept his eyes lowered but his Adam's apple was bobbing again. “I can try.”

You lifted your lower half up so that you could reach underneath you and yank San’s pants down. San gasped as the cool air suddenly hit his raging hard-on. You grasped his phallus immediately and began to run the head of him along your wet folds under your short copper dress.

It was a test and San was struggling. His hands made tight fists and he bit hard on his lower lip. “Don’t you want to be inside of me, Sannie? What’s stopping you from…” You angled his cock to be flush with your hole. “...simply penetrating me with one sharp movement, San?”

San whined in the back of his throat. “I can be a good little Fae Prince for you.”

You let go of San’s cock, watching it slap his stomach satisfactorily. You rutted along the length, coating it in your slickness. You didn’t know which god or goddess San was praying to, but his lips moved fervently in silence. As if that would help him.

You supposed he was taking his oath seriously. He was being good and hadn't attempted to take control since he said he would relinquish his power to you. Perhaps you could reward him.

You leaned down against San’s chest. He was sweating profusely, withholding back was taking a lot out of him. You ran a finger around the areola of his nipple. “Shall you show me what a good boy you can be?”

San nodded very quickly. “What do you need from me?”

“Flip us over and you may penetrate me. But!” You stopped your new lover. “You must go slowly. I want you to watch as every inch enters me.”

San licked his lips, wetting them once again. “And then?”

You chuckled. “Let’s see if you can do it first, Sannie.”

San had you flipped just as quickly as before, albeit slightly more clumsy. “You are the most beautiful mushroom lady I have ever had the pleasure of fucking.”

You snorted. “I am the only one of my kind, Choi San.”

“Still.” San grasped his dick with a soft gasp and then angled it between your open thighs. “You put the majority of the Fae Court to shame.”

You both groaned lowly as he finally pushed the head of his cock into your wet entrance. He pushed and pushed, and to be honest, it was a struggle for both of you. He was thick and seemed to fill you up perfectly.

“So! Wet!” San panted. “I--” he whined in the back of his throat. “Are we in the middle of a fairy ring?!”

Alarmed you had accidentally caused a growth of mushrooms, you looked wildly around but the room simply had San's minimal but expensive decorations; no mushroom in sight.

“San, are you sure--?!”

San completed sinking into you. He held himself aloft, his arm muscles moving as he shifted. He closed his eyes, perhaps in an attempt to focus on not jackhammering inside of you.

“Please? Queen of my desires? Let me plunge in your depths. I need to--I will die, surely, holding myself inside of you like this!” San pleaded.

You traced a finger along San’s collarbones. “You are so dangerously handsome.”

San swallowed loudly. “Dangerously handsome enough to fuck you so hard that you'll see stars?”

This fae princeling, this arrogant, untouchable man, was a puddle between your legs and you were becoming quite charmed by it.

San blinked hard, clenching his eyes and shook his hair out of his face. The lines of his nose and jaw balanced out the soft curves of his lips. He really was gorgeous.

“San,” You hummed softly.

San opened his eyes and they were glossy with lust. “Red. I'm all yours. I've always been all yours. You're dedicated to keeping my body safe and I'm dedicated to yours.”

You pulled San closer, wrapping your arms behind his neck, and bringing him chest to chest to you. “Fuck me so hard I'll see stars,” You whispered into his ear.

A shudder went through San's body and then he tensed up so that he could pull back. “Better hold onto my arms,” he suggested.

The first thrust punched the air in your lungs out in a lusty cry. Your shoulders moved up the bed a full inch with the strength that San had thrusted into you. You immediately wrapped your hands around San's bicep to hold yourself in place.

The cries didn't end as San fucked you hard. His thrusts were punctuated by a noise from you being thoroughly fucked, just as you had requested. You could hear the obscene slapping of skin against skin and the squishing of San’s cock against your wet entrance. It was debauchery at its finest and you couldn't find an ounce of you regretting it at this moment.

San was a drooling mess in the crook of your neck even though his hips worked relentlessly between your legs. He whimpered and whined, pussy drunk inside of you. “So good, feels so good being inside of you, so wet, so tight, so good,” he babbled.

“San,” You said in a strained tone. “Remember, you are fucking me until I see stars, not the other way around.”

“I can… I can… I can be good…” San panted through his lust-filled mind.

“Can you?” You groaned after a particularly hard thrust. “Can you put my needs before your own, you greedy princeling?”

“Can, can, can,” San chanted, even though he sounded like he was getting closer to his climax.

You couldn't help but to sow a little chaos, considering how much chaos San had thrown your way this evening. “Are you going to come inside of me, Sannie?”

San cried out and stilled his hips against you. “Nooooooo,” he lamented. “Why did you do that?”

“To see if I had that kind of power,” You admitted. You petted the back of his head in comfort. “But you were not a good little princeling, Sannie. You came before me.”

“It was so good,” San whined. “You can’t blame me!”

“I guess you’ll have to start over again,” You said flippantly.

San raised himself up so that he could look at you. He had the right amount of suspicion in his eyes as he said, “Start over again, how?”

Your fingers brushed some of his hair from his face that had stuck to his hairline from the sweat that was pouring off him. “Why, Sannie, you’ll have to clean up the mess you made inside of me and fuck me again.”

San’s eyes widened and you watched as he visibly slipped back into his subby headspace. “You want me to lick my cum from your pussy and then fuck you again?”

“Mmm,” You hummed. “Can you do that for me? Be a good little princeling and fix the mess you made? Do you want to be a good boy for me, Sannie?”

“Yes, please,” San murmured.

He immediately slid down your body and pressed his plush lips to your core that was aching for a release. You could feel his cum leaking from you and that’s how San began, licking your cunt diligently. And when he couldn't find any more cum to lick, he slowly stuck his tongue inside of you, looking for leftovers.

“Yes, San,” You moaned. “Such a good boy for me. Put your tiny little tongue inside of me and make me feel something.”

San groaned against your cunt, and the richness of his baritone voice washed over you. You would have let him make you come with his tongue plowing inside of you but you were firm in teaching San that you were the one in charge and he needed to follow your directions.

You pulled San’s head up by gripping his hair and tugging upwards. “Time’s up. Did you clean me up well?”

San’s appearance, with your slickness and remnants of his own cum all over his bronze face, was one for the record. He smiled lazily, looking like a cat caught drinking the cream. “You taste so good. Like a mushroom pastry. I could eat you up all day.”

You brushed some of the fluids from his pink lips with the pad of your thumb. “Shall I tell the other courtiers why you’re so busy? Can’t be bothered with any of the Fae politics or affairs, because you’d simply rather be between a mushroom guard’s thighs?”

San’s face flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. “If it pleases you.”

“Lie down, Little Princeling,” You commanded softly.

San did so, his body now horizontal to the bed. You finished pulling off his pants and discarded the soft copper-worked dress you had donned that evening. This moment of total dominance, of a bared soul, deserved flesh against flesh, heart against heart.

“I will ride you, my fair lord,” You declared. You set a knee on either side of San’s narrow hips. “I will take you within my cunt, dripping of my own desire and yours spent, and I will take exactly what I want from you. And you will lie there and give me everything, won’t you?”

San’s irises were round like saucers. He seemed unable to completely focus but he did respond. “I would pull the stars from the sky and string them along a chain for you, Red. Is that what you want? To show that the Fae Prince you guard is owned by his mushroom lover? I will do it. I would prostrate myself before my uncle and declare myself unfit to be next in line because I am simply a puppet to your--”

You put a finger to San’s lips and he quieted. “Do not speak of such a thing while you are between my legs, San. All your wits have gone out with your cum.”

San smiled dopily. “You make me this way, Heart.”

“Do not call to me fondly either,” You scolded him gently. “This should not cross from lust to love.”

“Then I will simply have to work harder for your love,” San sighed dreamily.

You laughed under your breath. There really was no stopping this man once he got something in his head. “Let us start with this,” You said as you angled his cockhead to your entrance.

San began to babble once again while your body struggled to adjust to his girth. “Why must you squeeze me so tightly? It is as if you would eat me whole with your cunt!”

You laughed in amusement, voice tight with your own withheld struggles. “If you were a mortal and I, a simple mushroom, it would be so, would it not?”

San groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure as you took him full-hilt inside of you. “You make me come undone, Red.”

You moved your hips, watching San intake sharply at the sudden movement. “I quite like it this way.”

San part moaned and part laughed. “You’ll drive me mad with lust. Can I touch you?”

“You may,” You allowed with a small dip of your head.

San’s hands smoothed up your thighs, over your hips, and then they encompassed your waist, thumbs skimming your rib bones. Finally they rested just below your breasts, looking to cup them both. “I wish to sink into you every morning and every evening, sometimes in between.”

You bounced slightly, enjoying the way San’s eyes were eating you up. His hands held your breasts in place as you slowly began to build some pleasure between the two of you. “Perhaps I’ll allow it, Sannie. But only if you’re good.”

San licked his lips slowly. “I can be real good to you, Red.”

“So far you’ve only been a spoiled princeling, taking what he wanted and giving nothing back,” You reminded him.

San pursed his lips in thought. “Only--!” He paused to gasp at the pleasure luring his mind away from reality. “--only you do this to me. I am a skilled lover. I have made others weep. Please, I can prove myself a second time. You are--there is something about you that drives all the edges of my brain to soft, unending, blurred lines.”

“But you know enough that it is me you are inside,” You joked.

San sat up suddenly, more serious than you had seen him all night. His eyes traveled over the planes of your face. “Nothing could make me forget you.”

And so you rode San like this, chest to chest, heart to heart, eye to eye. You drank in every gasp and whine that left his pretty lips. San ran his fingers up and down your bare back. And finally when your orgasm overwhelmed you, breaking over you like a wave over a cliff, he kissed you with his mouth slanted over yours, determined to feed from your noises.

You were both spent but you realized that regardless of the energy, neither of you were looking to be separated from each other, even when San’s cock softened and your wetness leaked out. He continued to keep you in his arms and you found yourself tracing the sharp planes of his face. There was something new between you; but you didn’t have a name for it yet. It was pleasant and that would suffice for now.

#pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #choi san smut #ateez san smut #atz smut #choi san x reader #topaz's work #ღatz #recent #teezers birthday fics 24

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obsessedwhyyes · 26 days ago

Text

A Tale of Fools and Tricksters (1)

Chapter 1: Whispers of Hope

Summary: The Festival of Fools - a carnival of magic and illusions which shall set your heart ablaze and bring your dreams to life. Legends say that the Festival of Fools will grant one wish to those pure of heart and soul - for a price. Seeking a cure for the Curse of Stone which plagues her people, Elysia Thorne seeks the aid of the festival's enigmatic ringmaster, Astarion Ancunin, whose charm is as dangerous as it is irresistible.

But as their fates intertwine, it becomes clear that all is not as it seems...

Rating: M Chapter Word Count: 5479 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC Content: Alternative Universe (Circus), Ringmaster Astarion, mild horror elements, eventual smut, eventual romance, basically a big whimsical (slightly dark, slightly trippy) fairytale of an AU.

A/N: And here we have my first ever longfic! I'm actually a teensy bit nervous about this one! While the direction and story are different, I was actually inspired a lot by Hunchback of Notre Dame for this. I always loved how it managed to be both incredibly dark and beautifully whimsical. So, going into this, I knew that's the vibe I wanted to go for. Hopefully you enjoy!

The applause faded like dying stars, yet the dream remained, vivid, unyielding.

The Ringmaster stood alone at the heart of his stage with ivory skin almost luminescent under the spotlight. His audience gazed up at him in endless wonder, their faces reflecting the ethereal lights that twisted and pulsed at his command.

He was beautiful, he was powerful, he was–

A flicker disturbed the edge of his vision - shadows slipping through shadows. The silver filigree at his throat seemed to tighten and, for a heartbeat, the lights dimmed, casting the stage into near darkness. In the breath of shadow, he glimpsed threads of starlight descending from above; felt the phantom touch of something cold against his skin.

Then came the voice, sliding through his mind, honeyed and ancient, sweet as poisoned wine. The words themselves faded into the dark, but their essence lingered, reminiscent of promises forged in moonlight and bound in blood.

But the Ringmaster’s smile did not falter. It did not waver, even as those shadows moved closer, ever closer…

But then, suddenly, he awoke.

He gasped, his hand searching for his neck.

There it was, as always. That collar of silver filigree, beautiful and confining.

Reality bled back as the dark, shadowy remnants of his dream made way for the vivid colours of his tent.

Yet, within his mind, soft as silk, sharp as teeth, he still heard them, hooking beneath his skin.

Whispers.

Whispers…

It began with whispers.

Hushed voices carried on the evening breeze, tales of wonder and magic that danced through the village of Starfall like autumn leaves. The Festival of Fools was coming, they said. A carnival of dreams and wishes, of laughter and light.

Elysia Thorne paid the gossip little mind at first. Her world had shrunk to the confines of sickrooms, providing whatever healing comfort she could to her people. A hopeless endeavour - everyone knows that halting the Stone Curse is impossible once it takes hold.

First, you notice your fingernails turning brittle, cracking like sun-baked clay. Then comes the hardening - a creeping sensation that begins at your fingertips, as if you've dipped them in cement that never quite dries.

The transformation is slow, methodical in its cruelty. Day by day, the stiffness crawls up your fingers, turning flesh to granite, joints to unyielding stone. Your hands become living sculptures, beautiful in their horror - each line and wrinkle preserved perfectly in stone, a monument to what was once warm and alive. The curse inches up your arms with inexorable patience, claiming territory finger by finger, joint by joint, until your limbs become too heavy to lift.

Some say the worst part is watching it spread across your chest, feeling your lungs strain against the weight of stone ribs. But Elysia knew, from countless deathbed vigils, that the true horror comes when the curse reaches your heart. She had held too many hands - some warm, some already stone - as that vital muscle struggled against its rocky prison, beat by weakening beat, until finally... silence.

Thus, the art of healing the Stone Curse, such as it was, lay not in false promises of cure but in small mercies. A salve to ease the grinding sensation in solidifying joints. Warm compresses to comfort flesh not yet turned to stone. And, perhaps most importantly, a gentle presence in those final moments when the heart begins its last, laboured beats against walls of granite.

That was Elysia’s true role, here in this quiet little village. A sanctity of calm, of empathy in the face of certain death.

Elysia had planted countless herb gardens, seeking new combinations that might slow the curse's advance. She had filled her medical journal with careful observations, tracking the curse's progress through generations. She had even learned to weave dried flowers into her patients' hair - a reminder that beauty could exist alongside suffering. But for all her knowledge, all her careful studies and gentle ministrations, she couldn't halt the curse's inexorable march toward the heart.

These days, Yenna's case consumed most of her attention. The girl was twelve - far too young to face such a fate, though Elysia had learned long ago that the curse cared nothing for age or circumstance. It had already claimed Yenna's mother three months past, leaving the girl in Elysia's care more often than not. The father, overwhelmed by grief and the demands of a dying child, rarely visited anymore.

The curse would visit Elysia one day too. It was only a matter of time.

In her small sickroom, Yenna lay caught in the curse's embrace, her left arm now completely transformed. The stone had a peculiar beauty to it - smooth and grey as river rock, with veins of lighter crystal that caught the lamplight. If you didn't know better, you might think it an artist's masterpiece. But Elysia did know better. She saw how the crystalline patterns were creeping past the girl's shoulder, advancing with each passing day.

She had perhaps a month before the curse reached her heart - two, if they were fortunate.

Yet Yenna seemed to bear her fate with a grace that Elysia could scarcely fathom, delighting in the little things - in fairytales, in the company of others, in the flowers that had been carefully weaved into her hair.

"Tell me a story, Elysia," Yenna whispered, her voice as fragile as spun sugar. "Something happy."

Elysia's heart clenched, but she summoned a smile as bright and warm as summer sunshine.

"Once upon a time," she began, "there was a beautiful nightingale with feathers as white as moonlight. But this nightingale had a terrible secret - it couldn't sing."

As she spoke, her hands worked with practiced grace, checking Yenna's pulse at her throat, adjusting pillows with the kind of gentle efficiency that came from years of tending to the cursed.

"The other birds mocked the nightingale, so it fled deeper and deeper into the forest, where the shadows grew thick and the moonlight barely touched the ground. There, it met a fox who offered to teach it a new kind of song - one that would make others marvel, one that would make them stare in wonder. The nightingale, desperate to belong, accepted."

Her fingers worked methodically as she spoke, applying fresh herbs to the boundary where flesh met stone.

"Its new song was beautiful, but strange - not quite natural, yet enchanting all the same. Other creatures came from far and wide to hear it, never knowing the price of such beauty. Night after night the nightingale sang, its voice growing more captivating, more otherworldly, until even the stars seemed to pause in their dance to listen."

She smiled softly, tucking a strand of Yenna's hair behind her ear, careful to avoid the grey patches beginning to show at her temples.

"One night, a kind traveler heard the nightingale's song. But while others were entranced by its haunting melody, the traveler heard something else - a loneliness beneath the beauty, a yearning for something real. With patience, the traveler showed the nightingale that its worth wasn't in any song, borrowed or natural, but in its spirit.

"Slowly, the nightingale found its own voice - softer than its enchanted song, perhaps, but true. And though some missed its otherworldly melodies, others were drawn to this new sound - one of resilience and hope. The forest, once so dark and lonely, became a place of honest beauty.

"And so, the nightingale learned that sometimes our greatest weaknesses can become our greatest strengths, if only we're brave enough to be true to ourselves."

Yenna's eyes, heavy with sleep, fluttered closed. A soft smile played on her lips as she drifted off, the story's gentle magic working its spell.

It was a fairytale she had told many others, and would do so again, granting a moment of reprieve to those for whom hope had faded like ink in water. But the whisper of hope in her own heart refused to be silenced. There had to be something more she could offer, some way to break this curse that had haunted her people for generations.

As if in answer to her unspoken plea, the wind outside began to change. Yes, there was something new on the breeze - the faint tinkling of bells, the creak of wheels, and... music?

She couldn't deny her curiosity.

As Elysia drew closer to the window, she saw something that made her breath catch.

A carriage unlike any she had ever seen rolled into the village square, wheels turning with an otherworldly grace that seemed to defy the rutted earth beneath them. It seemed a masterwork of impossible architecture - wood carved into flowing curves, painted with deep purples and midnight blues that shifted like oil on water. Golden filigree traced patterns across its surface, forming images that Elysia could have sworn moved when caught in the corner of her eye - acrobats frozen mid-leap, mystical beasts with jewelled eyes, masked figures dancing eternally.

Lanterns swayed from the carriage’s eaves, casting an otherworldly glow, lighting the way for the four horses that pull it. At first glance, they appeared to be made of living shadow, black coats seeming to absorb all light that touched them.

Atop this magnificent conveyance stood a figure dressed in a riot of blues and golds. A gold half-mask, matching his blonde, perfectly permed hair, obscured the upper half of his face, leaving visible only a pair of startlingly intense eyes and a practised smile. When he spoke, his voice carried across the square with an unnatural clarity - projected, maybe, to reach every ear in the village.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed citizens of Starfall!” The man swept his arms wide, rings glinting on his gloved fingers. “I am Petras - herald of wonders and marvels beyond your wildest dreams!”

Elysia watched as curious faces, young and old, peeked out their doors and windows to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. Others were bold enough to approach the stranger, drawn to him like moths to a particularly enchanting flame.

“Behold!” Petras continued, his gestures grand and sweeping. “The Festival of Fools approaches - a carnival of wonders where the impossible bows to your imagination, where a realm of dreams and magic awaits, only a tenday’s travel away!” His smile widened, showing teeth that gleamed perhaps a touch too bright. “And where wishes might just come true for those brave enough - or desperate enough - to seize their chance.”

Wishes coming true… Elysia had heard rumours of the festival’s magic. But to see this otherworldly spectacle before her eyes… The very air around the carriage and its herald seemed to shimmer around them, as if reality itself knew this creation didn't quite belong in the waking world.

It couldn't be real…

Could it?

"Elysia." Jenevelle's voice cut through her wonder, sharp and practical as ever. "Whatever you're thinking, stop."

Elysia turned to find her fellow healer standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Where Elysia favoured flowing dresses and dried flowers, Jenevelle preferred practical robes in dark colours, her silver hair pulled back severely from her face. They were as different as summer and winter, yet somehow had forged an effective partnership in their shared calling.

"You haven't even heard what I'm thinking," Elysia said, though a smile tugged at her lips. It was an old dance between them - Elysia's hope and Jenevelle's scepticism, constantly at odds yet somehow balancing each other.

"I don't need to," Jenevelle moved to check on Yenna's sleeping form. "That look in your eyes says enough. And before you ask - no, I don't believe in magical festivals that grant wishes. Neither should you."

The crowd gathering in the square didn't share Jenevelle's doubts. They pressed closer as Petras continued his performance, his gestures grand and sweeping.

Elysia found herself leaning further out the window, her heart quickening. There was something in Petras’s voice - something that spoke to the ache of hope she'd carried for so long for her people.

“But how?” called a voice from the crowd. “A tenday’s travel, right as winter approaches. It's impossible.”

Petras’s laugh rang out like silver bells. “Ah, but that's the beauty of it!” With a flourish, he gestured to the carriage below. “This magnificent conveyance doesn't merely transport - it transcends! Space itself bends to its will. It will carry the worthy directly to the festival’s gates.”

The side of the carriage unfolded like a blooming flower, revealing the plush velvet seats within.

“But choose quickly, my friends,” he continued. “For the Festival of Fools is as fleeting as starlight, and far more precious. Miss your chance, and you may wait lifetimes before it graces your humble shores again.”

Elysia's hands curled against the windowsill. Hope, that dangerous flower she thought she'd learned to uproot, bloomed fresh in her chest. "What if it's real, Jen? What if there's a chance to break the curse?"

"And what of your patients while you chase fairy tales?" Jenevelle's voice was sharp, but her eyes were concerned when they met Elysia's. "What of Yenna?"

"You could tend to them," Elysia said softly. "You're as skilled a healer as I am."

" More skilled," Jenevelle corrected, with a touch of her usual dry humour. "I don't waste time weaving flowers into their hair."

Elysia turned to face Jenevelle fully. "We both know our treatments only ease their passing. The curse continues to spread, and nothing we do can stop it. I have to try. Even if it's just a chance, the smallest possibility... don't our people deserve that?"

Jenevelle was quiet for a long moment, studying Elysia with those sharp green eyes that seemed to see through all pretence.

Finally, she sighed.

"You're going regardless of what I say, aren't you?"

"Yes," Elysia admitted.

"Then at least let me help you prepare." Jenevelle moved to Elysia's workbench, gathering supplies with practised efficiency. "Take your medical journal. Your grey cloak - it's getting cold at night. And for gods' sake, try not to trust everyone who smiles at you."

Elysia felt her heart swell. "Thank you, Jen."

"Don't thank me yet," she replied. "Just... come back. These people need their gentle healer." A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "I'm not very good at telling stories."

Outside, Petras's voice rose in a final call. "Time grows short! Who among you dares to chase their dreams?"

Elysia quickly gathered her supplies, tucking them into her pack. She paused at Yenna's bedside, pressing a kiss to the sleeping girl's forehead.

"Go," Jenevelle said quietly. "Before I remember my common sense and try to stop you."

With one last look at her sleeping patient and her friend, Elysia slipped out into the night.

The air was thick with possibility and the sweet scent of hope - dangerous, and intoxicating as wine.

The crowd had thinned somewhat when Elysia approached the carriage. The hesitant had retreated to the safety of their homes, leaving only those whose desperation or curiosity outweighed their fear. The shadow-horses turned their luminous silver eyes toward her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. Up close, she could see the way starlight shifted beneath their dark coats like veins of quicksilver.

Petras’s gaze settled on her with a calculating intensity. His smile softened, but something in his eyes remained sharp, assessing. He leaned forward, his voice dropping just low enough to draw her attention.

“Ah, another brave soul,” he said, the words honeyed but with a curious weight. He extended a gloved hand, as though welcoming her, yet there was an air of expectation behind it, an unspoken challenge.

“Step right up, my dear. Adventure awaits.” He held her gaze, then tilted his head. “But tell me, citizen of Starfall… What makes you wish to dance with fate?”

Elysia felt a chill, as though he had peeled back some layer of her heart to glimpse the wound within. “My people suffer from a curse,” she replied, lifting her chin. “If there is a chance I could find a cure, I would be a fool not to take it.”

Petras’s eyes gleamed, his smile widening. “Ah, a noble reason indeed. A healer’s heart, so quick to offer itself up for others.” He paused, his fingers tapping lightly against his chin. “But what of the risk? What if the price were steep, dear healer? What would you be willing to pay to end their suffering?”

The question echoed through her, stirring the depths of her own doubt. What would she sacrifice if it came down to it? Her life, her freedom? Or perhaps something else, something more intangible?

She met his gaze, her voice unwavering. “Whatever it takes. I’ll pay it.”

Petras’s smile took on a strange satisfaction. “Good,” he said. “Then you are worthy indeed.” He reached out and grasped her hand, leading her to the carriage. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as though he were imprinting something unseen upon her.

“Come along, then,” he said, gesturing to the open carriage door with a flourish. “The Festival awaits, and the path to wonder is short for those who are ready to leave the known world behind.”

Five others had already claimed their seats in the carriage's velvet interior. Her healer's eye catalogued them automatically: a merchant whose fingers wouldn't stop counting invisible coins, nervous energy radiating from his thin frame; an elderly woman clutching a locket, her fingers twisted with age and arthritis; a young couple holding hands so tightly their knuckles had gone white, both bearing the telltale grey pallor of the stone curse's early stages. And a boy who couldn't have seen more than sixteen summers, his eyes bright with dreams of escape.

As Elysia settled onto the plush velvet, she found herself studying their faces more closely. How many were running toward something, and how many running away? How many carried wishes as desperate as her own?

The door swung closed with a deep, resonant sound - like the sealing of fate itself.

And then, the world… shifted.

Colours blurred and bled into one another like wet paint, spilling from the edges of reality. The familiar sounds of the village - cricket songs, the faint bleat of distant sheep, the warm crackle of hearth fires - stretched and warped into something altogether unfamiliar, as if someone had pulled them apart like threads and woven them into a new, strange tapestry. Elysia’s stomach gave a lurch as reality folded around her, shifting in ways her senses couldn’t comprehend.

It was like being unmade and then reassembled in the space between breaths. Light fractured into ribbons of shimmering colour, winding around the carriage in a dance of prismatic splendour. Time lost all meaning; they could have been travelling for seconds or centuries.

And then, just as abruptly as it began, it stopped.

The door swung open to reveal a transformed world. Where once there had been the familiar, earthy confines of the village square, there now sprawled a fantastical landscape, too rich and strange for words, its beauty as alluring as it was unnerving.

The Festival of Fools stretched before them, a labyrinth of wonder that defied earthly architecture.

And it was beyond anything Elysia could have dreamed.

Tents of midnight blue and deep crimson reached toward a sky caught in eternal twilight. Banners of silk and starlight rippled in the breeze, while lanterns of every hue bobbed and swayed overhead, their light catching on gilt edges and crystal chimes.

Elysia blinked, her gaze shifting to her fellow passengers as they tumbled out of the carriage, each one wearing a dazed expression. As dazed as she felt. She hesitated, instinctively reaching out to the elderly woman beside her - but her companion barely seemed to see her, her gaze fixed on a nearby tent. The woman’s fingers twisted around her locket, her eyes shining with something distant, as if already lost to the promise of whatever marvel lay within.

“Wait–” Elysia began. Her hand fell away as the merchant shuffled past her, eyes flickering to a tent entrance adorned with gleaming gold. Elysia opened her mouth to speak, but he had already drifted away, his body moving with a compulsion she could almost feel.

The young couple clung to each other, moving in perfect unison toward a stage where ethereal figures danced, their feet floating above the ground, defying gravity with languid grace. Their eyes sparkled with something strange and fierce, their fingers woven so tightly together that Elysia doubted she could have separated them even if she’d tried.

And the boy - the boy with his fierce, bright gaze - paused only briefly, sparing her a glance that was both curious and determined. Elysia raised a hand to him, but before she could even form a greeting, he turned toward a pavilion wreathed in veils of light, vanishing into the crowd with the others.

It was as if the festival itself had taken hold of them, plucking them away like petals from a flower and scattering them to its far corners.

And so she stood. Alone.

The air buzzed with magic, thick and tangible, and Elysia felt it tugging at her too, inviting her to drift into its embrace, to forget herself in the allure of it all.

No, she thought, shaking her head. You’re here for a reason. Stay focused.

Her fingers brushed against the medical journal tucked safely in her pack - a small, grounding reminder of reality and purpose in this world that felt more like a waking dream.

With thoughts of her people, pained, with hearts pounding frantically against stone prisons strong in her mind, her resolve was surely immovable.

This was it now. No going back.

She took a deep breath, inhaling frosty air which carried the scent of mulled wine and honey, and took her first, tentative steps.

It was impossible not to stare in awe at all that surrounded her.

The festival sprawled in every direction, paths twisting and turning. Music wove through the air, sometimes near, sometimes far, always just familiar enough to be enticing. Each route beckoned with its own marvels - a path strewn with flowers that bloomed and wilted in heartbeats, another where the very ground rippled like water beneath her feet.

As she wandered, her trained eye couldn’t help but catalogue the details around her. Performers moved through the crowd with an otherworldly grace that was almost painful in its perfection, their bodies bending and twisting as if the bones within them were liquid: jugglers, acrobats, wandering magicians. Vendors offered sweets that sparkled like jewels and steamed with impossible colours.

Every sight, every sound, every scent seemed designed to overwhelm the senses, to make one forget the world beyond the festival's borders.

That's when she heard it - a voice that seemed to command the very air itself, echoing from the grandest tent she had ever seen. The Big Top stood at what seemed to be the heart of the festival, its peaks disappearing into the twilight sky.

The pull of that voice was irresistible. Elysia found her feet carrying her toward the Big Top of their own accord, drawn like a moth to flame. As she drew closer, the distinct sound of music grew stronger, wrapping around her like silk.

Elysia pushed through the velvet curtains that concealed the entrance.

And gasped.

Inside, row upon row of plush velvet seats surrounded a central stage, each filled to the brim with spectators who sat unnaturally still, their eyes fixed forward with an intensity that stirred something in Elysia's healer's instincts.

But it was the figure commanding the stage that truly stole her breath.

He moved with a grace that transcended mere performance, each gesture flowing into the next as though his very presence were an intricate, endless dance. His coat was black as a starless night, its fabric embroidered with shifting silver constellations that seemed to breathe with the light, stars woven into darkness. Beneath it, a deep crimson vest clung to his form, its subtle gleam catching the lantern glow like the first blush of dawn against shadowed cliffs. In his hand was a cane - a slender, polished rod of black wood that absorbed light, crowned with a silver star cradled within a crescent moon.

Around his throat, a high collar of delicate silver filigree encircled his neck, as beautiful as it was constrictive, its pattern like that of a spider’s web. His face was partly obscured by a half-mask of lace, its delicate, web-like design mirroring that of the collar, with tiny, glinting gems that sparkled like trapped stars. The mask framed his features, giving the sharp lines of his jaw and the hint of a smirk a more dangerous appeal.

But his eyes...

Gods, those eyes.

They glowed a fierce, unnatural red, like rubies held to candlelight, gleaming with a mix of mischief and promise. They swept across the crowd, capturing the gaze of every watcher with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic.

And when they locked with hers, everything else faded into silence.

Time seemed to stop.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" His voice was like the richest of velvets. "Tonight, we transcend the mundane, we breach the veil between reality and dreams. But for our next performance..." His eyes remained fixed on Elysia, a smile curving his lips, "I require a volunteer."

Goosebumps flared across her skin.

His hand extended toward her, pale and elegant. "You there, my dear. Won't you join us?"

The invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but Elysia’s body had already betrayed her, rising before her mind could form a protest. The crowd seemed to melt away as she walked, her limbs light and unsteady, as though the air itself was enchanted.

In this moment, it felt as though there was no applause, no noise - just the sound of her heart pounding in her chest and the soft, rhythmic pulse of the festival’s music humming through her bones.

Up close… gods, he was beautiful. Beautiful in an ethereal sort of way that Elysia had never encountered: skin pale as moonlight, hair a shock of white.

But then he smiled, and his teeth… she could have sworn they seemed just a touch too sharp.

This man - this creature - radiated danger beneath his beauty, like poisonous flowers that tempt with their colours before they kill.

Yet she had come too far to retreat now.

"And what's your name, darling?" he asked, his voice pitched for her ears alone despite the crowded tent.

"Elysia," she managed, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. Years of maintaining calm at sickbeds served her well now, it would seem. "Elysia Thorne."

"Elysia," he repeated, as though tasting each syllable on his tongue. "I am Astarion, master of ceremonies and ringmaster of this humble circus." His head tilted slightly, studying her with those burning eyes. "Tell me, what brings a healer to our little festival of wonders?"

She started at that. "How did you-?"

"Your hands," he murmured, catching one of hers in his cool grasp. "They bear the telltale stains of medicinal herbs. And your eyes… they carry the weight of one who knows too much of suffering."

"My people are cursed," she said, lifting her chin. "They're turning to stone, and nothing I do can stop it. I've heard the festival can grant wishes."

A curious expression flickered in those crimson eyes before his smile widened, unreadable under that lace mask of his.

"Oh, you sweetheart." He turned to address the crowd, though his hand remained at the small of her back, cool even through the fabric of her dress. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have something special indeed. A healer seeking to cure the incurable! Shall we show her what wonders await?"

Before she could respond, Astarion raised his cane with a flourish.

The stage erupted into light at the sweep of his cane, a soft shimmer that expanded and enveloped the space. Elysia felt the magic in the air, delicate as a lover's touch, winding between her fingers and across her skin.

Shadows and starlight blurred into a living tapestry as a phantom beast took form - a tiger, its body composed of silk-like darkness threaded with starlight. Its stripes glowed silver, each muscle rippling with a sensual grace as it prowled a slow circle around her, leaving faint trails of light that faded like a sigh.

"Beautiful, isn’t she?" he murmured near her ear, his voice like a low hum in the dark. Elysia felt her skin flush under the intensity of his attention. The cane twirled through his fingers with effortless skill, the silver star at its tip casting prismatic glints that danced over her skin, each glimmer a soft, fleeting caress.

"But that’s only the beginning," he continued. "Tell me, my dear healer, do you trust me?”

The responsible answer would be no. The safe answer would be no.

And yet…

"Yes," she breathed.

He smiled something sinful.

“Excellent.”

With a flick of his wrist, he lifted her, magic making her as light as a feather. The tiger moved beneath her, and without hesitation, she found herself seated astride its back, floating through a dream woven of starlight. It was cool beneath her, a sensation like silk winding over her legs, tangible yet ephemeral, like liquid moonlight.

“You see, ladies and gentlemen,” Astarion’s voice echoed across the tent, his tone honeyed, “true magic lies not in the illusion itself, but in making you forget it’s an illusion at all.”

He lifted her higher, and as her feet left the ground, the phantom tiger began to dissolve, breaking into threads of light. It shifted beneath her, its form disintegrating into long, silken ribbons that spiralled upward, wrapping around her wrists, her waist, her ankles. Elysia gasped as the cool, weightless strands slid over her skin, binding her gently, lifting her further into the air, until she was suspended like a marionette in a web of pure magic.

The ribbons caressed her, sliding over her bare arms, tracing her collarbone, winding around her waist with an intimate, knowing pressure. They didn’t restrict her - they cradled her, their touch both tender and possessive, as though Astarion’s magic were wrapping her in the embrace of his own hands. She felt the shimmer of starlight against her skin, cool as frost yet stirring a warmth deep within her.

"You see," Astarion murmured, his voice close, dangerously soft, “true magic lies in the transition - that delicious moment between reality and dream.”

He extended his hand toward her, and the ribbons of light responded, lowering her gently until her feet nearly touched the stage, held in that intoxicating moment just before she could ground herself. She floated there, caught between the air and his spell, as though she had been pulled into the space between breaths.

“The moment,” he continued, catching her hand and pulling her close, “when one can no longer tell where the performance ends…”

He spun her, the ribbons of light tightening as he did so, sliding across her shoulders, down her back, encircling her waist in soft, twisting knots that bound her body to his magic.

She was lost in him, in the power that flowed from his touch, in the way the silken light wound around them both like a lover’s embrace.

Elysia’s heart pounded in time with the pulse of the festival. And Astarion - he was the centre of it all, the master of this world, his every movement deliberate, calculated. She could feel it: the weight of his control, the way he led her without question, without hesitation.

And so, they danced. Deeply, intensely. Every step, every movement, every brush of his fingers across her skin was a command she couldn’t ignore. The ribbons tightened around her as he led her in intricate steps, each turn leaving trails of silver light in the air, shimmering like scattered stars. She could feel the texture of the magic against her skin, smooth and cool as it pressed into her, guiding her in a rhythm as old as desire itself.

“You’re beautiful when you let go, darling” he whispered, his voice low, dangerous. “So few allow themselves to surrender to the festival.”

The magic, and this bizarre, enchanted dance, reached its crescendo. Phantom stars whirled around them in dizzying spirals. The very air seemed to sing with power. And then...

He pulled her close, one final spin that ended with her dipped low in his arms. Their faces were inches apart, his cool breath mingling with her heavy breathing. The world beyond them had dissolved into a shower of starlight.

Time seemed suspended. Elysia could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, could see her own reflection in Astarion's eyes.

There was something she was supposed to remember, something important...

But it slipped away like smoke through her fingers. How could anything matter more than this moment, this magic, this man who held her as if she were something precious and dangerous all at once?

Remember …

Remember? Remember what?

Her heart beat wildly under the allure of his gaze, his power.

... Why am I here again?

Masterlist can be found here!

Next Chapter

No Pressure Tag List: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

#i was gonna upload this on halloween and then went nah #i wanna do it now haha #this fic has been plaguing my thoughts #i am simultaneously really excited about it and also exceedingly nervous #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #astarion smut #astarion fluff #baldur's gate 3 #circus au #ringmasterstarion #a tale of fools and tricksters #bg3

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bucknastysbabe · 8 months ago

Text

No Conviction - Ser Criston Cole x Aegon II

For the mother of our brainchild, SMOOCHIELINI @aemondsbabe

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//Degradation, Criston is taking out his frustrations and prior guilt, fat shaming, dub-con, Criston is mean, unreliable narrator, manipulation. Angst, M/M, rare pair, Bondage (light), anal fingering, dildo use, there is prep!, bratting, feminization, Aegon’s a slut at the end of the day, Criss priss takes the idea of an order and skews it, chubby!Aegon, prostate orgasm, nipple play

A/N: THIS IS NASTY DIRTY we will be back to our usual content soon, I put the usual taglist but heed the pairing!

Taglist: @arcielee @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @starogeorgina @targaryen-madness @sugarpoppss2 @aemonds-holy-milk @dr-aegon

Ao3: Updated later

Alicent’s big doe eyes were watery, her hair wild. She seemed to become increasingly fraught by the day— it pained Ser Criston to know why she was so wracked with nerves. They both were aware of the plans for the future. Very big plans as Viserys continued to decay. He noted the Queen’s nails were bleeding again.

Criston grabbed her shaking palms, soothing her with a murmur, “My Queen, breathe, what is the issue?”

The Knight was grateful he had gloves on or Alicent’s ripped nails might have drawn blood. The redhead took a deep inhale and exhaled. She begged him, a frantic edge to her tone, “Aegon. He’s uncontrollable. I don’t know what to do. He brought whores into the Keep Sept! Ser Darklyn caught..my son..defiling the place.”

She spat ‘my son’ as if it was bile in her mouth. Criston clenched his teeth, anger beginning to rise up from the pit of his stomach. He was utterly revolted. They were going to thrust this wanton, deviant, gluttonous Prince onto the throne.

They had no other choice.

The green queen’s tone grew hard as she ordered, “Pay him a visit. Make him understand the castle is not his playground. Use any means possible. Your queen demands it.”

Criston squeezed her palms and nodded. He rumbled, “Prince Aegon’s heresy will not go unpunished, you have my promise.” Alicent turned away with a thanks, nails back to her lips. The white knight had an order to execute, striding off to the Prince’s quarters.

He stopped to raise a brow at Ser Arryk standing guard. The twin grumbled, “Princeling’s sleeping off his revels, by all means, go ahead.” He gave a wry smile, Criston not returning the look. Criston dismissed Cargyll, “The Queen requires you to take my place at her side. I’ve been sent to deal with Aegon.”

The other Kingsguard nodded, rolling his eyes at Criston’s serious demeanor. Cole watched him descend down the hallway, turning a corner before opening Aegon’s door. The knight wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine and musk— Aegon sprawled out in his bed, naked.

A bottle of wine sat on the side table. Criston’s eyes jerked to the foot of the grand bed. His lips twisted downwards at the ropes, leather, the collection of ivory to ebony carved cocks. The marcher was stunned. The open display of debauchery. An outwardly sinful collection. He swallowed reflexively, deciding on what to do.

Dark eyes roved up to the Prince. He’d grown rather fleshy with drink and overindulgence at the table. For a young man of twenty, a dragon rider, Aegon had the soft curves of a plump maid. Criston could almost laugh— Aegon probably spent too much time on his back to get a sweat working even with all the fucking he did.

He stalked over toward the side of the bed, leering down at Aegon. Criston had an idea pop in his head— a nasty one. Beating Aegon served no gain. The princeling would just snivel and cry, delving deeper into his cups. The knight’s cock stirred at the image of wide eyes and tears falling down fat cheeks.

Aegon was pretty enough, soft enough, tits grown much bigger than Rhaenyra had at the time he coveted her, sullied his cloak for her. His white hair was rumpled, lips, and cheeks feminine and plump. Criston was well acquainted with wide violet eyes and long lashes. He reminded Cole too much of Ali with that look.

Criston barked, “Aegon!”

The prince stirred and whined, rolling onto his soft tummy, exposing more plush thigh and a round ass. Criston rolled his eyes, ignoring his stirring cock. Aegon’s pallid fleshy hips had jagged pink marks, a sign of the glutton gaining too much for his skin to keep up. The marcher couldn't understand how the buffoon had no shame in his naked body, especially in a state such as this.

Criston’s eyes jerked back to the foot of the bed. Aegon was ruled by his extreme hedonism. His nasty thought blossomed into a plan. The knight sighed in annoyance. He’d remain chaste, but Aegon would get some sense fucked into him.

Criston undid his gauntlets in quick snaps, eyes blown and focused on the prince. Next came his pauldrons, dropping to the floor in a loud clank. Aegon snuffled and stirred, groaning, “Fuck off Cargyll, m’alive.”

Finally, the heavy cuirass was off. The marcher remained in his white garb. He took off his boots before snatching the phials of oil and the biggest carved cock available. The cloak was neatly placed out of sight— Criston would deal with his guilt later. This was for the crown, for his queen, for the future of Westeros.

He placed the heavy cock down on the bedside table, placing a knee on the plush bed. Aegon finally jerked and squawked, reddened eyes wide. His puffy lips opened and closed like a fish. The prince questioned “Cole? What in the seven hells are you doing here? I’m trying to rest! Did you not hear me tell Cargyll to fuck off?”

Criston wanted to snarl and jerk the brat around. He remained quiet, face placid, staring Aegon down. After taking a breath, he spoke, “I came to check on you. I don’t appreciate the attitude, my prince. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual.”

Aegon’s face softened, eyes gleaming from the attention Criston was lathering upon his minuscule ego. He murmured, “This isn’t some scheme from Mother, is it? You merely care for Aemond.” The blonde’s mouth pouted, face eager for a smidgeon of praise.

“No. I care for all of you. What’s going on Aegon? You surround yourself in Flea Bottom, but you seem lonely around the Keep. I notice more than you think.” Criston was not lying when he said his piece. Aegon irked him but he held affection for all of Alicent’s children. He also knew Aegon sought touch and affirmation in the lowest of places.

Aegon’s face softened, his body still bared to Criston’s sight. He mumbled, cheeks flushing, “I am already an idiot fool, I can’t fight, nor will I be as smart as Aemond. What is the saying? The black sheep.”

Criston placed a knee on the plush bed, leaning to cup a full cheek. He replied, “The black sheep of the family, yes. Although I believe that title is for the bitch on Dragonstone. You don’t trust yourself enough, hm? You never gave yourself a chance.”

Aegon nuzzled into his palm, eyes growing teary and cheeks flushing. He inhaled a bit, body shifting. The prince complained, “Why are you here? To make me feel worse? It’s too late. This is what I am. I’d rather be drunk than try and be laughed at more.”

Criston put his other knee on the bed, climbing towards Aegon. He purred, “So you’d rather spread your legs like a two stag whore and guzzle wine, feast and fuck your life away?” Aegon whimpered softly as Criston jerked the prince underneath him, pulling him up by thick hips.

“Ah- what are you doing?”

“Maybe you’ll learn some worth if I fuck it into you, pretty princeling,” He quipped back, fingertips digging into pliant flesh. He felt good. Too good. Aegon squirmed but Criston had him pinned under his toned frame. The prince whined, “Why, don’t, this is...no!”

“Your wanton pussy says no to me then? How strange,” Criston hummed, “Aemond would never defile a sept like you have. Disgusting.” The pale body under him struggled, tears pouring from the blonde’s eyes. Criston reached around to grab at a rock-hard cock, laughing meanly as he gave tentative pumps.

“Truly are a deviant. You probably dreamed of this,” he groped Aegon’s fat belly, “A glutton too. You were so slim. What happened? Aemond had a pudgy face. You’ve got tits now.”

Aegon mewled pathetically, bucking back into Criston’s hips. He whined, “Stop it, stop it, s’not that bad!” Criston snorted, grabbing a handful of chubby tits, Aegon sobbing and shivering. The knight pinched at the stretched nipple and swore, “Plump little princess. Content to laze around and get her pussy fucked all day. You have no conviction. No ambition to rule your kingdom.”

Criston reached over to grab the oil, Aegon’s sniveling music to the marcher’s ears. The prince tried to sneer, “Y-you swore to be chaste, you already fucked that up! Picking another Valyrian again?”

“No, no, simpleton. As much as I disgustingly lusted for a Targaryen princess on my cock, I have doubled over my faith. This is merely a lesson for you. Smart girl, wish you used your bigger head more, it is a scheme from your mother,” his gloved hand cracked across Aegon’s peachy ass, “As I pondered, figured you’d be apt to listen with a cock up your cunt.”

Teary doll eyes and trembling lips stared over a pale shoulder. Aegon’s white hair hung limp in his face. He tried to squirm again, pissed off, by his swears and leg kicking out. Criston shoved the softling by his neck, Aegon crying out in frustration.

The knight reached back for that discarded rope, yanking Aegon’s skinny wrists up and trying them. Criston hissed, “Goddamn brat. That’s what you are. You’re going to listen and maybe I’ll make your needy pussy feel good.” He was disgusted with himself— Aegon’s strangled moans were delicious.

The headboard clattered as Criston tested the ties. He took a moment to murmur, “Too tight?” Aegon rasped, heaving a sob, “N-no! Fuck me already! Make your point!” Criston’s lips quirked up, sliding a calloused thumb over Aegon’s twitching entrance, drawing a pitiful whine.

He poured oil over the twitching pucker, slicking his gloved fingers up. Criston had no experience with this but he knew an ass had no lubrication. Therefore, it was his job to open Aegon up. The prince squirmed impatiently, blotchy red cheeks ripe with embarrassment.

Criston could be gentle. But the leather whip told him otherwise. He pressed two fingers against the tight ring, trying to work himself in with circular movements. Aegon mewled, chubby thighs trembling, arching his back into a thick crease. Dark eyes hungrily watched Aegon's softened body fold and shake, idly worried why he thought it to be so fetching to the gaze.

“You’ve let yourself go to seed. No better than some lord's fat spoilt daughter. You’ve seen Aemond,” his other hand pinched Aegon’s back roll meanly, grinning at the prince’s whimpery pleads, “He’s lean and talented, even with one eye. You could’ve built yourself up in the yard.”

Aegon cried out as Criston’s oily fingers dipped inside the ring of muscle, the knight roughtly shoving them in deep. Aegon thrashed at the burn, cock bobbing against his drooping gut. The elder continued, “You might’ve been decent with a sword. Maybe you could read up and try to be smart? Aemond studies for hours.”

Criston cruelly jabbed his fingers in short thrusts as Aegon whined and babbled, “I- I can speak Valyrian! Stop talking about him now!” Aemond made Aegon’s hackles raise easily— the dutiful brother, the better son, the beloved. Alicent had eyes for the special son and his monstrous dragon.

Criston’s fingers curled against a nub that make the softling jolt in his ropes, throwing his wild hair back. The knight raised a brow— he’d heard Aegon talking about a spot that made the male whores squeal once. This must be it.

“I’m merely giving you some advice, Aemond excels. I could get you into fighting shape, hm?” He drug padded tips against the little spot, Aegon breathily moaning, “Ser Criston, Ser, please! No more about him!”

“Should’ve been born with a cunt. Let him breed you up with pretty Valyrian babies. You’re close enough anyways, always crying and needing your achy cunt pleased. Tits and hips made for babes. Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he tutted. Criston eagerly thrust his fingers, a grin plastered on his handsome face, eyes feral. The squelching added to Aegon's embarrassment, desire, and needs.

Aegon made a desperate noise, shivering all over. Criston flipped Aegon onto his back, seeing the fuss. The prince whined as his wrists twisted, eyes turned away, pouty lips swollen from biting. Criston eyed the milky cum decorating Aegon’s striped lower belly.

“Whore. Is that what we have to do to keep you in line? Keep you fucked out, drunk, and fed?” He snarled, face dangerously close. Aegon spread his thick thighs, tears leaking down his fat cheeks. The prince moaned “Fuck meeee, fuck meee, please just fuck me! I’ll be good!”

Criston groped at a tender breast, demanding, “You’ll be a good what?”

Aegon sulked as he huffed, eyes finally on Criston’s dark gaze. The knight slapped his fatty thigh, the prince wailing, “Your good little princess! The princess! Yes! I’ll listen!”

The brunette cooed, “Good girl, you’ll get your pussy fucked again. Such a lustful sort. Gorgeous whore. Look’it you.” His soiled gloves took their time squeezing Aegon’s curves. He hooked his fingers into a deep belly button, and the blonde began to whine again. His once-softened cock was already straining against his stomach.

“What? Gods. Surely all this blubber doesn’t turn you on? You need a corset, my Princess,” he laughed again.

Aegon stammered, “N-no, all this touching. S'sensitive.”

“Mhm, sure Aegon, you think I don’t see you at supper? Never miss supper do you? Ruled by your own greed. How will you be king? We’ll be penniless! Easy for your uncle and sister to take over.”

"I'll listen, you can be my hand, keep me in line," Aegon wetly cried, "Please, please, Serrr, need it."

Criston hummed in contentment, stretching black gloves against ivory thighs, spreading Aegon wide open. He smirked at the way Aegon's belly bunched into two thick rolls, forcing his little tits up. The knight swallowed down drool, he mustn't lap or suckle. He had to break his prince down some more.

The dark haired knight reluctantly leg go of a thigh, eyes drifting from Aegon's used hole. He grabbed that carved cock from earlier, slathering the earlier discarded oil onto it, something floral scenting the pungent air. The prince mewled and spread his legs, puffy lips swollen and spit-slick. Criston muttered, "Where the fuck do you even get these things...this one is lumped.."

Aegon panted, "S'for that spot."

"The spot that makes the spoilt princess squeal?"

Violet eyes watered some more, Aegon swallowing down a whine, softly pleading Criston- promising his utmost attention, duty, and service. Only if the Kingsguard would just use the toy! Criston smiled darkly, shoving the bulbous tip of the ebony cock into Aegon's stretched hole. The younger cried out, back arching again, almost sobbing with pleasure.

The marcher focused on settling it deep inside, pleased with the knowledge it would rub Aegon's tiny sweet spot raw. His hands were still gloved, he might fuck around with Aegon's small pink cock. Criston began to pump it in and out, watching tied wrists struggle as Aegon whimpered and moaned.

He shifted further forward, white garments rubbing against sensitive skin. It was as if Criston was practically fucking Aegon now, hand holding the toy being pistoned by his hips. His other hand groped its way up Aegon's flushed body, thumbing and pulling at a puffy nipple. Criston shook his head, commenting, "Your tits are growing princess, look how eager you are, shoving them into my palm."

He pinched harder, Aegon crying out in pleasure-pain. Criston leaned forward to hiss "We need to do something about your teat before they're bigger than your wife's. I expect some riding and training, yes?" Aegon babbled and sniffled, nodding along, slurred promising. The elder smiled down, easing his grip, patting Aegon's cheek.

"S-Ser, harder, I beg of you, m'close, I'll be sosososo good!"

"If you continue to be good after this, then you'll be rewarded every time. I think that's a good plan," Cole remarked, hand drawing dangerously close to Aegon's flushed prick, "I always have to handle you brats anyways. You're just a brattier princess who needs special treatment. Like your fucking bitch sister."

Aegon's thighs and ass clenched down on the thick cock, hitching on a warbling sob. The Kingsguard licked his lips, suddenly aware he was biting at them. He leered as he gripped the handful of cock, thumbing at the leaking tip. Cole reminisced with a frown, "Rhaenyra was more pliant after I played with her clit too, I guess you two are more similar than I thought. Deceptively pretty."

The prince's breathing had grown so thin it was as if he was breathing through a straw, eyes wide and lolling around, mewling and carrying on. Criston kept ranting, raising himself into a tizzy, "Luckily your hungry cunt will be attended to. Only in the keep. Until you can prove yourself to be competent! Can you respond to that?"

Aegon babbled, squirming from the pressure on his oversensitive cockhead, the Kingsguard fucking the carved toy into his ass, dragging across that little gland. Criston hummed, "There we go, the princess can behave when her clit's being rubbed hm? S'too much? You're leaking all over me, messy girl." He was having absolute joy with this, Aegon wailing and painting his soft tummy repeatedly, pearly seed shining on his pallid skin.

He'd roughened his touches, drove that ebony cock harder, lost in Aegon's cries. The poor thing busted again, begging for mercy, red-faced and spent. Criston felt that was enough, easing the toy out. He scooped up the copious seed and fed it into Aegon's slobbery lips, the whore lapping it up dutifully, hazy eyes the picture of a sweet royal. A good, well-behaved Targaryen.

Criston patted his cheek again, humming, "Good. I expect to see you at dinner. Then we shall discuss further plans. Whore."

He crawled off the bed, taking off his messy gloves and tucking them away with a shiver. Disgust crawled up the knight's spine. He turned toward the window as he put his armor back on. Aegon whined, "W-where are you going? Can we not talk about the plans here?"

He glared at the sot, scoffing, "Not like that we will. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be taking my leave. Listen to as I have told you, Aegon. Criston donned his cloak, inwardly counting how many flogs he would receive for his sin. For the wetness in his breeches. For his hardened cock and desire for Aegon's wanton nature.

Aegon arrived at dinner well-behaved, quiet, and sipping his wine. He cast uneasy looks between Ser Criston and Alicent. The queen smiled, "I know you would help, Ser Cole, he looks better already." Criston watched those pouty lips tremble. Perhaps it soothed the scarred tissue of his heart caused by another. His lips quirked up as he bowed his head, "No issue, my queen, Aegon needs a firmer hand."

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon ii x criston cole #criston cole x aegon ii targaryen #hotd rare pair

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drarryspecificrecsdaily · 1 year ago

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2023.12.03

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Bought and Paid For by @jtimu [E, 10k]

►Harry runs his fingers across the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead. “Are you telling me that you bid a thousand galleons for the pleasure of my company-” [...]

2. Dark Artistry by @sightedkarma [E, 26k]

►Draco Mallory liked his life after the war, in his little flat in Brighton, with his group of muggle friends and a career that let him put something beautiful out in the world. He'd left the Malfoy name and baggage behind years ago and created something new for himself to be proud of. That was until Harry Potter had to show up, covered in ink, and bring it all back.

3. dueling is their foreplay by tinaakitten [T, 2k]

►“Oh, sorry,” Harry teased. “Did I not tell you? We duel to submission, and I don’t recall saying I was done.” /// Auror partners Draco and Harry have a quick surprise duel in the training room.

4. Predicting the Present by @xx-thedarklord-xx [T, 7k]

►Malfoy—of all people—was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Harry didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. “Professor Malfoy said we’ll be learning the basics on how to cast a Patronus!” Oh really? That, Harry had to see.

5. scarves by @anticomedygarden [T, 1k]

►Harry and Draco have fun at a winter festival. That's it.

6. Tickling the Ivories by @annanother-thing [E, 5k]

►Harry has a misbehaving magical piano, a very pushy best friend, and a very unexpected afternoon. feat. Hermione doing what Hermione does best (sorting Harry's life out), Harry's vivid imagination, and Draco's green lacy knickers

---

Fest/Exchange

1. An accidental courtship by Anonymous [E, 6k]

►“The courtship starts with the offering of a single burgundy rose at exactly seven days before the winter solstice. The courtee may formally accept the continuation of the courtship – if they wish – by placing a single kiss on the flower.” ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

2. A Christmas in Heat by Anonymous [E, 3k]

►Despite all odds, Harry and Draco become friends while working at the Ministry. Their friendship is very intense, and the need they have for each other takes them both by surprise. Then, one day, Harry begins to desire Draco in a way that frightens him. [...] ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

3. Elf Affairs and Unwrapped Hearts by @picklesonjupiter [M, 1k]

►As Harry reluctantly takes on the role of a mall elf during the holiday season, he finds unexpected camaraderie with Malfoy, another elf, whose civil behavior surprises Harry. Working together, Harry discovers a side of Malfoy that intrigues him, leading to an unexpected invitation. ★ HP Yuletide Bliss 2023 | @hp-yuletide-bliss

4. The Pale Ferret Café by Anonymous [G, 3k]

►Harry's visits to Draco's café are a source of annoyance. Or are they? ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

5. Thickets by Anonymous [E, 17k]

►When Draco returns to the UK after two decades of building his career as an internationally-renowned artist to look after his ailing, estranged father, he crosses paths with his former flame, Harry Potter, in the most unexpected way. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #daily list #2023 #2023.12

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 1 year ago

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SET FOURTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH FIVE

"Noonday Heat" (1903 - Henry Scott Tuke) / "La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and the Unicorn)" (c. 1500)

NOONDAY HEAT: I just love it because... the sort of subtextual queerness of it, or at least boyish love, whether platonic or romantic or sexual. The quiet intimacy of a good day with another boy in that so-often awkward stage of adolescence but it's not awkward here in this moment. It can't be. When you're faced with such a true call to love another sort-of-boy, sort-of-man as a sort-of-boy, sort-of-man, it can't be. (@skamortuus)

LA DAME À LA LICORNE (THE LADY AND THE UNICORN): You are in the Musée de Cluny. There is a room, separated, and dark, but people walk in and out so it is not a closed room. It must be investigated. You walk in. The lights are dim, but not dim enough to hide the huge panels of fabric facing you, and your eyes adjust anyway. Each is over ten feet tall and most are wider. A semi-circle of reds and blues. They are labelled with the five senses, and so too the tapestries portray them. Touch; a young lady holds a pennant and gently cups the unicorn's horn. Taste, Smell, Hearing. Sight, the lady holds a mirror to show the unicorn itself, with one hand on the unicorn's neck. They are a semi-circle, facing the last one. À Mon Seul Désir.

The unicorn and the lion hold the tent flaps, while the lady holds her necklace. And you are left to wonder. What about the necklace is her sole desire? But then, maybe you're not THAT fluent in french and that's not what it actually means. Is desire a sixth sense perhaps?

And you're also struck with the memory of the opening of the Last Unicorn. These aren't those tapestries, of course, but the riot of flowers and the docile unicorn interacting with the young lady reminds you anyway.

The rest of the museum calls you away, finally, but the ivory statuettes do not stop you from thinking about weavers on looms, six hundred years ago, weaving flowers and unicorns. (@kaerran)

(”Noonday Heat” is an oil on canvas painting by Henry Scott Tuke. It measures 91 cm (35.8 in) by 143 cm (56.2 in) and is located in the Falmouth Art Gallery in Cornwall. Another version of this painting has both the figures naked; Tuke was known for painting nude boys and men and his work remains popular among openly gay artists.

"The Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries were woven in Flanders out of wool and silk. The six pieces range from 3.10 m × 3.30 m (10.2 ft × 10.8 ft) to 3.80 m × 4.64 m (12.5 ft × 15.2 ft). The tapestry portrayed above is of the "À mon seul désir" tapestry, the other five being themed on the five senses. They are exhibited in a purpose-made room in the Musée de Cluny.)

#art that fucks you up tournament #polls #atfyu polls #id in alt text #cw nudity

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swallowedbymadness · 1 year ago

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*.·:·.✧ forever, you and i ✧.·:·.*

Pairing: yeosang x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: dreamy smut/fantasy? yeah, we’ll go with that.

Summary: Lost in his own desires, you were everything Yeosang ever dreamed of, and he longed for a forever filled with you in it.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: hi friends! I am back with another smut filled read for you all. This fic came to me randomly while at work when “Like Crazy” by Jimin came on, so now you get some Kang Yeosang love because my brain is hopelessly romantic like that. I’m reeeeally hoping y’all don’t come for me with this one lol anywhooo…18+ content, so please, minors DNI. Enjoy! ✨

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, some fluff sprinkled in there, angst? (Idk I’ll let you decide on that last one.)

Proofread: Yeah, but you know the drill. If you see a mistake, no you don’t.

There was something familiar about the scene Yeosang found himself surrounded by. Ivory sheets and an angelic glow were all that came into view once the blur of his surroundings started to fade.

Yeosang had been here before, but for some reason, it all seemed new to him in the current moment. Something in his heart told him this wasn’t the first time he’d been here, though. He caught blurred glimpses of someone, their small giggles filling the air around him as their full figure approached the bed he found himself sat on. He recognized the warmth his chest felt as his pulse quickened at the sight before him, his eyes now able to focus on the figure causing his breath to hitch. He tried to focus on their face, but everything was moving too fast and too slow all at once. A melodic hum of a song he wasn’t sure he knew filled the air around him, teasing him with a familiarity he couldn’t quite understand. It was like a sheer fabric was moving around him, his vision seeming to be in slow motion, like he was drowning underneath the metaphorical cloth that acted as a veil over his eyes as he saw glimpses of the silhouette move closer to him. He finally caught his breath, like breaking the surface of the deepest ocean as the fabric fell out of view, sending him back into the pillows behind him, revealing the figure before him, a gasp falling from his lips.

You.

You fell into view as your body now hovered over his, your hair framing your face beautifully, your body bare and even more radiant than he ever could have imagined. Once your eyes met, it was like a tidal wave rushing forward, stealing his breath from his lungs once again as he felt the love he had for you pour from his fingertips. They itched to touch you, feel you, remember the way you felt under his skin.

This was perfect.

You were perfect.

Yeosang had absolutely no idea what any of this meant. The only thing he was sure of were the emotions flowing through his veins currently as you held his gaze firmly, nothing but affection and adoration swimming in your irises. You leaned down and pressed your lips to the shell of his ear, your breath sending a shiver down Yeosang’s spine.

“I think that we could last forever…” you whispered, voice quiet and promising. You felt his strong hands grab onto you and pull you down on top of him. His heart began to erratically beat from within his chest as his eyes looked down to see your figure splayed out against his bare skin, sending a heat rush through his veins.

He wasn’t acquainted with the feeling of love, yet he was so sure that this was the closest thing he’d ever felt regarding the emotion. Everything about you was inexplicably divine, and he didn’t question it. He didn’t need to, because he just felt it.

This felt right — you underneath him like this, with nothing but raw emotion to bare to one another.

“I’m afraid that everything will disappear,” he admitted, playing with your fingers, eventually lacing yours with his and bringing the back of your hand up to his lips. Something about you, this moment, the atmosphere, everything surrounding you two was just so familiar, like he had seen it all before. The answers seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. When you looked up into his doe eyes, you could see the worry swirling in his dark eyes.

“Just trust me.” You sighed into his soft skin, peppering kisses into his chest. There was a hint of knowing laced between your words, unbeknownst to him. His eyes closed, another gasp leaving his lips as your mouth continued to praise his flesh without words. Your mouth trailed down his abdomen, your lips nipping at the sensitive skin on his hip bone. He didn’t feel an ounce of shyness when a pleasure soaked groan slipped from his lips. You suckled the delicate skin, leaving a beautiful purple blotch to freely bloom against his porcelain skin.

You wondered if it would be there in the morning. Would he be able to see it? Would he even remember if it wasn’t there?

You let the thought quickly drift away as you kept kissing all the way down, down, down, until you reached his rosy tip that was leaking, and aching for your attention. You looked up at him, a smirk on your lips as you took his length into your mouth slowly, jaw locking as you inched his girthy member closer to the back of your throat. You rested him flat on your tongue, letting yourself get used to the weight of him. You closed your lips around him, rolling your tongue along his shaft and slowly dragged along his dick with a satisfying pop once he was completely out of your mouth. You swirled your tongue along the slit, your free hand cradling his balls as you took him in between your lips once more, sucking a little harder this time to pull a moan straight out of him. You looked up at his godly figure as it began to sparkle in the light with a light sweat beginning to break out along his chest as it heaved euphorically above you. There was a moment where he looked down daringly and saw the twinkle in your eyes, tear soaked lashes fluttering as you took him so well. His eyes rolled back, his hand going to your scalp as he guided your head to bob back and forth along him, your drool dripping from the corners of your mouth. You groaned against him, the vibrations around his cock sending him into overdrive. He tilted his head back, a long sigh leaving him as he felt himself pulsate inside your mouth, your tongue dancing around him like a sacred ritual.

“Oh, shit,” he hissed, a wave of arousal moving through him. He shivered, the warmth beginning to pool in his abdomen, catching him off guard. He refused to let this moment end so soon. “not yet.”

He sat up and spread his legs, eyes staring into your bare figure with his arms reached out as an invitation. You smirked, eyes hooded as you got on your knees, your legs on either side of his hips and your wet core hovering over his leaking dick. He looks down between the two of you, taking your figure in completely, his fingers rubbing lightly up from your knees, your thighs, and over your sides. You felt a goosebumps form under his touch, his hands secured on your back now. His eyes locked with yours once more, completely awestruck at the sight before him.

“You’re…everything to me.” He confessed under his breath. He wasted no time before putting his lips back onto yours, the heated kiss taking over his senses completely. “This is gonna break me,” He sighed into your mouth, his tongue brushing against yours as his hands squeezed your love handles his fingers relishing in the way your body dipped and curved in all the right ways, so beautifully created by the heavens, he was sure of it. “Isn’t it?”

You didn’t dare answer him, but you weren’t sure if that question was truly meant for you or not. You felt the pang in your heart, knowing what came next, but you needed to play along, for him.

“Please, just let me feel your love tonight. I need to taste it, breathe it, drown in it.” You felt your chest swell with affection for the man before you, the arousal pooling between your legs from his words, the throbbing in your core beginning to make your mind hazy. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your chest at his eye level, but his irises only looked up into yours.

“Always,” you vowed, his lips dancing against the delicate skin between your breasts, tracing a path with his tongue. He held onto you firmly, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you sink down onto his throbbing member slowly. The stretch caused a gasp to leave your lips as your walls enveloped him perfectly. You leaned back into his strong embrace, his biceps flexing at the weight but he made it seem so effortless to hold you right where he needed you to make you feel like you were floating as he began to thrust lovingly into you. Your head leaned back, mouth falling slack as you freely allowed the pleasure to fall from your swollen lips in the form of drawn out sighs and whines.

“Yeosang,” You weren’t even sure what words fell from your mouth besides his name, completely lost in pure ecstasy that his cock was pumping into you, your orgasm beginning to brew in your abdomen. You saw stars dancing across the ceiling, lost in the lights as he moaned into your skin, your name slipping from his tongue as he desperately loved you like he asked to do. “Yeosang, please,” you begged, words spilling into the air surrounding you both. Your body was limp in his embrace as he held you in place. “I-I need more.” He took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and pulling on the erect bud as he pounded into you harder. Your figure bounced within his tight grip, the sheen of sweat shining beautifully against your sticky skin.

“Oh,” his voice barely above a whisper as his breath hitched at how stunning you were unraveling right in front of him. The sight before him was breathtaking, your eyes shut and head tilted back towards the sky, pleasure dripping from your lips as he slammed into your soaked pussy, the lewd sounds your hips made while smacking together filled his ears and made his cock twitch within your rigid walls. You started moving your hips to match his violent pace that you had asked for, the buildup in your core becoming too much as you felt yourself about to burst.

“I’m gonna-” you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you were cumming on his dick as it continued to assault your hole, his pace not slowing even as you screamed his name so loud you swore the neighbors would be pounding on the door any minute now. As he still chased his high, you knew he wasn’t done with you. He was close though, his thrusts became sloppy and rushed. His eyebrows furrowed, his bottom lip now sucked between his teeth as he grunted under his breath. He was so desperate to get there with you, his balls aching to empty into you.

“Fuck! Please…oh gods, please.” He chanted, his hands running up to grab a fistful of hair and the back of your neck to keep you in place, needing a grip on reality, onto something real. He ran the hand from your hair to grab yours. He put two of your fingers in his mouth, running the pad of his tongue around them before placing them between your folds, moving them to massage your swollen clit. “Come for me again, angel. I want you to spill all over this cock.” He growled, eyes glazed over and lost in the pleasure. You winced at the overstimulation, but you did as he asked of you. He leaned forward and crashed your lips together, your moans mixing into a beautiful symphony as you both came, the mixture of your fluids hot and sticky against both of you. He pulled out of your used pussy, leaving you to clench around nothing now as he fell forward into you, your chests coming together as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You held one another there for who knows how long, coming back down from your high and feeling the exhaustion settle into your muscles. Your cheek rested against his shoulder, every once in a while you placed barely there kisses to his porcelain skin, allowing the remnants of his perfume to fill your senses.

“Forever,” you ran your fingertips up his back, feeling the goosebumps form along his glowing skin “You and I...” you kissed up to his lips, yours pecking at each corner of his mouth before devouring his own once more. You held onto his face, the desperation leaking front the way your mouths moved fervently in sync. “But you have to wake up now…” you choked out, feeling the sting of fresh tears forming in your eyes. Yeosang pulled back and looked at you confused.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeosang, this isn’t real…” You confessed, killing the illusion and watching the realization wash over his face. That’s why everything seemed familiar. That’s why all of this made so much sense but no sense at all, all at once. His pulse quickened, the fear from earlier returning to the forefront of his mind as he realized he was becoming aware that he was dreaming, that you would not be there when he woke up.

No…

No, this couldn’t happen.

Not again.

“No, wait! Please. Don’t make me go back.” He pleaded, now understanding what this was. This wasn’t real, none of it was. It never was. But somehow, it felt like the realest thing he’s ever known.

“We will meet again soon, I promise.” You had a sad smile displayed across your features, reliving this moment every time. The agony of watching him come to and break from the spell broke you more and more each time. You knew this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him, but you never knew when the next time would be.

You wondered how many cracks it could endure until it shattered.

“You always find me,” You stated, wishing you could break the illusion, change something in the cosmos, anything that would allow you two to be together forever. But, just like every other time before, your throat had formed a painful lump as a tear finally rolled down your cheek, the all too familiar pain in your chest growing as you noticed the tell tale signs that it was his time to go. He glanced into your eyes, not sure how to save himself from slipping back into the real world and far far away from his dreamscape. Before he could question it, the scene before him was pulling further and further away from his vision, black engulfing his peripherals. “Until next time, my love.” You muttered, accepting that fate had decided you would be star crossed lovers, existing on two different planes, but somehow brought together through your dreams. He reached for you, but you just sat there with a defeated look in your eyes, always hoping he would return again sooner than the last time. As you were ripped away from him, he realized why this felt all too familiar. This wasn’t the first time this has happened.

The simple tune sounded from his phone then, filling the room with complete dread. Yeosang sighed heavily, the ache in his heart growing when his eyes looked at the offending phone that ripped him from his desired reality. He pushed the snooze button on his alarm before rolling over onto his side, pushing his golden strands back and out of his eyes. He stared out of his window, eyes still a bit blurry from sleep. He felt tears on his waterline threaten to fall at any moment as he tried to get his brain to catch up to what was happening.

As the dawn began to wake up the earth, the morning doves singing their daily song and the plants dewy from the still morning, he closed his eyes once more to try and force his way back to you. When minutes passed and he couldn’t fall back into the reality that held you in it, he pulled the blankets up to his nose, allowing the tears to finally fall, ignoring the way his half hard member beneath the sheets ached for you, taunting him in the most cruel way while filling him with an all too familiar emptiness in his chest.

“Alone again...what’s the point?”

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