#also that i felt feverish inside my body despite my skin not being hot. i even opened the window until my skin became cool to the touch

[kittykatinabag]

You ever find yourself absolutely unhinged at 2:30am eating small portions of rotisserie chicken with the lemon nandos hot sauce and kewpie mayo mixed together followed by literal spoonfuls of blackberry jam?

[euphoricsunflowers]

calling you daddy — monsta x

scenario: they ask about your kinks and you ask them to call you daddy

a/n: this is written with a fem reader in mind but is not strictly fem reader as no pronouns or anything is mentioned.

a/n: was this a request? nope tbh this was written for myself bc i’m sick and tired of seeing people call these men daddy so uh pls enjoy

word count: 2k

content: sub!monsta x, dom!reader, daddy kink obviously ajshdhs, minhyuk is kinda bratty? kinda??, lots of teasing and begging, mentions of consent and stuff

—

son hyunwoo/shownu:

he falls silent. he doesn’t know what to say in the slightest. he worries that he might hurt your feelings or say something out of line, but it just stuns him, “you don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable with that, bear. your consent is just as important,” you say.

but see that’s half of what’s stunning him. he’s not exactly uncomfortable with that. shownu’s nature is pleasing you, he doesn’t mind filling any role or position for you, this was just a little more intense than that.

“you know what? just forget we had this conversation. i don’t want you to feel pressured, and it’s not a big deal, okay?” you say.

but the idea lingers in his head whether or not you want it to. as the days go by, his mind wanders, and while it may not exactly be what he’d be into, he’s not against doing it for you.

as you manhandle him a little bit, he says it softly, “ah, daddy-,” it’s even more embarrassing than he imagined, and his cheeks and ears are flushed and hot, but when he says it, softly under his breath, just whispering it out to test the waters, he sees your shock and then your small little smirk.

“now that i know what it sounds like to hear you say that, and what that does to me,” you say, sneaking your hands under his shirt and letting them wander, playing with his chest a bit, “i don’t think it’s a good idea to say that if you wanna make it out of this bedroom spotless and in one piece.”

he blushes even more, a little shy and hesitant, but he likes having this kind of effect on you, so that may not be the last time he says it. besides, who says he cares if he makes it out in one piece? and spotless? his neck and chest and thighs were too clean anyway.

lee hoseok/wonho:

it was in the middle of you riding him, his wrists bound above his head with a rope that made his skin look so pretty against it. he’s already cum once, but you’re not stopping until you do, and he’s trying to keep himself together. your hands roughly playing with his chest is overstimulating and he’s overwhelmed. he pleads for mercy aimlessly, almost thoughtlessly.

but then, “if you’re gonna beg, call me daddy,” you murmur. he’s not even sure he hears you right when you say it. he looks at you with wide eyes, and he assumed he did because of the way you act. he knows he could stop you at any time because you’re very clear on consent and it’s not like this was completely out of left field considering how you’re already always in charge in the bedroom. he was just stunned.

and while he’s a little bit stunned, he also won’t deny that it is a little bit hot.

so he does, “please, daddy, it’s so much- i- i can’t handle it.”

he sees your smile, with just a drop of sadism behind the curl of your lip, “just a little more, baby, i’m close. you make daddy feel so good,” he gets so excited by the praise that he attempts to stick it out, forever still the man that just wants to make you happy and please you.

he forgets about himself and his own body for a moment when he feels your body tense up around him and you hold onto his chest as you orgasm, using him to get the most out of it before you slow down to a halt.

your heavy breathes and sweet nothings whispered in his ear are heavenly.

lee minhyuk:

“really? you’re into that? i honestly thought it would be the other way around.”

taken aback, you ask, “really? what gave you that impression?”

“idk, you don’t have this aura of dominance, so i didn’t really assume that was your thing.”

“is that- is that okay with you?”

he gets closer, teasing in the way he wants to make you shy, “you seem pretty bashful for someone who just asked to be called daddy in the bedroom.”

“minhyuk-,”

he rolls his eyes, obviously trying to get a rise out of you, “come on, i don’t even know if you have it in you.”

and something about his careless, taunting tone sets something off inside you, like he was challenging you. but it’s a challenge you take on when you approach him. your touch is softer, lighter than he imagined. he thought you would be lit aflame with a need to prove yourself to him. but you lean in to press a kiss on his neck and your wandering hands settle on his hips.

you’re gentle with him initially, yet he melts a little bit when one hand tightens and another begins to unbutton his shirt, giving your mouth access to his chest.

you push him onto the couch, straddling him and using a hand to hold both of his arms above his head, when you pull back, he looks dazed and needy, all those teasing smirks having faded off his features, “why are you so affected? i thought i didn’t even have it in me,” you say with a smirk this time.

he breathes heavily, “y/n- please-”

“oh please, that’s not my name anymore, min.”

yoo kihyun:

“you want me to what?!” his voice is randomly high pitched, loud, almost like he’s nervous or scared.

despite that anxious feeling you’re feeling too, you try to stay calm, “i understand if you’re uncomfortable by it, but you asked about my kinks, kihyun.”

“yeah i know- i just- i wasn’t expecting that- really? you’re not messing with me? that’s really what you want?” he looks exasperated.

“yes. i really want you to call me daddy.”

he goes silent, trying to comprehend in his head what the hell was going on and what he was going to do and why the more he thinks about it, the less vehemently against it he becomes. and he had spent the entire relationship making it clear that he cared about what you wanted (because he does) and it’s not like… he hates the idea of it, but it’s just so out there to him that he can’t even fathom or imagine it.

he asks for a few days just to think about it, and though the awkwardness lingers in the air, by the fourth day, it seems like you had mostly forgotten about it or at least it didn’t seem to be on your mind. he spends those days really thinking, trying to imagine what it would be like, why you would even want that.

but the next time you’re together alone, your hands and lips are on him and he experimentally says it, “daddy, please.”

the whiny, begging voice, coupled with the word, leave you stunned. you pull back with wide eyes, and he felt so embarrassed and shameful with your eyes on him like that, but then you pulled him back into you and kissed him with a certain kind of feverish desperation that made his knees weak.

chae hyungwon:

his reaction is oddly pretty calm. he asked about what you were into, and you told him. maybe he was expect something a little different, but to be honest, he knew you liked to be in control, and he usually just went along with it. he didn’t mind it especially because you always made sure you both felt good and that was all that matters. that and he kinda likes being told what to do.

so it doesn’t exactly surprise him, especially when you add, “but only in a sexual context! i don’t need you to say it all the time.”

“good because there’s no way in hell i’m calling you daddy in front of my friends,” he can see the thoughts behind your eyes wanting to take up that challenge, but he decides to ignore it, “as far as they’re concerned, i’m daddy.”

“sure, wonnie. sure,” you say dismissively, before looking back at him, “are you actually okay with it though? i know it’s… weird.”

“it wasn’t what i was expecting, but if that’s what you want, then i’ll do it.”

and as soon as you’ve got him under you, with kisses and marks trailing down his neck and chest, leaving him helplessly turned on and horny, he says it so naturally, you wonder if he even thought to do it. but whether or not he’s doing this solely for you, or because he might have found it a little hot, is between him and himself, “ahh, daddy, please- be gentle with me- i have a photoshoot in the morning- oh my god that feels so good please daddy don’t stop-”

lee jooheon:

he likes the idea of it when you mention it, he just gets kinda shy, “do you- do you really want me to call you that?”

you come closer, holding his hand and rubbing your thumb against it in a comforting manner, “yeah, i really like the idea of it. if you’re not completely against it, i’d be really happy if we could try it.”

“it’s not… the worst thing you could have told me you were into,” he laughs as your hand starts to massage his thigh instead, “we can try it. i'll tell you if we need to stop, but i think it’ll be okay.”

“good, i’m glad you’re reacting this way, honey,” you murmur as you kiss him, and he smiles, which, even if it makes the kiss a little awkward, is really cute, “sweetheart,” you whisper as you pull away, “can you say it? i just wanna hear you say it.”

your hands wander his skin nervously, he can tell you’re worried about him being uncomfortable, “ahh, d-daddy, please touch me more,” he whines, and he’s never been more compelling before, but somehow the use of that word really makes you want to give in and give him anything he wants, “please touch me.”

your hand falls a little lower upon his request, and he groans lightly, pulling you a little closer, “you’re perfect, baby, so pretty.”

“ahh, please,” he huffs, clearly growing shy with the praise, but it’s obvious he really likes it, so you touch him more and whisper sweet words into his ear with a kiss, “oh- oh my- daddy- please i-”

“you’re so cute, sweetie pie, especially when you’re feeling good, you look so pretty and content. it’s my favorite sight,” you say adoringly, looking at him with the biggest heart eyes.

“wow, i didn’t expect to like this this much but-“ he whispers, “-i kinda love it.”

im changkyun/i.m:

he doesn’t react much when you say it, making you wonder if he was uncomfortable or not into it, but in any case, you assume it’s going to be forgotten in a few days and there would be nothing to worry about.

until he’s trying to get you to play with him and you’re trying to work. he can’t deny that he gets horny easily and you’re right there! he tries to tease in an way he can think possible, but to no avail. you’re still just sitting there, typing away on your laptop.

“just another thirty minutes, and then im all yours, baby,” you murmur to him, and he pouts subconsciously out of frustration.

he gets an idea, and i’m sure you know what it is.

“alright, you’re busy and i respect that. i guess i’ll just leave you be and go play by myself, daddy,” he giggles when you look over at him for the first time in this encounter and then he walks away.

as he sits on the bed in your bedroom, he awaits the sound of your footsteps, knowing he’s won. the door opens, and you walk in too casually, enough to make him suspicious, until he’s pulled onto your lap with your lips on his shoulder. your hands sneak under his hoodie, and his hands brace himself on your shoulders for stability, “ah- y/n-”

“baby, i did not set aside my work that’s due tomorrow morning to come fuck your brains out just for you to call me that,” he shivers, so incredibly turned on, “try again.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @multidreams-and-desires @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan @monstaxdirtywonk @domreaderrecs @mochi-ficz and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

[breakyeol]

touch it (sensual oils)

one shot

┗ pairing : baekhyun x reader

words: 4k

warnings: smut, sensual massage, byun-booty, hand job, light overstimulation 

a/n; because baekhyun deserves it

Baekhyun had a bad day.

That much was glaringly obvious from the very moment he stepped through the door, looking about ready to crawl beneath your bedsheets and never come out. He collapsed into your arms with a pathetic whine the moment you rose from where you were situated on the couch, the full weight of his body thrown against your chest. You grunted at the unexpected impact, quickly wrapping your arms around his slim waist when you felt his knees beginning to give out.

“Baek!” You yelped, struggling feebly to support the both of you. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m too tired to stand,” he cried out dramatically, voice muffled against your shoulder, “my body feels like it’s turning into mush.”

You clicked your tongue at his familiar dramatics, a fond smile flitting across your lips in spite of yourself. “Oh my poor baby~” you cooed playfully, petting the top of his head, “they worked you into the ground?”

A heavy pout tugged at the corners of his lips, big droopy eyes swinging up to meet yours as he bobbed his head. “I’m already sore. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” He complained noisily, hands curling into tight fists around the material of your sweatshirt.

This close, you could easily make out the lingering scent of sweat clinging to his skin, and you didn’t doubt for a second he worked until he was drenched in it. There was a flash, an image that passed before your eyes, of Baekhyun, sweat rolling down the smooth slope of his chin, dripping from the fringes of his bangs, glistening enticingly above his brow, his mouth pink and open, gasping. It vanished just as quickly as it had come, and your attention was drawn back to the whining mess of a man squirming against your chest.

“Go shower,” you suggested, not trusting your voice above a careful whisper, “then come to bed, okay?”

“I don’t want to. Just hold me.”

You snickered, combing your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, feeling the way his body melted into the tender caress. “I will gladly hold you for the rest of the night… after you take a shower.”

He only offered an unintelligible grunt in response, showing no signs of detaching himself from your body, his hold around you tightening in a display of stubborn resistance. There was little doubt in your mind that he’d keep this up for as long as your patience allowed – which, given how soft you were for the man, was a fairly long time –, but you knew you’d both be better off once he felt clean and refreshed, cleansed of the day’s many hardships.

“You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”

A groan this time.

“I’ll make you feel a lot better afterwards.”

At that reparation, his head snapped up, eyes wide and, despite the exhaustion, glinting with a hint of excitement. His spine straightened, grip around you loosening somewhat as strength seemed to return to his muscles. “Really?” He whispered, pink tongue slipping out from between petal lips. So easy. You could’ve scoffed, but thought better of yourself, settling for a suggestive cock of your head that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

“Go shower,” you hummed, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and guiding his face down towards yours, “then… we’ll see.”

He let out a huff of breath, eyes going hooded as they flickered down to trace the smug curve of lips. “You’re mean.”

You laughed lightly, planting a kiss that was far too short for Baekhyun’s liking to his pouted mouth before skillfully untangling yourself from his arms. “We’ll see just how mean I can be once you come to bed.” You called teasingly over your shoulder, grinning in wild amusement at the low curse that followed.

It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way into the bedroom that you heard the soft hiss of the shower. You waited until you heard the low groan that told you that your boyfriend had finally stepped beneath the hot spray to permeate through the separating wall before you jumped into action.

This wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had come home looking ready to collapse and you doubted it would be the last. There wasn’t much you could do about him having to go to work. No matter what you said or how many times you told him he should give himself a chance to rest and recover, he would always put his everything into his work, because that was just the kind of man he was. He was all passion and fire and unrelenting persistence even when he felt like he might die. It was a quality that sparked both admiration and fear inside of you.

There was a certain helplessness that came with being the person he came home to after a long day of work, body and mind teetering dangerously on the brink of exhaustion. There wasn’t much you could do to ease his stress, as he wasn’t the type to verbally unload or express his unease to its full extent. Sure, he was dramatic, but only in a playful sense. That was his way of downplaying and covering up his true feelings, to both you and himself.

But, there were still other ways you could help. And, with some brainstorming and a bit of research, you’d come up with the perfect plan to help ease some of Baekhyun’s tension. Though, you had to scramble a bit to set the scene, you knew it would be fully worth it to see the look on his face.

It was just as you’d lit the final candle, completing the final touches, that you heard the shower shut off. Perfect timing. You quickly situated yourself on the edge of the bed, the cool air caressing your scantily clad body, rousing goosebumps across your skin.

But, the chills tickling your spine were little more than a second thought as Baekhyun stepped into the room donning nothing more than a towel that hung dangerously low on his full hips. He paused just inside the doorway, his brows shooting upwards as he took in the state of your shared bedroom. Wide eyes danced over the flickering candles laid out strategically across the hardwood floor to encircle the bed, swept over the scattered rose petals, before finally landing on you.

You, wearing a deep crimson lingerie set, a sheer silk robe, and nothing more.

His bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, rose sharply as his breath hitched. A low curse tumbled from his lips, almost too faint to hear over the seductive instrumentals pulsing from the speakers.

A satisfied smirk broke across your face at his reaction, pleased with yourself for having successfully caught him off guard.

“Surprise,” you sang, voice low and silken.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his own amazement rooting him in place as he visually inhaled the sight of you. Your skin was hot beneath the intensity of his gaze, blazing as it trailed torturously slow up the length of your body, not daring to miss a single detail.

A faint buzz of nerves fizzled in your gut.

You’d never done anything like this before. Presented yourself in such a way to him, that is. All wrapped up in silk and lace of only the most sensual nature, bathed in smooth orange candlelight that tickled your ankles and crept up the smooth length of your lower legs. This was something new for the both of you, something unexplored. But it also wasn’t everything you had in store.

When he moved, it was with the utmost cautiousness, as if stepping too quickly or too harshly might disturb the beautiful illusion spread before him. But still, he moved, unable to resist the temptation.

Without speaking, his hands found your face, curving around the shape of your jaw and winding around the back of your neck. They were cold against your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled down your spine as he leaned over you. You let out a soft hum at his touch, head rolling back under his gentle coaxing.

Not a beat passed before his mouth found yours, eager and impatient. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, easily finding the smooth slope of his naked waist and tugging him closer. He moaned somewhere low in his throat, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lip. You allowed as much, indulging the hungry press of his mouth, the careful nips of his teeth — until he tried to lay you down.

Your palms met the swells of his chest, and he pulled away, breathless and confused. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely, licking over his swollen lips. You’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t look irresistible in that moment, wet hair hanging messily over his brows, dark, hooded eyes, all haze and lust as they stared down at you heatedly, full cheeks blushing a feverish shade of red. But you had plans for tonight, plans you didn’t intend to discard for the sake of sexual pleasure.

“I’m not fucking you.”

He gasped, disbelief coloring his features. “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you grinned, settling your hands on his hips, “I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massa— ah!” his words cut off abruptly with a high pitched yelp as you suddenly spun him around, all but throwing him down onto the petal covered mattress. He could only stare at you in shock as you crawled over his nearly naked body, mouth curved into a playful smile.

“A massage.” You confirmed, sounding rather proud. But, he still looked less than amused, so you elaborated. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’ve been stressed and your body is exhausted. A massage will help release some of that tension.”

“You know what else releases tension?” He asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You cocked a brow, feeling the light press of his fingertips as they feathered over your thighs, taking an obvious path upwards. Desire and mischief swirled in his eyes, voice low and thick as the words dripped slowly from his dangerous tongue, “Hot… passionate… s—”

You snatched his hands from your skin before they could reach their destination, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “Shut up and roll over.”

He huffed, pouting up at you scornfully but obeyed nonetheless, rolling onto his stomach. “Do you even know how to give a massage?” He snipped as you settled yourself on the back of his towel clad thighs.

“I’ve done my research.” You offered lightly, sparing a moment to admire the lithe, sinewy build of his shoulders and back before you moved, reaching for the tall bottle you’d situated on the nightstand earlier. He followed your movements from the corner of his eye, curiosity breaking through the petulant facade.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“Perhaps,” you teased, pouring the translucent golden liquid into your palm, “but you’ll enjoy this, I promise. Just… relax.”

A defeated sigh escaped his chest, his body deflating beneath you. “Fine. But, this better feel better than sex or I swear to god I will—” he jolted with a soft gasp as you suddenly pressed the heels of your oil lathered palms into the area just between his shoulder blades and pushed outwards, “sue.”

You smirked smugly to yourself at the breathlessness with which he completed his sentence, obviously not having expected the pressure to feel that amazing.

“Good?” You asked, voice tinged with arrogance.

“Uh-huh,” he admitted immediately, moaning throatily as you rolled your thumbs deeply against the base of his neck, “oh fuck that feels so good.”

You chuckled, skillfully working your fingers across the planes of his broad shoulders. He melted deeper into the mattress with every knot you deftly unwound, soft, relieved moans breaking from his open mouth. The smooth, lavender scented oil glistened captivatingly on his sun-kissed skin, the delicate aroma gently permeating through your bedroom. It was a lovely, soothing smell, subtle and unimposing. You spread it diligently across the smooth expanse of his upper back, before gradually beginning to work your way downwards.

His sounds of bliss lowered in pitch the lower your hands reached, dipping into silky tenor groans when your hands reached the delicate dip of his waist. But, as you moved to massage the area just above his hips, he suddenly jolted, spine arching, a strained curse rushing from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help the concern that sparked to life in your chest at his response. “Does it hurt?” You asked, easing up on the pressure but not removing your touch completely. Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded with a soft, hesitant hum, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “What happened?”

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I just… twisted it weirdly during practice, I guess.” He offered weakly, shivering as you poured a small puddle of oil in the small of his back.

“Did you take a break?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Baek,” your tone turned scolding as you gently worked your fingers into the tight dip of his waist, “just because you can fight through the pain doesn’t mean that you should. You’re not doing your body any favors by pushing it this hard.”

“I know but I—“ he sighed heavily, pressing his face into the sheets, “I just… don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

Oh, your poor, sweet Baekhyun. Always trying to please everyone else even when it ends up hurting him.

Pausing in your movements, you leaned forwards, bracing your hands on his shoulders so that you could speak in his ear. “Nobody is disappointed in you, Baek. You work so hard everyday to be the best you can be, and it shows. Everyone knows that you put your everything into what you do. And everyone’s proud of you,” you pressed your lips against the curve of his throat, slowly working your way up to the curve of his jaw, “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced back at you through his eyelashes. “Really?”

The question is so soft, so uncertain, and you feel your heart clench painfully in your chest at the thought that this man truly doesn’t understand just how many people adore him for just being… him. “Of course.”

You didn’t miss the rising of his cheeks, though he tried to hide himself beneath his arm, suddenly shy. You bit back a grin of your own, pressing one final kiss to the shell of his ear before returning to your earlier position and resuming the massage. He felt a dozen times more relaxed beneath you, the previous tension occupying his muscles having magically dissipated.

Sometimes, all he really needed was a little reassurance.

The smile that settled across your lips was unwavering as you took to kneading at the supple flesh of his hips, just above the top of his towel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of a thought. A mischievous, dangerous thought. A thought that had your attention lingering on where the towel was tucked and secured on his right hip. Glancing up at the back of his head, you allowed your fingers to trail discretely towards the damp, white fabric, toying with it lightly so that he wouldn’t notice — not even as it came undone.

It was only as you peeled it swiftly away from his body and Baekhyun felt the rush of cool air across his backside that he realized what had just occurred.

“H– Hey!” He yelped, swinging his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is a full body massage, Baek. It’s not a full body massage unless it’s full body.”

“My butt does not need massaging.”

You grinned, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you cocked a challenging brow. “I beg to differ.”

“Pervert.” He hissed.

You gasped, splaying a hand across your chest. “Who told you?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your antics, but put up little resistance as you nudged his hands away from his butt. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck turned a dark, lovely shade of pink, and he quickly buried his face in his arms. Taking that as his nonverbal cue to continue, you poured yourself some more of the lavender scented oil, overturning your palm to let it drizzle onto his cheeks. He flinched slightly, the sensation catching him off guard.

So cute. You bit into the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing at him, opting to set your hands upon the gentle curve of his ass and knead your fingers into the soft, toned flesh. Baekhyun stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow, eyes fluttering as his body responded to the soothing touch.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, tone teasing.

“Shut up.”

You snickered, massaging deep circles into the muscles of his upper thigh. He groaned deeply, fingers curling into the sheets. “Right there, right there— fuck, right there. It’s so sore.”

Heat flickered faintly in the pit of your stomach at the low rasping of his voice, grunted roughly through clenched teeth. Geez, why’d he have to sound so damn sexy…

Brushing off the thought as best you could, you forced yourself to focus on massaging the tension from his hamstrings. But each brush of your fingers over the insides of his thighs, intentional or otherwise, coaxed a round of violent shivers and breathless moans from your very much nude and very much oil covered boyfriend. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, jaw clenching as you squeezed your hands around the backs of his lower thighs.

The sounds he was making weren’t helping your… situation in the least.

“How are you so good at this?” He asked, somewhat airily as your hands glided upwards, to just below the curve of his ass before returning to the crook of his knee. The question snapped you out of whatever trance you’d put yourself in watching the way his slick, honeyed skin dipped and curved deliciously beneath the pressure of your touch.

“Re- research. Lots of research.” You cleared your throat, shifting downwards on the mattress to set to work on his calves.

“You’re hands are fucking magic.”

Warmth slipped into your cheeks at the praise, your heart picking up speed within your chest. He was making it difficult for you to focus.

“I told you you’d like it.” You hummed playfully, beginning the slow ascent back up the length of his naked body.

“You were right,” he conceded easily, sighing in bliss as your hands slid over the small of his back, “I love it. Feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

A content (and perhaps a bit smug) smile settled across your face. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. All you wanted was to make Baekhyun feel even just a little bit better after what you knew had to be a long, hard day— and you goddamn succeeded.

“Baek,” you murmured, and he gasped softly, not expecting your lips to be right next to his ear. He let out an unsteady hum, blinking hard twice when he felt your lace covered chest press against his back, “roll over for me?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. You lifted yourself off of him to give him just enough room to turn onto his back beneath you. All at once you were nose to nose, soft puffs of breath caressing your mouth. He was looking up at you with those eyes again, those hooded, wanting eyes, his hands clenching at the sheets somewhere down by his sides. You could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the desperation slowly seeping into his expression.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question was quiet, barely a whisper on his delicate pink lips. But the fire it ignited inside of you was anything but— loud, violent, and devastating, ripping your so well kept self control to shreds in a matter of moments.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding a slick hand down his toned stomach, “but I’m going to touch it first.”

He barely had time to react before your hand was around his cock. He gasped, back arching, forcing his chest flush against yours. Surprise flickered across your face upon feeling him already fully hard and throbbing against your palm. “Oh?”

“What?” He huffed out breathlessly, swinging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “did you expect me not to get hard while my sexy girlfriend wearing sexy lingerie rubs every inch of my body with oil?”

Pausing, you squinted down at him. “It was the butt massage, wasn’t it?”

He glared, and you grinned.

But any annoyance was wiped clean off his face as you squeezed your fingers around him, stroking his dick at a slow, borderline torturous pace. The remaining oil on your hand combined with his precum provided the perfect lubrication, the slide smooth and wet, the lewd sound of it making you clench around nothing. Baekhyun’s head rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. But, not for a moment did his gaze break from yours. You bit your lip harshly, a violent heat licking at your veins, the sheer intensity of his dark stare making your head feel dizzy.

“You look… so hot right now.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to feel even the least bit ashamed.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sultry smirk, an airy chuckle rumbling somewhere low in his chest.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Then kiss me.”

You did so without hesitation.

Baekhyun let out a heady groan, hands surging up from between your bodies to cradle your jaw as your lips worked against his with a hunger you hadn’t realized you possessed. It was uncoordinated and messy, all lashing tongue and vicious teeth, biting and sucking and licking until you were certain your that lips were raw. You were dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him, and he wasn’t in much of a better state. With his cock in your hand and your tongue in his mouth, it didn’t seem like he’d last much longer.

Beneath you, Baekhyun’s hips bucked and rolled, frenzied and desperate. Your hand stilled around him, allowing him the luxury of control as he fucked himself violently into your closed fist. Each moan that tumbled from his mouth into yours was louder than the last, and you relished in the unabashed displays of pleasure, taking an immense amount of pride in knowing that you were the cause of it.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped the warning, his nails biting harshly into your shoulder, “fuck— fuck, wait— I’m g-gonna come.”

“Baek,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss, “come for me. Please.”

His back arched, the furnace of his body overwhelmed but still trying feebly to fight back his oncoming high. Baekhyun didn’t like coming first. He’d always had the tendency of putting your pleasure above his own, making sure you came at least once (if not multiple times) before him. But tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him. And you were going to make sure he knew it.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking a dark bruise into his skin while simultaneously rolling your thumb over his sensitive tip in a way that had him trembling pathetically beneath you.

“Oh god— oh fuck— y/n—!” He came with a hoarse cry of your name, hips bucking, muscles tensing, skin shivering. You felt his hot release spilling over your knuckles, slipping between your fingers. He whimpered and squirmed as the overstimulation kicked in, but you didn’t stop stroking him until he started begging. “I can’t, I can’t— baby, please—” his chest heaved and his eyes went glassy, the dangerous cocktail of pleasure and pain making his head feel dizzy.

Looking down at him, so wrecked and fucked out, with those flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, you felt your heart flutter at the same time arousal coiled in your gut. He was just too damn pretty for his own good.

You relented, gently releasing his spent dick from your hold. He let out a shaky breath before tugging you into another mind numbing kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, feeling one of his hands coil around the back of your neck while the other explored the expanse of your back. It didn’t take long before they discovered the clasp of your bra, deftly unclasping it. Distracted by the skillful flicks of his tongue, you didn’t realize what he’d done until you felt the lacy fabric slip down your arms.

A giggle bubbled in your throat, and you whispered against his mouth, “naughty boy.”

His lips curled, and then all at once you found yourself sprawled on your back. “Naughty girl,” Baekhyun retaliated in a low, playful growl, pinning your hands to the mattress on either side of your head, “making me cum even after I told you to wait...”

His head dipped and you gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive part of your throat, one hand sliding down to grip at your naked breast. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as he circled your nipple with a rough thumb.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay you back for it…”

You weren’t about to object to that.

[cardansriddle]

Draco- Secret little rendezvous

Request: May I request a SlytherinPrefect!Draco x GryffindorPrefect!reader smut in the prefects bathroom? Ajakdkdk the place seems so smut worthy

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos) also not proofread because I have shit tons of hw to do, bear with me.

I slammed the portrait shut to the Prefect’s bathroom, letting out a string of curses as I started undressing hurriedly. Umbridge has been getting on my last nerves, and it took every ounce of my willpower to not lunge at her and Avada the toad looking woman.

The water was warm when I dipped my toes in, and I didn’t hesitate before diving into the water and brushing my hair back once I resurfaced. My tense muscles relaxed immediately, and I sighed a deep breath of relief as I felt my anger being washed away. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the bath, trying to forget the torture the toad put us through.

My relaxed state didn’t last long, as the portrait door opened and my eyes snapped open. I yelped at the unexpected presence and shrieked further when I realized just who it was.

Malfoy looked just as surprised to see me there as much as I was. I sank into the water so he couldn’t see anything above my neck.

“Get out!” I yelled at him when he continued to stare at me dumbfoundedly. “How the hell did you even get here?!” I shrieked and a small smirk made an appearance on his lips.

“It wasn’t locked.” He shrugged simply. “Get out, I’ve had a long day and I want to bath.” He commanded, inching closer to the giant bath. I quickly gathered bubbles around me for modesty’s sake and glared heatedly at the blonde.

“Bullying children became hard for you now? Anyway, I don’t care. I was here first, so for Merlin’s sake, get out!” I gestured to the door, sending him the darkest look I could muster to get my point across.

“I guess we’ll share it then.” He said simply and I watched horrified as he started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. My eyes were drawn to his ring clad hands as I swallowed.

“I’m not bathing with you! Where the hell are your bloody manners, Malfoy?”

His hands stilled as his eyes caught mine. He tilted his head a bit, studying me with his piercing eyes. I squirmed under his gaze and tried not to look away first.

“Either get out or shut up and let us both relax.” He snapped at last before discarding his shirt, his eyes still on mine. I tried to fight the blush that was threatening to taint my cheeks and instead I raised my chin and held eye contact. Even as he discarded his pants. Even as he got out of his boxers.

I did not dare look down, knowing that I would immediately get flustered if I did so. He got in the water, dipping his head in and resurfacing with wet hair. I tried to convince myself that the sight of him in front of me with his bare chest and wet hair was not arousing, but my body wouldn’t listen. The fact that we were both in the same bath, completely bare was dawning on me slowly.

I tore my gaze away from him. He was Malfoy for fuck’s sake! What the hell was I thinking? If Harry, Ron or Hermione ever found out about this, they would not only question my sanity but probably disown me as a friend. I should’ve hexed him as soon as he stepped a foot in here.

“Why so tense?” He mocked, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. I rolled my eyes instead of answering him and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. Sure, Malfoy was hot, but I still had my morals. I wouldn’t betray my frien-

The splashing of water cut my thoughts short, and I gasped once I realized Malfoy was right in front of me, in very close proximity.

“What are you doing?” My voice came out breathless. He cocked his head to the side with a small smirk before getting even closer. His nose was brushing mine at this point. I was trapped. The wall of the pool was cold against my back as I pressed myself into it, trying to put as much distance as possible between Malfoy and me because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself once his lips touched mine. I knew kissing him would be the final nail in my coffin and it terrified me.

His skin was glistening, little droplets of water dripping down his face. “I know you want me.” He lowered his voice, eyes glinting with a dangerous spark.

With the last drop of my willpower, I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he grabbed my wrists roughly and slammed his lips on mine.

The oxygen was punched straight out of my lungs at the feverish pitch of his lips pressed against mine. His soft lips felt euphoric, like silk and sandpaper. One of his ring clad fingers grabbed my jaw, while the other ran down my sides like he was trying to memorize every inch of my body until his hand reached my thigh. He wrapped his demanding hand around the underside of it, making me lock my legs around his narrow hips.

Reflexively, my arms shot up to wrap around his neck for support, gripping the hair at his nape and tugging on it. He emitted a low groan, and I squeezed my thighs tighter around him.

We pulled away to catch our breaths, panting heavily. “Fuck, Malfoy. We can’t.” I whispered, but despite my words, I didn’t release my hold on him.

He put his mouth on my shoulder murmuring against my skin. “Then tell me to stop.” He said. His words were met with silence and I felt him smirk against my skin. He nipped my shoulder causing me to gasp. His touch was electrifying, awakening every nerve in my body. “You’re literally wrapped around me in a bath, I think you can call me Draco.” I groaned and pulled at his hair, making him move his head back so I could kiss him again.

Draco wasted no time in kissing me back. He teased his tongue against my bottom lip and I didn’t hesitate in granting him access. He darted his tongue inside my mouth, and the taste of him was enough to leave me feeling mindlessly drunk.

“Draco” I moaned. “I want you.” I breathed out once his mouth attached to my neck, sucking and kissing, no doubt trying to mark me as his. I moaned at the sensation.

“What do you want?” I felt his hot breath on the surface of my neck. “Tell me.” I groaned. How the hell did he expect me to forma conherent sentence when he was grinding against me like this?

“I want you to fuck me.” I managed to get out at last. 

“Fuck.” I heard him curse, before I felt him reach down between us to line his member against my entrance, slightly teasing me as I waited in anticipation.

He slid into me agonizingly slow, growling deep in his throat once he was fully inside. He gave me a few second to adjust before I started moving my hips, encouraging him to move. He complied without a second thought, his wet hair sticking to his forehead as he started thrusting into me, increasing his pace with each one.

“Draco...” His name slid out like a prayer. In response, he brought one of his hand up,wrapping his ring clad fingers around my throat. The action turned me on even more, if that was even possible. The sound of the water splashing as his hips slammed against mine and lips moulding together echoed throughout the large bathroom and I untangled my hands from the nape of his neck so I could scratch his back, causing him to moan in my mouth.

His pace quickened, hitting a particular spot that made my toes curl. I arched my back against him, moving my head back as my eyes rolled back from the pleasure. 

“I...I’m...” He didn’t finish what he was saying, but I understood, because I was close too. “Fuck.” He cursed as he came, saying my name repeatedly with sloppy thrusts, and it wasn’t long before I followed with my own release as well.

He dropped his head on my shoulder still buried inside me. I sighed before smiling slightly, curling my fingers into his hair.

“Come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.” His husky voice broke the silence. My eyebrows shot up in surprise at his request and I chuckled before replying.

“That’s not how it works, Draco. You’re supposed to ask me, not order me.” I said, and grinned when he growled in displeasure. 

“Fine, come to Hogsmeade with me?” 

I ran my hands through his hair as I replied with a simple ‘yes’, all worries about how my friends would react gone for the moment as we simply soaked in each other’s company.

That was when I admitted that perhaps, there is a fine line between hatred and sexual tension.

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

[ilalos]

Lavender dreams (Anthony Bridgerton x OC)-Part 2/3

Word count: 1.8k

Dances came and went and Grace had saved a dance for Anthony in each and every one of them, but he had yet to ask her for an outing. Gigi supposed he was busy enough trying to get Eloise to go on at least one outing with one of the few men that passed his rigorous check but was it so hard to take her out for a walk in the park or perhaps to have some tea? It didn’t help that she had heard rumors of him meeting actresses every night with unholy purposes, but she held hope for the eldest Bridgerton because every time they danced she felt as if there was no one else on the dance floor with them, and every time they talked he pulled a smile from her even if seconds before she had been upset.

She had had some outings with a couple of gentlemen who were approved by Simon and Daphne, and even if they were fine, educated young men she felt nothing for them. She knew her time was cutting short as it was already the middle of the season and her father didn’t have much time left, but she hadn’t felt anything resembling love for any of her callers. She had, however, started a friendship with non-other than Colin Bridgerton, and this lead Lady Whistledown to speculate about a possible engagement between the pair. The truth was, Colin saw Gigi as a sister at most and she saw him as the brother she never had.

The possibility of Colin proposing was truly daunting to Lady Bridgerton as she knew this union would break Anthony’s heart and could potentially cause a rift between the brothers. She had taken notice of the way her eldest tensed whenever one of the girls read the latest Lady Whistledown and the young couple was mentioned, Colin would always scoff and remind everyone he had no intentions of getting engaged anytime soon but that did nothing to lessen the deep frown in Anthony’s face or his mother’s worry.

Anthony had been visiting the brothel more often in a poor attempt to forget about Gigi and also convincing himself that he would never be deserving of the girl’s love. He knew he needed a wife and he intended on marrying that very season, but the thought of Gigi suffering half as much with his death as his mother did when his father passed, refrained him from accepting his feelings and proposing. Despite his resolve to forget his feelings for her, he continued to dance with her at every ball and party. When they danced he felt as if he could stay there forever, twirling her in his arms and holding her as close as possible; they talked sometimes at these events and felt as if they had known each other their whole lives.

It was the day of the picnic and the Bridgerton family was excited after hearing from the eldest daughter that Lord Watts had informed her and her husband of his intentions to propose to Grace. He was an earl and he and Grace had had some successful outings.

Grace had no objections toward the young man apart from the fact that she bore no feelings for him whatsoever, but given her lack of time to worry on such silly matters, she chose to ignore that in favor of having the wedding her father wished for, and who knows? Maybe their love would sprout once they were married.

When Anthony heard the news he could almost hear his heartbreaking in half, a pain ten times bigger than the one he felt when Siena rejected him. He almost wanted to beg Colin to propose before Lord Watts had the chance, at least that way he would be able to still see her when the couple visited. He decided to skip the picnic and instead stayed at home reviewing the business to avoid having to watch the happy couple celebrating their future union.

The proposal didn’t occur at the event, Lord Watts was there and he did take Grace on a walk but he had made the decision to make a formal proposal at his family’s home the following day so he limited himself to invite Grace, the duke, the duchess, and Lady Bridgerton to his house for tea. The invitation was accepted and the picnic continued without much excitement. The Duke's family left first because baby A was behaving quite fussy and her mother suspected it was due to the unforgiving sun beaming down on them; soon after the Bridgertons left due to a menacing black cloud that darkened the festivities.

Night and storm had fallen upon Lady Danbury’s home when a nervous messenger knocked urgently on the state’s door. Mr. Lock, the butler, had opened the door.

“How can I help-”

“Lord Bridgerton’s carriage was robbed and he is terribly hurt!” The young man had yelled the message hoping the duchess would hear him “Lady Bridgerton urges the presence of her eldest daughter in this uncertain times”

Grace had been the one to hear the messenger’s words and she felt panic take hold of her body. She ran to the door and demanded a horse be readied for her, the butler refused to let her go alone into the rain and advised her to wait until the carriage was ready. At his refusal, she chose to forget decorum and took the messenger's horse and rode it into the storm. The duke and duchess had heard the commotion and ordered the footman to ready the carriage at once.

Grace rode to the Bridgerton household in record time and when she got there she rode straight into the nearby stables, dropped the horse, and ran to the home’s door. Lady Bridgerton opened with teary eyes expecting to see Daphne and let a gasp when instead of her eldest daughter she saw the soaked figure of Grace Gillingham standing at her doorstep.

“Where is he?” That was all the girl said.

“Upstairs, the doctor is seeing him in his bedroom”

The woman barely finished her sentence before the younger girl pushed past her and ran up the stairs, politeness be dammed. She found Benedict passing by Anthony’s door and before she could ask about the man’s condition a pained scream tore through the wood. She gasped as if she felt his pain and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

“The doctor said his injuries are extensive but not life-threatening” Benedict said it trying to calm the poor girl down but her sobs remained the same, “he said it would take a while, maybe you should go get changed into some dry clothes, surely Eloise can lend you some”

“I’m not leaving this door until I see with my own eyes that he is well”

Benedict only nodded and watched her seat on the floor with her back against the wall, right across the door. Daphne arrived not long after and she too tried to convince Grace to change out of her soaked clothing or to at least drink some hot tea while they waited but the girl refused

“I will be fine” was all she had said through gritted teeth and blue lips.

Hours passed and every once in a while a pained clamor would leave the room, Benedict watched how each sound made a fresh wave of tears fall from Gigi’s eyes. The wait was long and soon Benedict found himself nodding off against the wall, only to be suddenly awakened by the door opening, Grace barely waited for the doctor to exit the room before running inside and kneeling at Anthony’s bedside, taking his hand between hers and looking at his face with relief when hearing taking notice of his breathing and the pulsing of his heart.

“He’ll need lots of rest to properly heal his wounds but he will make a full recovery” the doctor took one look at Grace and shook his head with a smile “Give this to her as soon as you can” he said as he handed Benedict a vial with a yellowish liquid.

“What is this concoction?”

“It will help her fever and lessen her cold symptoms” he explained “If she looks abnormally flushed or agitated, call me immediately”

Anthony thought he had never felt pain as bad as when the doctor had healed his wounds but seeing Grace’s feverish form sleeping uncomfortably in a chair at his bedside hurt more than whatever he felt the night prior. He saw her pale skin and red cheeks that hinted towards a fever, and her labored breathing pointed to a terrible cold, his hand was resting between hers and he marveled at how small they looked around his. He saw Benedict enter the room and questioned him about her presence.

“She rode on a stolen horse in the middle of a storm to be by your side, brother” Benedict chuckled at his brother’s astonished expression, knowing his surprise would only grow “She pushed past mother, entered the house uninvited, sat on the floor in the hallway and refused to move until she knew you were alright” he pointed to her reddened cheeks and continued “She didn’t even change out of her soaked dress until she saw you with her own eyes, the poor thing caught a terrible cold and only accepted to take the medicine and the change of clothes if we allowed her to stay here by your side”

Anthony felt his heart explode with love for the girl, the feelings so strong his eyes glossed with unshed tears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have such an angel loving him so much, and he only hoped he could make her feel half as loved as he felt at that very moment. He had to admit he was angered by her reckless behavior but the love overshadowed his protective feelings...until he saw her being woken up by a sudden fit of horribly sounding cough. He watched as she fought to regain her breath and was ready to chastise her until he noticed the way she looked at him, with so much love and so much relief he forgot what he was going to say.

“You’re awake,” she said simply, processing “You are awake!” Once processed the information had caused her tremendous joy and she jumped to embrace him, only to jump back when she heard his quiet complaint from the pressure put on his recent wounds “I apologize Lord Bridgerton, in my excitement, I seem to have forgotten about your injuries”

“No need to apologize, love” the pet name just flew past his lips, catching them both by surprise “You must go to get some proper rest now, you are sick and tired, we’ll talk later about the poor decisions you took yesterday”

Grace only nodded and without thinking took his hand and kissed his palm before leaving to finally get some rest on an actual bed.

“Fetch the Duke of Hastings for me, Benedict, I have a proposal to make”

PART 3

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Hi! If you’re still following along this story know that I appreciate it :))))) Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it

[miioouu]

Which one of the haikyuu boys would love public sex

Yeeeeeeess this is my first hq request!! Also last one for today, I'll do the rest next week! Thank you for thirsting with me!!❤️💜❤️

Warning: smut...

Hq characters that would live for public sex:

-Terushima

-Kuroo

-Atsumu

-Bokuto

-Nishinoya

-Futakuchi

-Tendou

-Tsukishima

Terushima Yuuji

This boy is horny 24/7, he only has one thing on his mind, to fuck you. To the point where you're embarrassed to take him anywhere with you, and yet, you can't deny how good he makes you feel. In the club's bathroom, underneath the table in a restaurant, pulling you in a dark alley, he had no shame. Though the riskiest place you two fooled around around was definitely a telephone booth. He was walking you back home after a night out with his friends. The hand that you had on his thighs, despite your pure intention, made him feel hot. The way you leaned into him every once in a while, the whiff of your scent he'd get driving him crazy. And when your foot rubbed against his leg, making heat rush straight to his cock, he put a plan in mind. With his hand tightly holding yours, he pulled you in one of the boxes with him. Pressed against each other in the small space, you could feel every inch of his body. His chest heaving against yours, his leg between yours, his dick pressed perfectly against your wet spot. Somehow, all it took you was being so dangerously close to your boyfriend to go weak for him. Knees already trembling underneath you as your eyes never left his hungry ones. Slowly sinking to the floor, a smirk apparent on his face, "You've been teasing me all night babe, I know you're waiting for your punishment." You didn't even have time to protest, your skirt lifted up, you panties pulled down, his tongue delving straight between your folds. The coldness of the metal ball circling your clit, yet not pressing against it, driving you mad. Your hand in his hair, pulling him closer and closer. And all you can do go ignore the bypassers is to close your eyes, yet the shuffling of their feet kept you grounded to reality. But the possibility of being caught adding to your pleasure. Realizing that you weren't paying much attention to him, Terushima's fingers pinched on the soft skin of your thighs, making your eyes snap down to him. All it took you is a little glare from his part to understand his desire. Your eyes never leaving his golden brown ones as he ate you out, your teeth biting down in your lower lip, trying to keep in the moan, seeming to get harder and harder as you approached your orgasm. And when pleasure was about to wash over you, when your legs started to tremble, your nails digging in his shoulder, your teeth drawing blood from your lip, he pulled away, leaving you high and dry....

Tsukishima Kei

To say that you and Kei hated each other, was an understatement. He could literally be on fire, right before you eyes, and all you'd do is pour more gasoline om him. But other than that, the sexual tension between the two of you is astronomical. Just the way your eyes met across the classroom, the way your hands brush when you walk past him in the college hallways, the way he stands so close to you when you're in line to get food in the cafeteria. You'd deny it for the rest of you life, but just hearing his voice made you rub your thighs rub together, made your mind fog with dirty thoughts. And knowing that you made him feel the same way, was adding to your sexual attraction to the blond. And he too couldn't take it anymore that's why, at the end of the day, when everyone was about to leave class he pulled you back. Waiting for everyone to leave, telling the teacher you'd volunteer to clean the room, he locked the door. You didn't have time to tell him off, he lift you up and placed you on the bigger desk. Pressing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss, lust filled kiss. And as much as you'd like to push him away, it's a dream come true, a wet dream come to life. Your tongues fighting for dominance, your nails digging in his shoulders while his in your hips, pulling you to edge of the surface so your heat was pressed directly to his hardening cock. His lips leaving yours to travel south, leaving a trail of purples and blues in their path as he took off your clothes. Sitting naked in front of him, you felt embarrassed, defeated, like he won a competition, and the sly grin on his features not helping you feel any better. Taking matter in your own hands, you lifter up his shirt, drooling over his chiseled chest, but quickly moving to his sweats, tugging them down and his boxers in ine swift motion. After a bit of teasing, of flirting and dirty words, he finally pushed inside you, feeling your warm, velvety walss swallow him. Feeling his veins grazing against every inch of your insides, it felt way too good, to be true. The fear of being caught, you can still hear students in the hallway, only added to the intensity of the situation. Deep, rough thrust of his hips, having your body falling back numb and yet going wild, twitching and trembling underneath him. But like every dream, it came to an end, a knock on the door waking you up from sweet paradise.

[ficsnroses]

Irreplaceable  - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary : You find yourself in bed with your ex, Keanu, which resurfaces old feelings.

Prompt : “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anon.

Warnings : nsfw, smut. unprotected sex. angst. fluff.

Word Count : 2k. 🤡 im not even calling them drabbles anymore lmao, feedback and comments are so so so appreciated! This is prompt fic #24. Enjoy:)

also we’re going to ignore the fact that as I was editing this I realized this is basically a softer and sweeter version of my last fic and we’re not gonna @ me because I was half way through editing and didn’t wanna edit a different fic :))) im just a tired uni student tryna write sometimes pls be kind ily

His fingers rub feverish circles to your sensitive clit, exasperated groans and breathy moans fallen suit off your pleasure drunk lips. Keanu hovers over your bare body, throbbed cock swollen to a rosy hued tip, gliding effortlessly in and out your soaking wet folds. Proving imperative, his thrusts hit deep, profound, pounding severely through stifled breaths and skin sticking together through thin layer of damp. Whimpers and soft moans flee through tender breaths, encapsulated by his full lips on yours; breasts bouncing relentlessly to his demanding pace as he hovers above; your fingers clawing mauve marks bedecked into his toned biceps.

Keanu knows how to work you; how to treat you so well. Tonight, he’d invited you to his home in desperate need of relief, long composed history between you both had established ground for meetings such as today. “I need you tonight.” He rasped over the broken telephone line. “Please.”

Each time he calls, each time you return, his words crawl up the deep howls of your mind, your throat swallowing dryly as your heart yearns for another meeting. His hair ruffles in espresso hued fluffs tonight, falling ragged in his clenched eyes, complimented beautifully by the rasp of his tender sighs when he moans to the feel of you,

so warm. So snug for him. You wonder if he’d been running his hands through it as he awaited your arrival, if he’d bit his lip with the curve of his sharp jaw clenched; if he absentmindedly fiddled with the base of his sturdy ring finger as he did in deep thought. You remember more of him than you’d care to admit; than you’d want to admit.

Long ago, Keanu and you almost made it. Almost pledged to the bond that held you together; almost made it to the brink of promise. But it wasn’t meant to be. No matter how hard you and Keanu tried, you weren’t meant to be. The agonizing dissolve of your love was hard. The sky never worked in your favour, the fairy-tale ending never chanced.

The weight of his body holds you down, held close in his arms as he pumps into your inviting sanctuary fiercely, holding so dearly. His hot breath kisses the skin of your neck and you feel a wave of warm, moaning, leisurely whining, whimpering, and whimpering-

“Don’t stop, please,”

“I’m close, Y/N.” He chokes through a tensed jaw and gritted teeth. His erection is stiff, splitting your tight cunt inch by inch as his veiny bulk pounds, friction excruciatingly blissful with your sex starved bodies moulding together so naturally; fluently.

On evenings like this, Keanu and you would be reminded of what could have been. Find comfort within each other, release the months of built up crave that would reside deep, condensed within your dreary longed hearts that yearned for each other, still.

Keanu and you died a long time ago; but the love didn’t. You still loved him, and he still loved you. Unspoken, yet holding of pure truth. White lies, deep-rooted in a smokescreen only sufficed so long. Pledges of being “just friends” were far from the truth. Despite how long, how far and how often you’d both recited the prayer off your lovesick tongues; Keanu and you were not just friends. You couldn’t be.

You could never be.

“Cum for me sweetheart, together.” Keanu moans through broken exhales, chasing his high, yet desperate to bring you to the strongest of releases. He dwelled, thrived off making you feel good. He’d called you here tonight because he needed you, needed your body to feel something. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t fully intend of making you see the heavens on earth.

He was always an amazing lover.

Amazing at far too much to not fall so deep for him.

Searing tears threaten in the corners of your dismissive orbs, wailing, yelping as his cock relishes, grinding inside your tight, pulsating pussy, creamy releases coated slick to your thighs as he thrusts. The thuds of his skin slapping yours enfold the room, his sizable length rams into your cunt, balls smacking relentlessly as if mould just for you to delight. With his lips placing a soft kiss to yours, he whispers shakily, your orgasm bubbling boils inside the pit of your mid.

“I’m so close, Ke. Please don’t stop.” You sob, fingers clenched into his rosily flushed shoulder blades. “Please don’t…fuck!” You gasp when he rocks, rotating his hips to hit that sensitive plush of nerves inside your velvety walls, encouraging praises and whispers into your ears.

“Come on sweetheart, let go for me.” Within seconds, Keanu spills his succulent load deep, deep inside you as you release, riding cloud nine of your high into oblivion as he works you through your orgasm. Through heavy palms holding your hips close and his tongue lapping, gently sucking your sensitive nipples, Keanu kisses you sweetly, hands gently kneading the soft of your breasts in a soothing marvel, leaving peppered kisses to your neck, your collarbone, your cheeks.

The love was still there. Plain to see. The love had never left; only now, years later, it suffocated you. Killed you when he’d make love to you like this. Destroyed you when he’d hold you so close, reminding you of how you couldn’t be.

Is it easier for him? You wonder.

You ponder.

Cock still sheathed deep inside, Keanu’s chest rumbles a deep baritone, palm of his stocky hand shifting to cup your cheek. “Feel good?” He asks, a final kiss to your forehead as he slips out, landing firm on the bed, your frail, weakened body pulled securely into his chest. In a delicate wrap of arms, he holds you close, your head rested to his broad as you stare, and stare, and stare daggers to the crème ceiling above.

It must be easier for him. You ponder.

You guess.

But it wasn’t easy for you. None of this was easy.

None of this would suffice much longer.

Keanu’s hand stations on your skin, chest heaving up and down softly as you live out your highs, returning to reality. During these meetings, these encounters where you’d steal a few hours away together, the world seemed to melt into oblivion. As if you’d held his hand as he took you to another dimension, soared the stars, drifted away for a sweet while together. These moments with him held a safe harbour away from reality. Away from the cold, harsh reality.

This embrace, this hold, this affection. It held the same sincerity from all those years past, the light pad of his fingers soothing over your skin delves goosebumps peppering over your silky skin.

Bare, naked in his arms, you’d never felt this vulnerable before. And you never thought you would; especially with the man that surprisingly made you feel safest.

Warm, wet.

The familiar, distinct saltiness of silent tears threatens to loom your lips, head still pressed to his flushed chest. Daring, barely above a confident whisper; you finally spill. Quiet. Harsh. Desperate to defend.

“We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.”

Unmoved, your bodies still lay entwined. Connected. Fiercely connected, as your souls.

Your lost, overdue, lonesome souls.

“Friends don’t…call each other when they need a fuck. Friends don’t kiss each other. Friends don’t visit each other late into the night when they’re feeling alone.” You fight. Your voice raises. The hurt surfaces. “We’re not just friends. We’ll never be just friends. We’re fucking stuck. We’ll always be stuck and I don’t know if…” Words ceasing, the tears threaten to spill. The ache becomes intolerable.

Deadbeat silence. Stillness, cold. All around, the only feel. He stays silent, holding you, eyes still focused to the ceiling above. He’s hurting,

He’s been hurting too.

Quietly, through a hoarse of gruffed tone, Keanu speaks. He wonders if you know the sincerity of his declaration, the weight his pledge holds. “I still love you. I still love you so much, it hurts. Every single day.”

There’s never been pity in those deep cocoa depths, never confusion, resentment, aggravation. Only old understanding, old love, attachment that never died; even when the roots withered. When the skies caved.

You listen, you process, you absorb. You absorb his words, so wholly.

Sitting up slight, Keanu draws your body up as well, never letting your frail frame leave his toned arms. Biceps engulfing, you practically drown into his bare chest; your exposed skins melting together adding tremendously to the connection. “Y/N, I’ll always be in love with you.” He whispers into your hair, soft kisses stippled with strokes to your glossy locks, drawing the silk sheets higher, closer to tuck them around you. To protect you,

-from the cold. Or perhaps something else. Something so unforgiving, a harsh reality you’d both been compulsory to endure.

“But,” He breaks, yet stays composed, calm and confident, for you. “We’re no good together, sweetheart. We can’t be.” He whispers, hold tightening to soothe your plight. “It’s above us. No matter how hard we try, we can’t.” He reasons, voice saddened, yet explanatory. “You know that right, princess?”

The piercing, cold truth. Your lives are far too different, far too many complications come into play. For you and Keanu, a life together would always, forever, remain a distant dream. “We’re not just friends.” Taking hold of your hand, he presses a small kiss to your palm, eyes looking down into your softer, fragile ones. “You’re…you’re the best thing I have. Even if I don’t really have you.” He shakes his head, unable to face the realism. Because the cold, sour truth would always remain.

Keanu and you would rather be this way, than not at all. You’d rather meet this way, feel each other this way through scarce, secretive meetings, than not have each other at all.

Time held too much history. And history isn’t easily forgotten.

You and Keanu, couldn’t be forgotten. You were bound. Bound by something so special, so real. Something that would always stay, never fraying with the passage of a lifetime. Quelling his own emotions, Keanu kisses your lips again, tasting the salt of your dewy tears.

He’d always remained the stronger one. The one that would provide assurance. The one that would remind, even if it was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do. But he’d do it. He’d do it, every single time, for you. He’d do anything for you.

Through the softness of your skin, Keanu relishes, loses himself in how familiar, how right it feels to be so close to you. How badly he wanted nothing more, than to always be close to you. To have you, through sickness and health. To hold you this way forever, steadily, safely within him.

Yet, it would never be. The harsh, cold, truthful reality. Each time you’d depart, a little piece, a part of each other would let go. Stay with the other until you’d meet again. It all hurt, the same way it usually did. Through a soft sniffle, you tighten your hold around him as well, sinking into the deep, radiating warmth of his skin. Sinking away into your escape, your piece of oblivion that was all too well to be real.

All too good, to ever be.

If soulmates existed, if happy endings were real, he was yours, and you were his.

You knew it all too well, all too true. And through a heartbroken mummer, you declare. Declare to him, as you both always did when you’d meet this way.

“I still love you too.” You return to his earlier statement, whispering. 

        “And I always, always will.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

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[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XII]

Word count:  9,092 (heh)

Warnings: vulgar language, and uh, a teeny tiny bit smutty 

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

Edit: AO3 link

A/N: Late again. I’ll stop apologising now because it’s getting a little out of hand. Ignore the caption in the gif and focus on his face (and the outfit...). I couldn’t find another gif.

And, oh, the reader remains nameless.

______________________________________________________

“Just pick one, Mal,” I complained. “They all look the same, anyway.”

Mallory fixed her green eyes on me with a sour face through the boutique’s mirror, where she had been modeling pairs of shoes for the last hour. This was the sixteenth pair, by my count, and she had reserved 4 other pairs to pick from, which she “absolutely adored and would look fantastic with other outfits”. The shop assistant was waiting by the pairs of shoes, a tiny smile frozen on her lips in pretend amity or perhaps thinking about how fat of a commission she’d earn on account of Mal’s shopaholic tendencies.

Two years had gone without much talk between Mal and I, and I found that a few things hadn’t changed: her proclivity for spending incredible amounts of money in clothes and her forgetfulness. The last of which landed me in a Gloucester boutique with her because she’d forgotten to pack high-heels for the wedding. She’d called me earlier and invited me to have lunch with her and then go shopping. Upon finding a store that appealed to her taste, though, she forced me into the store with sweet promises of delicious food later. My stomach grumbled like it was angry at me for having agreed to it.

“I’d forgotten how much of a pain in the arse you become when you’re hungry,” Mallory said as she flopped next to me on the canape where I sat. I shot her an annoyed look and she giggled as she started undoing straps around her ankles. “I’ll pay for your desert!” Instantly, I opened a large grin. And she chuckled. “Glad to see your sweet tooth remained intact.”

My grin widened to a more genuine one. Mallory and I still had a lot to catch up when it came to our friendship but it wouldn’t be too much work, not when an easy sense of familiarity permeated our banter.

My complaint was enough to make Mallory decide and pay. It wasn’t much of a decision because she still paid for three pairs of shoes. Earlier, when she’d tried on the tenth pair I pointed out that she only needed one pair of shoes for the wedding but she shrugged it off, so I knew it was pointless to tell her again. How she would fit those new additions into her suitcase, and her closet back in London, was her problem.

Once we were out of the boutique, Mallory still looking forlornly at a pair on the display that was too expensive even for her, the bright sun of midday hit our eyes, making both of us blink in surprise. Clearly the hour we spent cooped inside a store was enough for England’s weather to shift out of sorts.

Considering the unlikely sun and the pleasant temperature, we chose a restaurant that had tables on the outside where we could bask in the sunlight and watch the influx of people walking towards Gloucester Cathedral. From where I sat, I could only see part of it but towers peaked a couple of roads over, providing a glimpse of how big the structure sprawled. It looked like an entirely different place during the day. Not at all spooky and mysterious as it had appeared the past night. Watching a group of nuns filing past me towards the cathedral, I smiled, wondering how horrified they would be if the priest shared with them about the encounter he’d had. I’m sure there would be tales about the two creatures dancing and then vanishing in the blink of an eye, and how it would be ascribed to either devils or angels making their presence known. Oddly, I wished for the first.

“What are you smirking about?” Mallory asked in her best teasing tone.

“Nothing,” I said, archly.

“Uh-huh.”

She didn’t have any more time to tease me because a waiter came to our table with menus. To the surprise of nobody, after a show of reading the entire menu, Mallory chose fish and chips and a glass of white wine. It was a trustworthy dish in any part of England, she always said, but it was also her favourite. I, for once, was more adventurous and chose baked lamb with garlic accompanied by sautéed potatoes, onions and aubergines. I saved myself from alcohol. I would need it later, for courage, I told myself. And also for the tinge of regret casting pinpricks on my heart.

“So,” Mallory began, swirling the white wine on her glass as we waited for our food. “Do you have a date for tonight?”

“Yes,” I replied simply, taking a few gulps of my water.

“And…?” She prodded.

“You tell me yours first,” I said. If I could bargain with her and she mentioned someone I knew, perhaps I would have a chance to get back at the teasing that was sure to come.

“Sean Larkin. The lean blond from the adjoining finance firm?” She sighed. “He wanted me to have lunch with him today but I waved him off. I’m saving myself for the wedding.” She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially. As if Mallory would save anything for marriage.

“Isn’t he too young by your standards?”

“He’s older than me by a couple of years,” she retorted. “And look who’s talking about age standards! Didn’t you hook up with Ethan Prescott, our ethics professor, inside his office?”

“That was you, Mal.” I snickered at the blank look on her face. “Have you checked for Alzheimers with a doctor?”

“Oh, quit it.” She laughed into her glass, fogging it with her breath, before taking a sip. “My memory is completely fine. My body count is the problem. Now it’s your turn.”

“Maybe you don’t remember him but you know when last week you and I were supposed to go to Camden–”

“Oh my god, it’s the BMW guy!” She squealed. Her wine swung dangerously to the cup’s edges and she set the glass on the table. “Y/N, he’s your client.”

“Is not,” I countered, smiling impishly. It felt like college all over again when we would talk endlessly about boys during the early morning hours in our room. “He’s Renfield’s client. I’m just filling in for him while he’s away.”

“I bet you’re the one being filled–”

“Jesus, Mal!”

“What!” She threw her hands up in defense. “It’s just obvious you two are, you know, doing the deed.”

Clearly, Mallory also managed to preserve her crass manners when it came to guy-talk but still kept a strict rule over swearing. Figures.

“We’re not.”

She stared at me, open-mouthed.

“But but… You said he was yours. What– why not?”

“Because he’s not exactly the ideal person in mind to have as a romantic interest,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, is he nice?”

I considered it, chewing on my cheeks.

“Sometimes. Most of the time,” I corrected, wondering if my response could be linked to a case of Stockholm’s Syndrome. Perhaps I should suggest it be renamed Wallachia’s Syndrome. “But he’s in a tireless pursuit to, well, seduce me, for a lack of a better word, so of course he’s nice to me. But is he a nice person? No.”

“In what sense?”

In the sense of murdering people because he was bored, in the sense of enslaving my mentor and giving me no choice whether I want to be like him or not.

“He’s just not a nice person, Mal,” I explained poorly. “Believe me.”

“Okay. But do you like him despite that?”

I drew a big breath, shutting my eyes against the harsh sunlight. A veil of red coated my vision behind my eyelids and I thought of the red in Count Dracula’s eyes. A slight prickling on my neck reminded me of his mouth brushing the skin there before closing over it. The bond liked him, I knew that but I couldn’t explain it to Mallory.

“You know when you drink wine with an empty stomach?” I asked when I opened my eyes. She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “No, white wine is too light. Red wine, specifically. It’s like that being around him.” Mallory didn’t seem to understand, and neither was I making a lot of sense to myself, so I continued. “Everything feels a little numb and a little too hot, like I’m feverish. My lips, the tips of my fingers, my legs. And there’s a queasy feeling on my stomach, that’s not all bad, you know. It’s thrilling and also frightening,” I scoffed. “And I have the most outlandish thoughts when I’m around him. I can see myself doing things I would never do, and have done quite a few of them, actually. It’s bizarre. Like I’m drunk but not really.”

And much like wine, the bond made me do and feel things that weren’t real. Although one could argue that alcohol brought our truest selves to the surface. I shuddered at the thought.

“So you like him?” Mallory questioned, looking uncertain.

“I like how he makes me feel. And I guess I do like him, to an extent. But he scares me, Mal, he really does. And I shouldn’t like him if he scares me.”

“Has he hurt you?” She asked slowly, trying to sound gentle, I guessed, but it came out more like a snarl.

“Not really, no. Not physically. Emotionally, though, a little bit.” Seeing the somber expression on Mal’s face, I waved a hand. “Nothing to worry about, I can take care of myself. That’s beside the point. He frightens me, is all.”

“Maybe it’s not fear of him, Y/N. Maybe that queasy feeling is just fear of letting go. You were always a bit of a control freak when it came to your emotions.”

“I guess that hasn’t changed,” I muttered. “Can I have a sip of that?” I held a hand towards her wine glass.

She pushed it across the table for me. Cold, soothing liquid washed through my tongue and I swallowed it down eagerly. When I returned the glass to Mallory, less than half of it remained.

“Some sip,” she remarked.

“I needed it.”

She bobbed her head in agreement and a strand of baby blond hair escaped from her braid, coming to rest over one of her eyes. She blew it away and it fluttered behind her ear.

Our food arrived and I was glad to have something to concentrate on instead of what I felt or did not feel.

Mallory was kind enough to change the subject as we ate, so we spoke mostly of Sean, her date. They had been seeing each other for only two weeks and she was still determined into finding anything fun about him but so far she was unsuccessful. While Mal was too benign to say it, I knew Sean would be fated into following her around like a puppy until she found someone else to amuse her. Next, we spoke of Evelyn and to my surprise, and secret enjoyment, Mal didn’t seem to favour her anymore that I thought the woman deserved.

“I thought you were friends,” I said as I stole another sip of her wine.

“I thought so, too, but she’s become such a hag lately. I think it’s because she found out I have a higher score of winnings in court than her but that shouldn’t get in the way. I mean, you’ve got us all beat and you don’t see me hassling you. She just can’t admit she’s not the best at everything she does. And she didn’t invite me to be a bridesmaid, can you believe that?!”

“Bitch,” I said as a form of agreement.

“Cheers to that.”

After we finished with our lunch, I ordered a piece of blueberry pie, which I ate with Mallory’s help since I’d been sipping on her wine all throughout our meal.

We said our goodbyes not long after that. Mallory had to rush back to Berkeley, where she was staying with Chelsea and Sarah, because she hoped to be the first one to shower. According to Mal, Chelsea spent an eternity in the bathroom and wouldn’t let up even if she and Sarah almost broke the door down with all their knocking.

I watched as Mallory drove away in her car, almost hoping that we could remain stuck in that afternoon for longer, only so I wouldn’t have to think about the incoming night and the certainty that my heart would break, bond or no bond.

At least now I would have Mal to help me pick up the pieces and mend them back together.

__________________________________________________

Soft, orange clouds streaked the purplish sky in long and haphazard puffs as I waded down the slope leading to Berkeley Castle. It looked more like a fortress than a castle with how it circumvented a courtyard. Small windows decorated the austere exterior built from grey and maroon bricks. The roofs squatted low in true medieval style, with only a few chimneys disrupting the straight lines. Beyond the castle, the sky was already a deep shade of blue, casting a blanket of stars over the property. From where I stood I could see Gloucester Cathedral peaking in the distance, nothing more than a severe silhouette against the remains of daylight.

Count Dracula should be waking up now, or making himself ready for the wedding.

If by some miracle, the Sun didn’t set, he would never leave his hotel, and I wouldn’t have to carry out the plan. Dracula and I could have a little more time; just enough for him to tell me tales of times past and for him to find another impossible place to break into.

Zoe would be terminally mad at me if I skipped the plan on a mere and futile whim. And terminally dead, as well. Sparing myself from guilt shouldn’t be more important than Zoe’s chance at living. And I wasn’t about to throw away the very thing I strove for since I set that deal simply because I was having doubts.

My clutch bag, tiny as it was inside my hand, cast a heavy weight on my shoulder from the pill and the pen filled with Zoe’s blood.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I muttered quietly as I carried down the slope, hitching my dress up my ankles so I wouldn’t trip. “Because I’ve paid such care to what’s right over the past years.”

“Y/N!”

I turned my upper body to look behind me, too afraid of losing balance on my heels to fully pivot.

Mallory waved at me from the top of the hill. Even from afar I could tell she looked stunning, all long limbs showcased by a champagne coloured strapless dress. Her blond hair was slicked back tightly to her scalp, a precious stone necklace winked back at me when she motioned for me to wait for her. A shawl from the same colour of her dress was wrapped around her shoulders, twined about her forearms.

Chelsea and Sarah spilled out from a taxi behind Mallory. Chelsea had on a light blue flowy dress that complimented her golden skin nicely and Sarah wore a midnight green gown with a neckline so plunging it was a surprise I couldn’t see her bellybutton. Both of them wore their hair up in chignons. The three of them interlaced their arms for balance as they started down the slope.

We’d met the same fate of descending a slope in high heels, apparently. The line of cars intercepting the road to the castle’s gate was so ridiculously long from all the guests on the way, that I’d thought it would be faster if I abandoned my taxi and went the last couple of metres on foot. Now that sweat slicked my forehead and threatened to smear my makeup, I was regretting that choice.

My high heels dug uncomfortably on the soles of my feet but I endured the pain as I waited for them to reach me. Concentrating on not falling was an easy way to keep my mind off of what was about to come.

“Oh!” Said Chelsea, staring at me with wide eyes, when they were close enough. “From up there your dress looked black.”

“Evie will arrange your murder today, you know that, right?” Sarah told me, her eyes sweeping down on me appraisingly.

“What they mean is that you look amazing,” Mallory said, glaring to her left at both women. They made sounds of agreement.

My dress was constructed in a deep plum from silk taffeta, a lustrous fabric that made it look like it had more than a single shade, so I could understand Chelsea’s assumption. It criss-crossed over my chest and back in twisted straps that appeared black, purple and, in certain lights, violet. The dress’ bodice clung to my torso but fabric cascaded freely from the waist down. When I walked it embraced every curve of my legs as it bounced around me like it was liquid.

True to Diana’s wishes, who wanted me to make Count Dracula faint upon laying eyes on me, I would bet that was something I could probably do without the aid of Zoe’s blood. However, the prospect of knocking him to his knees didn’t seem so appealing when I knew I would never have the opportunity of doing it again.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound pleasant and failing miserably if I was to take their expressions as truth. “So does everybody.”

Mallory pulled me to her side and laced my arm with hers.

“Are you okay?” She whispered to me as all of us continued our journey downhill.

“Yes,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me but I shook my head as a silent request for her not to pry. There were moments that Mallory’s keen perception of my mood was a blessing; this wasn’t one of them.

Locking arms with three other women proved to be a challenge, an extremely fun one, especially when Chelsea lost balance, nearly tumbling down and dragging Mallory with her. Sarah and I were left to hold them up which rendered a few belly-aching laughs from all of us. When we finally got them up on their feet, it was my turn to shift my heel at an odd angle and hold on to Mallory’s shawl for dear life, nearly strangling her. Mallory held onto Chelsea and nearly knocked Sarah off her feet. Although we were all cackling madly at our distress, a few men in tuxedos, more guests, were kind enough to provide us with an arm to balance ourselves until we reached Berkeley Castle’s main gate.

My laughter faded into nothing as I set eyes at the woman standing at the gate. Even in heels she was tiny, her head barely reaching some of the guests shoulders as she waved them in after checking each of their names on a list. Her pixie red hair was spiky at the ends and, as if I needed any more confirmation other than her height and hair, the small crystal piercing on her nostril identified her as Sylvia, the woman tasked to switch on the UV lights down on the garden later. If she knew my face, she made no movement to acknowledge me.

As Chelsea gave her our names, I peeked down the ledge and, sure enough, down a steep fall stood a garden and a rectangular artificial pond, its surface dotted with water lillies and white rose petals. My eyes traveled around, searching between bushes and trees for spotlights suggesting the possibility of UV lights but found none except tiny floor sconces, casting wavy reflections on the water.

“That staircase leads down there,” Sylvia said in a conversational tone; a clever way of letting me know everything was set up as it should. “You can reach it through that path if you want to have a stroll through the property later.”

I looked at the direction where she pointed, taking note of it, and nodded.

“Thank you. I will.”

I followed the girls through the arching gate, too absorbed in trying to level my heartbeat to pay any attention to the somber beauty of the courtyard. However, the Great Hall managed to shake me out of my stoic resignation and I gazed around me with utter admiration.

The room wasn’t particularly large but it was formidable in decor where size lacked. The ceiling hunched high above in curved wood beams, casting the illusion that we were beneath an old ship’s underbelly. Tapestries hung on the farthest wall bordering a fireplace large enough to fit 5 people standing up. Windows receded in alcoves inside the stone walls. A variety of ivory flowers, inky purples and rosés the colour of bitten lips flanked the entire room. Rows of white chairs on each side of the aisle were intertwined with purple ribbons. More flowers spiraled up into some sort of wooden gallery, engraved with several coats of arms in murky colours.

Mallory tugged on my elbow so I would sit next to her and Sean, her date, who looked absolutely smitten by her –  the fool – that he barely paid any attention to my cheery hello.

“Where’s– what’s his name again?” she asked me while I smoothed my dress after sitting down.

“Dracula.” I blew out a breath. “He’ll be here for the reception.”

If I was in a better state of mind I would’ve waved the fact that he was royalty just to see Mallory squeal in joy but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

She was about to ask me something else but music suddenly sparked to life, silencing every person and as one, we all stood up. The music came from above so I turned around briefly, trying to gauge where it came from, and found that a quintet played at the top of that podium.

Evelyn’s soon-to-be husband was not at all what I expected from a woman of her calibre, gorgeous as she was, so I assumed that he had to be extremely wealthy to make up for his mousey face. One would think a bride would be more focused on walking down the aisle and gazing at her beloved but not Evelyn – she found a breach to stab daggers at my dress with her hazel eyes and, finding myself bitter, I flashed her my most goading smile. Her pace vacillated for a moment and I looked around us to see if anyone had noticed but she carried on not a second later, staring ahead of her with vicious determination. The ceremony proceeded after we were all sat and I listened to their vows absentmindedly. I knew what was coming: for poorer or richer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish, and at last, till death do us part. Although Evelyn and Rupert – not ashamed to say I only discovered the groom’s name when the minister mentioned it – were doing a lengthy and embellished version of it.

Till death do us part.

“Mal,” I whispered to her as Rupert was declaring his eternal love to Evelyn. Mallory bent her head closer. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“I was always the one with the weird questions so I’d say you’ve got credit to spend,” she whispered back.

“Would you live forever if you could?”

She evaluated me for a long moment.

“What are the conditions?”

The corners of my lips tugged up. Ever the lawyers, the pair of us.

“You would have to leave everything behind. Start another life as a new person but you’ll look the same forever.”

An undead person, I meant to say.

“Yeah, I would,” she said but she answered too quickly for my liking.

“Would you kill for it?” I continued.

She gaped. Careful consideration passed through her green eyes.

“Lots of people would.”

“But would you?”

“I’m terrified of dying, Y/N,” she confided. “Of growing old and forgetting things, forgetting my own name or what something’s called. And if I’m being shallow, I’m terrified of becoming an ugly old lady. I wouldn’t really be myself if it came to that, would I? I like me as I am, now. So yeah, hypothetically speaking, I would kill someone for it. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I mean… I’m not sure. Growing old doesn’t bother me. I just can’t think of abandoning everything that I once was and becoming someone else just so I can live forever.”

“We do it all the time.” She grinned sheepishly. “Remember what the Mad Hatter tells Alice?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re the one obsessed with that damn book and you know I don’t remember.”

“I’ve got a sucky memory but it’s something to the effect of Alice not being the same Alice as before and that she’s lost her muchness. Anyway, we’re constantly changing, little by little, it’s up to us if we become more than before, or less.”

“I don’t think that’s what Lewis Carroll meant by that.”

“Well, that’s how I choose to look at it. So, really, how much more can I become if I live forever? There’s lots and lots of possibilities for little old me and I don't want to die before I meet all of them.”

“So you’d kill someone for that?”

“In a heartbeat.” She nodded. “Do you plan to tell me why you’ve asked me this?”

“Maybe one day if I somehow become immortal?”

“Which is never. Got it. I’ll shut up now.”

Mallory turned and sat up straight, oblivious to the veritable chance of immortality.

Possibilities.

That was one way to look at it. An extremely optimistic and selfish way to look at it but I never claimed to be selfless. Optimistic, however, I was far from. But just as Mallory had said, we were always changing.

How far was I willing to go for change? I liked myself just as I was now and I couldn’t picture myself literally sucking the life out of people so I could have a chance at more.

Which version of me was I talking about? Me, who I’ve always been; safe, calculated, blunt. Or the one who enjoyed playing with fire as much as she did reading books?

The promise of excitement; that’s what Count Dracula said he’d found in my blood. Imagining my life for the next five years evoked no happy feelings. Where would I be? Married with kids, doing the same thing until my body shriveled and I died? A regular husband who carried groceries and did the dishes, and sometimes, when he remembered it, took me somewhere nice. How awfully… pedestrian.

A life clad in dusk, traveling places to see more than an average person could perceive and waltzing inside churches as I laughed in the face of god… That certainly sounded more appealing. And lonely.

Could I live forever with Count Dracula? Would he be all I would have for the rest of time? No Mallory, no Diana, no Renfield. No mum and dad. Just us.

A roar of applause and whooping rescued me from dwelling on that any further. Evelyn and Rupert must have sealed the deal with a kiss to cause all that commotion. I joined the raucous by sticking two fingers on the side of my mouth and whistling loudly enough to make Mallory and her date wince and laugh.

Not long afterwards, the guests were led to another chamber inside the castle, the Long Drawing Room according to the plaque, while the Great Hall was organised for the reception. When we returned, various tables were set elegantly in shades of cream and more flower arrangements in light pink and purple decorated each of them.

Locating the partner table was easy; all I had to do was look for the middle-aged white men with the most disdainful poise. Of all twelve people sitting at their table, only five were women and those were some of the partners’ wives. I made sure to make eye-contact with Evelyn as I dragged Mallory and Sean along with me and flopped down next to Talbot – Evelyn’s mentor. Mallory appeared to be on cloud-nine to be sitting there. As for me, I could barely summon pleasure at the look of utter disbelief and rage in Evelyn’s face.

Hours passed in the company of red wine, champagne and food, while I occasionally cast looks at the archway under the gallery, hoping to see Count Dracula making his entrance. I showered Mallory with compliments when I could so she could get the attention from the big bosses and deviated the subject to her whenever a partner made remarks about my work. At one point, I spotted Raoul, the “waiter” who was in on the plan, and he nodded at me solemnly. Photographers came and blinded us with their camera flash. I was certain that I would be staring in the direction of the archway in all of the photos but at least Renfield would get to see Evelyn’s sullen expression to be in the same picture with me.

A hand pressed my shoulder from behind, fingers squeezing. Swiveling my head, I saw Mallory, eyes wide.

“Hell’s bloody bells.”

That was the closest to a curse Mallory would ever get and I immediately turned my head in the direction she was looking at.

“Fuck,” I sighed. A sigh because my throat wasn’t prepared to produce a sound.

Count Dracula stood under the archway, head tilted back as he took in the surroundings, eyes ever watchful. He donned a longer coat than was usually called for in an average tuxedo, overtop of a white waistcoat and white dress shirt. Wound tightly around his neck, beneath a white bow tie, was a heavy pendant in a thick cord of silk. A wine coloured silk, which went perfectly with my dress.

The outfit did justice to his royal title flawlessly.

I stared for a long moment, willing him silently to look at me and, at the same time, wishing that he didn’t catch sight of me, turned back and left.

“He’s looking for you,” Mallory told me over my shoulder. I simply nodded. “Well, go, silly.”

She took my glass from me and shoo-ed me out of my seat.

Though my knees wobbled as if I was some lady fanning herself over him, my feet were capable enough of moving on their own and I started weaving through tables to reach him. My ears caught Sarah and Chelsea gushing over him from a couple of tables over and I picked up my pace when Sarah suggested to Chelsea that one of them went to greet him. For a moment I was distracted apologising to a waiter for nearly knocking his tray to the floor and when I looked back at Count Dracula, my breath hitched in my chest.

Dark eyes surveyed me from head to toe in what I would’ve called a leer if he were anyone else. My strides grew smaller as my cheeks burnt hot. I was blushing – actually blushing to the colour of a tomato no doubt, as if I was sixteen years old again. I hoped he would meet me halfway and spare my legs from giving out at any moment but he stood there, hands laced behind his back as he waited, openly lusting after me in front of a hundred people. The plan of making him faint was backfiring horribly and my mouth curled into a reluctant smile when I realised that I didn’t give a damn.

When I finally reached him, my hands rose voluntarily, eager to feel the texture of his attire, to measure the expanse of his chest as if my eyes weren’t enough, but, realising what I was about to do, I started lowering them. Dracula caught my hands and placed them on his chest.

“Touch,” he said, a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

And I did.

My hands ran up his shoulders, noting that his lapels were also silk and that the suit fit him impeccably, like he had it tailored. The buttons on his shirt were rubies encrusted in silver, or perhaps white gold. Either way, each of those buttons probably cost a fortune. The pendant vaguely resembled a crusader cross except it flared at the edges. I took it between my fingers to examine the design adorning its center. A dragon stood there, tail coiling and wings unfurling around its body. It looked like the dragon on his ring I’d seen a week ago and, once again, I found an inscription in latin.

“Societas Draconistarum,” I read, poorly. “ Draco – dragon, isn’t it?” Memory jogging, I glanced up at him. A small smile tugged at his mouth, an odd expression of pride on his face. “Is this the emblem of the Order of the Dragon?”

“You did your research well,” he remarked.

“Had to. How often does someone meet a historical figure?” I adjusted the pendant so it laid squarely over his collarbones. “I’m surprised I still remember the name of your secret society, it seems like it was forever ago since I read about it.”

Calling it a secret society was far from the truth; I meant to needle him so he would elaborate on it but when he didn’t, I sent my eyes away from the pendant to focus on his face. I caught him looking down at me over his nose, lips slightly parted to reveal the tip of his tongue tracing his bottom lip. I dared to believe that he hadn’t heard a word of what I’d said, too busy fantasizing about something.

His hands landed on my waist, forcing me closer. They skimmed down, exploring the curves of my hips and squeezing them briefly before moving up again.

“Everyone is watching us,” I told him, grabbing each of his wrists. I couldn’t look past him but I could feel their stares.

“Don’t care,” he said curtly, ignoring my grip. “You touched. It’s only fair I do the same. You are a vision, my darling.”

A lustful fire blazed behind his eyes and I shuddered. I dropped my hands, not minding that people were quite literally gawking at us, and allowed him to continue his investigation.

A hand slid to my back, fingers kneading my flesh gently as he examined the dress, like he was making sure this ‘vision’ of his was real. His other hand drifted up to follow the contours of the bodice, a finger tracing the seam that led up to dress’ cleavage and then its straps crossing over my chest. I gasped as warm fingers brushed my collarbones and led a path up my neck and finally stopped to caress my cheek. His touch became tender as he reached my face, stroking my skin lightly and making me lean towards his hand, like a sunflower seeks the sun.

“I’m tempted to shower you with silk and taffeta gowns so you can wear them for me every night,” he said softly. “And so I’ll have the pleasure of tearing them off.”

“There’ll be no tearing off anything.” My voice trembled. “This is an extremely expensive dress.”

“Ah, I’ll get you how many dresses you want. Don’t worry about this one. And I can be careful, if you wish. Although I want nothing more than to ravish you.” My skin crawled and he smirked as he caressed down the lengths of my arms, making me shiver. “I see. No need to be careful, then.”

“What I meant is–” I cleared my throat “–this dress isn’t coming off for you. In any shape or form.”

“You can keep it on, just as well. It’ll be no trouble.”

If he looked at me for any moment longer, I would do something drastic, such as grabbing him by the hand and taking him somewhere inside the castle where he could make good on all those fantasies.

I swallowed dryly.

“How do you like the castle?” I asked.

Dracula snorted, apparently amused by my attempt to deviate the subject, but he kept his hands on my arms, trailing up and down.

“Nervous again? Pity.” He looked around and I started breathing properly. “I prefer my own castle.”

“You still have a castle?”

“If it has remained untouched in the last century, yes.” Then he frowned. “It’s very likely it has been burnt to the ground now.”

“Why would that be?”

He grinned.

“The locals weren’t very partial to my presence in Wallachia. I imagine they burnt it as soon as they realised I wasn’t coming back.” He shrugged. “Unfortunate, if that’s the case. My library could have rivaled Captain Nemo’s.”

“Oh!” I grinned. It seemed forever ago since I had eyed Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas in my collection and giggled upon taking it from its shelf and shoving it inside my purse. “Did you finish reading it?”

“Just yesterday, actually. Fantastic how Jules Verne predicted most things we have today, and how some of them are already obsolete. I would’ve liked to meet him.”

“So you could’ve drank him?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Thank you for the book, I found it very enjoyable. I’ll read it again in French if I come across an edition, I think various things were lost in translation. Captain Nemo is an interesting character, although a little too morose for me. I suppose he’s your favourite.”

“He is everyone’s favourite. Jules Verne wrote more books on him because of it.”

“I would like to read them. Do you have them in your library?”

“No but Mallory does. She lent me hers when we were in college.”

If he was to spend the next years – or the rest of his existence – caged, then perhaps I could see to it that he got a few books to entertain him. I would have to make a list.

“Ah, yes, the blond coming towards us, isn’t that she?” Count Dracula nodded, eyes fixed behind me.

I pivoted to see Mallory, dragging Sean behind her. I kept my gaze focused on hers to avoid making eye contact with one of the dozens of people staring at me and Count Dracula. We had put on quite a show to have that many sets of eyes on us.

“Y/N,” she began when she reached me. “The bride and groom will have their first dance now. You must’ve missed the announcement.” Her eyebrows jerked up trying to convey something along ‘ you rascal ’ before she looked past me, her doe eyes focusing on Count Dracula. “I’ve heard loads about you. Dracula, isn’t it?”

“Mal…” I complained.

“Did you now?” Count Dracula said, tone all honey as he placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. He rounded me, stopping at my side, and letting one hand drop. “I would say I’m surprised but that would be a lie.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mallory. Y/N speaks greatly of you.”

Until a minute ago, I had never spoken about her to him so I knew he was being courteous, although my blood probably did speak great things of her.

Dracula accepted Mallory’s extended hand and, instead of shaking it, he turned it so he could plant a kiss on top of it. He’d done the same to me when I first met him. Her mouth fell open and Sean’s ears turned red as he pulled Mallory back by her arm. She swatted Sean away.

“He’s not British,” I said, trying to assuage them. “Eastern Europe is quite old-fashioned in some ways.”

“Forgive me,” said Dracula, looking like he wasn’t sorry at all with that smug smile plastered to his face. “I’m afraid I’m still adapting and haven’t managed to shrug off the education in which I was raised.”

“Which education was that?” Sean asked between gritted teeth.

“An aristocrat’s one.” Dracula smiled.

Mallory’s eyes widened until they were about ready to pop out of their sockets.

“Show-off,” I muttered, elbowing the Count lightly.

A group of people were converging around the dance floor and I laced my arm with Count Dracula’s.

“We’ll miss the first dance,” I said, and nudged Mallory with my hip so she would stop gawking. She nodded weakly and went ahead with Sean. “She’ll never shut up about you now,” I muttered to Count Dracula as we followed them.

“Good. From what I gather, Mallory has always been very encouraging of your endeavors. Perhaps she will give you the final push.”

“Towards you?”

“Yes, and I’ll gladly receive you.”

“With open arms and fangs,” I grumbled.

“How tragic,” he shot back, chuckling.

A waltz started as we reached the bundle of people and I saw Evelyn and Rupert entering the dancefloor just before they started swaying to it. The smile on her lips seemed genuine so I supposed that although her husband wasn’t exactly attractive, she did have feelings for him. The bitch had a heart, after all.

The guests clapped furiously when their waltz stopped. Another waltz followed, less upbeat than the previous and what sounded like more strings attacking the melody, and couples looked at each other, waiting to see who would be the first ones to join the bride and groom.

Count Dracula untangled my arm from his and took my hand inside his not a moment later. With all my training from last night, I let him lead me to the dance floor, forgetting all about Evelyn’s scathing stare, and smiling up at him as I set a hand on his shoulder. We started slowly, following the melody as more couples joined us, but when the tune’s pace picked up and Dracula moved to accompany it, I nearly twisted my ankle.

“Did you forget everything I taught you last night?” He provoked.

“No.” I furrowed my brows, offended. “I was wearing boots yesterday. High heels aren’t exactly waltz friendly for a beginner.”

Dracula’s hand on my back moved to fully encircle my body and, in one move, he lifted me and smashed my chest to his. When he set me down, my face was closer to his, closer than I ever was to him when it came to height, and my feet kept moving, although I wasn’t making an effort to. The softness under my heels proved to me that I wasn’t touching the ground and I laughed, realising me that he had set me over his own feet and had continued to dance like my weight was nothing. Guests around us snickered, prompting me to laugh more.

My nose brushed his as my laughter died down and my eyes strained to focus on something in the close proximity. I could feel every inch of his body shaped to mine and that queasy feeling I’d told Mallory about settled in my belly. A mere movement of his feet could sway me forward and brush our mouths together.

My heart threatened to burst out of my chest. It beat madly against my ribs like it was a caged animal. Could Count Dracula feel its thud inside his chest due to our nearness? As if it was his own heart, beating lively for the first time in the last five centuries?

I sighed, pressing my cheek to his. Count Dracula nuzzled closer until I felt his lips grazing my earlobe and sending a wave of arousal down my body.

“Aren’t you worried about ruining your shoes?” I said into his ear.

His chest heaved under mine and I wondered if that was him taking a deep breath of my scent.

“Not at all,” he responded. “They are disposable but I shall keep them, if only to admire the dents your high heels will leave on the leather.”

A grin took my mouth, making my cheeks hurt from opening so wide.

“Does your castle look anything like this one?” I asked him, attempting to focus less on how his body felt against mine.

“Mine has more towers and it sits far up on a mountain peak. It’s bigger than this one. Hence it was difficult to keep it to pristine condition, especially because I had no servants after I became what I am today. I frighten people, can you imagine that?” His chuckle tickled my ear. “This one was designed to be pleasing to the eye, I imagine, while serving the purpose of a fortress all the same. My home is nothing but a fortress to keep people out but, most of the time, in . It isn’t pretty.”

I pretended to not hear the part about keeping people in.

“Do you miss it?”

“No. Though, I realised today I was far more attached to that library than I remembered. There are manuscripts there, signed ones, and countless others invaluable books. Forbidden ones by the church, as well. When Renfield recovers, I’ll have him find out if my castle is still standing, and if it is I’ll have my books sent to me.”

“Maybe Captain Nemo would be jealous of your collection. I know I am,” I said. As we spun, Mallory, dancing with Sean, caught my eyes over the Count’s shoulder and grinned like an excited child as she gave me a thumbs up. I winked back at her. “I’ve seen pictures of Romania when I researched you. It’s beautiful. And the weather seems more agreeable than England’s. Why would you move here?”

“The Industrial Revolution,” he answered, shrugging as he continued our dance. His dance, to be fair. I was simply taking a ride. “England was far ahead than any other place in the world and Romania with all its superstition fell behind, always more of the same in centuries. And I wanted to see new things developing instead of just hearing about them. So I came, and missed most of them because of Agatha.” He sighed. “Unfortunate in some ways but for the best in others.” He dug his fingers on my waist to let me know what he meant.

Dracula danced with me in silence from then on. We danced until everyone was on the dance floor with us and the waltzes had been substituted by song ballads. I had my forehead resting in the crook of his neck as I breathed evenly, though my heart still seemed somewhat reluctant to beat at a normal pace.

“Y/N,” he called and I hummed in response. “Tell me what you were going to recite last night.”

I opened my mouth to recite it, and then snapped it shut. I started sliding my hand from his, freeing myself of his hold, but he clasped it and fully laced his arm around my back like he was a snake coiling around its prey.

“I can’t,” I mumbled. I remained still, head tucked on his neck as I stared at the dragon pendant.

“Why?”

“Because it’s true, and it’s one of my secrets. You don’t need to know it.”

“But I want to know it. Your every secret, your truth, I want everything. And yesterday you told me you’d tell me.”

“I lied.” I rose my head to look at him. His black eyes, unwavering in its intensity, lured me in like a raging sea. I could have drowned in them. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“No, I couldn’t.” He furrowed his brows for a second and then smiled. “I don’t know whether to be proud that you’ve learned how to lie to me or be annoyed about it. Deciphering you will be an even greater challenge from now on.”

“Good.”

Baudelaire’s words revolved in my head repeatedly. Like a song lyric, one without rhythm but all of its meaning.

‘What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?’

I needed that second. As a reminder of what I was throwing away.

I glanced at Dracula’s lips and tilted my head closer. He blinked, comprehension passing his eyes as my mouth neared his. He stopped dancing and became very still, as if he was afraid to scare me away by a brusque movement. My nose bumped into his. My eyes were wide, half scared about what I was doing, half scared of missing the look on his eyes. I stood on my tiptoes, further ruining his shoes, and captured his lips with mine.

I stopped breathing and finally closed my eyes, too caught up in the feel of him to have them open. And then he freed my hand which he had been holding captive to trap me with both of his arms as he parted his mouth. In the past, his lips had been always cold when we kissed, and now, the feel of his warm tongue on mine, demanding and hungry, was what made me shudder. Unrestrained need to feel more of him, anything, just more and more, made me deepen the kiss and delve my fingers into his hair. He established a slow pace but I still struggled to gasp for air in between our short, nearly nonexistent pauses.

I heard a faint chattering that sounded suspiciously of admonishment but I didn’t care. I was doing something stupid but for the life of me, I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, whether it was for my sake or for the sake of someone else’s reprisals. And I wanted to give Count Dracula this, the one thing he shouldn’t have before he went away.

When he tried to pull away to give me room to breathe, I simply grabbed his face and crushed my lips to his again. He moaned low on his throat and an ache started between my legs, rising up towards my breasts and I suddenly felt like my dress was restraining me. His hands roved my back, seeking to touch more of me as I did with him, but it wasn’t enough and I soon found myself cursing the fact that there were people watching us.

I don’t think I would’ve stopped if it wasn’t for Count Dracula grabbing the nape of my neck and tearing me away from him.

“No–” I started to protest but caught hold of myself when he, very slowly, started dancing again. And when he did, I felt a distinct stiffness pressing against my stomach. My mouth fell open for a brief second and the look on his eyes was enough to make me hide my face on the curve of his neck. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. ” He chuckled in my ear, and I shuddered as the throbbing between my legs intensified.

“You should’ve stopped me earlier,” I muttered.

“And miss your face when you realised what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said, trying to conceal a snicker. “Not on purpose.”

He just laughed.

I shut my eyes, doing my best to memorise the sound.

When Count Dracula stopped dancing at the end of the song, and nothing else stood between us, I slowly disentangled myself from him. The front of my body felt oddly cold and bare now that I stood apart from him and I had to swipe a hand down my dress to make sure it was still there. I glanced at him and snorted upon noticing that his lips were swollen.

“You have lipstick all over,” I said, smiling like an idiot. He bent his head closer as I cleaned the corners of his mouth with my thumb. Grabbing my jaw gently, he did the same with me, his fingers brushing my numb lips and leaving a tingly sensation where he touched. “Better?” I asked, dropping my hand when I was done.

He nodded and started leaning his head forward. Feeling suddenly modest as if I hadn’t just rubbed myself against him as two hundred people watched, I turned my head to the side and his lips touched my cheek .

“Y/N, look at me.” I did and I almost wished I didn’t. Tenderness was a peculiar thing to find in the eyes of a murderer but I found it. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes.” I nodded lightly. “Sort of.”

I could say it because it wouldn’t last long.

The crease between Dracula’s eyebrows told me he was considering my answer but if he wanted to question me about what ‘sort of’ meant, he saved it for later.

I slid from his grasp until I clasped his hand.

“I need to visit the ladies’ room. I’ll only take a minute. Why don’t I introduce you to some people so you’ll have company until I come back?”

He acquiesced.

Ignoring every judgmental look I received, I weaved my way between tables until I caught sight of Mallory’s blond head sitting at the partner’s table. If anyone at that table had witnessed us at the dance floor, nobody let it show on their faces as Count Dracula shook hands with them. I doubted anyone would have said anything either, since he towered over the entire group with a slight curl of his lips that simply dared anyone to ask. It was like a wolf making nice with the deer right before it ate it.

“Mal,” I leaned close to her so only she could hear me. “Come with me to the ladies?”

“Sure.” She set down her glass of champagne on the table and picked up our purses.

My purse felt very heavy on my hands and I was already dreading opening it. I slanted a look at Count Dracula to see that he was already sitting down and in deep conversation with Talbot about life in England.

As if I needed another reminder, Raoul came by at that moment, his white suit clinging to every muscle on his arm and making me wonder what was his true occupation. With swollen muscles like that, I doubted he was a doctor like Zoe.

“Miss, would you like a drink? If you’re not satisfied with your wine, I can prepare a cocktail, if you wish.”

I almost said ‘Manhattan’ right there but my mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“Maybe later,” I told him, and he left.

Turning to Count Dracula, I bent so I could level my mouth with his ear, and as I did so his nostrils flared, the oddest look crossing his face.

“Try not to bite anyone in the meanwhile.” I whispered, forcing myself to sound normal instead of rueful. “I’ll be right back.”

When I drew back, his face was impassive and he merely nodded at me before flashing a beguiling smile at Talbot as they resumed their conversation.

.

.

.

Taglist: @festering-queen​ @rheabalaur​ @girlonfireice​ @feralstare​ @deborahlazaroff​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @apocalypsenowish​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @dreamer2381​ @saint-hardy​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 17

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: None. Just smut and sadness.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mentions of past rape/sexual assault

Word Count: 3k

AO3

Your back hit the duvet on Bucky’s bed, soft and plush and very inviting. But all your brain could take in at that moment was the feel of the demon above you, strong arms holding you down as your legs encircled his waist.

His mouth was on your neck, all warm lips and a hint of sharp teeth. You were 74% positive you could come just from that, as keyed up as you were and as insanely good as it felt.

Each brush of his lips and each light scrape of his teeth made you squirm and pant like an animal. Your hands were in his soft hair, crushing him to your throat as your hips desperately rubbed against the hard planes of his abdomen.

Bucky let loose one of those low growls that sent a pleasant jolt up your spine before he broke contact with your skin. You were about to complain from the cruel lack of contact until you realized he was moving downward, his hands unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans with deft, practiced movements.

Subdued and placated for the moment, you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him, biting your lip as he removed his trademark black jacket, a long-sleeved blue Henley underneath.

He seemed to favor them, and you didn’t mind at all.

It was strange. Despite the fact you felt you were going to burst at any moment, you were more lucid now than during any of the previous encounters. You weren’t so overcome with lust that your brain was clouded, as if under a spell. You felt perfectly within control of your mind, if not totally in control of your body.

Hell, even if you could have stopped all of this, you wouldn’t have wanted to. The sight of Bucky pulling off your shoes and lifting your hips to tug down your pants left you breathless with need. You stripped off your own jacket, leaving on your shirt since taking it off required way more coordination than your trembling fingers had at the moment.

His eyes were growing darker by the second, every inch the predator he seemed to be, and those eyes never left your face, blazing blue with the strength of his own desire. Bucky had left your underwear on, a fact that would have been unfairly frustrating if he also hadn’t grabbed your hips and tugged you to the edge of the bed.

Bucky spread your thighs and knelt between your knees, leaving you dumb and speechless as he gazed up at you with a quiet sort of hunger. His wings were furled behind him, their leathery edges tickling the inside of your calves and ankles.

“I wanna try something different,” he asked in a low, gravelly tone that sent your head spinning. “That okay?”

“S-sure,” you responded, raspy.

Neither of you had other options when it came to the feeding, it had to be done, but being asked for your opinion made it feel more… normal. It let you pretend for a moment that you and Bucky were together by choice.

The mystery of his proposal was quickly answered as he turned his head to the side and planted a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

You jumped, hard enough your face immediately heated with embarrassment, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip as his lips continued a trail upward.

He didn’t bother telling you to relax, which you appreciated, since your body felt like a taut string about to snap. Instead, all Bucky said was, “Lie back,” and you did so, fisting your hands into the covers with near-feverish anticipation.

Your shoulder burned, your brand punishing you for the delay, but you couldn’t find it within you to tell him to hurry up, mostly because you couldn’t talk. Gone was every thought in your head as you felt Bucky mouth and lick over your soaked panties.

Your hips jolted as you released a whimper, feeling like you might die if he kept teasing you. And Bucky was teasing you, licking and prodding your clothed sex with his lips and fingers, forcing sweat to break out on your skin despite the chill in the air.

He’d never done something like this before. He’d always just gotten straight to the point, with you too much of a feverish mess to care about the lack of foreplay.

But now? Now you felt something more than the forced human-demon bond. You wanted Bucky, and you didn’t think you could hide it for much longer.

He froze when your hands reached down and touched his hair, curling into the long, soft strands. And when you wrapped your fingers around his horns and pressed your palms against the rough surface, gripping them like bicycle handles, he lost the last of his control.

Bucky ripped off your panties and buried his face between your legs, pressing the flat of his tongue hard against you as he took one long, possessive lick.

Your back arched off the bed and you actually saw stars. A noise you’d never made before, high-pitched and tortuous, came out of your mouth, and you gripped his horns tighter, pulling them toward you as you tried to fuck yourself on his tongue.

Bucky was having none of it; he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, holding them in place as he licked you again, tongue warm and wet and—oh… definitely longer than a humans.

“Fuck,” you choked out, squirming, the sensations too much but not enough. It felt insanely good, and your tightening abdominal muscles meant you were going to come soon, but you didn’t want it to end, not when he’d just started. You wanted him to climb up your body, hold you and actually kiss you, a real goddamn kiss—

—but at the same time, you couldn’t bear to tell him to stop. Not with his tongue now prodding your entrance, pushing inside and manipulating you with way more flexibility than a human tongue could ever provide.

In a move that made your vision actually swim with tears, Bucky pressed the flat base of his tongue against your clit while somehow managing to fuck you with the rest of its length.

You let out another choked noise, practically squeezing him between your thighs as your legs crossed behind his head, your hands tugging on his swept-back horns, desperate to pull him closer.

Bucky let loose a growl, gripped your hips tightly in his arms, and without warning, sucked on your clit as if to devour you.

That was all it took, pushing you over the edge as you arched your back and cried, your mind going pleasantly white for a moment before returning back to your writhing body. Pleasure pulsed across every inch of skin, the burst of energy released by your orgasm pulled down and outward at the point where his mouth met your skin.

Bucky was feeding off you. Surprise mixed with the continuous orgasm, and you moaned needfully as you kept a hold of his horns like your life depended on it. Bucky lapped at you, drinking you down as he made a groaning noise of his own.

You were completely wracked, exhausted as he finally pulled away and you were allowed to come down from your high, but you didn’t want to stop. Not yet.

“Wait…” you said, clumsily reaching out when he sat back on his heels. The sight of him licking your slick off his lips left an echo of desire in its wake. “You didn’t… come, did you?”

To your surprise, he gave a light snort and appeared almost sheepish.

“Don’t worry about that. Sit tight. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You simply stared at him, as if you had the strength to go anywhere right now, and watched as he rose to his clawed feet and disappeared from view. To the bathroom, you realized, when his retreating form disappeared into the alcove you had spotted earlier.

Shivering as you became very aware of the chilly temperature, you curled onto your side and pulled your knees up to your chest, tilting your head up to look longingly at the head of the bed where several plush, grey pillows leaned against the headboard. They were only a few feet away, but it might as well have been miles.

The obvious didn’t occur to you until Bucky returned and began gently, carefully cleaning up the mess between your legs. You rolled onto your back, clumsily batting away his hands.

“C’mon, stop that,” you mumbled, “I’m just going to get dirty again.”

You felt clumsy and warm from the aftereffects of the feeding, even sounding a little punch-drunk to your own ears. Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” he intoned, flat and unamused.

“Aren’t we gonna… you know…”

Your ears went hot as your entire face flushed, and Bucky had the decency to only mildly smirk at you. It might have been a mocking gesture, but damn he looked good while doing it.

“Why would we? The feeding’s already done. You can feel that, right?”

Did you feel the uncontrollable magical lust retreat so you could function like a normal human being? Sure, but, that wasn’t the damn point!

While you floundered for a response, Bucky picked you up from the bed and laid you against the pillows. He was always so careful when he picked you up, as if afraid you would shatter in his arms, and it made you even more flustered.

“Y-yeah, but…”

You trailed off, watching as Bucky turned to a nearby dresser. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants, blue-and-white plaid that looked super soft, and he turned back and handed it to you.

“Sorry, this’ll have to do for now until I wash your clothes. They’re kinda… ruined.” There was that sheepish look again, but from the spark in his eye you saw an echo of pride in that fact.

You took the pants from him and pulled them up your legs, sighing at the feel of the soft material against your skin. “I—I can leave in a few minutes after I catch my breath—“

Bucky was already shaking his head.

“Maybe you don’t feel it yet but it’s gonna hit you soon, especially since I wasn’t as careful as I should have been.” He licked his lips nervously and looked away. “Stay the night. I won’t bother you.”

“You don’t bother me,” you muttered grumpily, apparently not possessing your usual filter post-feeding. What an annoying side effect. You winced as you managed to pull up the covers and slip underneath them. The feel of the cold sheets made you shiver. “And you keep avoiding the subject.”

Bucky released a tired sigh, the tension of his shoulders as he stared down at the sheets obvious.

“Why would I make you go through all that again if we didn’t have to?”

You opened your mouth to answer. Nothing came out. It took a few seconds for you to give a weak answer, and not the one you really wanted to give.

“Are you… sure it was enough? Doing it that way? I mean, you didn’t…”

“Yeah, I did,” he insisted. “When you came, so did I. That’s how the feeding works; we’re connected on some kind of… energy level. I don’t understand everything about how it works, but I do know I can feed through oral sex. I mean, I’d never done it quite that way before, but… I guess the same rules still apply.”

You blinked at his vague answer, feeling incredibly stupid, like you were missing something you should be understanding.

“What do you mean… you’d never done it that way before? What way? What rules?”

Bucky grimaced, his tail returning to its usual nervous twitch whenever he was distressed.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh.”

You dropped your eyes and gripped your fingers on the covers, pulling them up a little as you tried not to be hurt by the statement. He still had things he wanted to keep private, and you couldn’t resent him for that, not when you were keeping too many of your own feelings hidden.

You heard him sigh, a tired, frustrated sound. “No, it’s… shit. It’s not your fault. It’s just hard to revisit that stuff.”

“You don’t have to—“ you were quick to say, but he interrupted just as quickly.

“Yeah, I do. We promised transparency, right?”

You looked up at him, just in time to see him run his normal hand through his hair. The movement was semi-distracting, especially since you knew exactly just how soft that hair was now.

Bucky leveled you with a look that made it seem as if he was bracing for something.

“Remember the whole succubus/incubus argument we had before? Well, regardless of what I am now, I was a succubus. And I was forced to feed exclusively on… on men.”

Bucky paused, shifting on his feet and looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. You were about to tell him it was fine, he didn’t have to tell you anything he didn’t want to, but he continued in a tense, low tone.

“I don’t know why they made me that way. If it was because I already liked guys as well as girls, or if it was because of that fucker Zola who turned me into this—this thing. Whatever the reason…”

He grimaced again, so hard it was a wince.

“…that’s how I always had to feed. That’s how HYDRA made me feed. By sucking guys off, by letting them fuck me. After they fucked with my head and made it so I couldn’t remember anything, they made it seem like the feedings were a reward.”

He shook his head, pulling back his lips over his teeth in a humorless smile.

“But the result was the same. I never had a choice. So… if I can do anything in my power to make this less invasive for you, then I’m gonna do it.”

His hand returned to his hair again, brushing it back in a restless, irritated fashion, and you were struck with the image of a predator pacing in a cage as he moved back and forth near the foot of the bed.

“One of my handlers, he showed me a book once. It had sketches, real old ones, of different feedings. One of them showed a female incubus feeding from a woman, so I thought… maybe it’d be better doing it that way than forcing you to…”

He trailed off, his expression almost sickened now.

You felt the same way, nauseous and horrified, but not at Bucky. Never at Bucky.

Bucky had had to feed before. On people other than you. And entirely against his will.

The idea seemed obvious now, but it still left you entirely speechless.

“So…” He looked away from you, flexing his jaw as he moved to pick up your clothing from the ground. “No. I’m not going to make you endure any more than you have to.”

Shame filled you so fast and so deeply it made your eyes prickle with tears as you looked away. Having to feed on people, being forced to have sex against his will, of course it had been a nightmare for him. How had you never realized that before?

And here you were, treating it like it was some kind of casual fling in the hopes that someday it could be something deeper. Pretending that this whole situation wasn’t the result of Bucky suffering at the hands of HYDRA decades ago.

“I’m sorry,” you said, dropping your eyes to your curled hands in your lap. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Bucky made an annoyed huff, his tone just the same as he said, “That’s not—I didn’t tell you that to make you feel sorry for—Jesus, don’t apologize, all right? I’ll feel more like an asshole than I already do. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

You couldn’t stop the annoyed sigh before you’d already made the noise, your hands curling into fists.

“Why. For accepting a toy from a kid? Come on, Bucky.” You looked up at him, slightly tilting your head as you gave him an imploring expression. “It’s not your fault. It’s not mine, either. Can we just put the blame where it belongs? With those Nazi fuckers?”

Bucky released an amused snort, looking almost startled that he’d made it. You began to hope, just for a moment, that you’d gotten through to him, but then he shook his head and turned away. He approached a light switch on the wall, pausing with his demonic, armored hand inches from the switch.

“Go to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Without waiting for a reply, he flicked off the light with a clawed nail, leaving the apartment in muted darkness. Only the distant lights of the city shining through the clock faces made it so the penthouse wasn’t completely pitch black.

Trying not to pout and failing, you laid back under the covers, releasing another heavy sigh that you knew he could hear. Good. Let him know what an ass he was being. Not to you, but to himself. Why couldn’t he see that none of this was his fault, and he was actually an amazing, caring, wonderful person doing the best he could in a shitty situation?

It felt like you were hitting a brick wall, over and over and over again. God, why did it seem the only time you two got along was when he was holding you down and making you come?

Your own question made your cheeks flush, and you turned over on your side, pulling the blanket up to your chin. Your warm skin made it more obvious how cold the clock tower really was. Surely the guy could afford central heating? He had to be loaded to afford this place. You didn’t know where he got his money from, but it was obvious he wasn’t hard up for cash.

Despite the chill settling on your skin, and despite your best efforts to attune your hearing to the quiet apartment for signs of Bucky moving around (there were none), you eventually stumbled into a restless sleep. One that didn’t last long. You kept surfacing into a half-conscious state, shivering violently as your limbs curled into protective positions.

It wasn’t until you felt the bed dip and warm, strong arms wrap around your waist that your muscles stopped trembling, and you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Next Chapter

[lyssawritesfanfic]

lessons in love

You and Ines have been living happily together for the past year, and when one says happily, there’s truly nothing but days of bliss. Hard grueling work, but bliss nonetheless. Which is why you feel so guilty when you admit to yourself that you feel a teething, unpleasant yearning for more in your chest. Stupid, childish girl! What more could you possibly want! Every day you and Ines work hard together to achieve your goal of making the Depths a better place, and every night he holds you in his strong, muscular arms as you both drift to dreamland. However simple, every meal you eat is delicious and filling. However difficult, every day is rewarding in its own way. So why? Why are you so... lonely? You don’t like that word, but it’s the closest thing to a definition you can think of right now. This morning, as every morning, you woke to find Ines facing away, his broad back to you instead of his lovely face. You used to not mind, but for some reason it fills you with sadness now. Is is that you want him to keep holding you? The thought fills you with warmth that’s not unpleasant, but incredibly unfamiliar. You suppose that since you were indoctrinated into a world where love wasn’t legal and the concept didn’t even exist to you that there may be something you’re missing. It’s possible that even Ines doesn’t know. But the thought that you’re making him anything less than joyful makes your heart hurt. Is he unsatisfied? Is that why he’s turned away when you wake? Are you making him feel lonely? Or perhaps he only holds you out of a feeling of obligation now that you’re living together. Oh god... what if? You try to banish the idea from your mind but all throughout the day it gnaws at you like a wolf savoring the flesh of its prey. What if you’re just a burden?

“Hey, are you okay?” Ines’s voice snaps you from yourself as you meet in the hallway at Hound’s headquarters. “Yes! I’m fine!” you do your best to plaster a smile on your face but you know Ines will be hard to convince otherwise. “Hm... you don’t look fine. Are you eating enough?” “I can’t not when I live with you.” Despite your statement he brings you closer, clinically running two fingers over your hip bone. You do everything in your power to suppress the gasp that threatens to escape as he does. When he pulls his hand away, you feel that familiar ache of loneliness that’s been plaguing you. “Well, you’re not emaciated, but it couldn’t hurt for you to eat a bit more.” Ines smiles warmly. “I’ll cook a little extra tonight.” He’s looking at you so fondly but you can’t help the feeling of guilt bubbling up inside you. Again, he does something solely for you sake at the expense of his own time and energy. But what was that just now? That involuntary gasp you had to stifle? That feeling of satisfaction when he touched you and loss when he stopped. You’ve always enjoyed the feel of Ines’s touch, but this was... different. Hm. Maybe Adage will be of some help. He is a doctor, after all. “Um, you know what? Maybe I am feeling a bit under the weather. Is it alright if I go see Adage now to make sure everything’s okay?” “Absolutely. You’re no good to anyone if you’re unwell. Do you need me to go with you?” “No! No, definitely not! I mean... um... we can’t have the two top brass abandon fort at the same time.” “Hm, I suppose you’re right. That would be setting a bad example, but...” Ines leans in close. “I do get a little irrational around you.” His hot breath tickles your ear and sends another blissful shiver down your spine. Yeah, this definitely can’t be normal. You really need to see a doctor. “O-okay! I’ll, uh, see you at home later!” It’s all you can manage to blurt out before quickly turning and running away to hide your crimson cheeks. And maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you can hear Ines sigh sadly as you leave. xxx As you knock on Adage’s door the anxiety only gets stronger. What if this is an illness and you end up being even more of a burden than before? “What?” “Um, Adage... I think I might be very, very sick.” “You must be. You’re not the type to seek help. Sit.” You obey the doctor’s instructions and sit on the exam table as he checks your temperature, peers down your throat, and tests your reflexes. “You’re fine. Why do you think you’re sick?” “Then I guess there must be something wrong with my brain.” “Explain.” “Well, I feel really unhappy and lonely even though I have no reason to be. It’s the worst when Ines touches me and suddenly stops. Like... he touched my hip today and I suddenly felt so hot and feverish, but it also felt good? And then when he took his hand away it was almost... painful? It’s very unsettling, and I--” “Wait, hold on.” Adage crosses his arms, a very grave and serious look washing over his face. “Are you telling me that you and Ines haven’t ever fucked?” “What’s fuck?” “Doing ‘it’. Sexual intercourse. Sleeping together.” “We sleep together every night.” “Clothes on?” “Why wouldn’t they be?” His eyes widen in shock, then he bursts into laughter. Uncontrollable fits of giggles and wheezing. “Wow, I knew that man was patient but to think you’ve kept him waiting THAT long! Ha!” “Hey, I’m really concerned, you know. Can you just tell me what’s wrong with me?” “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re just horny.” “What’s horny?” “Ask Ines.” Adage has a devilish grin on his face which makes you question his advice, but you realize you’re going to have to tell Ines soon enough. You give a frustrated sigh. “Augh, fine.” “Can’t wait to hear how this turns out.” xxx By the time you get home, you’re greeted to the inviting smell of omelets. Ines turns as you come in, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh, you’re back just in time! I made your favorite, sit down.” For some reason you feel extremely timid and just stand in the doorframe for a moment, then make your way to the table. This doesn’t escape Ines’s notice. “Hey... is-is everything okay?” Ines places a plate of omelet in front of you before sitting next to you, looking at you with incredible concern. He takes your hand in his and runs his fingers over your knuckles. “I...” You make to pull your hand away but he holds it tight, refusing to let you go. “Please... just talk to me...” You hear sadness and fear in his voice, and as you look up at him you can see his eyes are heavy with worry. Shit, you can’t keep him like this. Out with it already! “Um, so... I talked to Adage...” “And? Is... is everything okay?” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Ines, what’s ‘horny’?” His eyes narrow dangerously. “What did Adage talk to you about? Tell me everything he said. Why did you discuss something like that?” “Well when I went to him and told him everything that I felt was wrong with me, he started laughing about how we always sleep with our clothes on and haven’t ever... the word he used was ‘fucked’? And then he said there was nothing wrong with me, I was just horny. He wouldn’t tell me what it meant though and told me to ask you.” “That bastard...” “What’s wrong?” For some reason, his face is flushed a shade of scarlet you haven’t ever seen. It’s... adorable. It makes you want to kiss him for a very long time. Weird. Well, you always want to kiss him, but... what was that just now? “He also said that you were too patient. Is there something I should know?” “Well...” Ines can’t meet your gaze and now it’s your turn to be concerned. “Ines, please tell me. What is--” “Don’t! Don’t... say it again...” “I need to know what’s wrong with me! Please, Ines!” You feel tears threaten to well up in your eyes. Is there something so wrong with you that it can’t even be said aloud? “God... you’re just... too cute...” “Huh?” In the blink of an eye, you find yourself pinned to the floor, Ines’s mouth on yours, kissing you fiercer than he ever has before. His tongue pushes past your lips and tangles with yours, his fingers curling around your hair as he holds you tight to him. You feel something stiff through his pants pressing against you and... why do you desperately want whatever that is? You manage to grab hold of his face and pull him away from you. He’s panting a bit, cheeks beyond red. “W-what was that? What does that have to do with--” “Everything.” He cuts you off and kisses you again, stroking his fingers down your collarbone. You instinctively gasp as you feel that delightful shiver again. “Tell me exactly what you said to Adage...” he whispers in your ear. “I’m going to cure you of your ailment while you do. I think you’ll come to understand that way.” “Oh... okay. Well, I--” Ines nips at the patch of skin beneath your earlobe, dancing the tip of his tongue across. Your back arches in inexplicable pleasure, a soft girlish cry escaping you. You feel his hot breath as he chuckles almost devilishly. “Go on... tell me.” “I... I told him how lately I’ve been... feeling a bit... lonely.” “Even with me here?” his voice is low and husky, his teeth dragging down to your collarbone. Your body writhes beneath his but he pins your hands down by the wrists. For some reason, though, even restrained like this, you don’t mind it. In fact, it’s... absolutely exhilarating. “Ah..! Y-yes...” “What exactly is it that makes you feel lonely, then?” His kisses slowly and gently trail to your chest. They turn into bites, then he sucks, rolling his tongue across the newly forming welt. “Ha...! I... I don’t... know! I just... feel lonely when you stop... touching me...” “And when I touch you?” he continues to leave small marks just above the neckline of your shirt. “I... I feel... so good.” “And when I stop?” Ines pulls his body off of yours, moving to sit up properly next to you. “No...! Please don’t...” you feel yourself breathless and the horrible ache of loneliness returns. You reach up to grab at his shirt but he deftly dodges you. “Tell me. How do you feel when I stop?” A pathetic whine escapes your mouth. You feel a hunger inside of you that has nothing to do with the nearby omelets. “I feel like... I need you to keep touching me.” Ines takes your hand in his. “Like this?” You shake your head. “I like that but... no... the way you were before...” He sighs and chuckles, then positions himself over you again, looking deep into your eyes. “Sometimes I forget how young you are... How much you don’t know... How much you still have to learn...” He brings his palm between your legs, cupping the place that’s somehow giving off immense heat even through your clothes. Almost on instinct your hips rise up; you want more of that. That right there. That’s what you need. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll teach you.” His lips meet yours in a soft, fleeting kiss, then he once again holds your wrists in place, trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, until he stops at your nipple. He flicks his tongue across it and again you writhe beneath him, yet strong you may be, you’re no match for him. Your hips buck upwards and you cry out in pleasure. “Lesson one... lovers can do much more than kiss... and most of them do.” “A-ah...! So... so have I been... bad?” He looks up at you, tightening his grip on your wrists. “Why, do you want me to punish you?” Ines takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking now, a wave of euphoria crashing on you. “Because I can, you know... I can punish you in the sweetest way... I can give you...” he bites down now and you cry out in an overwhelming intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain. “...everything I’ve been wanting to give you for the past year...” he bites down harder. “Ha...!” “I can give you all that right now. Make up for a year’s worth of loneliness... a year’s worth of longing...” he removes his teeth and sucks gently now, reverently. “Would you like that, darling?” “P-please... I don’t want to ever feel lonely again... I want you to keep touching me.” “Mmf... damn...” you feel Ines shudder in the same way you did earlier. “How do you manage to be so adorable?” he whispers as he moves to your other breast, teasing that nipple with calculated flicks of his tongue. “Ah...! Oh god...!” His grip on your wrists tightens even more and you can feel sweet bruises forming in the shape of his fingerprints, and for some reason, the thought of wearing his touch like that sparks something needy in you, heat rising down to your pelvis in a shocking crash. “Lesson two...” he murmurs as he makes his way down to your navel. God, yes... so close... so close to where I... “Drawing it out for as long as possible makes it that much more fun.” he teasingly licks your waistline above your pants, then comes back up to leave another bite at your ribcage. And while you trust him implicitly, your legs cross and squirm in a desperate attempt to be touched there again. “I-Ines! Please...! I want--” “Oh no no, darling... you said you’d have me give you a year’s worth... unless you wish for me to stop?” “N-no!” “Then I intend on savoring you.” His eyes are filled with such love and gentleness that betray his cool words. “I intend on making sure you fully understand everything.” “Y-yes... teach me...” “Mm... I have many things I’d like to teach you.” Ines then gently removes your pants and panties, leaving you completely exposed beneath him. You... why aren’t you embarrassed? Why aren’t you feeling the need to cover yourself in shame at your nakedness? And why is it that all you can think about is how badly you want him to be in the same state? You don’t have to worry about that for long, however, as he himself removes the last of his clothes, leaning down and kissing you deeply. “You must forgive me... I’ve been yearning for you for so long that I’ve left you feeling lonely. It was getting so difficult to sleep beside you and hide my longing...” Proof of his arousal rubs up against your thigh. “This is what happens to a man when he wants to make love... very obvious, no? Hard to hide. I didn’t want... to pressure you, so I turned away each night.” You see a semblance of guilt in his eyes as he says that, softly stroking your cheek, wiping a burgeoning happy tear from the corner of your eye. “Never again, though. I’ll never let you feel lonely again. I should have spoken to you about it instead of waiting for it to be so bad you decided to consult Adage...” he kisses you again and again, possessively, and you hungrily pull his tongue into your mouth. God, you’re so glad. You’re so happy. You weren’t a burden. You weren’t even ill! You were just a lovesick fool who didn’t understand. But now you have Ines to teach you. His hand trails down to your crotch, parting the lips there. You’re soaking wet, somehow. “Lesson three... this is what happens to a woman when she wants to be made love to.” He shows his fingers to you, slick with your juices. “It seems someone has been wanting me, too.” He licks away your wetness before bringing them back down, his index finger teasing your opening. “Oh god! Oh my god...!” your legs quake at his touch, knowing immediately that this, this exact touch, is what you’ve been craving. Ines smirks. “Oh darling... you’re so sensitive. Will you even be able to handle the real thing?” “W-what? That... that isn’t the real thing? And it feels that good?” “Mm... I wanted to draw this out but you’re making it... impossible for me to resist you...” He positions himself above you. “L-lesson four...” his voice trembles a bit in an attempt to maintain composure. “This lesson... will be a question I want you to answer...” His shaft pokes at your entrance, an aching tease. “Why do you think our bodies are designed to be like this... when we wish to make love?” “D-does... is that... do you go inside... of me?” “Correct.” He strokes your face gently, smiling warmly at you, and with that, he slams inside of you, burying himself all the way to the base, and you both let out gasps of utter bliss. “Oh my god! Ohhhh...!” you let out a loud moan of ecstasy as he fills you. “Shh... I don’t want anyone else to hear the noises you make just for me...” He silences you with a kiss, cradling your face as he slowly moves his hips against you. You grab his arms and memorize the curvature of his muscles, your tongue twisting with his. Ines brings his arms around your back, then slowly lifts you up, careful not to break the contact between you, until you’re sitting on his lap, face to face with him. “Oh, you’re so beautiful, you know...” “Nng...” You can’t even respond, all you can do is bite your lip in an attempt to hold back your sobs of euphoria. His hands make their way to your hips and he bounces you up and down on him, each time he lowers you a girlish squeal escaping you. “Ho... god... I’ve been wanting you so bad...” He buries his face in your chest, lapping at your sweat-slicked skin, tasting every inch of you he can reach. You tangle your fingers in his hair, clenching and unclenching, hardly able to control your own movements as your body spasms in unparalleled ecstasy. You move your hips against his, pushing him even deeper into you, shivering as you do. Ines shudders similarly, letting a low growl out against you. “Sh-shit... I didn’t... want to finish this so soon but... I...” his voice is husky and ragged. He looks up at you, eyes clouded over with both lust and love. Something deep within you threatens to erupt, about to release something you’ve never experienced before. “Ah...! Ines... I... I feel like... I’m going to explode...!” “Nngg... f-fuck...” He quickens his pace, nails digging into your ass as he relentlessly moves you up and down on him. You feel your body break apart in euphoric electricity and you let out a loud cry that you could no way possibly suppress as you feel his seed shoot up within you. You collapse onto him, your body spent and ragged. “Oh... oh god... that was... amazing, Ines...” “Heh... yeah.” You look down at him, his brow wet with sweat, and you kiss him. He’s such a good man. He waited patiently for so long for something this good? You can’t even begin to imagine. “ines?” “What is it?” “Thank you for teaching me.” He kisses you fiercely and you feel him begin to harden again inside you. “Oh, honey... you keep saying things like that and I’ll never be able to let you go.” “Then don’t. Don’t let me go.” You kiss him back, gently rocking your hips against his once again, and you spend the rest of the evening and well into morning learning and discovering every inch of each other.

[hopelesslygazingthestars]

Update: A Dance Of Love And Duty

- Engulfed By Dragon Fire

Elia/Rhaegar (+ mentions Elia/Ashara)

Elia Martell was the prized sun of Dorne. Her mother had searched high and low for a match worthy of such light. Yet, as knowledgeable and formidable as the old Princess of Dorne had been, even she could not have predicted that in the Seven Kingdoms only dragon-fire was looked upon.

Elia did not know she could hate a person so much. But she did. She hated her husband.

She hated how he made her feel; how she beamed in the shadows as the Silver Prince defeated Ser Barristan in the final tilt, how she clapped as he looped the crown of winter roses over his lance and started his horse in her direction, and how she bowed as he rode past her.

Her face burned like the feverish Dornish sun in utter humiliation when Rhaegar laid the wreath of flowers onto the lap of Lyanna Stark. He named a maiden barely a woman grown the Queen of Love and Beauty, and with that single act, undid all their months-long efforts to see their ascension to the Iron Throne.

Not only had he insulted her before the lords of Westeros, but simultaneously disrespected the Warden of the North and his own cousin by choosing Robert Baratheon’s betrothed.

However, Elia’s hurt extended beyond the insult given, and the gasps of shock, and the Mad King’s cackling; hers was a breath-taking anguish from broken treaties.

And when the wolf girl accepted the roses, looking as embarrassed as Elia felt, the Dornish princess somehow schooled her pained expression into one of unphased indifference. Despite the boiling in her blood, and the prince inside her that fussed in protest; Elia refused to crumble. She would not prove the lies of Dornish savages right, nor the tales of her unworthiness for the beloved Targaryen prince.

“Are you not furious?”

Oberyn seethed when she fastened her hand around his wrist so tightly that she drew blood. Prince Lewyn and Arthur also had their hands on Oberyn in anticipation, but Elia saw that both men battled their own fury too.

“A fire rages inside me hot enough to make even dragons sweat,” Elia replied lowly as she lifted her chin proudly and kept herself very still, hyper aware of all the eyes watching the commotion at the Stark stands.

She was reminded again that the dragons had engulfed the sun, when she noted that none outside of her own retinue even cared as to observe for her reaction.

“Whatever you would have us do, let me be the first to get my hands on him.” Ashara snarled through gritted teeth.

Although Elia had never felt such a strong desire to kill Rhaegar, to incinerate him from the inside out, violence was not her reaction.

“You will do nothing.”

Oberyn and Ashara’s heads snapped to her in unison, for as hot-tempered and blinded by love as they were, they could not see what Elia knew.

“But-”

“I, and I alone shall deal with my husband.” She spat out the term she once said in endearment.

Tearing her eyes away from the display, she saw Oberyn gauge her before relenting; but Ashara, remained tense like she was contemplating a most terrible act of treason.

“Ser Arthur, please escort Lady Ashara to her quarters.”

“Elia I will not-”

“Immediately.” She commanded.

Arthur all but lifted and dragged Ashara from her side, and luckily, the spitting protests were largely overshadowed by Brandon Stark being physically restrained by his brother and kinsmen.

If Elia once questioned her husband’s affinity for madness, she certainly no longer did now. She thought him absolutely insane, especially when he turned his horse towards her. Whatever act of reconciliation he intended was of no interest to her. She would not give the Westerosi the satisfaction of a reaction, but she also refused to be remembered as having been remotely in favour of Rhaegar’s actions. Thus, heartbeat still thundering in her ears, her hands tightened on the material of her foreign robes, and she turned away just as Rhaegar finally acknowledged her.

The Dornish party followed without instruction. Dorne was a proud kingdom, and a snub to her, was a snub to them all. She walked with a strength her brittle bones had never known, and for the first time, she wore the skin of the Queen she intended to be. Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.

When she eventually reached her chambers, she noticed the decorated red and black walls, Rhaegar’s beloved harp, dragons on every surface, and yearned to tear it all apart.

“Leave me be.”

Reluctantly, her retinue left, and when the door shut, her resolve collapsed.

Traitorous tears pricked at her eyes and her hands shook violently suppressing a volatile rage. Frantically, she searched for something that might anchor and remind her of home – of her. She laughed bitterly when it dawned that she too – pregnant with his promised prince – was a belonging of Rhaegar Targaryen.

She grabbed the closest item to her, ironically, a vase of winter roses, and with all her strength heaved it at the window. It shattered on impact and splinters embedded into her palm. Staring down at the crystalline glass pieces smeared by blood, they almost appeared like rubies.

The crimson mess reminded her of the fateful prophetic dream which had led her to Rhaegar. Fantasies in which she accepted offerings of dripping rubies and winter roses. Elia cursed Nymeria’s gifts and the gods that had carved out a life of failed promises. A suffocating darkness swirled in the pit of her stomach, for she knew, as minor as Rhaegar’s actions were, they were the beginning of something far worse. She knew with vivid clarity that if he humiliated her once, he would do it again.

Still, she could not decide which pain was worse – the public embarrassment or the private heartbreak. She did not care so much if he thought the Stark girl more beautiful, or even wished to bed her, but their marriage was a political identity separated from such sundry as personal feelings. Elia was his lawfully wedded wife, his queen-to-be, and mother of his heirs and with that single act he had threatened her position.

Granted, their marriage had not been without its challenges, but not even the worst fights ever made her feel so violated, betrayed, and so completely debased.

Elia was bought out of her musings when she heard raised voices from beyond the door. She did not need to open it to know it was Rhaegar and Ashara.

“Is this not exactly what you wanted?!”

“Do you expect me to thank you for this-”

Elia opened the door, and both sets of purple eyes turned to her. She found it strange how despite being such similar shades, violet orbs filled her with life, and indigo ones, with vitriol.

“I just wanted to make sure you were…” Ashara divulged, noticing her bleeding hand.

Ashara turned sharply, but Arthur appeared suddenly, and grabbed her wrist before she could throw a fist. She struggled against him and only calmed when Elia’s voice sounded.

“Asha, I’m alright, you don’t need to lose your decency over this,” she answered, voice wavering.

Ashara gave her a once over, before searching her eyes for the truth.

Elia could not find it in herself to smile, no matter how pleased she was that Ashara had remained loyal despite everything she put her through.

The white cloak put her down, but his grip on her wrist did not falter.

“I do need you to do something for me, however…”

“Anything.”

“…call upon lady Lyanna.”

Ashara looked like everything in her wanted to protest but she simply nodded, and Elia closed the door to address her husband.

Before she could unleash hell-fire upon him, he pulled them together into a tight embrace. She felt overheated and suffocated in his arms rather than comforted, and she knew that was exactly what he attempted to do.

“Listen to me.” It came out hard, and Elia felt his words in her body.

Where her heart once skipped a beat at his meagre affection, now it repulsed her, and she forced herself from his grip.

“Elia, wife, I know what it looks like, but I couldn’t explain –”

“No. I deserve an explanation for this. Explain why you have insulted and humiliated me for all the realm to see! Where is the husband that rallied against his King and father in defence of his family, where is that man?”

Passing her for Lyanna was a public message that Elia was lacking in his eyes and validated the anti-Dornish sentiments of everyone who thought her unworthy of Rhaegar. Worse still, she knew his display damaged her place in their future court, because Rhaegar’s snub reinforced the insult Aerys dealt her at Rhaenys’ presentation. She wanted to know what was so worth besmirching her dignity.

“I am right here, except –” he implored, but she was firm in her resolve.

For so long, she had withered away in his shadow, hoping to secure their future. Yet, that was not who she was raised to be, and formerly-quelled Martell fire returned anew.

“I want to know why.” Her voice was steel made sound.

He gestured for her to come, but she would not, and resignedly he moved to her, hand reaching for her swollen belly, then for her injured hand. Again and again, she jerked away from his touch. Rhaegar had a history of adeptly slithering his way out of strife and into her heart and she refused to be disarmed by tender touches or conciliated by soft words.

Elia glared at him with chilly hostility, until her ice extinguished his fire, and he relented.

“I met her for the first time on the search for the Knight of the Laughing Tree. I thought I had found him, and when I unmasked the perpetrator, it was her…” he explained.

Rhaegar’s search last several days and now that Elia knew he was with her, she wondered just what had developed.

“... she surprised me. She is strong and wilful, even in the face of me and…”

Despite the situation, Elia could hear the warmth in his voice and her blood ran cold. It was one thing that he might wish Lyanna his mistress, it was another that he might wish her in his heart. Especially, when Elia had cut away pieces of herself so that she could fit in there.

“…she had noble reasons for entering the lists, and performed so valiantly I didn’t think it fair that she not be recognised somehow. I only wished to honour her.”

“By dishonouring me,” she concluded.

“That was never my intent.”

“And yet that was the result.”

She knew Rhaegar believed her naïve to the great lords of Westeros, but Elia could see greater than he, the precarious position they were in, and she saw the iron throne melting beneath them. That he could be so short-sighted vexed her.

“Your actions will not be received well by court, and we can probably kiss goodbye to any great council without Lord Stark or Robert, likely Jon Arryn too.” She commented.

“I can make amends,” he insisted adamantly.

Elia sighed deeply, and ran her hands through her hair, attempting to preserve the churning anger within. She was not satisfied with his answers, and she understood her husband well enough to know when he placated her with half-truths. Rhaegar was not dumb and yet he made an extremely ill-advised decision. He broke chivalric code and alienated two paramount families in one stroke, it was an insult to her and to the perceived honour of Lyanna. Despite all these considerations, Rhaegar still chose to do it. Elia wondered if Rhaegar’s actions were actually designed to appeal directly to Lyanna herself, and that painted everything in a new light.

“Do you love her?”

There was something about the mere mention of Lyanna which lit up his face in a way that nothing else ever did, and Elia knew the answer, even if he did not yet.

“I love our family,” he answered, moving closer.

There was no true love between them, and Elia was exhausted of pretending otherwise, to him, and to herself.

“That’s not what I asked… do you love Lyanna?”

Silver brows knotted in confusion and she simply observed, willing him to say the words.

“Why – so you can run back to Ashara?” He snapped.

Before she could stop herself, she slapped his face, causing him to double over. She knew it wrong to strike her husband, her future king, but that he even attempted to drag Ashara’s name into it enraged her. More than that, she wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain she had endured.

“I did everything you asked! I have given you everything, and yet again I am left with nothing but hurt!”

Her chest burned, searing flames of betrayal and shame engulfing her because she hated that it affected her so, because it meant that somehow, she still loved him, despite no longer wanting to.

“I know, I didn’t m–”

Elia was tired of giving to a man that took her for granted, and always loved something else more; and left her with nothing but measly scraps. However, she would not allow him to rob her of the last thing she had left, her voice.

“I sacrificed for the future of your family name because that’s what you needed. I abandoned my home, my traditions AND Ashara because that’s what you asked…”

She had done the impossible and pushed away the person she loved the most. For too long, she endured dragon-fire and now that she was nearly ash, her own inferno awakened.

“I did EVERYTHING. I gave up my body for you despite –”

Her voice faltered when old resentments surfaced.

“Despite what?”

“Despite the child that died in my body for me to mourn alone.”

He looked back at her with surprise and an expression akin to shame washed over him. His actions had broken the unbreakable and he did not even know it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was a whisper.

For a moment, his indigo irises looked so haunted Elia almost felt remorse for informing him so callously.

She laughed hollowly, dark and filled with resentment.

“You know why.”

And he did. His silence told as much. She would have been cast aside for a mistress sooner.

He reached for her swollen stomach, and this time, she allowed the caress. Inside her, the babe kicked hard. So hard it made her wince. Rhaegar felt it on his hand, and maneuvered to his knees, resting his hands and head on her belly.

Elia looked away, resigned to the inevitable. She did not want him manipulating her into remembering feelings she would rather forget.

“I’m sorry Elia.”

What he was sorry for, Elia did not know, but she nodded and said nothing more.

She distanced herself, and when she met his pensive gaze, translucent eyes swirled with some realisation. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, before syllables formed.

“This means – he could – he is th–”

“If you mention your damned prophecy right now, I swear by the gods I will scream bloody murder Rhaegar.”

Once she recovered from rehashed emotions, she found herself burned out. They stood on opposite ends of their chambers staring at each other like strangers.

Elia breathed hard, her eyes watery, and hands balled into fists. Rhaegar hung his head low in shame, looking guilty and afraid.

“Love, I can forgo, but I demand your respect, Rhaegar.”

“I would give you both. What can I do to mend us?” His tone was pleading.

However, Elia was well past giving him the benefit of the doubt. Rhaegar had broken her trust for the last time.

In that moment, Furiosa haunted her, making her remember her duty to Dorne.

‘You must ensure your husband sits that throne and that your children do after him… Do not let yourself be duped... And if something needs to be said, do not hesitate to speak for yourself.’

Elia was not so young as to forget the explicitly anti-Dornish Blackfyre rebellions, nor how a noble-mothered bastard could pose a threat to Dornish-blooded monarchs. Elia needed to hold onto Rhaegar no matter how much she despised him.

“If a mistress it what you so desire then seek whoever you wish, discreetly, but I beg you, not Lyanna... and not until you have fulfilled your bargains to me.”

Elia carried another child, despite her health, and pushed Ashara away as he had asked. Now it was his turn to make her a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Her gaze pierced into him and he shifted uncomfortably under it.

“Rhaegar.” She prompted.

His reluctance told her everything she needed to know. Rhaegar loved Lyanna. Yet, if she had sacrificed her heart for him, it was only fair that he do the same.

“Very well. Your wish is my command.”

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Little Ceremonies: A Critical Role Fanfic

So I have a lot of feelings about Beau, and she has feelings too that she needs to work through. Honestly this fic just came from my desire to shake this girl and force her to talk about her issues with SOMEONE, literally anyone would do.

Alright BeauYashter fans who love a dash of hurt/comfort/angst/pining, come get your juice. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

Before Beau almost fucking died she realized she didn't know what TJ's favorite color was. 

They had gotten attacked by some asshole bandits, which wouldn’t have been too big a deal if they also hadn’t had some wolves with them too. One of them was buddy buddy with animals Beau guessed. Things were going rough anyways, and Beau almost wasn’t surprised when she was full-body slammed by an orc and smashed her head on something hard. Another hit and she was out. So long, farewell, no one home, lights completely off unconscious. It sort of sucked, but it wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before. This time felt different for some stupid reason having to do with her brother. 

It was a stupid fucking last thought before she went unconscious, but you can't help what springs to your mind in your last moments of consciousness. And that was it. She saw TJ's face in her mind as she came crashing down, as her vision wobbled and went grey at the edges like she was tripping balls again or it was being eaten in a haze of ash. She realized she didn't know TJ's favorite color. And then there was nothing for a long moment. It wasn't unlike falling asleep in the way that there was nothing. Most nights Beau was so exhausted that she didn’t have time for dreams. (The other times she dreamed of impossible things she could never admit but wanted so bad she wished she could break open her own skull to inspect and commit them to memory. But she wouldn’t admit those ever.)

And then, just as quickly, she was jolted away from the depths of her sleep. Divine light pierced the darkness that had settled quiet and peaceful over her like the waves from the ocean lapping at her toes. She saved me, Beau thought literally breathless, she-

"Beau!" Fjord gasped. Beau desperately tried not to give in to her disappointment. And then immediately she resisted the urge to slap herself because no, she shouldn’t be thinking it. It wasn’t any of those things and she shouldn’t be thinking that way. 

“Oh Beau!” Jester cried as she rushed over. Her hands were first-snow cold against Beau’s suddenly feverish skin as Fjord helped to settle Beau more firmly against Jester. “Oh I’m so sorry, I don’t have...I only have Healing Word prepared and…!” 

Beau felt another jolt of the divine spread through her at the brush of her fingers that fluttered like snowflakes. They felt good...Jester felt good. She was soft and even though she was washed with rain water and gore, somehow, her arms felt safe. Beau wanted to feel more. She wanted to sag against Jester, to melt into her arms and never leave-

“It’s okay,” Beau managed to croak, her ribs still didn’t feel great by any means. It was more like when Dairon had first knocked the shit out of her with her staff. But she was feeling far less...almost dead so it was a marked improvement at any rate. She could just file this away into the same place that she had put all her recent horrible traumatic encounters and everything would be fine. “Just...it’s alright, Jessie. I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay, you look like shit!” Jester said, sounding half angry and half breathlessly relieved. It just made everything hurt even more somehow, though Beau didn’t know how that was fucking possible because she felt like complete shit. 

“Sorry, I’m fresh out of healing,” Caduceus apologized, hauling a ghostly pale looking Caleb with both Yasha and Nott’s help. Caleb swayed in their arms, looking like a bloodless ghost that haunted the halls in a shitty novel that Jester might read them all. Beau hoped she didn’t look as bad as Caleb, though she didn’t have much hope. 

“I’ll be alright,” Beau promised, gritting her teeth and forcing her legs up. Pain was a constant bedfellow. Usually she liked pain, it helped her feel alive and grounded, but this was a pain that was ripping deeper within her at places that she was refusing to face. Not now, Beau ordered herself. You can fall apart later. Not now-!

“Beau no-”

“I’ve got it!” Beau snapped at Jester, desperate to get out of her grasp. She was crawling out of her fucking skin. Jester flinched, and Beau felt her blood curdling in her veins because why? Why had she done this? Why couldn’t she just be good to those she loved instead of ruining it every time? 

“Okay,” Jester said, quickly rearranging her face so that the hurt dwelled somewhere deep where Beau couldn’t see it any more. It made Beau want to grab something with her hands and rip it apart right there and then. 

“There should be the inn a mile or two away,” Fjord said, voice even and as always the steady captain in the storm as he referred to the map. Lining up the troops, focusing them on an achievable goal. Beau could have hugged him for this gentle understanding. 

“I can help you into the cart,” Yasha offered both Caleb and Beau, her eyes dark and drawn with worry. 

“Ja, please,” Caleb asked, as Yasha better arranged him on her arm with Veth’s help. Veth kept glancing at Beau and Beau wanted to scream at her to knock it off. It wouldn’t change anything, none of this would, and in fact it was only making it worse. But Beau had always considered herself to be the worst kind of coward, so instead of saying all of that she set her jaw.  

“I’m fine,” Beau said gruffly to everyone, no one, and herself, gripping her side. “I’ll be fine.” 

As they walked along, Beau could feel Veth’s gaze digging into her skin. She pointedly ignored it. 

“I’m sorry,” Fjord murmured to Beau as they walked. He reached an arm around her to steady her, and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly as he did. Beau half wanted to punch him, and half wanted to turn her head into his shoulder and cry. 

“Why are you sorry?” Beau snapped though it felt half-hearted. She had always had a hard time arguing with Fjord, and even as wounded and skittish as she was feeling she couldn’t muster real anger at him.  

“You know why,” Fjord said as he continued to look forward and help her without saying anything. 

Beau knew why, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

They had found the inn and with little ceremony they had separated out to their rooms for the night. It was the usual arrangement, but Beau felt anything but normal. 

She was thinking about TJ again, thinking about her feelings that were all over the place, thinking about the stupid pain in her side that refused to just dim enough for her to sleep. Eventually all of those things had curled together until any outside stimulus had her startled half out of her skin. 

Jester’s voice was quiet in the darkness of their room. It stabbed into Beau like that shitty dagger the bandit had stuck into her not so many hours prior. Beau was wide awake now, curled into her side. Her breath was drawn so tightly that she was afraid that something inside of her would snap. And maybe it should. Maybe things would be better if they did. Maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with Fjord’s quiet concern and Cad’s long looks, and the quick glancing gazes that Veth peppered against her skin like freezing rain. It was because everyone knew the secrets that Beau was so terrible at keeping...everyone except the girl who could miss that point but tell she wasn’t asleep from the irregularities of her breath in a dark room. It would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so fucking tragic. 

“ ‘m not mad,” Beau said, hoping her voice sounded sleepy and that was enough to discourage this conversation. Beau could hear Jester shifting again in the darkness, and new that hope was a dream to be dashed on the rocks with the coming tide. 

“If I did something wrong…” 

“You didn’t, Jessie,” Beau said, finally rolling over. She didn’t have her goggles on and so she could barely see in the darkness, but the lump she assumed was Jester moved in tandem with her. Beau had spent enough time gazing at her to know the curve of her horns...her artist’s hands...the freckles that dusted her skin and nose. Beau colored in the lines like she was a child, and didn’t need her sight to tell her what she would see. “I was just upset at having been stabbed. It hurt. And it was lame.” 

“It was a little lame,” Jester said, a half-hearted laugh in her throat, a pout forming on her mouth. 

“Not just a little,” Beau said, self-depreciation a comfortable skin to slip into. This was charted waters, this was safe with Jester. This is what she wanted, she told her errant heart. She wanted her heart and her friendship to be safe. If it was safe, there would be nothing precious to lose. Beau didn’t think she would be able to stand that. 

“A lot a bit then,” Jester corrected. “But I am sorry anyways I...I’ll try to be a better cleric I swear.” 

“You are already the greatest cleric,” Beau promised her. “After all, there aren’t many clerics who make their own gods.”

“The Traveler and I are cool like that,” Jester said and Beau could hear the smile on her voice. She could see it in her mind’s eyes, the way it drew across her face and just brightened her and everything around her. She was precious and sacred and Beau was none of those things. Not for me, a part of Beau cried with hot, childish tears. Not for me, never for me. Why would she ever want me? She is a vessel for a power greater than I can understand...why would she ever want someone who uses all their strength to simply not fall apart?

“Yeah, you guys are,” Beau said as she drew in her strength to sit up despite the way her muscles and bones protested. “I’m gonna go for a quick walk. I’ll be back.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jester asked her, sitting up suddenly. 

“No,” Beau said, doing her best to smile for Jester. After all, only one of them could really see in the dark. “I’ll be back.” 

“Alright...if you are sure,” Jester said, not sound happy about this arrangement. Just that was enough to almost send Beau back, but she didn’t. She steeled herself and moved forward instead. Beau fumbled for the door, groping for the knob in the darkness. She opened it and was out in the dark, empty hall. She almost made it all the way down the hall when the pain in her side forced her to stop. She crumbled against the wall, her eyes burning with tears that she refused to shed. She smacked her hand against the wall as she slid down, the dull ache doing nothing to distract her from the pain in her chest. No one else was there...it was far too late for anyone to be wandering the halls anyways, and Beau had never been more grateful to anything in her whole life. 

Make me understand, her mother had once whispered to her. Why can you not just behave? It will be so much easier, was what her mother hadn't said but it had been written all over her face. 

Marry a nice boy from a good family, have your dalliances quietly on the side, shit out kids because that's your job and it has worked for a million women before you and it can work for you. Why can't you just accept the things that are settled in front of you for the way they are, was what her father had meant when he refused to look at Tori as Beau was hauled from that jail cell that night. 

Beau felt the urge to cry again. How much more orderly...how much smaller was she going to be forced to make her feelings? She simply couldn't force them into any more boxes to be labeled and filed away when they were pounding at her ribcage...bleeding out all over her like a fresh wound. It was bad enough that she had fallen in love for the first woman who hadn't cringed at her touch, but now this? Where was the fucking justice in this? She was supposed to be made of stronger stuff than this, but apparently all she had done was gilded her ribcage without accounting for the things within it.

“Beau?” Yasha’s voice was quiet and worried as she peaked out of the door of the room she was sharing with Fjord and Caduceus. Her dark hair swept out like a curtain as she did, and Beau wanted nothing more than to tuck it behind her ear. Was Yasha’s hair soft? And though those thoughts were surely not practical at this moment, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking them. “Beau...are you alright?” 

Beau startled in spite of herself. She was usually so much better than this, but that night she was scraped from the bottom of a barrel. Yasha was standing in the hallway. Her figure cut imposingly, but as soon as she saw there was no danger she almost shrunk into herself as she usually did. Her shoulders rolled in on themselves in an attempt to be smaller...less obvious, despite the fact that such a thing was impossible. Beau had the urge to gather Yasha up in her arms and...no. It was bad enough that her heart was bleeding out for Jester, she didn’t need anything else confusing her already blurry perspective. 

And you almost threw it all away, and you think you deserve anything? What a joke, a vicious part of her snapped, tearing at her already shredded insides like she had swallowed daggers. You may as well just walk back to that hag in the woods and offer all of your happiness. 

Why couldn’t this just be a problem she punched away? It would make everything so much easier, Beau thought beyond frustrated with herself. She had more important things to worry about. She had almost died and left them behind, but she was crying over this? Pathetic. 

“My shitty cracked ribs fucking hurt,” Beau said sniffing as she angrily swiped her hand beneath her nose. Yasha looked down the hall, before settling next to Beau on the floor. Yasha held out her hand timidly, like Beau would shy away at the touch. When Beau instead settled her hand in Yasha’s they were both surprised. Beau felt Yasha’s magic move through her, hum against her skin the way that the scent of a thunderstorm carried in the wind on a summer night. This time, the pain substantially subsided, and Beau found she could breathe in deep and even hold it without her breath stuttering in her throat. Unfortunately, her breath caught on her jagged-edged sadness and she let out a half-sob half-chuckle. 

“Beau?”

“I’m sorry, Yasha,” Beau murmured and she settled her head against her knees. “It’s my fault, not yours.”  

“Being hurt is never fun,” Yasha observed, her expression smooth and revealing nothing. 

“No, being hurt fucking sucks and I hate it,” Beau said, not willing to admit she was talking about more than just her stupid ribs. From the look on Yasha’s face, she understood what she meant intimately. 

And of course Yasha did. Yasha wore her pain like a mantle of wings that spread out from her shoulder blades and cut across the sky. And she was beautiful for it. She was beautiful for how she continued to rise up and survive with such grace and fortitude, while Beau clawed and screamed and brought everyone else down with her. Beau broke the precious things in her life, while Yasha did everything she could to save them. And Yasha would understand...Beau knew she would. And the desire to spill everything was building in her throat hot and fast again. But with those feelings came others, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face any of them yet...not when Yasha’s eyes were the blue-violet of a twilight in the darkness. Their eyes met, and the moment was alive. 

“Are you tired?” Yasha asked softly. Her voice had always been quiet and hushed, almost like the sound of the wind through the grass. But now in the quiet and the dark the tones of her voice were resonating deep in the marrow of her bones. 

“Yeah...I think I’m just tired,” Beau admitted and just like that the moment was past. Tired of this. Tired of her traitorous heart that swung like a pendulum between her desires and didn’t settle. Tired of the fact her family could still hurt her even though she was done with them. Tired of this love that would only hurt her. Tired of knowing that she wouldn’t give her love up for anything regardless. Tired of herself. Tired of everything and nothing all at once and the fact that this just kept happening. She would have hoped that something would be different this time. 

“Rest then,” Yasha said, patting her own shoulder. “You can rest here, and I’ll keep you safe.”

You can’t, Beau wanted to say as she met Yasha’s knowing eyes. You shouldn’t. It’ll just hurt us all. There was a heart breaking there and Beau couldn’t understand it. Why? How could Yasha keep giving despite it all? Though maybe it shouldn’t be surprising, Yasha had always been able to carry her and Jester and everyone else.   

“Okay,” Beau said instead, leaning against Yasha gingerly. “Thank you, Yasha.”

“You are welcome Beau,” Yasha said quietly in return. 

And so Beau drifted off again, but this time, the darkness welcomed her warmly into its arms. 

[bookwormwolf]

Maidens in White Dresses (Geralt of Rivia x female reader)

Smut but not in loads of detail, soft Geralt, cute nicknames and Geralt in a bath... What more could you want?

*also this gif does things to me (but it is not mine!) That hand movement is my kink 😅

Please like and comment, all feedback and thirsting over Geralt is welcome. I wrote this in self isolation instead of studying for uni oops.

Enjoy!!

(Name) lay propped up on the small bed they were renting for the night, her knees bent and her bare thighs spread open revealing her undergarments. The crimson cotton dress she had wore for travelling had long been discarded, instead a lacy white slip covered her chest and stomach, bunched around her hips because of the way she sat as she read the latest book that she had gotten hold of. Geralt was in the bath cleaning himself off after a monster hunt and although (Name) was more than capable of helping him with his work when the job was particularly tough, she had stayed behind with Jaskier in the tavern. Jaskier had spent the afternoon writing ballads and practicing his lute much to the delight of both local men and women whilst (Name) had taken Roach to the neighbouring hamlet to pick up supplies. The small but well stocked market sold berries with which she could make ink, and fine feathers and wood with which she could make writing utensils. Although not a witch, (Name) was well learned in the writings of many cultures and peoples and could translate and teach them. She was often commissioned by healers to write down instructions of local tutors to help teacher children but today she had just enjoyed her trip to the market and back with Geralt's beloved horse. The journey had been pleasant, the sky had been blue and the breeze was warm so when (Name) had come back to the lodging room to see Geralt drenched to the bone and covered in mud it amused her greatly to see the difference in their daily events. Now Geralt was in the bath, we was less grumpy than when he had first come home, enjoying his soak.

"(Name)?" Came Geralt's gruff voice from the bathroom.

"Yes, my love?" Asked (Name) in response, closing the book and putting it down on the bed next to her.

"Wash my back?"

(Name) laughed softly to herself as she rose, and walked into the next room to see her lover hulking out of the bath. Although the rectangular tub was a normal size, Geralt's tall and muscled body was almost comical for the bath he was in. It was still easy to admit how attractive the witcher looked, even being two times bigger than appropriate for the bath and having soapy hair and despite rippling muscles being bruised and littered with cuts, (Name) couldn't stop her eyes from roaming over Geralt's body.

"You going to stand there, or help me?" Geralt asked, turning to see his lover.

But Geralt's eyes darkened when he saw (Name), clearly enjoying the sight of her in the nightgown.

"Hmm, actually..." Geralt let out a growl filled with desire.

(Name) walked closer to the tub, bending down when she reached the edge to pick up the soap on the side of the bath. Geralt got an eye full of her cleavage as she bent down, lifting a hand from the water to trace (Name)'s arm from her shoulder to her lower arm, grasping her wrist.

"That new?" He asked.

"I picked it up in the market today especially for you. I know how much you like pretty maidens in white dresses." (Name) teased, feeling Geralt's grip on her wrist tighten.

"I have a pretty maiden in a white dress in mind..." He whispered, feeling (Name)'s pulse race harder.

"Let me wash you, my love. The nightgown can stay on for a bit longer." She said, and Geralt groaned in protest. "You're filthy!"

Geralt's face lit up in a teasing smirk, "I know."

(Name) rolled her eyes and got on her knees to wash the Witcher's back with the soap and a rag. Her arm snaked around to Geralt's toned chest and she placed her head on his shoulder as she scrubbed, placing kisses on his neck as she did so. It wasn't long before she gore and mud had been removed, and (Name) stood from her kneeling position, fixing her nightgown.

"I'll let you dress, my love." She told Geralt who instead grinned wolfishly, snatching her wrist once more.

"Join me, I wish to see all of your beauty."

And with that he tugged (Name) gently so she stumbled backwards, legs hitting the tub. She fixed him a glare, determined to not end up in the bath with Geralt, despite how good he looked sitting there. A new nightdress she had paid good money for was not getting wet, plus the the bath water was off putting with the grime and blood that had come from Geralt.

"No, Geralt... Get out and come join me on the bed. Bed or this nightgown is not coming off for you tonight." (Name) told the witcher firmly who rolled his eyes but grinned regardless.

"Yes, sweet. Go take your seat, but I'll have you know I have no need to rip that cloth off you to pleasure you." He said, standing up in the tub.

"You are insatiable, my love." (Name) huffed, but couldn't stop her eyes from tracing Geralt's naked form in all its glory.

His muscles were well formed, with a set of abs left gleaming from the water. She bit her lip when her eyes wandered even lower, widening as she found what she was looking for, and Geralt let out a chuckle.

"I am insatiable when you are the one with a smolder like that?"

(Name) met Geralt's gorgeous gold eyes. His starr was electric, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something stirred inside her, and she spoke.

"Get out of that bath, and take me."

"As you wish, sweet."

And he was upon her like a man possessed, hands exploring every inch of her body, mouth placing hot, feverish kisses on her neck and lips. (Name) hadn't wanted to get her nightgown wet, but melted under the touch of the handsome witcher. Geralt's hands found the soft flesh of her thighs before trailing up and grabbing her bottom roughly. It felt like heaven.

"I missed you today." (Name) murmered softly, in between kisses. "Roach is a perfect partner for the road, but I missed wrapping my arms around your waist as we ride."

"It got me through that hellish hunt knowing I have you to come back to." Geralt replied before biting a hickey into (Name)'s neck. "Not to mention those pretty little lips... So kissable, and all mine."

Geralt backed (Name) onto the bed, letting her fall backwards so she was lying down, her book long discarded.

"You seem to be rather too clothed for my liking, sweet one." Geralt carried on, resting a knee on the bed as he covered (Name)'s body with his own, hovering above her on his forearms. "I would prefer this pretty maiden without a white dress on."

"You said you did not need to remove it to please me, Geralt of Rivia." (Name) teased, groaning when the witcher kissed her once more.

"If that is what you desire, then it is to be. Next time I can keep my clothes on, and you can bare everything for me to enjoy."

Without a word, Geralt hiked the fabric up as he simultaneously flipped (Name) over, pulling her up into a kneeling position. He dragged his hands up her thighs, light fingertips dancing over the flesh. (Name)'s breath caught in her throat, and she whined as Geralt placed sloppy kisses upto her innermost thigh. His stubble on her sensitive skin made her shudder as he bit down once more, hooking a finger into her lace underclothes, pulling them down with one swift movement. The fabric bunched around her knees, but the witcher paid no mind as he explored, dragging a cry from the woman.

"No playing!" (Name) admonished, breathless and panting.

Geralt only 'hmm'd' in response, eventually obeying the woman, and doing as she had asked him. He was gentle at first, large hands settling to grab at (Name)'s hips, finding a slow but steady rhythm that they could both enjoy. The witcher was greatly spurred on by the way (Name) cried his name, gasping at each movement...

But then she whispered four words that made him freeze.

She loved him...

With a growl, the steady rhythm fell apart. He was more forceful with every thrust, quickly feeling (Name) tremble beneath him. She quivered with a loud cry, and Geralt soon followed. They were tangled together, unsure on who's limb belonged to who.

"I meant it, you know." (Name) whispered softly to her witcher after finally catching her breath.

"I know you did, that you do. I cannot fathom why, but I appreciate it." Geralt replied, nothing how (Name)'s hands started to trace his scars. "If you carry on, dove, I won't be able to stop myself."

"We already need another bath, my love."

"Remove that pretty white dress, little maiden, and I shall bathe you."

[whattodowithace]

Roommates code: Feverish

Title: Roommates Code: Feverish

Pairing: Liju x Donghun & Seyoon (But can be reader x Donghun & Seyoon)

Genre: Fluff/When your sick AU

Word count: 2226

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

I sat on the couch curled in a blanket one Thursday morning trying to ignore my aching body. How my throat burned and I couldn’t breath out of my nose and how tired I was. I let out a dry cough and settled back against the couch to finish watching the show when my roommate came out of her room. Just waking up.

She looked me over with bleary eyes before asking, “Are you sick?”

I smile weakly at her, “Just a cold. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

She continues to stare at me, as if she didn’t believe I would be fine like I said I would. “Are you sick or just missing Donghun so much you think you’re sick?” She teased.

Making me narrow my eyes at her as I threw a pillow at her. “I’m not that clingy.” I snap, but still laughing.

She laughs evilly before going serious and asking,  “Have you eaten yet?”

I wince, knowing she would ask that and wouldn’t like my answer even more.

“No.” I reply horsily. Not having an appetite.

She narrows her eyes at me and goes to one of our cabinets and takes out a few granola bars before handing one to me and sitting down beside me on the couch, making me share my blanket.

I fiddle with the wrapper for a few minutes, watching the TV and putting off eating. Which only makes my roommate take the wrapper from me and open it before handing it back.

“Eat or I’ll hit you.” She threatens, making me laugh.

For the next few days I feel no worse, but no better. My roommates boyfriend, Seyoon, continues to come by and bring us food. My roommate would scold me if I didn’t finish what she had given me, making Seyoon and me laugh.

Then, on the fourth day of me being sick, it all hit me. Hard. I crawled out of bed at around 6AM, my legs wobbly and hardly able to stand. The world tilting and spinning as I tried to walk to the couch. I managed to get a water bottle from the fridge and drink half of it, thinking maybe I just hadn’t drank enough. But my skin felt hot. Goosebumps rose all over my skin as I shivered as I covered myself up. Even though my skin burned I felt like I would freeze.

I dozed for some time, not fully aware of what was happening around me. I was only faintly aware of my roommate getting up and checking my room to find it empty before finding me on the couch, covered in blankets up to my neck but still shivered. She sucked in a breath when her hand rested on my forehead, my skin now hot.

I fell into a restless sleep. Crossing a line between unconscious and conscious. My roommate staying at my side by the couch. My fever raged at 101, which was high but didn’t concern my roommate too much right away. Figuring I would sleep it off.

But when noon hit and I was still sleeping and my fever now hit 103 she got worried. She had to fight to wake me up for a short time to make me drink water. My face going white every time she sat me up to drink.

She checked my fever for the millionth time and rested her hand on my forehead, hating how hot my skin burned but how despite the fact she had piled every blanket she couldn’t find in our house on top of me.

A slight buzz on the coffee table alerted her to a text on her phone. She thought about ignoring it but thought better of it as she picked it up and checked who it was.

From: Seyoon💕

How’s work, honey?  :)

She winced, she had called in taking a sick day to take care of me. Knowing I was too sick to be on my own today.

She thought about her reply for a moment. Wondering if she should tell Seyoon how bad off I was or to just wait.

Her fingers danced against the screen as she replied.

To: Seyoon💕

I didn’t work today. Scrub is a little worse.

She didn’t lie. But left out the details, not wanting to worry him with his already busy schedule. She only waited a few minutes when she got his reply.

From: Seyoon💕

:(  Do you need me to get anything? Donghun comes home from visiting his family tonight. Maybe that will cheer her up. 😉

She smiled at his thoughtfulness but answered with,

To: Seyoon💕

No. We’ll be okay. ☺️ And I’m sure she’ll be fine after she sees him. 😏

She put her phone down on the coffee table as she tried to think of other ways to bring my fever down. Trying to keep the thought of what if it wouldn’t break out of her head. She started placing cold washcloths on my forehead, the cloth heating up in seconds after resting it on my head. My only movement being my head as I tried to find a cool place on my pillow to rest it.

This continued for the next several hours. She would wet a cloth only to have to replace it. My eyes never opening once as she applied and replied the cloth. My temperature had stayed at 104, not rising anymore to her relief. But also not breaking.

Her eyes had grown weary and her hands dry from the constant contact with water when a small knock came at the door. It opened slowly to reveal Seyoon’s dark eyes peak into the room. His smile faded when he saw her tired eyes.

He stepped inside quickly before asking, “I came by because I saw the living room light was still on and nothing else was. You weren’t answering your phone either. Is she worse?”

She looked at Seyoon before her eyes filled with tears, exhaustion setting in completely. A feeling of relief washing over her at seen him.

“She hasn’t eaten all day. I can’t make her wake up long enough to drink water even. And her fever has just worsened since this morning. I don’t know what to do.”

Seyoon quickly was at her side, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly. Gently swaying back and forth as he rubbed her back.

“Let’s go to bed.” He whispered, helping her up.

“I can’t go to bed.” She whined, only half fighting him.

“It’s 1 in the morning. You need sleep.” Seyoon tells her gently, running his thumb over her cheek. “I’ll stay up with her. But you need sleep.”

She let out a small whine but didn’t object to being led to her bedroom and covered in blankets. Her eyes closing in exhaustion immediately. Her mind only half registering Seyoon’s lips on her cheek before he left.

He came back to the living room and started replying cold washcloths. Finding a few extra cloths to apply to my neck, hoping it would help some.

He sat beside the couch for the next few hours. Occasionally trying to get me to drink something and checking my temperature. At 4 AM he opened the apartment door to let Donghun in.

“How was your trip?” Seyoon asked, trying to make small talk through his tiredness.

Donghun sighed and tried to sound cheerful. He really had had a good time. But he was worried at that moment.  “It was good.”

Donghun clasped a hand on Seyoon’s shoulder, “Go to bed. I’ll take care of her.”

Seyoon nodded and made his way to the bedroom. Glad he texted Donghun to come help. “She didn’t tell you she got sick?”

Donghun shook his head from his spot by the couch, his hand resting on her forehead, his eyebrows drawn together in worry.

“She never said a word.” He answered remorsefully.

~~~

After several minutes of placing fresh cloths on her forehead and neck, Donghun sighed and crawled in beside her under the blankets. Her skin hot and radiating heat as he curled up beside her.

He flipped over the washcloth to let the cooler side rest on her skin. Her eyebrows drawing together slightly at the sensation before relaxing.

Donghun propped himself up as he removed the cloth from her forehead and began peppering her head with soft kisses. Her skin hot against his lips and making him worry.

He rested his forehead against hers as he whispered in her ear softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so sick, princess?”

He felt a lump rise in his throat at seeing her not respond. His touches going unnoticed as her pale face gave off no reaction.

He continued replying the cloth to her skin, trying to keep her cooled down. He removed the blankets from around her and took off the heavy sweatshirt she had on. Her arms covering in goosebumps all the way under her light T-Shirt.

Donghun kept the blankets on her lower half but kept applying cloths to her now uncovered arms and neck. He pulled her close to him as she started to shiver, her eyes staying shut. Despite her shaking her skin remained hot.

Donghun repeated the same things over and over. Applying damp cloths to her skin and gently kissing her forehead, hoping her fever would break and her eyes would open.

He took her hand in his and held it tightly. Watching her chest rise and fall slowly. The only thing reassuring him slightly since her hand was limp in his.

~~~

My eyes open slowly to soft light streaming through the living room. My body aches but my head feels clearer than it did that morning. I feel a damp cloth on my forehead and remove it before looking at the clock. Confused to see it read 7:15 A.M

I move slowly, going to get up, only to feel a sturdy object beside me. It registers then that an arm rests around my waist.

I smile softly to see Donghun sleeping beside me. The dark circles under his eyes making me wonder how long he had been there. I don’t wonder long, however, when his eyes open slowly. Widening to see me staring back at him.

“Hi.” I say weakly, smiling at him.

Donghun quickly sits up and places his hand on my forehead, leaving me to feel a little confused.

He sighs out in what sounds like relief as he takes my face in his hands and rests his lips against my forehead and cheeks.

“Your fever finally broke.” He whispered, as he kissed my jaw.

“How long have I been out?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair.

“A whole day and night.” He answers. “Seyoon called me this morning when my flight got in. He said you were really sick.”

“I’ve been out that long?” I repeat, confused. 

Donghun nods as he wipes a climb of hair away from my face. “I was so worried.”

I stare up at Donghun, his dark eyes slightly watery. I had never seen him like this.

“You didn’t tell me you were sick. And when I came in and saw you laying motionless, I immediately felt like I had lost you. You were supposed to tell me.”

I take Donghun’s face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs along his cheeks. “You were with family. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You’re family too, princess.” Donghun whispered weakly. Making my own eyes water.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down against me. His warm breath against my neck as we embrace softly.

We stay that way for some before I whisper in his ear, “I’ve missed you, bear.”

Donghun chuckles deeply before bringing his head up to meet my eyes. His lips resting on mine for a moment.

“I missed you, princess.”

Donghun kisses my cheeks a few times before helping me sit up slowly, my body aching stiffly with the movement.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. A shower will probably feel really good.” He says as he helps me stand on shaky legs.

“Then can we eat pancakes?” I ask hopefully. Making Donghun smile at me.

“I’ll make them while you shower.” He replies as he helps my weak state to my bedroom to clean up.

~~~~

“Stop fighting me and rest.” Donghun grumbled as he sat on the couch.

“I’ve been sleeping for hours and you want me to rest more?” I reply, refusing to lie back as told.

“You aren’t better yet.” Donghun says as he covers me up only to slide in the space beside me, covering himself up too.

I rest my head on his shoulder, making him kiss my forehead gently as we relaxed and watched TV. Shortly after Seyoon stumbles into the living room. His eyes widening when he sees me awake.

“Your fever broke?” He says. Asking it like a question but it held more of a surprise tone to it.

“It broke around 7 this morning. She’s taken a shower and eaten since then.” Donghun answered cheerfully, rubbing circles on my lower back.

Seyoon seems to sigh in relief as he comes over and wraps an arm around my shoulders, surprising me.

“You scared us.” He whispers sweetly in my ear. “Your roommate will be relieved when she wakes up.”

[uraharasandals]

Hey could I have a request for Akutagawa and his female s/o also being work partners in the port mafia and her ability is fire, like Dabi from BNHA? Like it damages her body when she uses it cause she isn't immune to her own super strong flames? And angst and fluff?

Hi anon! First off, I know you requested angst and fluff but I'm sorry I went a bit overboard with the angst and there's probably zero fluff available here! Nonetheless, I hope you like it :) and it hopefully does stick to what you were looking for <3 feel free to request again if it doesn’t!

Also there’s apparently a formatting issue that prevents me from separating paragraphs. Just for clarity’s sake, I’ll add in // to show that it’s meant to cut off there. 

  He knew you were more than capable than taking care of yourself. That was one of the main reasons you caught his eye after all; he wouldn't even cast so much a glance towards the so-called 'strong', and definitely not the weaklings. Furthermore, you were to be his partner. The notion of doing otherwise would be ridiculous. 

  Akutagawa supposed that, at the beginning, your strength was what attracted him. And that was true; he didn't care for something so flimsy such as feelings. But as time passes, he felt...some kind of warmth from his chest whenever he looked at you. And somehow, he had became captivated. The flowing ink of your hair. The determined fire kindling in your eyes. The lithe form of your body, resembling that of a hunter as you fight. Most importantly, the outline and flash of flames as you release your ability, and the writhing form of the enemy in agony, before crumbling to ash. Beauty in its rawest form. 

  (People often say that Akutagawa was a ruthless killing machine with no regard for human emotion and aesthetics. That wasn't true. It takes a certain aesthetic to captivate him, and somehow, you were it.)

   And captivate him you did. He always thought that fire had a strange beauty in it; a fiery flare of glory and then dying down just as quickly. Exactly the way he meant to be in battle; and the irony of his partner wielding flames as her ability did not escape him. He lives, he fights, and he dies. What more joy would a partner holding the same principles bring him? 

   Except, the irony of your ability was not felt much, much later. 

//

      It was a stupid thing. The most stupidest thing really, but he had been so accustomed to you watching his back and fighting alongside to him that he had no qualms about tearing his eyes away from you, and the lack of necessity to protect you made having a fighting partner so much more easier. Until Akutagawa - he who does not have faults in battle except the occassional temper and frequent coughs - stumbled, and somehow found himself surrounded, paralyzed. How did that happen, again? 

   And like an emergency flare, you came to his escape in a burst of fireworks, anger and worry taking over, successfully incinerating the enemies in columns of fire. What he did not expect, however, was you burning up as well. 

   " - gawa-senpai! Are you okay? I heard a scream - ________-san!" 

   Higuchi's gasp was as annoying as ever, but for once was he glad the woman was there; cradling your body, his mind was in such a state of shock that nothing made sense to him except the heat of your frame, much warmer than usual, as if your flames were coursing through your very own veins. Thankfully, your body was intact, but Akutagawa had been through enough battles to recognise first and second-degree burns when he saw them. His hands felt cold - probably so damn hot that his system couldn't handle the shock - but he ignored it. Because nothing mattered at the moment except reviving you. 

   For the first time, Akutagawa felt a sudden panic seize his heart. 

    "Akutagawa-senpai." Someone was shaking his shoulder. He was still in shock, looking at your limp form, the feverish red on your face, the patches of pink skin on your wrists where the flames were the strongest, the movement of your chest that reassured him that you were, at the very least, alive, the -- 

    "Akutagawa-senpai. The medics are here." 

    He unwillingly let the medical team take you away, lifting your body onto a stretcher and carrying you onto a white van. What he only registered though, was your hand dangling over the side of the stretcher, the soft and warm skin that he had loved so much to caress and hold between his own now littered with burns and the red characterizing heat. For a split second, he thought he could see faint growing crimson lines where your veins were; another blink of his eyes told him it was his imagination. 

    "Akutagawa...senpai?"

     Only Higuchi's quizzical face made him realise that he was still  kneeling with his ears ringing, and his head full of confusion. Akutagawa stood up, stumbling slightly - but waving his assistant away as she surged forward to help him - and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the invading smell of smoke that just brought back memories of your burnt body, he cleared his throat, and spoke. 

    "I'm fine. You're in the way, Higuchi." 

    "I-I'm sorry, senpai!" 

    Annoyance. That was what caused a sharp surge of heat inside his chest, before he felt a stab of guilt. Ryunosuke! Treat her nicely, will you? For some incomprehensively stupid reason, your voice suddenly surfaced from the back of his mind, chiding his apparently 'distateful' behaviour towards his subordinate. How could you be so mean to a girl?! 

    Strange. He'd never really paid attention to how he treated Higuchi, not exactly. After all, she was a pawn of the Port Mafia and someone expendable. Besides, it didn't matter exactly how well or how bad he treated her, because it made no difference.  But now, as he straightened up and glanced back, just slightly, he saw a flicker of hurt flash over Higuchi's face before she re-composed herself. 

   In that split second, he thought he heard you scolding him again.

//

   Loneliness. For the first time, possibly since he was born, Akutagawa started to have a sense of hollowness spreading from his chest, and numbing the rest of his body. He wondered what it was, before a teasing remark by Tachihara gave name to it. 

   At first, he thought it was ridiculous. How could he feel lonely? But then, after staring at the never-ending pile of paperwork stacked on the desk in front of him, Akutagawa felt a sense of ache in his heart, and he couldn't concentrate on his work. Not any more. Not when all his head was full of was you.

    Usually the go-to situation for anything remotely like this was to initiate a sparring session with someone, anyone in the Port Mafia. Or even in the Detective Agency, because despite their love-hate relationship, Akutagawa had to grudgingly admit that a fight with the man-tiger left him somewhat...more refreshed than before. But apparently, that solution wouldn't work today. Not just because of the fact that you were stuck in the Port Mafia hospital and he wouldn't want to go anywhere else (forcing him back into his office already took  a ton of energy and he had Higuchi to thank for that, yet again), but also there was a sense of strange weariness clinging to his limbs, dragging him down and making him listless. The sense of tiredness reminded him of that time he fought with Chuuya, when he was hit by gravity and forced onto the ground. This wasn't like that either, though. At the time, he was pumped full of adrenaline (likely because it was in the heat of battle, but still) and was determined to get back up. Now, he felt like lying down and not getting up, not even to ease the strange ache in his chest. 

    Akutagawa wondered if there was something medically wrong with him, and whether he should head to the hospital for a check-up. However, instead of freaking out over him like she always did, Higuchi merely placed a cup of warm tea by his side, gathering some of his completed paperwork, before quietly slipping away. Oh well. If Higuchi thought it was no big deal, then surely there wasn't something too serious with him.

    For the first time, he yearned for your presence next to him, in the office, by his side. 

 //     "Ryunosuke, I recently figured out how to properly use my ability! Do you want to see it? I'm sure it'll be great in supporting you in battle." 

     "Later, ________. I need to finish a report for the Boss - " 

     "Sure! See you at the practice rooms then! I'll ask Higuchi-san to - " 

//

    To what? That was a long ago memory, and when Akutagawa came to he found that he was still at his desk, but head side down on the wooden surface. The blasphemy of falling asleep at work didn't even occur to him as he blinked sleepily, before realising the sun had gone down and it was dark outside. He shifted, attempting to sit up straight, before feeling the weight of something on his shoulders. A blanket. Someone must've snuck in, saw him all tired, and drapped a blanket over his shoulders. 

     And that someone had left a note at his desk as well, in Higuchi's neat handwriting. Before his brain could fully wake up, Akutagawa was already out of the door after skimming the message through once, bolting down the corridors to the hospital, with his mind full of, and only about, you. 

     ______-san had waken up. You can go see her now.

     He didn't notice the small darkened dots on the paper, already dried, but clearly discernible as tears. 

//

     "_________" The first thing that left his lips was your name, right after he burst through the doors like a madman. The hospital staff remained unfazed even from the commotion, and merely left the room silently, leaving him alone with you. 

    You. Akutagawa had been yearning for your touch ever since the day you were taken from him, but somehow at the sight of his partner bandaged up and confined to the bed he froze up, limbs suddenly uncooperative. At the sound of his banging around and the sudden departure of the medical staff, you weakly raised your head to see what was going on, before focusing your eyes onto the man in front of you. "Ryu....nosuke?" 

   The weakness in your voice made his heart felt like it was going to break into a thousand pieces, though he held it in with a swallow, before forcing himself forward.  "It's me." Akutagawa perched cautiously onto the chair at your bedside, before mentally chiding himself for the lame reply. "H...how are you feeling?" 

   "Like I'm banged up in ten different parts of my body." Somehow, you still managed a weak smile in that kind of situation. "I'll be fine though. I heal soon." 

    He supposed you wanted to cheer him up, though the false sense of cheeriness was overwhelmed by the slight trembling in your voice. "You should rest. You were pretty hurt earlier on." Akutagawa insisted, and there was a weak chuckle letting itself through your lips. Looking at your severely injured state, he suddenly felt a surge of anger. "Hey, _____. Who amongst those bastards did this to you? I'll go back and hunt them down."

     "No one did, Ryunosuke." Was it his imagination, or were your eyes strangely bright under the light? "It was me. My ability did this." 

      "Do you mean your ability defected - " 

      "No." You cut him off, and turned to look him full in the eyes. It wasn't his imagination then; your eyes were suspiciously bright, and a tear spilled over, trailing down your cheek. Before he knew it, Akutagawa had reached out to brush it away, and you caught his hand midway. "It's a stupid side effect. If I use it too hard, it'll come back to hurt me." He was startled at the sudden revelation, caught off guard and wasn't sure what to reply. Apparently you took that as his silent rejection, because your trembling hand had let go of his. "I know. It's a defect that rendered me weak and defenseless. I know you don't like people who are weak, Ryunosuke, so - " 

    Akutagawa wasn't sure what had came over him, but instinctively he had surged forward and kissed you. Maybe it was the habit of you doing so to shut him up endearingly that caused him to do so. Maybe he was trying to release that pent-up sense of exhaustion and frustration from the afternoon. And yes, maybe he was desperate. 

   When he finally pulled away, he saw that the sadness in your eyes had already given way to surprise, before a sense of love that he'd only saw when he was heavily injured or sick. Which was strange, because you were the one heavily banged up now, and yet...

    "Thank you," You whispered, tears already spilling over onto the bandages. "I'm sorry." 

     At the feeble apology, Akutagawa felt his heart torn apart again, but the words struggle to get through his mouth, getting stuck in his throat and effectively choking him. So he didn't say anything of substance. Instead, he planted a palm onto your hair, patting it somewhat cautiously and hoping you wouldn't feel much pain. "Get some rest, ________."