#and feeling both groggy and impulsive

[liskantope]

Weird -- I could swear there was a post (by a Tumblr I don't know) just the other day about how what everybody feels like eating is just what they're supposed to be eating health-wise with a "why would we be different from other animals in not being evolved to naturally individuals crave exactly what is healthiest for each of us individuals?" bent to the argument but otherwise absolutely zero justification, and then one of my mutuals (and I'm 95% sure I correctly remember who) reblogged it with an excellent response explaining from personal experience that this is not true and that they have to discipline themself on what they eat so as to avoid feeling crappy and unhealthy. And I can't find it among my likes and can't find it on that mutual's blog. I'd been intending to reblog my mutual with a couple of further comments and was "bookmarking" it by liking it.

I've been unusually distracted and overwhelmed lately, but I'm not so out of it that I would have imagined all this. I guess almost certainly the post (most likely the original post) got deleted for whatever reason. (I mean, I'm sure that most of the thousands of notes were from people who supported the OP, but maybe they got dogpiled on, and I don't like the idea that I might have joined in the dogpile.) I try to stay out of the food/nutrition/health discourse; I already get into too many other sensitive arenas of discourse than is probably good for me or others. Maybe this was the gods of Tumblr's way of preventing me from the poor judgment of getting myself into the topic. (Except I'm writing this semi-meta-post about it now... oops.)

[beanlot]

indecision

ellie wants you back, even though she ended the relationship.

wc: 2.1k (angst + smudge of fluff)

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡��⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

“just get it over with, please.” she exhales jaggedly, smell of rubbing alcohol poisoning your nose as you apply pressure onto her wound. she’d been shot with an arrow, one you’d had to snap to pull out of her, but it’s nothing she hasn’t handled before.

she didn’t squirm, or whine when you bandaged her up. she sat still and took it, clenching onto the old and tattered leather seat.

you’d dated ellie for a shaky and indulgent two years before. your relationship at first was it - it was her looking at you when she’d done something clumsy or funny in hopes to see you laugh, it was holding each other tightly after you’d gotten separated, it was her lips kissing at your skin fruitfully. you remember it so clear.

“mm. baby.. baby..” you hear her voice, low and groggy. you’ve woken her up, shuffling around endlessly for half an hour trying to sleep. “baby.. shh. relax.. relax with me, you’re fine.” her hand settles on your hip, and she’d bring you in closer, tatted arm ravelling around your stomach. she was so gentle, so guiding, so protecting. “shh.. i’m here. i’m here, my love..”

ellie felt bad for ending it, it was necessary. there were times where she’d refuse to communicate, you would lose your temper, and start yelling at each other. you’ve grown hard around the edges over the years, your skin is scarred and tormented. it’s not your fault.

“oh shut the fuck up, ellie!” you spat at her. truth is, your arguments brewed for a few weeks. it started with glares, sly comments and ignoring eachother until it erupted. “you always do this, speaking to me like you’re so much better just becau-“

“speaking to you like what? just because i don’t sit on my ass here all day whilst everyone else does the work?”

the best thing to do was to break up, for both of your sakes. you were fine with it at first, you knew it was for the fucking best. you were starting to despise eachother’s company; you knew you’d get over it. because just like the scars and torment weren’t your fault, ellie was often blinded by hatred and impulse, it’s how the world shaped her.

“you know what.. i think.. we should just.. stop.” ellie scoffs.

“stop what?”

“us. it’s not fucking working. i can’t stand you.”

but what you couldn’t get over was overhearing her speak with dina, flirty and sultry tones bouncing back and forth between them a week later. they’d slept together, not long after that breakup.

and here you are, a few months later, knelt in front of her to relieve her physical pain.

“thanks..” a quiet whisper left her as you shoved the materials back into your bag. you’re still on high alert, ellie says that you always are, it’s like walking on eggshells being in a room with you.

she watches as you keep your eyes on the windows, peering through the blinds, your pupils narrow like the scope of a sniper. she tries to lighten the mood, tries to relax you a little. “a year ago, you would’ve passed out.” she jokes, a breathy laugh leaving her. but you don’t laugh.

i think that’s also what ate away at ellie during the end of the relationship. you used to have fun, and live, and look forward to the next day. but you’re a different mind in the same shell she used to love, and part of her believes she’s accountable for not being there for you.

you hear her whisper, as you sink into the chair opposite her, your head leant back towards the ceiling. “you okay..?” her voice is cautious, but she knows what’s up, she’s not stupid.

“fine.” you state bluntly.

it’s silent. she feels hopeless. you’re so cold now. but on the bright side, at least she no longer has to listen to your words of kindness easing her through the pain, or drink the poison of your fucking maturity.

“i’m sorry. for it.” you hear her. she’s darting her eyes around your body, the long scar under your jawline, the scratches on your wrist from trying to slice nettles out of the way. you try not to smile at her apology, because it’s pathetic. “it’s whatever.” you respond, your voice uninterested.

you feel sour thinking about it now, actually. you could’ve left her to those hunters, left her to infected, left her to bleed out and clean her wounds herself. “did you enjoy it?” you impulsively ask her, a saltiness to your tone that she was anticipating.

her stomach still drops though, and she can sense the eggshells cracking around her. “what?” she mutters, her eyes narrowing at you as you look at her. you used to look at her with delicacy, adoration, desire. but now your eyes are empty, glossed over; ellie could only describe it as you looking through people rather than actually looking at them.

“you know. sleeping with her that quickly, was she good? worth?”

it’s silent, and you’re both staring at eachother with challenging eyes of contempt. she gets it, understands your anger, yet she also can’t seem to wrap her head around your entitlement. “what are you sa-“

“scale of 1 to 10.”

“what the fuck are you saying?” ellie’s voice goes up a pitch. she wish she could stand up and grab your throat, try and knock some sense into you. but not only is the pain in her shin holding her back, it’s also the fact you’d hold up an ambiguous fight. “are you serious?” she leans forward in disbelief.

but when you don’t respond, your gaze unfaltering, she sighs.

“i don’t know.. like.. an eight, i guess..”

it was a rhetorical question, asshole.

you’re sure she answered it out of spite, and you feel internal rage. but you don’t let it show, you just nod with pursed lips. “i’m happy for you.” you state coldly. you wish you had the heart to just leave her here, take shimmer up north back to jackson, but you don’t.

it’s silent for a few minutes. she’s often glancing back at you, already regretting her answer. although it was a truthful answer, she should have kept her mouth shut. but the damage has already been done, she sees it honing on your face as you look elsewhere.

“i’m..” she starts, sighing. “i’m sorry.. that was fucked, it’s all fucked.” she shakes her head. you’d been forgiving and graceful enough to snap an arrow and pull it out her leg, bandage it up for her. and yet she sits here as if she uses that same arrow to pierce at your heartstrings, play you like an instrument, even if you act as if it’s not affecting you under your stoic mask.

“can you come here…

please..?”

you look at her, and her eyes are brimmed with vulnerability. you stay in your seat for quite some time, until you muster up the patience to approach her.

she feels you dip into the space beside her. she wants to reach out, touch your skin, marshmallow you up how she used to. but she knows she can’t, she has no right. “you don’t have to forgive me.. i just..” she whispers. “i wanna say i fucked it all up, for us. i know i did..”

you digest her words, your eyes darting around the ceiling in contemplation.

“i just don’t..” she pauses, her eyes ponder down to her thighs, and then down to her bandage that you had wrapped. she’s trying to word her next sentence without it sounding so morbid, but she cant. “i don’t wanna lose you one day, knowing you hated me.” she murmurs, waiting for an inkling of emotion on your face - anything, she’ll take anything - but it doesn’t come.

she’s dreamt about it. having you in her arms, choking on your own blood, using your last efforts just to spit out a malicious i hate you.

“i thought the.. whatever with dina would’ve got rid of you.” ellie squeezes her nose bridge, trying to explain in a way that doesn’t sound so bullshit. she doesn’t want to say that she had sex with her, even though that’s what it was. “i fucked her over too.. she didn’t do anything wrong, but she was.. just there.”

wow, you really are a scummy piece of shit, els.

she knows what you’re thinking when she looks over at you, your eyes nailing into her. “i know..” she whispers, and you notice her hand slowly raising, hesitant to graze your own. you flinch when she does this, and she notices your hand inching away from hers. “i know it sounds bad. because it is, it’s my fault.”

she looks down at your hand, her eyes desperate, pupils dilated when they look at you. “please let me..” her voice is tender, affectionate with you. you’re invested in it slightly, letting her nails run along your palm, her touch a wintry feather tickling your skin.

“i just.. i’ll do anything. anything to make it up to you, no matter how long it takes.” she whispers, and you feel her touch leaving your hand. you feel like ice when it does, only to feel piping hot again when she cups your cheek. it’s intimate, but it’s genuine: it’s regret and sorrow, self-hatred and adoration. “i just want you to know, that i know i’m a fucking asshole, i still am..”

“you make me sick.” your voice is piercing and cold towards her. but she understands your rage, and she takes it, absorbing it with accountability. “i needed you. and you fucking left me.”

ellie’s gaze is weak. she’s thinking of your pain, of your scar-covered back and tormented bruises. the ones she couldn’t be there to kiss and treat. when you had came back from torrington after a few weeks’ travel, and she had heard from maria that you were ‘all kinds of fucked up’ and ‘in need of stitches’ under the jaw, she’d dissociated for hours in her room.

she could’ve been there, could’ve helped stop the bleeding, could’ve killed the bastards who had done it to you. prevented it in the first place. you were always there for every tear that dropped from her pretty eyes, every injury, every nightmare. and yet you did it all alone.

“i know.. i know.” she whispers, and you close your eyes when you feel her forehead press against yours. it’s not romantic, it’s just impulse. she wants to just feel close with you again, absorb your warmth, feel the safe haven she neglected and left to rot. “i’ll do anything. you have no idea. anything, i’m begging you.”

you can feel her breath, she’s so close to you, so hurt. she knows she has so many - too many - amendments to make for you.

“i almost died yesterday.”

her whisper is faint, and her eyes are focused on everything, yet nothing at the same time. glossed over in daydream, inanimate and empty. “we were.. i don’t know, going down the southeast, by those cabins..” she tries to recall, memories blurred with the overwhelming poison of your ill feelings towards her. “this guy.. i was just on the floor suddenly, and he’s coming down at me with an axe.

and if it wasn’t for jesse, i would’ve..” she continued, pausing before her eyes glint. “but in my last fucking moments, all i could see was your face. and i just.. i didn’t feel fear, i just.. felt so much regret. and, love. worried about what would happen to you after.”

her words were reluctant at first, but came streamlining out of her mouth when she’s reminded of each emotion that came with having her back against the mud, life flashing between her eyes, the split-second images of your pretty face next to the fireplace. the way you called her name, ellie, so vanilla. so clean. so smooth.

“i felt like.. i just should’ve told you everything, talked it out. i don’t want you to feel bad for me. i’m just.. i am begging you..” she repeats, a faint and delicate whisper against your lips. “if you want me to disappear, i’ll go. i’ll never bother you, you’ll never see me again in that fucking town..”

something about that proposal doesn’t sit right with your heart, or your head. you can’t tell. a part of you wants to slap the shit out of her, and another part wants to kiss at those lips - not out of love, but out of hateful lust.

“it was never about you. it was about.. me. my failure to be a decent fucking person, to be the person you.. needed. it was my own weakness.”

you sluggishly and reluctantly pull away from her, and watch as her gaze softens into disappointment. “i should.. go check on shimmer.” you whisper, rising to your feet, emotionally warped. “you just.. sit here and rest..”

she has to accept consequences of her own actions.

as you start walking backwards and turn away from her, you can just hear all the emotions inside screeching in your head. it’s loud, blinding, deafening; you know ellie experiences it too, the same voices that just get too much. maybe that’s what dina was to her, white noise to dilute them.

she wants to chase you back, grab your wrist and talk it out. but the throbbing tremors from her wounded leg force her to slump back down into the chair with a defeated sigh. she lets you go, just this time, not willingly.

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 3)

Vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

Part 1 (fluff to smut) ~ Part 2 (just smut) (Is it required reading? Ehh... But you might as well, no?)

This one gets a bit deranged.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader x Halsin

18+, smut, threesome, porn no plot, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV, blood drinking, soft dom Astarion, Astarion being a little shit, Halsin being rudely awakened in order to fuck nasty style again

Approx. 3,000 words this time (I uh... I don't know)

AO3

The first thought in your mind when you regained consciousness was “did that really happen?”, along with a flashback to the two elves in and around you. Halsin’s gentle, towering bulk. And Astarion finally allowing you to pleasure him, if only a little bit.  

You picked up the sound of Halsin snoring on the other bed. His favoured wildshape was all too fitting - he certainly sounded like a bear now. Weren’t elves supposed to trance? Silently? 

...So it happened. It really happened. ...It was going to be an interesting day.  

You opened your eyes. 

Astarion was already awake, lying beside you and admiring you through his lashes, a light smile on his face. It deepened when you met his gaze.  

Your immediate impulse was to ask him about last night, but you held your tongue, instead looking for answers in his eyes.  

No darkness, nothing that resembled shame or regret... Only warmth and affection as he softly ran the back of his fingers down your cheek until they reached your chin, to gently tilt it towards him, drawing you for a kiss.  

It was soft at first. Just your lips brushing and lingering on each other’s, until with a soft sigh he drew you in deeper. 

He traced the inner edge of your upper lip with his tongue. It tickled, and you parted your lips, letting him in. You tried to brush your tongue against his, but he retracted it as soon as you moved. Only once you held still did he return with his tongue, running it in circles around the tip of yours, running it up your tongue’s underside, teasing. It was so distinct, it was almost... 

You gasped with a sharp intake of breath when you realised what he was doing.  

These were the motions of your tongue on the head of his cock last night. This whole kiss was a vulgar, teasing reminder of what you’d done for him. His way of showing you that he hadn’t forgotten about it, that it’s been on his mind. 

Gods... It felt so obscene. 

You moaned as he brought your naked body closer to his partially clothed form, holding you close, a fire starting to reignite between your legs already.  

His lips split into a grin in the knowledge that you’d caught on, and he broke the kiss, giving you an unabashed look full of lust. 

“Will you let me do it again?” you whisper, hoarsely. 

“In time...” he replied. “For now there’s more I want to do to you.” 

“To me?” 

He grinned, mischievously, then glanced at Halsin’s sleeping mass.  

“For both of us to do to you, actually. If you want to try something new?” 

“Now?” 

“Why not?” 

“For one, Halsin's still asleep,” you said. Astarion rolled his eyes at you.  

“Psst, Halsin. ...Halsin. ...Halsin! ...HALSIN!” Astarion hurled a pillow at the groggy druid, who somehow managed to catch it in midair before it smashed into his face. 

“Hmm?” a low rumble reverberated in his chest as he stirred awake.  

“Do you want to try something?” 

“...What?” 

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“...Yes.” 

Halsin, still half-asleep, opened his eyes to observe the two of you as Astarion turned back to you, rolling on top and continuing in a louder voice.  

“See? Problem solved. Anyway. I was thinking... You say your body stays sensitive around the puncture wounds for a long time after I bite you,” he said, running his fingers delicately along the wounds on your neck. 

“It’s still tender,” you nodded, relishing his touch. 

“Tender how?” he asked softly, lowering his lips to the marks on your neck.  

“It feels... sweet. Like I don’t want you to ever stop touching it,” you said, closing your eyes and revelling in the sensation. “I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

“A vampire’s bite has aphrodisiac properties,” offered Halsin. “It is well-known.” 

“What if I were to bite you somewhere more... interesting.” Astarion began to kiss further down, grazing you with his fangs without drawing blood. Halsin, more awake now, propped himself up on his elbow to lie on his side.  

“Where?” you breathed as Astarion continued on his way down, pausing to suck on a nipple. He only smiled and kept trailing soft kisses down your stomach, gradually pulling the covers off you as he went lower, until he reached your upper inner thighs.  

“What if...” he purred, starting to run his tongue along your outer folds, making you moan and spread your legs wider for him. “I left a gentle little bite right here...” He continued to run his tongue on your skin, just between your opening and your thigh. “Do you think you would like that..?” Before you could answer, he added: “Oh, and it’s incredibly distracting when you’re so wet while I’m trying to talk to you,” before plunging his tongue inside you as you gasped.  

“Did you wake me merely so I could watch?” Halsin asked, reaching down to stroke his growing erection. 

Astarion gestured for him to wait. 

“Do it,” you moaned. “Bite me there.” 

Astarion continued to lap at your hole, running his hands along your thighs, holding them open.  

“Stop teasing, damn you!” you hissed. 

Astarion chuckled and moved his head to lick you just outside your opening, sucking your lip into his mouth. Suddenly his grip on your thighs tightened and before you knew it, you felt a sharp icy pang. You whined as he continued to suck, this time drawing blood. The pain quickly dissipated and turned into a titillating sensation that spread throughout your sex.  

Astarion lifted his head, sitting up and inserting two fingers into you.  

“Now how does that feel, darling?” 

“Good... So good...” you groaned, spreading your legs wider for him, bucking your hips to ride his fingers. It felt like an insatiable, throbbing itch, his fingers your only salvation. 

“I must tell you,” you heard Halsin. “I overheard some of your remarks about wood elves earlier. And you would do well to trust me that few of my brethren are as depraved as you.” 

Astarion ignored the druid, absorbed in watching you writhe.  

“Do you like it? Do you want more? You do, don’t you... We can give you more...” You whimpered as Astarion continued to slowly fuck you with his fingers. “But first... What if I bite you somewhere else?”  

His tongue returned between your legs, licking higher and higher, until it circled your bundle of nerves.  

“Just a tiny little nick, right above your sweet nub. I’ll be very careful, I promise,” he murmured right against your clit, in between licks, as you mewled. “I’ll be gentle... And then I’ll kiss it better. I’ll kiss it, lick it, suck it better...” 

“I stand corrected... None of my people can rival you in perversion,” said Halsin. 

Meanwhile, your fingers were tangled in Astarion’s hair as he continued to tease you with his fingers and tongue. As good as it felt, the only word in your mind was ‘more’.  

“Do it,” you say, hoarsely. “I want to know how it feels.” 

Astarion chuckled, turning to Halsin. 

“You druids have an intrinsic urge to tend to helpless creatures in need, do you not?” Astarion said, as Halsin continued to stroke himself. “This helpless creature is about to be in great need.” He looked up at you, hungrily. “Try to hold still, my love.” 

This time the pang made you yelp and lurch up in shock, your hands grabbing at the bedsheets. But the pain subsided as quickly as it came on, replaced by an unquenchable burning need.  

It throbbed. It pulsed. It begged to be touched.  

Astarion did as he promised licking and sucking on your clit, his cool tongue like a salve, but before you could find any kind of release, he abruptly rose, pinning your arms above your head as you groaned in protest. 

“My, look at this predicament you’ve gotten yourself into again, pet...” 

“Please... please... anything... I’ll do anything you say.” you begged. Your need could not be ignored like this. You tried to squeeze your legs together for some friction, but he was keeping your legs spread open with his own thighs. Maybe if you told him what you wanted he would cut this agony short..? “Touch me... Fuck me... Anything..!” 

“What did I tell you?” he said, turning to Halsin. “But my sweet,” he said turning back to you. “You said you wanted to know what it felt like. Maybe we should leave you like this so you can study and savour the sensation.” 

“Astarion?” you managed, swallowing hard. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you hissed through your teeth. You turned to the druid, looking him in the eyes and bucking your hips in desperation. “Halsin..?”  

“Give her to me,” the druid growled. 

“Oh no! There will be no mutiny! Make no mistake, I’m still the one calling the shots here,” Astarion laughed. “...But seeing as you’re all so eager – sure.” He released your hands and raised you into a sitting position. “On the edge of the bed,” he gestured to Halsin, the druid complying without another word. “And you...” he held you by your jaw, his voice lowering. “I’ll let that slip by, but if you want me to allow you any relief, you will behave.” 

You nodded, whimpering. 

“Now do you want to ride his cock?” 

“Yes,” you panted. Astarion just raised an eyebrow and didn’t make a move. “Yes, please, can I?” 

“She’s yours,” he said to Halsin, with a smirk. 

Suddenly you were lifted and found yourself on the druid’s lap on the opposite bed, your back against him, both of you facing Astarion.  

“You can fuck that needy hole of hers all you want, but don’t touch her between her legs,” he said, reclining to admire his handiwork. 

You were gliding your slit along Halsin’s shaft, covering his erection with your juices. It was something, but not nearly enough. 

Halsin lifted you and began to ease you onto his cock, once again slowly, inch by inch.  

“You don’t need to be so gentle,” you groaned.  

“No no, slow and gentle is exactly what she deserves right now,” Astarion interjected, as you swore under your breath. “And don’t you dare touch yourself,” he said to you. You knew better than to defy him, and clutched at Halsin instead. 

Halsin’s hands remained on the undersides of your thighs, your legs opened wide for Astarion’s devouring eyes, gripping you as he worked his cock inside you, raising and lowering your body along his length. It was agonisingly slow, and though it appeased the itch from Astarion’s lower bite, somewhat, it did nothing for your throbbing clit.  

“You said you’d kiss it better, you fucking liar,” you threw at Astarion, your voice thick.  

“What did I say about behaving?” said Astarion.  

“Astarion, it hurts without you,” you groaned. “Please? My love..? I’m begging you.” 

Astarion sighed dramatically, finally getting off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of you. 

“Well we don’t want you in pain,” he murmured.  

Finally, you felt Astarion’s mouth on your swollen sex, as he stroked your clit with his tongue. A moan tore from your throat as Halsin sped up the bucking of his hips, his thrusts in time with the strokes of Astarion’s tongue. This. This was what you had been craving so badly. The druid stretched and filled you completely, while Astarion’s tongue brought you to the edge of madness. And you could do absolutely nothing but accept and embrace what was happening to you. It wasn’t long before your whole body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, Halsin holding you tightly against him.  

Once you’d regained your senses, you noticed that somewhere along the way Astarion had completely discarded his pants, and was now stroking himself with one hand, as he rubbed a thumb over your oversensitive clit.  

“Hmm,” he hummed, studying it. “I don’t think it’s better yet.” 

You nearly screamed as he went right back to sucking on it, alternating that with quick flicks of his tongue. 

“Shh, sweet one...” Halsin breathed in your ear, placing a hand over your mouth, and lifting your hand into his hair with the other. “Yank on it hard if it’s too much. Can you do that?” You whimpered a ‘mmhmm’ as you grabbed a fistful. 

Halsin leaned back on the bed so you were half-lying on top of him, your head thrown over his shoulder, as Astarion held your thighs open. 

Astarion showed you no mercy as he lapped at you. Halsin sped up again, as you let out keening moans into his hand, losing your mind. There was no easing and relaxing into this - this orgasm was forced out of you, and you loved every second of it. Within a minute you came again, your thighs twitching violently.  

Halsin groaned as you spasmed around him again. 

“I cannot do this anymore... If she clenches around me like that again I will lose it.” 

The druid slipped out of you and you were once again gliding along the length of his shaft, rubbing yourself against it.  

Astarion lifted his mouth from you, wiping your wetness from his chin, as Halsin raised you back into a sitting position. 

“He’s been so very patient with you, pet. Do you want to show your appreciation?” 

“How?” you whispered, licking your lips. 

“I think you already know how,” he murmured. “Come here. On your knees.” 

You all but collapsed on the floor next to Astarion, your legs unsteady, looking up at Halsin.  

“Taste him,” Astarion encouraged you. “You haven’t yet.” 

“Oakfather preserve me,” Halsin groaned as you took his engorged, leaking cock into your hand. You were facing a dilemma. You didn’t think you could fit him into your mouth without dislocating your jaw. Instead you began by licking your juices off his length, savouring your own taste.  

“Good girl,” Astarion purred next to you, sliding two fingers into your still throbbing pussy, as he stroked himself with his other hand.  

You moaned and moved up to the head of Halsin’s cock with your mouth, licking up his precum, as the druid brushed your hair off your face and held it back for you. No, this wasn’t going to work. Instead you worked him with your hand as you moved down to lick and suck on his balls.  

“I’m close,” Halsin groaned, throwing his head back, his fingernails scraping against your scalp. 

“Suck on the head,” Astarion whispered beside you, continuing to dig his fingers into you, rougher now. “You can manage it.” 

You moaned as you worked the tip of his penis into your mouth, slurping and sucking around it, wetly. This much you could do.  

“Good...” Astarion whispered hoarsely, moving behind you. He was starting to shudder as he bit down on your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, continuing his efforts to tear another orgasm out of you. He couldn’t have been far himself. “Make him come.” 

Halsin’s cock twitched and pulsed in warning as you continued, the druid’s grip on your hair tightening.  

“Swallow,” Astarion commanded, just as the druid finally spilled in your mouth. You glimpsed a few more strokes of Astarion’s hand from the corner of your eye, and you felt Astarion’s spend land in spurts on your back.  

You sat back with a frustrated groan. His fingers inside you hadn’t been enough. 

“My poor little minx...” Astarion murmured, catching his breath, kissing your neck up to your ear from behind you. “I know what you need. You’ve earned it.” He moved his hand to finally rub your clit again, massaging it roughly and deliberately. “Can you come for me one more time?” he whispered in your ear. “And here, let me taste him too.” 

You came completely undone once Astarion’s tongue swirled hungrily against yours, as he continued to methodically work on your swollen clit, moaning and whimpering into his mouth through your climax.  

“I don’t think I can walk,” you said a short while later, relaxing in Astarion’s embrace after he'd cleaned the better part of your combined cum from your body. It was mid-morning by then. Miraculously, no one had come to bang on your door to try to get a move on, but then again anyone in the vicinity of the room would’ve immediately understood what was happening inside. 

“Shall I go tell everyone you’re unwell, darling?” Astarion asked with a grin. 

“Don’t you fucking dare speak to anyone about this or me, you’re staying right here,” you said as he laughed “...I don’t think they will be impressed that we’re all delayed because I’ve been fucked into incapacity,” you added.  

“Oh on the contrary, I think they will be VERY impressed,“ said Astarion. 

“I’ll go tell them you’re currently indisposed. ...A tad more tactfully. And I’ll see to it that a bath is prepared for you,” said Halsin, getting up and getting dressed. 

“Thank you, Halsin... You are a blessing,” you said, shutting your eyes and falling back against Astarion as he left kisses along the side of your face.  

Halsin hesitated at the door.  

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of you, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” The druid would accept whichever answer you gave him, but you could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.  

You and Astarion exchanged a look. You had gotten good at silent communication. It was Astarion who finally spoke.  

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realize,” he shook his head with a small smile. “But let’s talk about that later.”  

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving. 

“You think catnip is difficult to live down?” You groaned again, once Halsin was gone, twisting and hiding your face in Astarion’s neck. 

“You should be proud,” he chuckled, hugging you tighter. “How do you feel..?” 

“Fine, right now... It still throbs a bit, but I can ignore it. But it's been coming on in waves, I don’t know if there’s another coming or how big it might be.” 

“Let me know if one does, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, kissing you.  

“Astarion?” you murmured, breaking the kiss. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can we do this again? Just the two of us? Later.”  

You both knew what you meant by ‘later’. 

“Greedy...” he smiled. “But yes. Once all this is behind us and we can just lounge in bed all day and night.” 

“I can’t wait,” you whispered. 

~~~~~

Astarion's, Halsin's and Tav's story together continues in 'Sweat'

AO3

Series masterlist

~~~~~

Tags: @twirlywhirlywriting - Hi! You are the reason this happened. I wasn't really planning on a part 3, but it clicked in my brain. Hope it's close enough to what you had in mind. I couldn't really give Halsin a more dom role though, as I think Astarion would lose his shit at this point.

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy

[novaursa]

Between the Flames (Part 2)

- Summary: Gwayne and you rekindle your flame as a celebratory hunt proceeds.

- Paring: Gwayne Hightower/targ!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top. The timeframe of events in both parts 1 and 2 is unspecified, place the plot wherever you wish it in your imagination.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 812

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The first light of dawn creeps into the camp as you step out of your tent. The air is crisp with the chill of morning, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders, taking in the stillness that clings to this early hour. The fires from last night’s revelries are mere embers now, and the camp is draped in a quiet so deep it feels like the world holds its breath.

Your eyes sweep over the clearing, searching for a familiar face, but Rhaenyra is nowhere to be found. Of course she’s not. Your sister has likely slipped away with Ser Criston Cole, her sworn shield, to chase whatever solitude she can grasp in this suffocating charade. Rhaenyra has always despised these hunts, the feasts, the endless parade of lords fawning over her as if she’s a prize mare. You sympathize with her distaste, but unlike her, you’ve remained tethered to these duties out of some misguided sense of loyalty to your father and the memory of your late mother, Queen Aemma.

A flutter of resentment stirs in your chest. You’ve followed the rules for so long, always the dutiful daughter, watching as your sister rides free while you remain in the gilded cage of expectations. Yet yesterday, when Gwayne Hightower had found you in the crowd of nobles and knights, that sense of duty had wavered for the first time in years. His presence had unraveled something in you, a thread of emotions carefully tucked away since your father denied him your hand. His smile was the same, a little boyish even after all this time, and his eyes held that familiar warmth as they met yours.

The memories from years ago flood back, his hand brushing against yours, the quiet exchanges between dances, lingers in your mind like the aftertaste of wine. You had long buried those feelings, or so you thought. Yet now, in the stillness of dawn, all you can think about is how his presence stirs a longing you’ve tried to forget.

For once, you allow yourself to act on impulse.

You move with a sudden resolve, heading towards the small paddock where the horses are tethered. Your chest tightens as you glance around, half-expecting someone to stop you. You see Ser Harrold Westerling, his gray hair wild with sleep, standing at the edge of the camp. He’s too far away to notice you yet, still groggy and unconcerned as he yawns and stretches.

Before he can spot you, you make your way to your mare, a beautiful dappled chestnut with a silky black mane. She snorts softly in greeting, stamping the ground with her hoof. You pat her neck, her coat warm and smooth beneath your gloved hand. "We’re going to do something foolish, my sweet girl," you whisper, a half-smile playing on your lips.

With practiced ease, you mount the mare, settling into the saddle. The forest looms ahead, its dark arms open and inviting, promising the kind of freedom you’ve denied yourself for too long. A breathless excitement quickens in your chest as you lean forward, giving your mare a gentle nudge. She responds instantly, trotting lightly across the camp, her hooves barely making a sound on the soft earth.

"Princess!" Ser Harrold’s voice rings out, sharp with alarm, but you’re already gone. The wind rushes against your face as you break into a gallop, the camp shrinking behind you as the trees blur past. The thrill of disobedience courses through your veins, each beat of your heart in time with the rhythm of your mare’s stride.

The forest is alive with the songs of morning birds and the rustling of leaves. Sunlight dapples through the canopy above, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. For a moment, you let out a breathless laugh, the sheer joy of riding unbound filling you with a wild sense of elation. You understand now, at least in part, why Rhaenyra flees these events; there’s something liberating in leaving behind expectations, even if only for a short while.

You slow your pace once you’re deep within the woods, guiding your mare along a familiar narrow trail framed by ferns and moss-covered stones until you reach an edge of a small brook. The peace of the forest wraps around you like a soothing balm. Here, away from prying eyes, from duties and titles, you can simply be.

But your thoughts inevitably return to Gwayne. You remember the way he looked at you last night, the warmth in his eyes tinged with something deeper. You can still hear his voice in your head, low and intimate as he leaned in close during the dance.

“It has been too long, Y/N,” he had said softly, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “I barely recognized you the day before… though you’ve grown only more beautiful.”

A faint blush warms your cheeks at the memory. For years, you had pushed thoughts of him aside, thinking them childish fancies, a promise he couldn't keep, but his presence has reignited a spark that refuses to be smothered.

Lost in thought, you nearly miss the sound of hooves approaching from another direction. Your mare’s ears prick forward, alert, and you turn your head just in time to see a rider emerging from between the trees. The sunlight catches on silver armor trimmed with green—Gwayne.

Gwayne Hightower woke with the first rays of dawn creeping through the canvas of his tent, the dim light casting long shadows across his face. Sleep had been restless and fleeting; the events of the previous night still clung to his mind like a shroud. He could still feel the weight of Daemon Targaryen’s gaze—a sharp, cutting thing that held a silent promise of retribution. Daemon had watched them dance, his eyes like twin embers, waiting for any excuse to ignite into something more dangerous.

But Gwayne hadn’t cared. Not then, and certainly not now.

All that mattered was you.

He could still feel the ghost of your hand in his, the way your touch sent a spark straight through him. You had tried to maintain a careful distance, the practiced grace of a princess who had long learned to hide her heart behind a veil of propriety. But Gwayne knew you better than that. He knew the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your voice dropped ever so slightly when you said his name. You could hide your emotions from most, but never from him.

He’d known you since you were both children, and in all those years, nothing had truly changed between you. Even now, after all the time and distance, after the layers of courtly masks, you were still the same girl who had stolen his heart. And he would not—could not—let anyone take you away from him. Not Daemon, not even your father. The King could deny him the match all he wished, but it was a hollow decree. He knew, deep down, that you were his. You always had been, from the moment you’d shared your secrets and desires with him years ago, in the quiet, hidden corners of the Red Keep.

And when he had seen Daemon’s eyes on you, the dragon’s possessiveness simmering beneath the surface, Gwayne had only felt his resolve harden. Daemon could try to intimidate him all he liked, but he would never understand that what bound you to Gwayne was deeper than mere attraction or lust. It was years of unspoken promises, of shared dreams and whispered hopes, of a love that had grown in the shadows of duty and expectation.

Gwayne exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he pushed himself out of bed. The air was crisp, the early morning dew clinging to the grass as he dressed quickly in his riding leathers. His mind drifted back to the last time he had truly held you, before politics and power had pushed you both into your separate roles. Back then, you’d been freer, more open, before the weight of a princess’s crown settled on your brow. And yet, last night, in those fleeting moments when your eyes met his, he saw a glimpse of that girl again. The one who had wanted more than what was being offered to her.

He knew you would not remain at camp long today. You despised these hunts as much as Rhaenyra did, though you bore it more quietly. And as if the gods themselves sought to reward his patience, his instincts proved correct when he caught sight of you slipping away, mounting your horse with a grace and ease born of years of practice. Ser Harrold’s groggy warning echoed across the clearing, but you were already gone, disappearing into the forest with the wind in your hair.

Gwayne’s heart leapt in his chest, a sense of urgency and determination driving him into motion. He wasted no time, striding swiftly toward his own horse, a powerful black stallion bred for speed and endurance. He swung into the saddle with practiced ease, feeling the familiar weight of the reins in his hands. Without hesitation, he urged his horse forward, following the path you had taken into the woods.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. Gwayne’s focus narrowed, his gaze trained on the faint trail you left behind—hoofprints in the soft earth, the occasional disturbed branch. He knew where you were headed; it was the same place you always sought when you needed to escape the world, a secluded glade hidden deep within these woods.

The sound of rushing wind and the rhythmic thudding of hooves filled his ears as he pushed his stallion harder, driven by a mixture of anticipation and longing. Every beat of his heart felt in tune with the ride, each breath drawing him closer to you. He couldn’t help but smile as he imagined the look on your face when he found you—the mix of surprise and exasperation that you could never fully hide, tinged with that unmistakable affection that lingered in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a clearing bathed in soft morning light. And there you were, seated on your mare at the edge of a small brook, the sound of trickling water a soothing backdrop to the scene. The sight of you, framed by the dappled sunlight, took his breath away for a moment. You were like a vision from a dream, your hair catching the golden rays as you gazed thoughtfully at the water. The serenity of the moment only heightened his determination to be by your side.

You must have sensed him approaching, for you turned just as he entered the clearing. The surprise in your eyes was quickly replaced by a familiar warmth, though you tried to maintain a composed expression. “And here I thought I’d managed to escape everyone,” you said with a hint of teasing in your voice.

Gwayne brought his horse to a stop beside yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you truly think you could slip away from me so easily, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and edged with amusement. “You should know by now that I would follow you anywhere.”

Your expression softened at that, and for a moment, the carefully maintained walls you kept around yourself faltered. “And what brings you chasing after me, Ser Gwayne?” you asked quietly, your gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. “Surely you have other duties to attend to, other places to be.”

He leaned forward slightly in the saddle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I have no duty more important than being where you are,” he replied, the words simple but weighted with meaning. “No place I would rather be than at your side.”

You looked away, as if trying to hide the emotions that flickered across your face, but Gwayne knew you too well. He could see the struggle within you, the war between obligation and the desires you kept buried. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours where it rested on the reins. “You don’t have to hide from me, Y/N,” he said softly. “Not here. Not now.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the reins as if grounding yourself. “And what if hiding is all I have left?” you whispered, a note of vulnerability slipping into your voice. “What if it’s the only way I can survive this game we’re all trapped in?”

Gwayne’s expression hardened with resolve. “You’re more than what they want to make you. More than a pawn in this endless game of power. You’re you—the woman I’ve loved since we were children, the one I would fight for, no matter the cost.”

You met his gaze then, something in your eyes softening. The walls you’d built around yourself cracked, if only for a moment, and Gwayne saw the woman beneath—the one who wanted more than duty and expectation, the one who longed for freedom, for love, for something real.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, a faint smile touching your lips. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding.”

Gwayne’s heart swelled with hope, with the belief that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to stop running from what you both knew had always been there between you. He leaned closer, his voice a gentle whisper. “Then let’s take this moment for ourselves. Forget the world outside, forget the dragons and the thrones and the knives hidden in every smile. Let’s just… be.”

For a long moment, the world held its breath as you considered his words. Then, slowly, you nodded, the tension easing from your shoulders. “For a little while,” you agreed, your voice soft, a hint of relief in your tone.

And so, you rode together through the sun-dappled forest, leaving behind the weight of duty and the ever-watchful eyes of the court. In this fleeting moment, there was no war of crowns or claims, no dragons or scheming lords—only the two of you, and the promise of something that could be, if only you dared to reach for it.

In the quiet sanctuary of the forest, with nothing but the rustling leaves and distant birdsong to bear witness, you and Gwayne finally dismount from your horses. The sun has climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden light across the clearing. There’s a silence between you—charged, electric—heavy with all the unspoken words and emotions you’ve held back for years. The bond you thought had frayed with time is alive once more, vibrant and undeniable.

You both step closer, drawn together by a force that feels as natural as breathing. Gwayne’s eyes are locked on yours, his gaze intense, full of longing and a possessive tenderness that makes your pulse quicken. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in the small space between your bodies crackling like a fire about to be kindled.

His hand comes up, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip with a reverence that sends shivers down your spine. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, his voice low and hoarse with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

You close your eyes briefly, savoring the feel of his touch, the way it melts away the years of separation, the walls you’ve built to protect yourself. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmur, though there’s no conviction in your words, only a breathless longing. The ache in your chest is one you’ve carried for so long, buried deep beneath the layers of duty and decorum. But now, with Gwayne so close, it’s impossible to deny how much you want this—want him.

His thumb tilts your chin up, and you meet his gaze once more. “Perhaps we shouldn’t,” he agrees, his voice soft but edged with determination. “But I won’t let that stop me. Not anymore. I won’t let anything keep us apart again.”

And with that, the dam finally breaks. Your lips crash together in a kiss that’s searing, urgent, full of years’ worth of pent-up desire and emotions. There’s no hesitation, no holding back. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, as if you’re both trying to make up for every lost moment, every day you spent apart. His hands are on you, one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist with a possessiveness that makes you gasp against his mouth.

Your hands roam over his chest, fingers fumbling with the ties of his tunic, the urgency mirrored in the way he pulls at the laces of your dress. Every touch is fevered, every caress driven by the need to feel skin against skin. Clothes are shed with haste, your lips barely parting even as you struggle to rid yourselves of the barriers between you. His breath is hot against your neck, lips trailing down your throat as he shrugs off the last of his garments. Your own dress falls away, pooling at your feet, leaving you both exposed to the cool morning air—but the heat between your bodies is enough to chase away the chill.

There’s no room for words now, only the rhythm of your breaths, the thrum of your heartbeats in perfect harmony. He draws you close, lifting you with ease as your legs wrap around his waist, your bodies fitting together as if they were made to do so. The first touch of him inside you is a heady rush, a mix of pleasure and familiarity that sends a shudder through you both. He moves with a gentle haste, his grip firm on your hips as he sinks into you fully, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

You cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back as your lips find his again in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. The rhythm comes naturally, an instinctive dance that’s both achingly familiar and exhilaratingly new. Even after all the time that has passed, your bodies remember each other, falling into a perfect sync that leaves no space for doubt or regret.

His movements are steady but urgent, each thrust a declaration of the need that has burned between you for so long. Your moans mix with his, the sound of your shared pleasure filling the secluded clearing. There’s a raw intimacy in the way your bodies move together, every touch, every gasp a reaffirmation of what you’ve both held onto all these years. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath ragged as he whispers your name, the sound of it like a prayer.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

You don’t respond with words—there’s no need. The way your body arches into his, the way you tighten around him as pleasure builds in your core, says everything. You’re his, just as he’s yours, bound by a love that neither time nor distance could ever truly break.

The tension coils tighter with every thrust, every brush of his lips against your skin, until it’s too much to hold back. Your release washes over you in a wave of bliss, pulling a cry from your lips as you cling to him, every nerve alight with sensation. Gwayne follows you over the edge, a low groan escaping him as he buries his face in your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the world seems to hold still. The forest fades away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Your breathing slows, and you feel Gwayne’s grip on you soften, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back as he holds you close.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your chest ache. “I’m never letting you go again,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a fierce kind of love. “Not for anything. Not for anyone.”

You reach up to cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I never wanted to be let go,” you confess, your voice a whisper. “I’ve only ever wanted this… us.”

In the silence that follows, there’s a peace that settles between you—an unspoken understanding that whatever lies ahead, you’ll face it together. For now, in this stolen moment, the world beyond the forest doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way your hearts beat in time, the bond between you rekindled and stronger than ever.

And in that quiet, sunlit clearing, you both allow yourselves to believe—if only for a little while—that the future might hold more than just duty and sacrifice. That it might hold a chance for the love you’ve both fought so long to protect.

Daemon Targaryen stood near the edge of the camp, eyes narrowed into slits as he watched you and Gwayne ride back into the clearing. The sight of you both—your hair disheveled, lips still slightly swollen from hurried kisses—made his blood boil. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened, his jaw tightening as a cold fury settled into his bones. Gwayne’s smug look didn’t help; the Hightower knight sent him a knowing, defiant smirk as he rode past, one hand resting possessively on your waist. The message in his gaze was clear: I’ve won, and you know it.

Daemon’s lips curled into a sneer. Foolish boy, he thought darkly. You’ve no idea what you’re inviting.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what had transpired in the woods. He recognized the flushed skin, the barely concealed satisfaction on both your faces, the way your eyes avoided his as you dismounted. You carried yourself with that fire he adored—back straight, chin held high—but he could see through it. He could always see through you. There was anger beneath your proud exterior, frustration burning just as fiercely as his own. 

As you handed the reins to a stable hand, Daemon moved with predatory grace, intercepting you before you could disappear into your tent. He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not bruising, his eyes burning into yours. 

“What were you doing?” he hissed, though it was more accusation than question. His voice was low, dangerously controlled, a seething threat simmering just below the surface. 

You jerked your arm free, glaring up at him with barely concealed fury. “I could ask you the same, Uncle. Spying on me as if I’m one of your lackeys?” Your tone was sharp, dripping with defiance. You took a step closer, your voice lowering to a venomous whisper. “What right do you have to question me? You’ve made it clear what I am to you.”

The words cut him, though he’d never admit it. His eyes darkened further as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You were gone longer than a mere ride warrants, Princess. And you return with that Hightower pup, wearing a look that tells me everything I need to know.”

You bristled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “And why do you care, Daemon? What difference does it make to you what I do or with whom?” Your voice wavered with barely restrained emotion—anger, frustration, and something more, something raw and wounded. “You never wanted me, not really. Not as anything more than a consolation prize because you couldn’t have her.”

Daemon’s gaze sharpened, the accusation hitting too close to home. He reached out, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Watch your tongue,” he growled, his voice laced with barely suppressed fury. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, don’t I?” You yanked your chin from his grasp, your eyes flashing with contempt. “You think I haven’t noticed? You think I don’t see the way you look at her—my sister? The way you’ve always craved what you can’t have? You wanted Rhaenyra, not me. But Viserys wouldn’t allow it, wouldn’t let his precious heir fall into your clutches. So you settled for me instead, the lesser prize.”

The truth in your words stung more than Daemon cared to admit. His mind raced, fury and something far more dangerous swirling within him. You had never been lesser to him—never. But he had to grit his teeth against the admission. For a heartbeat, his anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of something deeper, something that threatened to expose him in a way he despised. 

His grip loosened, but his gaze remained intense, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. “Is that what you think? That you’re second to her?” His voice was lower now, softer but no less dangerous. “You’ve always seen yourself as Rhaenyra’s shadow, haven’t you? But let me tell you something, Y/N—you have just as much fire as she does. Maybe more.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Words, Daemon. Just more of your pretty words. You think they’ll work on me after all this time?” Your tone was bitter, but there was a note of pain beneath it that you couldn’t quite hide.

His eyes hardened again, his intensity returning full force. “You are not some replacement,” he snapped, each word deliberate, almost vicious in its conviction. “You’re mine just as much as she could ever be. Perhaps Viserys keeps me from her because he fears what we could be together—but he gave me you because he thinks you’ll be easier to control. And perhaps, for once, he’s right.” His eyes bore into yours, daring you to deny it. “But don’t ever think that makes you lesser, Y/N. You’re every bit as valuable as she is—to me and to this cursed family.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of unspoken truths and old wounds. The tension was nearly unbearable, a volatile mixture of rage, passion, and something neither of you wanted to acknowledge aloud. 

You glared at him, chest heaving as you fought to control your breathing. “You claim I’m yours, yet you push me away every time I get too close, every time I try to see beyond that mask of arrogance you wear. You want me just enough to keep me tethered, but never enough to make me truly believe it.”

Daemon’s expression softened just a fraction, the cruel edges giving way to something almost tender. He stepped closer, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, and his gaze softened, the fierceness replaced with an intensity that was somehow even more dangerous. “You’ve always seen through me, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s why you’re the one thing I can never let go of, no matter how much I try.”

You felt your breath hitch, the admission hanging in the air between you. For a moment, the storm in your chest subsided, replaced by the ache of knowing that no matter what you said, no matter how much you tried to fight it, a part of you would always be drawn to him—like a moth to a flame, even if it meant getting burned.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and the anger returned, raw and unfiltered. You pulled back from his touch, your voice tight with resolve. “I may be yours in your eyes, Daemon, but I refuse to be something you settle for. I’ll be more than just a placeholder for your desires.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and stormed toward your tent, leaving Daemon staring after you, a storm of conflicting emotions raging behind his eyes. He clenched his fists, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to rein in his temper. He had always believed he could control everything, bend the world to his will—but in this moment, watching you walk away, he was reminded that some things, some desires, were far beyond his grasp.

But as he stood there, alone in the clearing, a dark, determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. If Gwayne Hightower thought he could claim you so easily, he was sorely mistaken. Daemon had lost too much already—he wouldn’t lose you too.

One way or another, you would see the truth: that no one could ever truly have you but him.

The final day of the hunt dawned with an oppressive sense of inevitability. The skies were overcast, a muted gray that reflected the tension simmering beneath the surface of the festivities. Lords and knights milled about the camp, preparing for the last chase, but the air was thick with unspoken rivalries and hidden agendas. For Daemon, it was more than just another hunt—it was the culmination of days of mounting frustration and a terror he refused to name, all centered around one person: you.

He had prided himself on control—control over his ambitions, his desires, his enemies. But you were slipping through his fingers, and it clawed at something primal within him. The sight of you laughing, exchanging warm smiles with Gwayne Hightower, had become unbearable. It wasn’t just anger that churned in his chest; it was fear. The fear of losing the one person who had managed to burrow past his defenses, the one thing he had convinced himself was his.

As the sun climbed higher, the hounds were readied, and the nobles began mounting their horses. Daemon’s eyes never left Gwayne, who was exchanging pleasantries with his sister, Alicent. The Hightower knight held himself with the same confident ease as always, his armor gleaming, his expression serene. But beneath that polished exterior, Daemon could sense a defiant edge, a silent challenge that sent a pulse of fury through him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He swung himself onto his horse, cutting through the throng with a focused determination. The murmured conversations around the camp fell away as he approached Gwayne, who turned to meet him with a calm gaze, as if he had been expecting this confrontation.

“Ser Gwayne,” Daemon drawled, his tone laced with a false cordiality that didn’t reach his eyes. “It seems we find ourselves in each other’s company once more. How fortuitous.”

Gwayne’s expression didn’t waver. “Prince Daemon,” he replied smoothly, inclining his head in a respectful nod. “It’s always a pleasure to be in such esteemed company.”

The formalities hung in the air like a blade waiting to drop. Daemon leaned forward slightly in the saddle, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Let’s not pretend, Hightower. You’ve been playing a dangerous game, and I can see right through it. You think you can steal away what belongs to me?”

Gwayne’s smile was subtle, infuriatingly calm. “I’ve stolen nothing, Your Grace. But perhaps what you think you own was never truly yours to begin with.”

Daemon’s hand clenched around the reins, his knuckles white. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed. “You’ve never understood what binds us—what we share. You think you can walk in, flash a few smiles, and she’ll forget everything?”

Gwayne’s expression hardened, the mask of politeness slipping away to reveal a fierceness that matched Daemon’s. “What binds you?” he echoed, his voice low and firm. “Do you mean the way you push her away, yet cling to her when it suits your pride? Or the way you try to control her, hoping that she’ll never see she deserves more than to be someone’s second choice?”

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of rage and fear twisting inside him. Gwayne’s words cut too close to the truth, exposing the very thing he feared most. He had convinced himself that he was the one who understood you, who could offer you what no one else could. But the thought that he had lost you, that you had found something in Gwayne that he couldn’t offer, was a poison he couldn’t swallow.

His voice was a growl, low and venomous. “You think you’re so righteous, don’t you? Like you’re the hero in some ballad. But you’re nothing more than a lovesick fool, blinded by a girl who’s outgrown you. Do you really think she’ll choose you when all is said and done? You’re a Hightower—nothing more than a tool for your family’s ambitions.”

Gwayne’s eyes flashed with anger, his composure cracking just enough for Daemon to see the fire beneath. “And what are you, Daemon? The rogue prince, the discarded brother who can’t win his brother’s favor, who takes whatever scraps he’s offered because he’s too afraid to admit what he really wants?”

The words hit like a hammer. Daemon’s control snapped, and before he could stop himself, he spurred his horse forward, closing the distance between them until they were nearly nose to nose. His voice was a low snarl. “You know nothing about fear, Gwayne. You don’t know what it’s like to feel something slipping from your grasp, to see the one thing that keeps you from losing yourself slipping away. I would burn the world to keep her, and you’d be the first I’d cast into the fire.”

Gwayne’s gaze didn’t falter, but there was a flash of sympathy in his eyes that stoked Daemon’s fury even more. “That’s where you and I differ, Daemon,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with pity. “You believe in owning, controlling. But I believe in letting her be free, even if it means losing her. Because what she needs isn’t chains or possessive declarations. It’s someone who sees her as an equal, not a prize to be won.”

Daemon’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister, fingers twitching with the urge to draw it and end this insufferable man’s righteous speeches once and for all. But he held back, knowing that doing so would only prove Gwayne’s point. Instead, he leaned in, his voice icy and full of dark promise. “You may have her now, but don’t mistake this for the end. She is mine, whether you—or even she—realize it yet. And one day, when you’re just a memory, she’ll see that.”

With that, Daemon yanked his horse’s reins and rode away, his heart a tempest of emotions he couldn’t fully name—anger, fear, desperation. It terrified him, this loss of control, the realization that he was losing his grip not just on you, but on himself. But he would not give in, would not let you slip away without a fight.

As he rode toward the front of the hunting party, his mind raced with dark thoughts and unspoken plans. He had lost control once, but he would not let it happen again. Whatever it took, whoever he had to destroy, he would make sure that when all was said and done, you would see that you were his and his alone.

And in the distance, Gwayne watched him go, his jaw clenched, his own heart heavy with the knowledge that this confrontation was only the beginning of the battle to come.

[m1ng1ology]

lonely overseas

seungcheol x fem!reader

song : roller coaster by justin bieber

"there's a reason what this happened for, yeah. but I can't help but feel like.. lonely overseas, only memories. wish I had the key to your heart. people come and go, baby, they don't know.. what we had before, but it fell before our eyes : roller coaster"

warnings: angst, crying. 

wc : 1.4k

synopsis : you’ve been in a long-distance relationship with your idol boyfriend, seungcheol, for a while now. though your bond is strong, balancing your relationship with busy schedules has always been a challenge. after enduring these struggles together, seungcheol decides to surprise you in an unexpected way...

you take a deep breath as you realize your relationship with seungcheol isn’t going anywhere like it used to. both of you are struggling to keep up with each other and your separate schedules. dating an idol of a famous group came with more cons than pros. the biggest one being that you both live in two different countries, separated by an ocean and different time zones. at first, neither of you minded. the adrenaline of being together was enough to drown out the logic of the situation.

but now, eight months in, the cracks are starting to show. there have been many ups and downs—some expected, some coming out of nowhere. cheol’s stress over a comeback clashed with your own stress over looming deadlines at work. he would text you at 3 am his time, which might have been the middle of the afternoon for you. and you’d do the same, your schedules never aligning in a way that felt natural.

cheol had a habit of getting upset if you didn’t respond quickly enough or if your answers weren’t what he wanted to hear. tension had been building over the past two months, the weight of it pressing on you every day. you’ve thought about breaking up with him more than once. the idea crosses your mind now and again, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. it wasn’t because you didn’t love him—you did, more than anything. but you felt alone. his love for you was clear, but it still didn’t fill the void that grew with every missed call or fleeting moment together. early morning and late-night facetimes didn’t help anymore. his impulsive trips to see you—where he squeezed in a couple of hours between other commitments—felt like they were supposed to, but they only reminded you of how much time you didn’t have together.

you felt neglected, but you kept those feelings to yourself. you didn’t want to burden him, not when he was already juggling so much. his words echoed in your mind, clear as the day he’d said them when you first signed the nda: “you know what you’re agreeing to, right?” at the time, you’d been too excited to even think about the weight of those words.

you’ve been through so much together. he’d even suggested you move to south korea to be with him. you’d shut the idea down gently, explaining how your friends, family, and career were all rooted here. seungcheol had said he understood, but he still brought it up every now and then, sometimes even suggesting you could transfer jobs to make it easier. it was his way of trying, but it only made the gap between you feel bigger.

suddenly, your phone buzzes. you glance at the screen and see his name: cheol. your stomach churns as you check the time—2:45 pm for you, 4:45 am for him. you answer the call. “hello?”

“what are you doing?” his voice is low and groggy.

“nothing…” you say slowly. “why are you even up?”

he sighs. “open the door.”

you blink, confused. “what?”

“open the door,” he repeats, his tone firmer.

you scramble to your feet, your heart racing as you walk to the door. peeking through the peephole, you see him standing there, tired but unmistakably there. you quickly unlock the door and open it.

“what are you doing here?” you ask as he steps inside, his presence filling the space like a stormcloud. he doesn’t answer at first, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. he crosses his arms, leaning against the kitchen island. 

“what’s wrong?” you frown, avoiding his gaze. 

“what are you talking about?”

“y/n, tell me.” his tone is sharper now. “i booked a flight all the way here to talk to you properly. now, what is wrong?” you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

 “i… i can’t keep doing this, cheol,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. his jaw tightens as he shifts his weight, his eyes never leaving you. 

“doing what?” you take a deep breath, the words feeling heavy in your chest. 

“this, cheol,” you say quietly, your gaze fixed on the floor. “us. i can’t keep doing this… the constant waiting, the loneliness, the feeling like i’m just hanging on to something that isn’t going anywhere anymore.” he stays silent, his arms dropping to his sides as he exhales deeply. 

“y/n, what are you trying to say?”

“i’m saying,” you start, your voice trembling, “i feel alone, cheol. even when we’re talking, even when you fly halfway across the world for a few hours. it doesn’t feel like enough anymore.”

“not enough?” his tone sharpens, but his eyes betray his hurt. “you know how hard i’m trying. you know how much i love you.”

“i do, and i love you too,” you say quickly, finally meeting his eyes. “but love isn’t fixing how empty i feel. it’s not fixing how every time you leave, it feels like a piece of me leaves with you.” he runs a hand through his hair, stepping closer to the kitchen island as if the space between you is unbearable. 

“so what, y/n? you want to end this? is that what you’re saying?” your heart aches at the rawness in his voice. 

“i don’t want to end this, cheol,” you admit. “but i don’t know how to keep going like this without losing myself.”

“then move to korea,” he says, his voice laced with desperation. “you know we can make it work if you’re there with me. we’ve talked about this—”

“and i’ve told you why i can’t,” you interrupt, your frustration slipping through. “everything i’ve built, my job, my life, my family—they’re here. and i know that’s selfish, but i can’t just drop everything and go. i wish i could.”

“so you’re saying it’s impossible?” his voice cracks, and the vulnerability in it nearly breaks you. “because i don’t want to lose you, y/n. i can’t lose you.” you feel your resolve weakening, but you force yourself to stay firm.

“i don’t want to lose you either, but it feels like we already are. we’ve been fighting to hold onto something that’s slipping through our fingers.” 

he crosses the island, standing in front of you now, his hands reaching out to take yours. “i’ll do better,” he pleads, his grip tightening. “i’ll figure it out. just don’t give up on us.” tears well in your eyes as you shake your head.

 “cheol, this isn’t about you not trying. you’ve been trying so hard, and i see it. but it’s not enough to bridge the gap between us. it’s not fair to either of us.” his hands drop, and the silence that follows is suffocating. he steps back, his shoulders slumping as he processes your words. 

“so that’s it,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“i don’t want it to be,” you choke out. “but i don’t know how to fix this without one of us losing something big. and i’m scared that even if we keep trying, we’ll only end up resenting each other.” he nods slowly, his jaw clenched as he blinks back tears. 

“i flew all the way here because i couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting,” he says, his voice trembling. “and now i feel like i’m the one breaking.” you step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “i never wanted to hurt you. i love you, cheol, more than anything. but sometimes love isn’t enough.” he closes his eyes, his head hanging low as he lets out a shaky breath. 

“i don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs.

“and i don’t want to let you go either,” you say, your voice cracking. “but maybe letting go is the only way we can stop hurting.” 

the two of you stand there in the suffocating silence, the weight of unspoken words filling the room. and as seungcheol finally turns to leave, his footsteps heavy, you feel your heart shatter, knowing this love—no matter how deep—wasn’t enough to keep you together.

[snuggleboots]

₊˚♡˚₊ The Akatsuki, communicating their love ₊˚♡˚₊

₊˚♡˚₊ feat. Itachi, Kisame, Kakuzu, and Hidan ₊˚♡˚₊

Tags: Fluff, mishmash of random headcanons, general cutesy relationship stuff.

♡ Kisame communicates his love in various ways, but it's always most sincere in the little things he does. If you're both walking up a flight of stairs, he'll always walk behind, just so he can steal a kiss without having to lean down a bit to reach you. Usually, he'll follow that up with a stupid little, 'How's it feel to be the tall one for once?'

♡ He's a man who likes to sleep in, but when you're sleeping with him, it's his god-given duty to wake you up with some combination of stupid, sleepy shenanigans. It typically starts with some needlessly aggressive cuddling while he's waking up, which becomes a smattering of kisses and little nips dealt wherever he can reach, and eventually develops into... either cackling over your groggy irritation or moving into a little extra lovin', if you feel up to it.

♡ Cuteness aggression is a real thing, and it's his curse. If your tongue pokes out just a little bit when you're thinking hard or focused on something, if you flex your toes like a little cat when you stretch, or purse your lips when you're frustrated - he's gonna bite you. Always does. He can't help it, he gets the impulse to squish you, bite you, pinch, or bully you a little bit when you're minding your business, doing things that he finds objectively precious. You make his teeth itch when he catches you off guard, and you flash him those big eyes, and- UGH.

♡ Now, he isn't the perfect listener by any means, but Kisame is very attentive when tiffs happen in the relationship. He listens with the full intention to learn and solve the problem, and if things get a bit heated he'll calm himself down and ask you to back up and explain why you're upset. He doesn't make a habit of taking himself too seriously, which really helps him navigate rough patches well.

♡ Your personal space is his preferred space. You're stretched out, reading a book or resting your eyes? It doesn't matter where you're hanging out, that's still just as good as an invitation in his books. When he saunters on over and nonchalantly plonks his entire body weight on top of you, he doesn't even have the courtesy to say sorry for the disturbance. Nope, he's on a mission, hooking his arms around your waist and just burying his face in your belly. You're warm, you smell so nice, and he's livin' large on cloud nine, which means you're stuck there until he's decided he's had his fill for a bit.

♡ Itachi's a man with simple wants and simple displays of love. If your days are busy and he's tucking into bed before you are, he'll cosy up on your side to keep it warm until you're ready to join him for the night. It's a little silly, a little cute, watching a man like him streeeetch right out when you meander into the bedroom, and unceremoniously shimmy back over to his side before settling in and promptly passing out. That is, however, a quiet little token of his affection.

♡ He's perceptive about things you don't enjoy doing, and especially things you tend to stress about. Without so much as mentioning it, he'll tend to the little things like that just to take them off your plate. If you're sick or in pain, Itachi is more than content to take care of you. Sorry, it's a small facet of who he is, to tend to the very few people he cares about. The man also cooks, and pretty damned well at that. His breakfasts are a cure-all when you're feeling like absolute garbage.

♡ There is such a thing as an 'Uchiha pout', and he weaponizes it for petty reasons and to ridiculous extents. He isn't always just some stone-faced caricature of a stoic, and it's brilliantly displayed when you deny his simple requests, such as relaxing after a long day, curled up on the couch with him when he's having a low-energy, no spoons left kind of day.

♡ Yes, he wants to settle his weight into your side and just be - or better yet, rest his head on your shoulder and soak up some easy, effortless affection until he's feeling a bit better. (Please card your fingers through his hair, he won't nod off again, really-) If you really have the audacity to say no - and he will call it that - you're going to see him purse his lips, pinch his brows and angle his face away from you like some kind of disappointed housecat. 'You make me lonely', he'll halfheartedly mumble, because it's a guilt trip that works and he's fully aware of that fact. No, he does not feel bad about it, either.

♡ Kakuzu's 'love language' exists in subtle acts of service and physical touch, generally shared in private. No, he's not going to say he loves you, but he can show you that your presence doesn't irritate the part of his brain that makes him want to shove his fist through someone's skull.

♡ When the seasons turn and you inevitably wind up freezing cold every goddamn night, he's content to settle beside you on the couch and tuck your chilly feet under his leg while he unwinds with a good book. There's no need to fill the silence, just let it be and enjoy the moment. You're cosy, he's relatively happy, and for all intents and purposes, you two are set to have a wonderful, quiet night.

♡ And since Kakuzu's a habitual early riser, you're typically still snoring long after he's up and ready for the day. When it's time for him to get up and get dressed, he'll flop his blanket - because he sure as hell doesn't share one - over your head before he turns on the light to get dressed. When he's done and the light's out he'll pull it down and be on his way without having disturbed your sleep.

♡ On the odd time that you're waking up with him, he'll slip by while you're getting dressed and steal a kiss to your shoulder.

♡ When his nail polish is chipped and it's time to reapply, he'll let you do it. For one, it's less for him to do, but! It's also a little token of trust on his part to toss you the polish, plop his hand in your lap, and grumble something like, 'Don't paint my damn fingers this time'. You probably still manage to flood his cuticles, which he will grumble about, but it's the thought that counts.

♡ Hidan's love can sometimes be compared to that of a fat, obnoxious housecat. If he's off-duty when you're trying to enjoy some free time, he is firmly wedged up your ass because he likes attention and you actually listen to him when he talks about... whatever's bouncing around in his head.

♡ Lounging on the couch when he's just coming in from a month on the road? Haha, sucks to be you actually, because he's instantly ripping through the living room at terminal velocity, with full intentions of divebombing your sorry ass before you have the chance to scramble up and evade him. You're still wheezing from impact, and this guy's already launching into a tirade about every little gripe he's had about his mission. 'Kakuzu was a dick, the ration bars taste like shit, the coil broke on my scythe and, and, and...'

♡ Hidan loves a good late-night hangout, so he's usually around to burn time with you when you can't sleep. Even when you don't feel like talking, he always fills the silence himself by chatting your ear off about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it's just life stuff, other times it's his interests - and often, he'll animorph into a used cars salesman for Jashinism. You expect it, he loves that you actually listen and engage with him.

♡ 'You only get to die if you lived, no matter how great or shitty your life was, get it? Seeing the end is a privilege', he'll mutter into the lip of a half-full mug. When you're tired at the table, jolting upright after accidentally dozing off for the fifth time during his proselytizing, Hidan will slide you a cup of something that'll keep you fucking wired for the night. It's not to be a dick, obviously, but you're listening! And this is important shit! 'Diseased, crippled, or fuckin'... broke; at the end of the day, you're alive, and your pain's recognised by Lord Jashin. Suffering is a gift imparted, that only the living receive, and...' something something Jashin is great, and you should probably definitely convert.

♡ He's claimed half of your bed, and sleeping with him fucking sucks. He sleeps like a starfish and steals the blankets, and you're not waking him up unless you feel like investing some serious effort into doing so. He snores, and on the nights that he winds up sleeping half on top of you, you have to deal with the fact that he drools like a dog and sleeps with his mouth hanging open. You don't wanna deal with that? Tough shit, you're comfy, and somehow your bed is just waaaaay better than his. Okay? Okay.

[fallingdownhell]

Anemo men when they wake up earlier than you.

Okay, that is actually cute as hell! Also, please excuse my writing for Venti, I feel very unsure about writing him in general as I don't think I have the best grasp on his character yet

Characters Included: Xiao; Heizou; Kazuha; Venti; Wanderer

Content: gender neutral reader; fluff

Word count: 1,9k words

Enjoy reading<3

Xiao

as an adeptus, Xiao doesn't have to sleep. And he didn't for a long time

but since meeting you, he rediscovered how good and relaxing it can be to sleep in the arms of someone he loves

even though he swore to always be there for you, to protect you from every possible danger, he was the one feeling protected by you when he slept in your arms like this

he still doesn't sleep very often, since danger is always lurking and he is not fond of feeling this defenseless, but he does it often enough that both you and him feel satisfied with it

last night was one of those occaisions were he came back to you in the dead of night, and you could clearly see just how exhausted your boyfriend was

So, not needing to say anything, you just opened his arms for him, leading him to your bed, where you both feel asleep quickly in each others arms

even in his sleep, Xiao held onto you for dear life, not trusting the world around him to not just catch you away from him when you were being so vulnerable

normally, the two of you would awake around the same time in the morning, starting your routines together

this time however, when Xiao first opened his eyes, he noticed your breathing, still slow and steady, indicating that you were still fast asleep

and suddenly, he didn't know what to do

he could just get up and get ready, be on his way again, but that would put you at risk of being woken up by him, with the way you held onto him in your sleep

so, he simply surrendered, putting his hands back around you, pulling you into him a bit more, as he started to slowly stroke your back

as he lay there, lost in his thoughts, he at some point cast his gaze down towards you, admiring your sleeping face

You looked so peaceful and innocent, like nothing bad in this world could ever touch or harm you

Xiao acted on impulse when he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a few more seconds

'no matter what might come your way, I will always keep you safe.'

Heizou

I think Heizou would be a pretty heavy sleeper, but not the most out of the anemo boys

still, getting him to wake up in the morning so he isn't late for his job is a hassle

so many times you were so close to the point where you almost said 'fuck it' and just pour an ice cold bucket of water over him, but you never did, since it would only soak the mattress with it

what does get him to wake up though is the smell of food in the morning

it doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's delicious. Pancakes, fried eggs and bacon, you name it. Those simple things actually get him to finally open his eyes

He's still groggy when greeting you in the kitchen, but as soon as he gets that first bite in, his mood also lights up immediately after

That's how mornings normally go between the two of you, but today was different

Both of you had your rare day off from work, so you decided to sleep in together. And since neither of you wanted to do anything special, there were no responsibilities for the day, allowing you to just relax

when Heizou first opened his eyes that morning, the sun was already greeting him, shining directly into his eyes, which was weird since the room was facing a direction where the sun would only directly shine in here around lunchtime

it took him a moment, but when he realized how late it was, he grumbled a bit before trying to get out of bed

Key word here is trying

Because up until now, he hadn't realized that his other arm was outstretched from his body, with something weighing down on it

when he turned his head, he found you still laying next to him, your own head resting on his arm as you were tucked in close to his side, one hand resting on his chest

his heart swelled at the sight of it, and he once again thanked the gods above for giving him the chance to be with the person of his dreams

Instead of waking you up like he probably should have done, he just rolled over to his side, enveloping you in a hug

you stirred a bit in your sleep, but didn't wake up just yet.

'they really needed the sleep, huh?', he thought as he held you there, his own eyes growing heavy again as he fell into yet another slumber with you in his arms

Kazuha

A very light sleeper

From his time traveling around, he learned to always be on his guard, even when sleeping

it doesn't matter if he's outside when on travel, or in your shared bedroom with you by his side, he most likely wakes up at every little unusal sound he hears

so it is not uncommon for Kazuha to be wide awake long before you wake up

but he doesn't mind it in the slightest. He is used to it after all and he is still very much well rested, so no need to worry about him

Kazuha actually really likes this time of the day

He gets to spend time with you, undisturbed from any outside influence

Most of the times, he propts up in bed gently, so he is resting against the headboard, gently pushing your head down so it's now resting in his lap, careful to not wake you up just yet. What he does now is entirely dependent on his mood that morning

Sometimes, he just sits there, gently combing his fingers through your hair, admiring you and humming a soft tune

Other times, he takes out a little note book he started to carry around, where he writes down poems he comes up with to later recite to you. Most, if not all of them, are about you, anyway

Or, he just sits there, still combing through your hair gently, while he looks out the window, admiring the scenery in front of him, watching the sunrise, or simply observing the nature unfolding

But no matter what he does, Kazuha is at peace during those times

No thoughts of feelings that can hurt him, all because you are still peacefully resting on his lap

You bring him that inner peace without even realizing it, and for that, he will forever be grateful to you

Venti

Number one of heaviest sleepers among the anemo boys

Doesn't matter if he's drunk or not, he is out cold for good when he sleeps

as soon as his body hits the mattress and his head is either on the pillow or on you, he is a goner

sleeps cuddled up to you and in no other way, shape or form. He loves to rest his head on your chest, arms around your body to keep you close

Not giving up that for anything else in this world. This is the absolute best feeling for him

As a heavy sleeper, you are usually awake long before Venti ever is, but he still gets up at a reasonable time

mornings with him are soft and quiet as he's not quite here yet, but as soon as the morning routine is done and Venti's properly awake now, his usual loud and cheerful personality comes to shine again

on this particular day however, Venti wakes up to you still in bed with him

in fact, he is even more surprised when he realises that you're still asleep under him, breathing softly but regularly

He studies your relaxed face for a bit, a warm feeling rushing through his entire body

Deciding to just lay there a few more minutes, he puts his head back down on your chest, relishing in the feeling of your embrace

Then, after some time has passed, he feels like it's finally time for the both of you to get up and start the day. And to repay you for the gentle way that you always wake him up, he decides to be nice to you as well

Pushing himself up until he was face to face with you, he starts to litter your face with soft kisses, not stopping until you start to stirr and slowly wake up to him, still showering you in affection

in all honesty, Venti definitely could get used to this kind of morning routine as well..

Wanderer

Another boy who doesn't HAVE to sleep

He didn't do it for a very, very long time in his life

even after meeting you, and eventually getting in a relationship and living with you, he still doesn't really like to do it

the few times he tried to sleep during his life, he was haunted by nightmares, so he just stopped trying at some point

but, when the Wanderer slept in your arms for the first time, no nightmares came to haunt him. The morning after, he was so surprised by it that he wanted to test it out again. And still, the nightmares didn't show up

after realizing this, I think he would be more willing to do it from time to time, but don't expect it to happen too often. He still thinks of it as being too vulnerable and he doesn't like feeling those kinds of things

when he sleeps, he is a pretty light sleeper

he doesn't wake up at every noise like Kazuha, but it doesn't take much to awake him from his slumber again

most of the time, the night starts out with him facing you, but not getting too close. Then, gradually, he gets closer to you in his sleep and usually wakes up to the two of you tangled together, like neither of you wanted to let go of the other

he usually ends up pushing you away, resulting in you getting woken up in the process and then complaining about it, but he seemingly doesn't pay any mind to it

in reality, he does feel bad about waking you up, but he also can't handle the embarrassement of his actions when he was asleep so he does the first thing he can think of, which is pushing you away

most times he's the first to wake up and often shows the reaction previously described

however, there are mornings, where he wakes up in front of your own sleeping face and when that happens, and he sees your peaceful expression first thing in the morning, he can't bring himself to disturb you

however, he also doesn't know what else to do, so he just lays there, like an unmoving stone, just hoping that you wake up soon so he can be free again

his cheeks would be dusted in a red colour, and he's so glad that you're still asleep and unable to see it. Surely, you would never let him live it down

but, once he feels more comfortable with himself and around you, he slowly gains the courage to hold you just a tiny bit closer to him when these situations arise again

It's a process with him, like everything is. But he is willing to do better.... for you

[vinaxxo]

~ I LIKE YOU

Ais x reader | TOUCHSTARVED

♡ Morning after with Ais. 70% cute, 30% ….something! This was originally requested by an anon, but tumblr blew up my response to the ask.. unless it turns up on my blog later..

Tangled in dark turquoise sheets, you stirred in your sleep, feeling warm breath fan over the back of your neck. Your grogginess faded when you realized where you were and what you did last night. And at that realization, you felt your legs and back throb.

In an attempt to distance yourself from the demon, his big arm pulls your body back to his.

“Where do you think you’re going, sparrow? Are you tired of me already?” Ais whispered, voice deep with morning raspiness.

Your cheeks turned hot. Ais was even closer than before, allowing his fingers to run up your stomach. They stopped just before your chest.

“Yes.” you said casually and falsely, putting your bandaged hand over his, feeling the ridges of metal rings.

“That’s too bad. I wanna keep you here.”

I like you too much. Ais thought, absentmindedly nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar smell, careful that his horns don’t collide with your face.

Both of your heartbeats synced with one another after a while. Ais could feel his deep fondness of you consuming his mind. He wanted to be by your side forever, and he wasn’t sure that you felt the same until you lifted his tattooed hand to your mouth, leaving a feather kiss.

He had the slight impulse to push his fingers into your mouth— a vivid, lewd fantasy flashing before his eyes before your grip on his hand tightened slightly, snapping him back to reality.

You were scared to lose Ais to the cruel world of Eridia, but even more so to your curse. And yet, he was never afraid to touch you. He never hesitated to lay his large hands where he could, his faith in your bandages unshakable.

“I like you a lot, Sparrow.” Ais smiled, enclosing your hand with his fingers. You allowed his fingers to lace into yours, your bodies fitting together like a perfect puzzle. Everything was right.

“I like you a lot, too...” You replied quietly, catching the dim red glow of Ais’ eyes to your side. You felt him staring up at you from beside your body, a slight chill slipping down your spine. He stayed like that, staring, for an eerie amount of time before grinning.

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.” Ais mused, somehow pulling you even closer than before, as if your body was able to sink into his, the line of friend and lover between you and the demon blurred.

Though Ais was an honest guy, you had an inkling of doubt about the good he could do for your curse. He hasn’t harmed you thus far, was it so bad to just give in to him?

[storm-angel989]

Hi! I’ve seen you write Vox x daughter with epilepsy before and it made me wonder how you think he would react if his screen glitched and triggered a seizure. I see him going all super protective once he reboots (Maybe Val or Vel had to step in and take care of reader if he completely crashes for a while) but also feeling super guilty and needing a pep talk from the other Vees or his daughter about how he’s still a good dad.

Hi friend,

Enjoy! I hope I did this one justice- as always, please let me know your thoughts!

<3 Mandy

Vox hated waking up after a glitch. 

In all of his technological control, he hadn’t yet managed to find the circuit in his own body that triggered each seizure. An electrical impulse in the brain, no different than when he was human, seemed to be one of the only physical characteristics he carried over from Earth to Hell. And much like then, the frustration of lack of control irritated him to no end. 

He was fortunate, really. His own VoxTech watch issued an alert to his two best friends, Velvette and Valentino, whenever a glitch happened. It was the best way to assure that he would be found by someone he trusted. Someone who he didn’t mind seeing him in his most vulnerable state. After all, being an overlord in hell meant you didn’t want the world to know that sometimes you peed your pants because of a circuit misfire. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Vox asked, half groggy, half growling as he took in the whiteness of the room. A needle in his arm, wires attached to his screen and his chest.  His favorite suit was missing, replaced by a blue and white hospital gown. He moved to sit up and pain shot through his shoulder. He looked down at the matching sling and nausea flowed through him, from both pain and slow realization of where he was. 

”In the nurse's office, you had a bad one, Vox,” Velvette’s usually chirpy voice was quiet. “How do you feel?”

How did he feel? Anger and embarrassment flooded through him. He was an overlord. To be taken down by a simple jolt of electricity was laughable at best. 

”You know this happens, why the fuck did you…” Vox began angrily. 

“I’m sorry, Vox, but it didn’t stop right away this time,” Valentino explained softly. “  It lasted over five minutes and you dislocated your shoulder- I had to bring you in.”

Vox let out a groan and realization forced him upright. “Where is my daughter? Where is reader and who is getting her from school?”

”Hey, hey, relax Amicico. I sent Angel in the limo to pick her up.” Valentino said soothingly. “He’ll…”

”You sent that whore to pick up my kid? Jesus, Valentino,” Vox growled as he pushed his way upright. A wave of dizziness shot through him.

Valentino seemed to expect his nonsense. Carefully, he laid his hand on Vox’s chest and pushed him back. 

“Reader likes and knows Angel well enough that she’ll be comfortable following him downstairs into my studio. Take a breath…”

Fear shot through Vox. “No. She can’t see me like this. Valentino, Velvette please. Let it go- just have her meet me upstairs, I’ll be out by dinner, I…”

”No, Vox,” Velvette said firmly. “You know, you talk a big game to your daughter. How epilepsy is nothing to be ashamed of. How it's just a little tiny bug in your brain. It doesn’t make you weird nor is there anything to be embarrassed about. How do you think she’s going to feel if you won’t let her come see you in the hospital?”

“I just don’t want her to see me all…weak, and broken,” Vox muttered. “I hate enough that she got this from me, and I don’t…I already feel like a shit father.”

”You’d be a shit father if you didn’t let her see you like this,” Velvette replied. “If you show her you don’t mean what you say. Besides, Vox. She loves you. It would make her worry something terrible if we stopped her at the door. And stress…”

”Stress triggers seizures, amicito. Do you want to be the cause of that?” Valentino asked. 

“That’s a little mean, Val,” Velvette admonished. “But not…entirely untrue. We won’t let her in if you insist Vox, but…”

Vox closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “Fine. But if they keep me overnight, one of you needs to…”

”Bathe her, feed her, put her to bed, read her a bedtime story, give her snuggles and get her to school in the morning? Vox, don’t worry about it, it’s not the first time you would be gone for the night and it won’t be the last.” Velvette replied. “So take a breath. Literally.”

”Don’t you remember the last time you were out of town? She dragged Velvette out of her room and into mine, then crawled onto my chest at three in the morning and promptly fell asleep. Believe me, she’s fine,” Valentino added. “And we don’t even know if they’ll keep you. Really, it depends on the X-rays and how badly your shoulder is dislocated.” 

“Daddy!” Reader’s voice broke through whatever it was Vox was about to say. She blurred across the room and Valentino caught her midair as she tried to jump into her fathers arms. “Daddy!”

”Hey hey, calm down, your Daddy is fine. Take a breath, mi a more,” Valentino said as he held the squirming toddler. “You can’t pounce on Daddy. You’ll mess up the wires.” 

“Daddy!” She begged as she squirmed and reached in Valentino’s hold. 

“It’s okay Val, set her down. Babygirl, Daddy needs you to be calm,” Vox said in a gentle tone. “And be careful of Daddy’s arm.”

To her credit, she crawled carefully up the bed and wrapped her arms around Vox’s neck as softly as a child could be expected to be. He pressed his lips to her forehead and wrapped his free arm around her. 

“Daddy, what happened?” she asked as she snuggled into his chest. “Daddy, why’s your heart beating so fast?”

Vox swallowed uneasily as he looked down at his little girl. Velvette and Valentino’s words echoed in his head. Be honest. Stand by what I said to her. 

“Daddy had a seizure. Just like you get, but a little different. I’m okay, sweetheart, but I might have to stay overnight in the hospital. If I do, you’ll stay with Auntie and Uncle, okay?” 

Not to his surprise, she shook her head no and buried her face into his chest. He sighed and stroked her hair. Convincing her at bedtime would be a separate argument. For now, he needed her to go back home with Val and Velvette.

“Then why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it, babygirl?” He suggested as he held her. “Right now, Daddy needs to rest. And probably a few more tests. And you, young lady, need to go home and have dinner. And it's bath night.” 

“Daddy, I just got here,” she protested as she wrapped her arms a bit tighter. “No, Daddy.”

“Baby, you’ve been in the hospital before too,” he reminded her as lightly as he could. “The doctor is going to come and run tests, and I’ll be home as soon as I can. I need you to be my brave, big girl and listen to your Auntie and Uncle. Can you do that for me?”

He watched as she considered. Finally, she sighed but snuggled in and kissed his cheek. 

“Okay, Daddy. But I want Uncle Valentino to give me my bath. Auntie Velvette doesn’t let me play with my rubber duck.”

“Because you squirt water at me!” Velvette protested lightly. 

Vox rolled his eyes but kissed her cheek. “Fine. Go with them now, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

“Feel better, Daddy,” she said with a final squeeze. “I love you.”

He swallowed, the feeling of guilt again washing over him. “I love you too, baby.” 

He watched as Valentino carried her out the door. To his surprise, Velvette hesitated and turned back, shutting the door behind her.

“I know that look. You’re a good Dad, Vox. So cut the shit, okay? Every parent needs help sometimes. You’re no different,” she admonished gently. 

“It’s written all over my screen, isn’t it?” Vox replied glumly. “I just…”

“Enough of the pity party. Your glitch doesn’t make you any less of a Dad. And I don’t know a single kid who loves her father as much as that little girl loves you. So cut the crap and enough with the self guilt.” Velvette turned and opened the door. “And Vox? Get some rest. I’ll have her video chat you tonight before bed. Just because you glitch doesn’t mean you get out of goodnight sillies.” 

[19calicos]

i know where to look — kuroo tetsurō ˎˊ˗

✶⋆.˚ chapter thirteen: on the kitchen floor ( 𖦹 )

currently playing: seagirl by king krule, raveena

word count: 726

cw: language, i'll kill you + i'm dying + kms jokes, alcohol mentions

kuroo thinks he's dying when he wakes up – for more reasons than one.

even before he opens his eyes, he can feel the way his head is pounding harder than the bass from a speaker. should've seen this coming, he thinks, since the first memory that comes back is him taking a shot or two within the first ten minutes of arriving at their apartment per oikawa’s impulsive self-invite.

after all, kuroo needed some liquid courage if he was going to try to be normal around them after that night at the skate park.

he hadn’t stopped thinking about it, the way they slipped their fingers in his so easily, how it made him short circuit. the mere thought of it tints his ears and cheeks pink and renders him breathless from how familiar they were, how right it felt when he sleepily fit his head in the crook of their neck before they went home.

it's still dark out when he finally gathers the strength to open his eyes. kuroo blinks once, twice, and then a few times quickly in disbelief.

it's them, and he's holding them while they're peacefully asleep, and they're snuggled up to him in this little couch like it's the most natural thing in the world. it takes everything in kuroo to keep breathing steadily so that he doesn't wake them up.

they're an angel.

his heart is on fire when he drinks in the way the moonlight spills onto them, lines of gentle beams through the window panes illuminating their face, and his hands and arms on their waist, and how they were breathing in sync, unforced and natural.

he's not stupid: kuroo could tell this is the result of a few too many shots, and all he wants now is to be able to do this sober every night in a real bed, his or theirs.

and if kuroo was pink before, he’s red now when another memory floats back to him.

i love you rings in his head, slurred but clear, like slanted and messy handwriting. he remembers he said it first, and although blurry in his mind, he can see the look on their face.

he can’t quite put his finger on it. it was a mix of hope, but also heartbreak. elated, but hesitant. conflicted.

and then kuroo remembers them saying i love you back with a lump in their throat and a falter in their speech, persisting despite the road blocks.

but he also remembers how they took his hand with both of their own, lacing their fingers again with their other hand on top as they rested into him on the couch, legs swung over his lap. kuroo could feel it still, how they blanketed him in their warmth like that, and how he rested his head on top of theirs as he listened to their unsure mumbles. their actions indeed were louder than words.

but i know you don’t mean it. you’re too good for me. i can’t love you back right.

in his 4am grogginess, kuroo isn't sure what they meant by that. he’ll gladly accept their love however they’re able to give it to him. he'd give them everything, if they were willing to accept him.

were they saying they’re not enough for him?

a glance at his watch tells him there's still a couple more hours until sunrise. he considers carrying them to their room wherever it is, but kuroo is scared of the smallest move nudging them awake. he's sure that the hangover he's dealing with right now – which was temporarily muted by the feeling of them in his embrace – could be worse for them in the morning, so maybe it's better if he just let them rest.

no, he wants them to rest. and he wants to keep being able to hold them like this. and he wants to care for them and tell them everyday he loves them as they are, and he wants them to know that.

he knows he says it all the time, but all this love really might just kill him. he'll tell them before his heart bursts into flames, though, just how much he really loves them.

as kuroo lets his eyelids droop, strong arms securing his hold on them, he plants a kiss on their forehead.

all he wants in this moment is to be theirs.

prev | masterlist | next

more:

⟢ skater cat fan club got home around 3am, kuroo first woke up around 4am

⟢ atsumu was doing his best to be sneaky with spying on kurooyn. yn isn't sure if kuroo noticed him but they definitely did, and when kuroo got up to go use the restroom (everyone had a hangover, he didn't question why atsumu was on the floor #KingsMindTheirOwnBusiness) they smothered atsumu with a pillow

⟢ suna actually bought breakfast for everyone but kurooyn were gone literal minutes after he got back. he did bring yn's breakfast to them at ace before he went to class

⟢ kuroo is very much the type of person to overthink tones and punctuation in text messages

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reply/send an ask to be tagged, and be sure to double check your visibility settings!

[midnightwryter]

🌇Sunset Trio Shenanigans

Fandom : LEGO Monkie Kid Characters : Macaque, Nezha, Wukong

➥ CW/TW : Ship Implied with all Three(?), Nezha is an Adult, Dont Like Dont Read

Agreements ? ➠ Macaque and Nezha aren’t exactly on each other’s side but they both agree Wukong is impulsive and constantly remind him of that. The Two would also probably talk about Wukong’s unnecessary antics he’s done to both of them this past millennia. Wukong knows well that now in the present day, he tries his hardest not to be overconfident in what he’s doing. But sometimes it unfortunately slips out. Whenever this happens, Nezha and Macaque always sigh loudly.

Wrestle !! ➠ Macaque and Wukong would wrestle, Nezha would probably be the one to get them to stop. And scold the two to clean up what they destroyed in their brawls. A brawl between the Six Earred Macaque and the Third Lotus Prince would also be possible. To who wins? I’ll let you decide.

Sleeping and Resting !! ➠ Whenever Nezha has reason to visit the Mortal Realm, Wukong tries to assure him to sleep and rest since he isn't in the Celestial Realm. Wukong also tries his best to get Macaque to sleep as well, which fails most of the time. Wukong is the one who can fall asleep the easiest... Lucky him. Nezha usually never sleeps in the Celestial Realm because of his occupation, and only/mostly uses deep meditation to recover mentally and physically. Macaque having six ears after all, can't sleep well unless he's willing to deal with the noise, which is city noise most of the time and he covers himself in blankets to make it less jarring. When these two eventually fall asleep, Wukong ensures that they get a good night of deep sleep. Covering Mac's ears with soundproof headphones, and giving both of them a weighed blanket. And when waking up, they still probably feel groggy as hell, but appreciate Wukong's gestures for considering their sleeping habits.

Arguments !! ➠ Nezha and Wukong probably also argue on Wukong's trust with what he’s done in on the past, Macaque would fuel the argument for fun. It'd probably start off from Wukong saying to the other two to trust him on some things, but in sass and irritation, Nezha and Macaque would like to argue on disagreement for it.

reblogs > likes / thanks for reading

[melkintoyou]

pleas write more stoner mark... im begging on my knees 🙏🙏

Mmm imagine Mark on tour and he calls you late at night, voice all groggy, audibility baked and needy. PART TWO

"YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL TO MEEEEEE,

TELL MEEE,

WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO AND MAKE THINGS SO COMPLICATED?"

You and Mark yell out in unison, singing Avril Lavigne through the phone. After a long, cold day at work, this is exactly what you needed.

It has been exactly two months since, your best friend kissed you and left for this tour. Nobody could've prepared you both, for this impulsive act of breaking down the bridge between friendship and love. You both agreed that, time apart would allow you to think about the next step... Except, you both couldn't go a second without talking to one another. You shared selfies and photos throughout the day, and ended nights with a facetime call. Even if it was 2 minutes, just to say good night. Mark made sure to hear your voice before he slept. Tonight was no different.

You had been on the phone for 20 minutes now. Your rooms dimly lit by led lights, both blue because you share a favourite colour. The coziness of your fluffy bedding and Mark's voice had every atom in your body relaxed. "And I met so many new people! It's crazy to see so many people fuck with the music over here" he rambled on about his experiences on tour. He talked about the feeling of being on stage and how comfortable he feels, like he can let go of everything. He describes it feeling as though the whole world disappears and the only thing matters is the stage and audience. Mark was born to do this. "I'm telling you dude, it's has all played out so cosmically. It feels like fate but also so unreal..." You listened intently by adding validating hums in between his sentences. Suddenly, you noticed the volume of his voice slowly fade into a silence, as he looked at you and smiled.

"But... man.. dude, I miss you" he pouted his lips, half smiling and looked away. "I mean.. It's whatever, just wish you were here you know"

"It all means nothing, if I can't share it with you" he said, coyly.

"AWWWWWW someone's obsessed with me" you teased him, making his face flush with a warm, red colour.

"Shut up, you're stupid y/n" he laughed, before clearing his throat.

"Also! Look what I got" he rummaged through his bag to pull out what seemed to be a small glass bottle, with a pipette dropper. "It's straight thc oil babe..It's so strong dude, so good." He went on, as he dropped some under his tongue.

"Yoo that sounds so good, I want to try!" You sat up, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a sip. Maintaining eyes on Mark, you refused to miss every moment of him gradually getting high. He looked so cute.

"Yeah for sure, I'll bring it with me when I come back. You're gonna love it.. It gives you such a body high" He said, now with his voice a bit deeper and eyes, a little lower. He let out a soft giggle. "Like, I feel so sensitive right now dude, this bed feels amazing..." He ran his hands up and down his torso. Eyes zoomed into you, with lips curling into a smirk. "We're gonna take this when I see you next..." "Yeah I'm down 100%" You say in between sips.

"Then I'm gonna touch you." He dead panned, as his eyes fixed on you, making you choke on the water and widen your eyes.

"Uh.." You lose all coherent thoughts as your heart starts beating in your ears and you felt your body slowly get hot. Mark chuckled, watching you get flustered over his comment.

"I'm just being honest.. I think about it a lot.. you know touching you" his voice was lower and raspier. Shifting his bed, he put his phone on his night stand and turned on his side. Propping himself up on his left arm. He ran his right hand through his hair. "All the pretty noises, you'd make." He continued, "Under me, on top of me.. You would be so sensitive to my touch, my fingers... my tongue. I want to kiss you everywhere y/n.. Can I do that? When I see you?" His eyes now sincere and big, yet filled with lust. It made you nervous.

"Urm.. yeah, I'd like that" you whispered, feeling his words go straight to your core. You slowly rubbed your thighs together, for some sort of relief, to your now steadily, growing dampened spot between your legs. You bit onto your lower lip. "Mark..."

"Yeah baby?" He licked his lips, moving closer to the camera.

"I miss you" you whine, almost needy at the use of a pet name.

"And I miss you."

You hummed, smiling at him. Head spinning with desire.

"Wanna make you cum when I see you next." He looked down at his bulge, now growing underneath the covers. "I can't wait to see you.. feel you around me" Mark palmed himself through his pyjamas.

"Can you uh do something for me?" Whisper fell from his mouth, trying to hold himself together.

"Mhmmm" you bit your lip and nodded.

"Can you be a good girl and touch yourself for me?"

____________________________________________________

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 4

meve/reynard post-canon gooey fluff with a touch of chivalry/praise kink

A sleepy Reynard misspeaks, inspiring Meve to indulge in sharing a silly girlhood fantasy.

It's a simple slip of the tongue one morning, a misplaced word heavy with sleep. Both the Queen and her consort are slower to rouse these days, loathe to leave a warm bed for their duties in the winter chill of the castle.

Reynard in particular has never slept so deeply, rising slowly to consciousness with little sighs and grumbles rather than snapping alert, and Meve delights in it, rolling to her belly to tuck her face against his sleep-warm shoulder and trail her fingers across the span of his chest as he mumbles nonsense and groggily protests her occasional whispered requests that he wake.

Some mornings, she wakes him more pleasantly, rising to straddle him or slipping beneath the bedcovers, but the hour is already late enough that the servants meant to dress and feed them and prepare them for the day are likely growing antsy waiting outside their shared bedchamber, as they’ve instructed them to do.

In truth, tradition dictates separate bedrooms, which they maintain for the occasional sleepless night, but they’ve gladly shirked tradition and wasted far too much time to sleep apart.

As much as Meve would love to lie here beside him half the morning, to allow Reynard as many moments of peaceful comfort as he deserves after everything, both of them have too many responsibilities looming.

Meve prods him in the ribs and rises on an elbow above him, giving to the impulse to press a brief kiss to his jaw, rough with the previous day’s stubble.

“Reynard,” she says, “it’s time you woke. What ever are you dreaming about?”

“Urgghhff,” he huffs, slack brow tightening as his eyelids flutter, gaze unfocused. “Hmmph?”

Meve prods him more insistently.

“Up,” she says. “No more lazing about.”

“Mmm,” Reynard hums and blinks open his eyes. She knows she’s gotten through at last when he stretches, groggy but conscious, and reaches for her, touching a hand to her cheek as she looms above him. He appears so openly besotted as he looks up at her, that Meve feels her face grow hot. His thumb strokes her cheekbone, as gently as though touching thin-blown glass. His eyes drift shut again.

“Reynard,” she says, her voice hardening into the sharpness of an order. “Wake up. On your feet.”

He’s fully awake at once, stiffening to sit up with covers pushed aside.

“Yes, Sir,” he tells her firmly, realizing only a moment later what he’s called her by mistake. “I mean… Your Grace… err… Meve.”

Meve giggles breathlessly, deeply amused by his mortified expression as much as the slip of the tongue, and she forgets their waiting duties and antsy servants and rises to straddle his lap, planting a hand flat against the ridge of scar tissue at his sternum to tip him backwards against the pillows.

“Call me that again,” she says, laughing. “Sir Meve, hmm?”

“M-my apologies,” stutters Reynard, “if I’d been more awake, I wouldn’t’ve–” Tutting over his embarrassed flush, she catches her fingers in his greying hair to kiss him soundly in apology for the teasing. 

“Oh hush. I must confess I like how it sounds,” she says even as she coaxes Reynard’s hands to grip her hips, her own hand stealing between their bodies to cup his morning erection. There’s truly no time for such intimacy, but then again, all of Rivia and Lyria can wait beyond their bedchamber as long as she wishes. 

“Meve, we should–”

She shushes him and kisses down his throat and does not hesitate to lift her hips and settle him inside her body, delighting in his quickening breath and pinched brow as much as she had his relaxed slumber.

“D’you know as a child I yearned for th’ day I’d be knighted and all would have to call me sir rather than princess?” She rocks back as she speaks, tangling their fingers together at her hips. “My mother had to inform me of th’ proper title. Unfortunately, Dame doesn’t have quite th’ same appeal.”

Reynard laughs, breathless. 

“Call me it again,” she says.

“Sir,” says Reynard, “yes, Sir.”

His hips move up against hers, and she remembers as a girl dreaming of gleaming armor and glorious battle, of earning the respect and adoration of doting tournament crowds. Of being powerful and important, far more than a simple princess destined to be married off into the meek servitude of matrimony and motherhood. 

Gripping tight to lean against the leverage of clasp of their hands and Reynard’s raised arms, Meve tells him every foolish fantasy, even as he responds in turn, muttering praise against the skin of her breast, looking up at her through dark lashes as they move together.

The repeated, earnest whispers of sir warm her thoroughly.

They laugh together, sweaty and spent.

Meve knows she has no need of the fanfare of admiring crowds, though these days they wait anywhere she goes. She cares only to have earned the respect and doting adoration of this man beneath her, who would follow her into any battle and indulge her any silly fantasy.

[groggyvanfleet]

(hellloooooo! i’m back!!! i remember this request coming in during halloween but knowing me i can’t keep up with writing because of life so i decided with what time i had i somehow produced this in like two days so very unedited but im so sorry its short, anyways enjoy and as always love groggy <3)  

summary: sex demon and jake. that is all. 

(warnings dry humping, 18+ minors kick rocks, sex demon, not a whole lot.) 

word count: 851 (im sorry i know it’s short.) 

Humans are fascinating subjects to watch from afar, always never knowing their next move if the subject lives a impulse controlled life or simply sticks to the safe side to live a long happy life. You loved the impulse led ones, they were your favorite, always keeping you on the edge of your seat with their choices but one human in particular caught your attention. He’s beautiful, almost as if Michelangelo had carved him out of the most purest marble that could hold no flaw. He fascinated you, full of energy that would infiltrate your nostrils and give you the best high of your life, better than any drug known to man he was your favorite. You’d watch from afar, never letting your presence be known but still close enough to feel the energy radiate off him in waves, till one night you simply couldn’t take it anymore, the feelings overcoming your body, you had to do something. 

You waited in the shadows of his abode, watching as he marched through the door, slinging his keys into the designated bowl beside the entryway with a huff. He was frustrated, exhausted, and extremely turned on. You could feel the sexual energy flow out of him as he moved around the house. You noticed that whenever he had stressful days was when he would come home and relieve his frustrations with his pants around his ankles, those were your favorite days. How you yearned to touch his smooth skin and feel every inch under your fingertips yearned that it was your hand pleasing him and not his own. 

You watched as he did his routine, waiting for the most anticipated part that never came. You were angry watching as he settled into bed, turned off the lamp and fell into a slumber. 

Time for some intervention you thought to yourself as you presented yourself out of the shadows. Reaching the foot of the bed you carefully placed both hands on the smooth sheets, slowly crawling on top of him with expertise till you were sitting on his groin. You sat there for a minute, studying the features of his face that were illuminated by the moonlight, he was truly beautiful. Bringing your hands up to his temples you brushed his hair away, letting yourself infiltrate his mind to begin your master plan. His mine was easy to gain access to, almost too easy to be honest. He must have some dark fantasies for you to gain access that easily, it made you smile. 

As you begin to plant little seeds of dreams of pleasure you could feel his cock starting to stir underneath you, growing harder as each second passed till he was fully hard. What really caught your attention was the small whimpers coming from the man underneath you, music to your ears as you continued. 

“I can feel how much you want me.” you leaned down and whispered in his ear your tongue tracing the shell of his ear making him shiver in his sleep, your hips beginning to grind down onto him. You’ve never craved someone so much in your eons of existence but, he wasn't ready so this would have to suffice. 

His hips begin to buck up into yours as the fabric of his sleep pants catching your clit gives you delicious friction making you bite your lip to stifle a moan that threatened to come out. You moved off him, deciding that you had completed your work and was now ready to watch the events unfold. Sitting on the metal bar that was at the end of the bed you watched him turn over and began rutting his hips into the bed, completely taken over by your actions. 

“That’s it sweet boy, use the sheets to make yourself cum for me.” you said, your body temperature rising at the scene unfolding before your eyes. He was desperate, his hips moving to chase his high all while still asleep. His whimpers turned to moans as his cock rubbed against the fabric, you've never envied a bed more in your life than this moment. 

“Please.” He whimpered, making you shiver as you know the woman in his dream was a conjured version of yourself, making you fill with pride as he was basically begging you to let him cum. 

“Are you close sweet boy? You want to cum?” you said, moving close to his ear to whisper the questions to him. A loud moan was his response as he hit a sweet spot on his cock. Sweat glistened on his skin as he worked himself into a frenzy. You brought a hand up to his forehead, your fingers brushing his hair away, the action making his eyes flutter open and sit up straight with a heaving chest as you fell back into the shadows. You watched as he rubbed a hand over his face, attempting to wipe the sweat that was collected above his brow, a smirk playing on your face as he sat against the headboard, pulling his pants to his knees and fisting his cock with languid strokes. 

[moldyblackbird]

The Innards of Citadels

basically a teeny tiny interpretation of the Hellevator MV, bc I looooove lore

[sorry if it's kinda dog water, tbh I was just being silly and slapping scenes together if they worked. I also tried coordinating the scenes with the MV as much as I could, but ended up switching stuff around. I like it tho :)]

Warnings - nightmare, mention of light panic attack ig, suggested depression, mention of natural disaster (Sound Monster is terrible, mind you), nothing too extreme or explicit, may change in the future.

Fun Warnings - fluff, angst (lots of both), brotherhood bondinggg, the boys escaped an asylum so they're learning to work together <3

_______

Chan decided not to call out and instead stood silently, far under the metal framed dome. He watched his young friend curl into himself, shivering alone on the rooftop as night stooped over. The moon was just beginning to appear and it cast a cold shard of light through the building’s disheveled walls.

“Hyunjin…” Chan breathed. He was heartbroken. He was despaired to see a brother of his in such intimate pain.

It was about time to gather everyone for sleeping arrangements so Chan had gone to round up the boys, but he decided to leave Hyunjin to himself a little longer. It wasn't easy; his impulse told him to sprint up the staircase to comfort his younger brother and convince him that their lives’ course wasn't doomed. He wanted to shake the kid’s bony shoulders and make promises he could stand on.

However, this time Chan ducked his head, stuffed a hand in his pocket, and padded back outside.

_______

The air was unbreathable, toxic.

His eyes burned and watered so immensely that he could hardly make out where he was. Jisung felt around for a wall or rail to lean on, a firm substance to support him, but there was none. Rubbing his eyes rather aggressively, the boy ventured farther into a cluttered cell with a high ceiling.

There stood four run-down elevators. Jisung was a bit startled by the sudden urge to step inside the one centered in his field of vision, nonetheless he steadily parted the powerless doors and rotated on his heel to shut them again. He became frantic and examined the thin line of electric buttons by his side, trying to make sense of the English words.

Before he could press one, his mind began to swim, his senses numbing, and with his legs buckling under him, Jisung was yanked from the dream.

He awoke harshly with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, his body pressed down flat on its side. The heartbeat that hammered in his throat had ceased. His rapid breathing slowed and warm tears spilled down over his nose; his eyes were clear again. Jisung could finally see. Jisung could feel his achy legs, his sore fingers. He could hear the faint ruckus of traffic far off in the city.

He inhaled sharply, shakily rolling onto his back and causing the trampoline to lightly reverberate. A chain of questions and small fragments of the experience rolled inside his head. How had he dreamt so lucidly? What had caused him that anxiety? Why did he envision such a painful scene?

Jisung let out a puff of air and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't panicking anymore, he was calm. He was cold. Despite the amount of sheets and blankets that the boys were piled up in, the nightly chill still seeped into their skin. Jisung turned and pulled himself to the nearest body he could find, gingerly resting an arm over Hyunjin’s torso and pressing his forehead to the boy’s soft back. He sucked a breath in, closed his eyelids, and desperately pushed the event of his dream from his groggy mind, finding a light sleep.

_______

“How long has it been?” Felix popped his head up to look over a desk at Changbin. He scanned a thick stack of molded envelopes, adjusting his neck scarf to cover his nose as he read them.

“Since this place was abandoned?” Changbin replied with a tilt of his head. “Only since last year.” He sat down on a rusted chair that whined under his weight; everything here was either crumbled to dust, molded until the air around it was unbearable, or destroyed by squatters, leaving close to nothing behind.

“Good thing Jeongin quit before doomsday,” Felix commented. “Wouldn't want to find his dead body in this school.” When Changbin threw a warning look his way, the boy drew his hands up in defense, expression showing no intention of joking around. “I really, really wouldn't want to. Besides, one more year of highschool would've done nothing for him at this point. We never knew it would be a waste of time but look around.”

Changbin knew he was absolutely right. It was a great decision to get Joengin out of school before the entire system crashed, before the government took full control, before the Sound Monster attacked and everything got worse. Changbin shivered. His eyes glided around the room. It looked incredibly surreal, tainted and dangerous. The roof could fall at any moment, the floor could give out right under them. What if they were found and charged? It was rare to confront a police officer in this unruly area, but there were still people in this world, and they wanted order.

“Basement's obliterated,” A chipper voice echoed down the hallway. Felix hurried over to check in with Minho, both of them tugging their masks down to communicate. “There's another one.”

Minho pulled out his phone to show the boys. Felix rested his forearm on Minho’s shoulder as Changbin shuffled to his side curiously. In the photo Minho stood with his hand out as if he was holding the dangling link of railing behind him. Just below there was a gaping hole that swallowed anything in its reach, chairs and shelves spiraling far down into the Earth.

“All the storage rooms were down there,” Minho explained ruefully, dragging his finger across the screen. “Including the one that Chan thought had our resources. It’s gone now.”

“When did this happen?” Changbin furrowed his brows. “I thought we were far enough away from the Sound Monster for a good few months…”

“We were supposed to be,” Felix rubbed his arm nervously as Minho sighed and stuffed the device in his bag. He turned to his hyung with concerned eyes. “I still trust Chan but…is he wrong?”

“Hush, hush,” Minho waved a hand with a scoff. “We still don’t know if the monster caused this. It could just be a natural sinkhole since the land here is decaying.” His words brought ease to the tense atmosphere, but worrying reality still groped at Changbin.

“Then- we’re done here, right?” In truth, he didn’t want to be here any longer than they needed to. None of them did.

“Well, did you find anything we can use?” Minho crossed his arms and followed Felix to the desk he had been scouring. He and Changbin had lined up every container, tupperware, cupboard, drawer and so on on this very surface.

“I looked through some written letters and bills, but we haven’t found anything else negotiating the subject of equipment sites or warnings. We’ll have to work with our own weapons unless we can scavenge someplace else.” Minho nodded slowly, gazing over the assortment of items while Felix’s hand hovered over each one. “Thankfully the janitor’s closet had some bucketfuls of screws though, and we finally found a drill.”

“Just no batteries,” Changbin huffed as the younger boy showed off his discovery.

“We’ll let the elements have this place then,” The oldest rubbed his temple with a nod. “Let’s hurry back for lunch.” Changbin was relieved to flee the death trap.

_______

how was that? I love tips

will be adding more, don't worry

[bowieandqueen11]

Hi!! Could I request Kendall Roy and K R Y Z from the love alphabet please? 🥰 any of those letters you like of course!

Hey lovely, thank you so much! :)

K, R, Y, Z Alphabet - Kendall Roy

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif goes to @technicolourtelevision. Romantic alphabet credit goes to @honestsycrets.)

Warning: mentions of smoking!

K = Kisses (How do they kiss? How often?)

Kendall Roy is someone who can't function unless he's kissing you every chance he can get. About to leave for work? He's dragging you back into the apartment, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he cups your cheeks and brings you back up to his awaiting lips. He's sitting in his office, waiting for his father to return from his meeting like an obedient puppy? He's waving you in from across the hall, not caring if anyone's looking (he can just fire them later) as he pulls you down into his lap, and becomes a whining mess as you loosen his tie and start sucking little, sweet hickeys against the stubble on his neck. His favourite kisses, though, are the ones right before he falls asleep. Where he can see that you're tucked up into his side, and he finally realises that all the good things in his life aren't just imaginary. You wait, not wanting to fall asleep until he finally leans down and presses the last kiss of the night against the side of your lips. It's sweet, and lingering, and you never mention in the morning how you can feel the slight sting of salt against your mouth when he pulls away.

R = Rapture (What makes them happy?)

Kendall's favourite thing in the whole world is to sneak off with you. It started when he was a teenager; Ken used to try and get a respite from the harsh business regime his father was instilling him into before he left to college by bumping your shoulder as he passed you in the mansion's corridor. It was always his tell-tale sign that he didn't want to hang out in his bedroom today: instead, the two of you would sneak off into one of the cloth covered, dusty, unused except for storage rooms his father never went near in the east wing of the house. Kendall used to keep a stash of cigarette boxes and a lighter underneath a very creaky sounding grandfather clock, and the two of you would spend the afternoon sitting opposite each other on the window sill, and passing the stub back and forth. Every time Kendall's fingers brushed against yours as he passed it over, a shot of electricity would race through his muscles, and he would have to pull his cable-knit jumper further up his neck to hide his blush. Bless his heart, he looked like a shy little hedgehog, ducking down into his burrow and further into himself every time you caught his eye, he was so embarrassed by his crush.

Y = Yearning (What do they do when they miss you?)

Kendall's on the phone 24/7 whenever you're away - you are fully his impulse control, and he feels like both his heart and head have too many screws missing if you're gone from him. You're fully keeping the man together, so be ready for fifteen missed calls, seven face time calls, and about fifty texts in the span of thirty minutes. He can't help it, he's genuinely buzzing around his apartment like a fly who's fallen into a can of energy drink until he can hear your voice again, and then he finally calms down, feeling like everything is right in the world again.

Z = Zzz… (Sleeping headcanons)

Ken isn't one for sleeping. Waystar Royco keeps him so busy, and more often than not his father uses late night file sorting or international calls as a form of punishment for not being the perfect shrine to Logan's martyrdom. If he's not at home, you usually are woken up by a late night text asking if you can come round and visit him, and despite how groggy your eyes are as you run to your driver, you sure as heck go. This happens far too often: the two of you curled up on his office sofa, his suit jacket draped clumsily over the two of you, his head firmly against the top of your chest as his fingers languidly play with the uncovered skin lying beneath your collar bone. Despite how messily your limbs are tangled over each other, and despite how annoying the crick in the back of his neck is the next day, he sleeps like a baby as long as he's able to grip onto you.