#and for another you have to love pain and danger

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn’t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[hydrangeapartridge]

Overindulging (EmmRook short fic)

Summary: Emmrich gets upset because he put on a little weight. Rook is here to reassure him.

The first part is mostly sfw, I signaled the moment we switch to a more heated (E-rated) exchange, please mind it.

Part of my EmmRook post game (so may contain spoilers) short-fics found here on AO3 (or on my blog with the Emmrich x Rook tag).

Rook was absentmindedly getting dressed when a very highpitched, scandalized noise startled her. It wasn’t coming from veyr far away, and she only needed to turn around to find Emmrich staring intently at his midsection, his fingers frozen over the buttons of the waistcoat he was fastening. It was his favourite one, the green one with the golden buttons.

« Darling » He called out to her, distress clear in his voice. He looked up to meet her eyes, sadness mixed with frustration in his warm brown gaze. « It doesn’t fit anymore » He stated, and indeed, Rook could see the first two buttons were fastened but the effort of it was dangerously straining the fabric. As for the last one, it would be impossible to fasten without tearing the lovely piece of clothing and ruining it.

« Well I suppose you’ll have to wear another one » Rook offered with an apologetic smile. She was ever the optimistic one of the two.

Emmrich sighed in defeat, undoing the hardly fastened buttons in a smooth gesture. However right it was, his lover’s proposition, and the implications behind his failure at getting dressed didn’t sit well with the watcher.

« I knew I had gained a little weight, there are always ups and downs in a year. But I’ve owned this waistcoat for decades and it always fit » He complained, pained and irritated. « Now I’ll have to get my entire wardrobe mended and ajusted... »

Rook stepped closer to her lover and placed a tender hand on his elbow to try and pull him out of the spiral of negativity he was losing himself into.

His slight increase in waist circumference wasn’t a surprise, for they had probably overindulged in the last months when it came to food. Emmrich took a sabbatical so they could undertake a journey around Thedas to reconnect with their former companions of the Veilguard, and check on the reconstruction of the cities destroyed by the Blight.

Those long weeks turned months had been a wonderful succession of heartwarming reunions, all of which of course around generous amounts of food and drinks. Rook and Emmrich had been delighted to discuss with their friends while sharing large meals made of the most delicious dishes, whether grilled, or fried, or covered in rich sauces, as well as around tea-times assorted with the softest buttery and flaky pastry. And not to forget the syrupy wines and bittersweet cocktail. Emmrich wasn’t known for his gluttony, but he still really enjoyed a good meal, as well as the cultural enlightment of discovering local dishes. On the way home, he kept reminiscing the taste of the famous llomerryn red sauce from Rivain or the Gnocchi from Antiva.

Pair that with a hectic schedule preventing them from exercising as they usually did, and you got a few more pounds.

It was nothing too serious. Rook herself had gained a little chub around the thighs and waist, but she understood Emmrich’s concerns. He liked to look clean and sharp, and had a strong taste for elegant fashion. All his clothes were also tailor-made and cost a pretty penny, which was an investment he made for the long run. He took very good care of his belongings and she could see why it would upset him to be forced to have them remade.

Rook gently squeezed Emmrich’s elbow. “I’m sure there is no need to come to that yet. A little more exercise and lighter meals should do the trick. You’ll be back in shape in no time”

She tried to reassure him, but Emmrich wasn’t having any of it. He placed a hand over his stomach and squeezed the fat there though the fabric of his expensive white shirt, then clicked his tongue. “I fear it won’t be that simple. Each year staying fit becomes more and more challenging. I’m getting limp and my skin will only keep sagging until I all wrinkled and flaccid. I’ll gradually wilt before your very eyes darling, this is only the start”

Oh.

So that’s what this was about.

Emmrich had partially made peace with his mortality when he brought back Manfred, and he had accepted that Rook loved him and wanted to be with him on the long run despite their difference in age. However his fears and insecurities resurfaced from time to time.

Rook’s heart sank in her chest and she pressed herself against her lover, circling her amrs around his waist, hoping her presence would comfort him better than words would. From experience, she kew that when he was in this state, there was no reasoning with him; no appealing to his usual logic. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight because of such a trivial problem. Well, trivial to her. They already did fight several times because she brushed off his heartfelt concerns too casually and now she knew better than to lose her temper over this.

Emmrich grew silent, and soon, he hugged Rook back, the palms of his hands pressing against her back.

They stayed in this embrace for a while, Rook listening to his heart while he breathed in the familiar smell of her hair.

“You know I’ll always love you” Rook promised against his chest, and she heard his resulting deep, shaky exhale close to her ear.

“I know darling” He sighed. “It is not my intention to question that… but sometimes it feels surreal” he kissed her temple before he continued. “And sometimes I cannot help but regret that we didn’t meet sooner, or that I wasn’t born later”

Rook looked up to meet his misty gaze, a bittersweet smile on her face. “I understand that sentiment. But I believe things were meant to be this way. I am glad we even got to meet each other. And survived to enjoy the rest”

“Of course, you are absolutely right dearest. I wouldn’t have it any other way” Emmrich caressed her cheek, craddling it in his warm palm. “But the human heart can be weak, and mine is particularly prone to that kind of longing”

Rook nuzzled into his touch “That’s part of why I love you” She stood on her tiptoes, and whispered against his lips “I never hoped to meet such a romantic soul”

She kissed him then, soft and gentle, and he reverently kissed back, both of his hands holding her face like a precious treasure he feared would escape him.

When they pulled back, Rook let the hand that was pressed to his chest travel to his navel. She eyed his reaction carefully, assessing his consent, checking that her touch on the part of him he criticized was still welcomed.

Emmrich didn’t protest, but the attention made him shy, still a bit self conscious, and he distracted himself by replacing a stray lock of hair behind Rook’s ear.

“You are still the most dashing necromancer around you know” Rook said, her usual bright tone returning to her. “And you won’t be alone in your effort. I’ll help. I have a few pounds to lose too”

Emmrich let out an incredulous huff. “Darling there is no need for you to do that. You are simply perfect. Marvelously beautiful as always”

Rook raised an accusing eyebrow and gave him a chastising look which silenced him immediately. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Rook splayed her fingers moree firmly over Emmrich’s lower stomach. “You know, I’m thinking of a pleasant way of exercising…” She whispered wickedly as her hand traveled lower. “I’m sure it burns a lot of fat”

She pressed her palm against Emmrich’s crotch and he let out a small breathy moan.

“Darling, we were just getting dressed” He protested, but only for the principle of it, his voice lacking any resolve.

Rook hummed “But since you were dissatisfied with your clothes, I think it’s better if you don’t wear them at all”

And so Emmrich was quickly convinced to indulge in a different kind of pleasure.

E-RATING STARTING HERE

After a few heated kisses, and unbutonning his shirt, Rook swiftly fell to her knees in front of Emmrich. Without hesitation, she untucked his crisp shirt from his flannel pants first. Her hand deliberatelly brushed his clothed growing erection before she set on undoing the buttons of his trousers.

“Darling” Emmrich tried to grab her attention and she hummed in response but didn’t stop. “As much as I enjoy the view and the promise of your attention, I fail to see how this counts as exercising on my part”

Rook gave his still clothed erection a gentle kiss through the fabric of his underwear. “Consider it a warm up” She hummed “And a way to show you how much I adore every part of you”

Emmrich let out a languid sigh. His fingers moved to brush against her cheek, and played with the hair there while she pulled his pants and underwear enough to find the most sensitive part of him. “Whatever pleases you my dear” He breathed in that lower voice that was reserved just for her; just for these moments shared between them in intimacy. He always ended up indulging her.

Rook took him in one hand, and splayed the fingers of the other over Emmrich’s stomach. She started stroking him to full hardness, while reverantly exploring the dip of his waist, and the more recent softeness of his belly, where a trail of dark hair led to his growing desire. She loved to touch him. Emmrich was a generous lover and was always the one to insist on how gorgeous she was and to focus on making sure of her pleasure. She desperately wanted to reciprocate the favour. Besides, she knew from experience that for all his composure and restreint, a teasing from the mouth should rile him up enough that he would then be most enclined to bend her over any avalaible surface and take her most ardently.

Emmrich’s self consciousness over his stomach became the last of his concerns when she stopped stroking him and started leaving opened mouth kisses on the length of him. He gasped and moaned when she proceeded to take him between her sinful lips, caressing the part that she couldn’t fit in yet between a few fingers.

Rook moaned around him when she felt his hand carefully grab the back of her head, holding ontop her hair without pressure to ground himself and help guide her. She increased the pace of her ministrations as Emmrich’s voice joined the lewd wet noises she was making. True to himself, he kept praising her, complimenting her skills, singing praises of her beauty as she worshipped him with her mouth.

This was incredibly pleasant, but not quite what she had in mind. She pulled away to catch her breath, lazily stroking him instead, the glide made easy from her saliva and his excitement. Her other hand cupped his balls, her heel pressing into his perineum until he was left breathless and flustered. She then moved to squeeze his naked bottom, a part of him that she enjoyed very much indeed. The number of times she was distracted by that ass back in the lighthouse she couldn’t count on the fingers of two hands.

Now that she had rendered Emmrich silent but for ragged whimpers, it was her turn to talk.

“My heart, you focus on the front of your body because that is the first thing you see. But know that the sight of your backside would make anyone both jealous and enticed” She murmured before giving his tip a quick suck, earning a strangled “Darling” from him.

She squeezed his bottom again for good mesure, giving it a small swat as if to make her point “I have seen the way people look at it. Makes me want to burn their eyes in their sockets”

“Darling,I’m sure that’s no-” Emmrich tried to say between heavy pants but interrupted himself, completely losing his train of thoughts when Rook took him into her mouth again, as deep as possible.

Rook smiled around him, prood that she rendered him silent. She used her now both free hands to grab at his backside firmly, using her hold as leverage to try and take him even deeper with each bob of her head.

Emmrich’s hand tightened in her hair, and she moaned delightfully in tune to her lover’s half hearted and whimpered pleas for her to slow down. She could tell that Emmrich was using the last threads of his self control not to thrust into her throat at his own rythm. His thighs were clenching, his knees buckling, she could tell he was losing it.

He was close. But this was far from over yet.

After a wicked swirl of her tongue around him, Rook pulled back, earning a distraught whine from her lover.

She barely wipped her mouth before she got up and proceeded to quickly take off her clothes. Emmrich’s gaze followed the reveal of her bare skin with a distinct hunger. For a second she had rendered him lost as what to do with himself. He stood before her, painfully hard and half dressed, panting and flushed. He looked ravishing; and she wouldn’t give him the leisure of regaining the composure she worked so hard to break.

Rook quickly stepped back into his arms, pressing her naked form flush against his body.

“I think you’ve warmed up enough” She said against his lips, her hand caressing his chest where his shirt was opened. He tried to follow after her lips but she pulled away, instead hiking one leg up his hip. Emmrich’s scattered brain had mere seconds to gather what was expected of him before Rook jumped into his arms, wrapping her beautiful legs around his narrow waist. Emmrich caught her of course, his hands coming to support her backside while she anchored her arms behind his neck.

“Now it is your turn to do all the work” Rook teased, but Emmrich complied.

“Gladly” He breathed before he crashed his lips into Rook’s, his usual finesse lost in the turmoil of his desire.

Rook’s shorter and lighter figure was easy to carry for Emmrich, who possessed more muscles than would be expected of a scholar. In his endevour to age as well as possible, he had adopted a healthy lifestyle consisting of a balanced diet and a lot of exercise. The watcher valued physical form as much as a keen intellect. To fight the rebellious undead of the Necropolis, one needed to stay in shape. Also, Rook learned when they met that necromancers from Nevarra enjoyed friendly tornaments of battle magic and took pride in winning them if possible. Emmrich had his pride, and trained so he would easily prevail if a student or colleague dared challenge him.

Rook remembered feeling both surprised and weirdly aroused the first time Emmrich twisted the limbs of a Venatori cultist with a florish of his wrist, and then proceeded to send him flying with a powerful strike of his heavy staff. To think she first considered him a delicate scholar when they met, and even hesitated bringing him to the field. How wrong she had been, and how she then had put that strength to good use.

Rook wasn’t too heavy, but to perform the activities they had fallen into, they needed more stability. While he kept kissing his lover, Emmrich walked to the nearest wall and proceeded to carefully press Rook’s back against it. The support the wall offered allowed him to free one of his hands. He held Rook around the waist with one arm, and while his lips went down to explore the delicious column of her neck, his free hand traced a path from her clavicle to her breast, where he focused his attention. He squeezed and pressed just the way she liked, without forgetting to give attention to her already erected nipple. Rook’s head fell back into the wall as an abandonned moan escaped her lips when his mouth replaced his fingers on her chest. In an impressive exercise of multi-tasking and balance, Emmrich’s hand travelled lower, testing the state of arousal of his lover. She could see the bicep of the arm holding her tensing under the strain of her weight, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight. That sight only could have made her ready for him.

To only Emmrich’s surprise, Rook was soaking wet already. He collected some moisture on his index finger still, and proceeded to pet her clit for good mesure. Rook closed her eyes under his expert ministrations, but she shook her head when he started teasing her folds and her entrance.

“Please my heart, I need you now”

To think she planned on being the patient one today. Emmrich’s lips traveled back to her neck, then cheek, and stopped to kiss and nip at her sensitive ear.

“Who am to deny you when you find yourself in such distress dearest” He purred, low and assertive before he blew on her wet and tender ear, making her gasp and shamelessly grind against his erection.

Rook admired the display of Emmrich’s strength as he repositionned her to align her center with his aching need. She was vulnerable and opened, her legs brought up against the inside of his elbow, her ankles thrown over his shoulders and her weight supported by both the wall and Emmrich’s long fingers grabbing her hip dips, her lower back mostly fitting into his large palms.

He entered her slowly, making sure she was comfortable. The sight was delightfully exciting: Emmrich still half dressed taking her naked form, the muscles of his broad shoulders and of his arms flexing to hold her in place as he penetrated her.

A first tentative thrust and then Emmrich pressed flush against Rook, bending her in half and trapping her against the wall while his cock caressed her insides. She felt impossibly full and deliciously stretched, forced to take him without moving; losing the ability to form a coherent sentence from the raw pleasure of it all.

Rook’s moans were loud and unrestrained as Emmrich took her against the wall, deep and slow. Even when pent up, he still was one to make groundbreaking love and not copulate like animals. He did slip a few times however, thrusting harder as he lost a bit of control the more Rook tightened and gushed around him.

Tears wet her eyelashes from how good it all felt, the sensations heightened by the praises Emmrich’s velvet tongue kept drowning her in. He breathily told her about the marvelous display she offered, akin to a nymph straight from an Orlesian painting; a perfect portrayal of a godess of pleasure and lushness. He fed her poetry as sweet as honey while ravishing her with impossibly accurate assaults of her most sensitive places, reaching impossibly deep in this position.

Rook left herself get lost in the pleasure he offered, and soon, as he told her he would hold her like this forever, make love to her endlessly, she choked on trying to tell him how much she loved him, whimpering instead while clenching down on him like a vice, coming around him in a raw display of bliss, tears of ecstasy rolling down her cheeks.

Gradually, Emmrich slowed down until his hips came to a stop. He reclined a little and pressed a few amourous kisses on Rook’s wet cheeks.

Rook’s chest was still rising and falling rapidly when she regained the ability the think properly. Her previously hazy eyes found Emmrich’s warm brown ones.

“I love you” She whispered in a laboured breath as if it was the most important and fitting conclusion to this exchange.

Emmrich chuckled, amused and proud of himself for rendering Rook almost speechless “I love you too dearest”

He released her trembling legs so she could get them around his waist again. She hugged him tight while he held her by two hands under her backside, gently rocking her until she regained her footing.

After a while, Rook perked up, blinking away the haze in her mind only to realize something. She looked between them, where he was still hard against her. “You didn’t-” She started, looking to Emmrich. “What about you?” She asked, dejected. She wanted this to be about him and it ended up being about her again.

Emmrich’s chuckle was low and pleasing to her ears. “I believe I ought to prolonge the effort for the exercise to truly be efficient on burning calories.” He said, a mysterious smile on his thin lips. “A ratio of three to one should suffice for today don’t you think?”

Rook blinked owlishly. She had no clue what he was talking about.

Emmrich let her think about it, amused by her airheaded state. He took a step back, then turned and walked to their bed where he carefully dropped Rook on her backside on the silken covers.

“What ratio are we talking about?” Rook asked as Emmrich caught her leg by the ankle and brought it to his lips for a tender kiss to her malleolus.

“Orgasms of course darling. One for me after three for you” Emmrich replied like it was the most obvious of things. His assertive brown gaze pinned Rook down, making her feel like a meal on display. “If you’d be kind enough to help me keep on exercising of course” He added lowly, in that tone that made her wet without being touched.

Rook inhaled sharply, feeling herself ready to go again. She couldn’t possibly refuse such an offer.

“Well, I did say I’d help…”

[in-uthenera-we-wait]

It's been a few days since I completed the Veilguard and I am going feral about the dynamics between Mythal, Solas and Lavellan...

It's just a bittersweet kind of pain when I think of them and I want to get my thoughts out before I am overwhelmed by them. Also, this post took way longer than expected to write!

Detailed deep-dive under the cut (to avoid spoilers)

Colour-coded because my brain is weird like that!

Also this is a loooooong post... you have been warned!

On Mythal:

It is clear right from the start (of when we discover the memories of the Dread Wolf) that Mythal is an integral part of who Solas was... Or should I say, who Fen'Harel was/is.

Solas, as a spirit had no desire to take a body and took one for the love of Mythal.

And when I say love, I do not see it as something purely romantic... It goes above and beyond that and not always in the right way.

She sought to mould him into someone she could use. She saw it as Benevolence (the attribute that her spirit is supposed to represent), but I think her purpose had been corrupted even then, even before Solas gets his body at her behest.

The reason I believe it's so is because, true Benevolence doesn't discriminate and denotes a desire to do good for others. Compassion is that desire enacted.

Mythal's benevolence was conditional. Her benevolence came at the cost of suffering for the Titans. So, there was a sliver of selfishness to her purpose. This isn't necessarily bad but this means that she is no longer truly what her Spirit was supposed to depict, not completely. And this sliver of selfishness is what permeates the entire relationship she has with Solas.

We, as the player, have only ever seen Mythal either through the very rosy lens of the Elvhen who worshipped her very much like the way Solas does, or through Flemeth. The latter is no longer the Mythal that Solas knew. She is a fragment of the original who has gained the wisdom and experience of millennia through the hosts she inhabited.

The truest depiction of what Mythal must really have been like is the fragment we encounter in the Crossroads. She honestly, isn't as likeable as Flemeth/Morrigan was/is.

She is openly haughty, expecting her petitioners to convince her of the dangers to the world outside, and sounds almost bitter that her most ardent devotee hasn't visited her once since she was killed and the remnant of her essence was extracted from the dagger to reside in the Crossroads. She faults Solas to an extent for her fate, and clearly doesn't hold him as beholden as he does her.

So, it felt weird to me that she would be so willing to release him from her service, even more so if you had to fight her for the fragment (as I had to).

The only way I can see her being moved to help convince Solas (especially if we fought her in her dragon form) is that she was observing the world outside the crossroads when she is in Rook's possession, the way Rook interacted with Solas, and even more so the way the Inquisitor speaks of her friend/vhenan.

On Solas:

Solas... the man, the myth, the legend! Where do I even begin to unravel the mess that he is!

Originally, a spirit of Wisdom, tied to Mythal in a way that has him put through the thumbscrews of War and Strife, so much so that I see his transformation into Pride as something like a callus that forms over skin that has been rubbed a few times too many.

His love for Mythal was the start of his doom, and right there, his purpose was changed from Wisdom. Because, wisdom would have remained a Spirit.

Now, the nature of that love is up for debate. Again, I don't see it as something that is purely romantic. Though, I think the way he feels for her is different from the way Mythal feels about him. There is more devotion on his side. He says that he will follow wherever she goes and takes on a physical form for her.

And then, slowly, one step after another, he strays away from the path of wisdom - crafting the Lyrium dagger, making the Titans tranquil, allowing the other Evanuris to claim godhood, letting Mythal persuade him to each of these steps, his regrets have her face.

Remember the following dialog he has with the Inquisitor after they drink from the Well of Sorrows? When he asks them how they will ensure the Inquisition doesn't fail, and when the following dialogue ensues...

Let me present you with evidence on how much he was hurt by that.

INQUISITOR: I trust my friends.

SOLAS: I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory.

We had already posited that the 'her' in the dialogue above was about Mythal. But back then, we had assumed it was because of the trust Mythal had in the evanuris that caused her death. What if it wasn't so? What if he was speaking of the trust HE had in HER?! He trusted Mythal to stand by him as he had stood by her. And she had failed him.

It could be that this is after her death, but something tells me this was before. Because Felassan's response to Mythal not joining them would be different if it was because she was dead.

So, we've established just how hung up he is about Mythal, because he has this vision of hers that might not even be true. He views her through the lens of adoration and worship that ends up putting her on a pedestal rather than view her as the flawed person she is. He could never be truly free unless he sets aside these feelings he has for her.

I also found it interesting that he has refused to visit the fragment of Mythal that was stuck to the dagger when she was killed. That fragment is the truest version of his friend as she was when she died. He refuses to acknowlege Flemeth and even Morrigan as Mythal.

Even in the end, it is this fragment of Mythal that he knows and remembers that releases him from her service. Because he wouldn't accept it from anyone else!

And with that established, let's move to the final part of this triptych.

The Inquisitor is a tricky one to analyse because they can be so many different things depending on the player. But for this essay, I will be focussing on Lavellan who romanced Solas and sought to change his heart.

On the Inquisitor:

She is everything that Solas believes is wrong with the veiled world his actions resulted in. A shadow of his people, tranquils with no connection to the Fade (especially true if Lavellan is not a mage). He also begins to believe that the anchor is what makes her who she is. That has to be the case, because any other explanation would make his future plans questionable!

But then, she walks into his life, curious and bright, kind and caring, asking him questions with an open heart! The first thing she does is assure him she would protect him from prosecution. She changes everything!

He tries to justify his feelings for her by assuming that the anchor has changed her. But nope! She shoots that down as well. She is truly herself, with or without the anchor. A rare and marvelous spirit.

Lavellan sees him for who he truly yearns to be seen as. Wisdom. She seeks to understand him and asks nothing in return. She is ready to help him whenever he asks for it, and even when he doesn't. She tells him he does not need to mourn alone, when his spirit friend passes!

His one true fear: Dying Alone... and she allays it by promising to be with him, no questions asked.

He almost decides to give it all up and stay with her... as just Solas. To be with the one true person who truly saw him beyond the cool and collected mask he wears. But he doesn't... In another world perhaps but not this one.

And so, he leaves her in the end, because his regrets are too much to be set aside so easily. He also sees bringing down the veil as an act of self-sacrifice, now more necessary than ever because this would mean She would live on happily in a world where his mistakes don't exist anymore. Also, he doesn't want her to see what he would become.

But she perseveres. Every time he pulls away, she reaches out. The parallels between the Solas/Mythal and Lavellan/Solas relationship is just *Chef's kiss*!

She represents Hope for me. And I'd say, she is true to her purpose that way. Even when things don't go the way she wishes it did, she still hopes. Her Hope springs eternal. And that is what saves her, Solas and the entirety of Thedas!

So, towards the end, her Hope burns bright against his Regret. But he is unable to see it until he sets his own regrets aside. And for that to happen, he needed Mythal to release him.

Mythal was his past. But Lavellan is his eternal future. It was up to him to move from one to the other.

Once he was free from that bondage, he could look towards Hope.

Only then could he truly see it... that she had seen him as he truly was, and she loved him... that she loves him still.

In the end, her love did endure, and how!

'Var lath vir Suledin' indeed!

[coffeeghoulie]

our time now if you want it to be

In the safety of their nest, Aether and Dew spend what may be their last night together.

Explicit, 7k. Contains Water/Fire Hybrid!Dew, discussions/mentions of mortality, medical trauma, minor character death, discussions of elemental transition/Era III-IV transition, anal sex, lovemaking, mating rituals, and some blood.

title from The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

Aether's hand covers the entirety of Dew's upper arm. He stares at where his thumb smooths over cool grey skin, silver freckles glittering like scales on his shoulder.

Besides where a little moonlight pools in through the curtains, the room is dark and quiet. Neither of them can sleep, and neither want to speak at risk of breaking the tentative peace. Let themselves pretend that the inevitability of tomorrow isn't coming.

Silver blue eyes glance up at Aether, glowing in the darkness. Gills flutter, breath cool yet shaky. "Aether, if-"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut, arms tightening around Dew's lean body as every muscle in his body tenses. "No, darling, I-"

Dew snarls, hands flying up to grab the sides of Aether's face. He forces Aether to meet his eyes, aquamarine to amethyst. It's the most painful thing Aether's felt in the last few months.

Never mind the public deposal of his Papa. Never mind the sudden disappearance of practically his entire pack. Never mind Mountain vanishing into the forest, gone for so long that Aether quietly fears he's been taken too. Never mind what he knows will come when the sun rises.

Meeting the eyes of the ghoul he loves hurts like nothing else.

"Aether, I need you to listen to me," Dew says, voice strained with the sheer effort of keeping steady and level. "Ugh. Fuck. We don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. If- don't you fucking dare interrupt me, Aether- if the ritual doesn't work, if I-"

His voice cracks dangerously. Dew snarls, shakes his head.

"Aether, I don't want to have any regrets if this goes poorly." His gaze burns, blue flame hot, into Aether's eyes. "I want to have been your mate. I want to be yours, by scent and scar."

Aether's eyes go wide, even as his heart drops through his stomach. The silence of their room is cut through by the sound of a heart monitor, shrill and harsh. He shakes his head to clear his mind, but he still hears Delta's wheezing groan before he can force the memory away.

"Dew, I-" Aether cuts himself off. He squeezes his eyes shut so hard it hurts.

"You don't?" Dew asks, and Aether winces at the accusatory tone. "Have the last couple years meant nothing to you?"

"No, don't you dare even think that," Aether says. He still can't open his eyes. His stomach churns. But Dew doesn't stop.

"You know I've wanted to be yours since the moment I had to help Omega haul you out of the summoning circle."

"I know," Aether says, voice pitching up strained like he's just been punched in the gut. "And I've wanted to be yours just as long."

"Then why not." It's so quiet his ears strain to pick it up, but it shatters him all the same. "Why not, Aether."

The scent of fresh meltwater and lilies and candle smoke is swamped over with sterile, harsh disinfectant. Aether almost chokes on it even though he knows his brain is providing him with another memory. He hangs his head, tries to focus on Dew's hands on his cheeks. Aether retreats a little into his mind.

"I, Dew, I don't think I could survive it," Aether admits, voice going flat. "It's selfish."

Dew's tail lashes against the sheets. They're a mix of his own bedding and Dew's. Something he'd called a hearth. "Selfish? Don't you think we deserve a little selfish right now?"

Aether grits his teeth. "No, it wouldn't be selfish to get mated," he tries to backpedal. "I mean. With tomorrow. Even if, best case scenario, we see the day after. I can't, Dew. I took care of him when he was going. I can't do it again. Especially if this time I can feel it happening."

He opens his eyes just in time to watch Dew's brow furrow in realization. "You mean what happened to Dell."

Aether winces like he's been hit. Dew's gaze bores through him. Pins him and flays him open like a particularly interesting moth to a specimen board.

"Aether," Dew says, a little harsher. Still quiet. The peace, albeit a little rickety, is still maintained. "You think that that's going to happen to me?"

His silence is as good an answer as anything.

"Look at me, Aether," Dew almost growls. He waits until Aether complies. "That's why you won't mate me?"

"From what you've told me, that's why you want to mate me," Aether says. The words taste bitter, and he regrets them the moment they're out on the air, impossible to take back.

Dew shrinks back, looks away. He's close enough that Aether can hear the way Dew's throat works when he swallows hard. His scent morphs, not quite as sweet, almost minerally, like hard water. Aether wants nothing more to pull him against his chest and never let him go, wants his scent to go back to that comforting, familiar thing. Wants it burned into his sinuses so he's never able to forget it.

But he isn't sure how his touch will be taken, so he doesn't, as much as the minute distance hurts him physically.

"Aether, I- I think I'm gonna be alright," Dew says confidently, but Aether knows him. The waver there means Dew's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince Aether. "Dell was straight water, maybe a little earth somewhere in his pod Down Below. The quint..." he trails off.

Aether swallows hard, waits for Dew to keep talking. Wants to hear his voice.

"The quint didn't take."

That sure is one way to put what happened. "The quint didn't take," Aether echoes uselessly. His mind supplies yet another memory, a ghoul in an infirmary bed, but this time, instead of Delta, it's Dewdrop laying there instead. Already lithe frame gone smaller, weaker. And instead of just watching, this time Aether can feel it pulling, aching, burning.

Dew must notice his distress, must smell the way thunderstorms shift over his own scent. But he keeps talking. "I'm not all water, you know," he says, like he's admitting a secret. But Aether knows this already, whispered confessions curled up together after some of the best sex of his life. "My dam was fire. Didn't know her, was raised with my aunt's school in the Fifth, but there is a part of me that's fire."

"I know," Aether breathes.

"The ritual should latch on to that instead of starting from scratch. I should be okay."

Aether nods, pulls Dew into his chest. "Should," He whispers.

Dew shakes his head, gives a little huff. "Aether," he tries again. "I know it's selfish. I want you to mate me. I want you to be mine, and me yours. Regardless of what happens in the morning. But, Aeth, this might be our last chance."

Something deep in the very core of Aether's chest shatters, a too old elastic band that snaps. He takes Dew's face in his hands, big enough to cover the entire sides of his head. Feels the finned ears twitch under his palms.

"Dewdrop, I cannot bear the thought of losing you," he says, pressing his forehead to Dew's and breathing him in. "It will destroy me. And even that's before a matebond. I might as well just throw myself on the pyre with you."

"Don't say that, I'm not dead yet," Dew huffs, but they both grimace after the words are said.

"But there is the chance," he presses, tries to get him to understand. Has heard stories and rumors of matepairs, Down Below, where one would go and the bond, open ended and fraying and broken, would drain the life from the other until they followed to wherever ghouls go when they're gone. Aether knows his reasoning's selfish. Wanting the barest chance of surviving whatever happens.

"You don't think I know that?" Dew asks, uncharacteristically soft. "You don't think I've spent every single moment since a fucking multighoul survived being pulled through the fire portal thinking about what's going to fucking happen to me? Infernal Majesty, Aeth, we don't even know if he's going to survive."

"I don't care about him," Aether growls. His tail lashes behind him. "He could crumble to salt and ash and be blown away for how much I care. I care about you."

Dew smiles, a little crooked thing as he nuzzles the side of his nose against Aether's. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and Aether's brow furrows, heart doing a funny thing in his chest. "I'm being real fucking selfish, asking for your bite with all of this going on."

"Dew, I promise, I want to give you my bite," Aether swears, trying to press his forehead impossibly closer to Dew's. Their horns click, seaglass against ivory. "I do. But I wanted to do it proper. The way you deserve. A proper ceremony. I know how much that means to you."

"Well," Dew shrugs, swallows hard. "Isn't time for any of that now."

"Yeah," Aether whispers. His back's to the rest of his room, Dew between him and the wall. He isn't quite sure if it's a blessing or a curse that he can't see the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock on his nightstand.

How little time they might have left.

A silence settles uneasily over them. Aether pulls Dew impossibly closer, and for once, Dew lets himself be moved without complaint. He threads fingers through the silvery hair at the nape of Dew's neck, buries his nose in the crown of his head. Breaths him in like he'd suffocate without his scent.

Aether doesn't know how long has passed before Dew speaks up, voice uncharacteristically small. "Starshine?"

He doesn't move, but rumbles low into Dew's hair. "Darling?"

"I'm not gonna ask for a scar again. But-" his breath hitches. "Aether, can I have one more kiss? Please?"

Aether lurches like he's been clawed. Dew doesn't just say please. Has never ever seen the need for pleasantries and politeness for as long as he's known him.

But Aether has never been able to deny Dew anything. Especially as dawn approaches, the passage of time until the uncertain future marching closer.

"There'll be more kisses," Aether whispers, trying to convince the two of them as he ducks down and takes Dew's lips with his. "This won't be the last."

Aether dutifully swallows Dew's sob, doesn't mention the way the kiss tastes of salt. Dew wraps those lean arms around the back of his neck, clinging to him as he kisses him like a starved man.

They ignore the tears streaking down their cheeks and kiss and kiss and kiss until Aether breaks away with a gasp, vision darkening around the edges. Dew chuckles sheepishly, his gills fluttering as a teal blush spills over his sharp cheekbones. A spindly hand cups Aether's cheek, thumb smoothing over and wiping away the moisture there.

Aether squeezes his eyes shut, leans into the touch, before Dew pulls him into another kiss. "Kiss me til it's time?"

Aether shudders hard. "No. We're not talking about that. Not right now," he growls into Dew's mouth, licking at the seam of his lips. "It's just us right now. Nothing else. Just you and me."

Dew grants him access, fingers curling into his overgrown mohawk as Aether licks gently into his mouth. Tries to hang on as their tongues slide together. Aether does not wince as his hair's pulled, but neither does Dew when Aether pulls him tighter to him.

"Can we keep going?" Dew whispers into the kiss, and Aether savors the taste of those words on his tongue. "Want to stop thinking about this all. Just want you."

"'Course," he says without any hesitation. And hopefully, without any tremor in his voice. "Whatever you want."

Dew must pick up something in his tone, because the next thing he knows is Dew's hands grabbing his face again. They're so close, Aether's eyes cross as they try to focus on him. "Like you said. Nothing else right now. This isn't a last cigarette. Come on."

Aether huffs, lips quirking up in a smile, before he kisses Dew again. In one smooth motion, he's rolling the two of them until Dew's on his back, Aether's hands braced on the pillows on either side of his head.

Dew blinks up at him, cool blue eyes a little glossy, but burning into his own. "Hi, starshine," he says, smiling.

"Hi, darling," Aether leans down to nuzzle their noses together. "How's this?"

Dew grins, his teeth shining sharp in the little bit of moonlight. "Fucking perfect," he says, stealing another kiss from Aether's mouth as he hitches a skinny thigh up against Aether's hip, gasping as it pushes his hips up against Aether's. His expression falls, something a little tender, uncharacteristically shy. "I, uh. I wanna look at you."

Aether kisses him again, selfishly. "Of course. I wanna look at you too. Pretty fishy."

Dew bats at Aether's shoulder, but there's no real heat behind it. Aether's felt what Dew can do when he means it.

"My pretty fishy," he says again, leaning down to nose at the fins lining his ear. It flicks against his head, and Aether can feel the soft huff of breath from Dew's gills.

"Yours," Dew says, voice thick and wavering. Aether's brow furrows, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment. Tries to steel himself. To become a pillar for him. A little bit of comfort in the shittiest few months of their lives. Whatever the morning brings-

Fuck all of that. Aether is right here. Dew under him, heart beating and magick crackling and gills fluttering with breath. With life. He surges down to kiss Dew again, tastes the possession and belonging on their tongues.

Dew moans, and Aether feels himself start to chub up where they're pressed together. Swallows down Dew's noises like ambrosia. Dew kisses him, fingers tangled into his hair and clinging, desperate.

"I've got you," Aether murmurs into Dew's lips, threading his fingers into the silvery fine strands of Dew's hair. Not pulling or moving or tugging. He just lets those strands slip through his fingers. "Anything you want, darling."

Dew keens, shuddering underneath him as Aether cages him in. "Want to stay like this forever," he breathes, the high points of his face flushing a deep teal as he admits it.

Aether breaks the kiss, panting, before ducking back down to kiss the corner of Dew's mouth. He trails kisses across his cheek, to the edge of his jaw, and Dew sighs, letting his head loll back to offer him the column of his throat. He pauses for just a moment, feeling Dew's pulse under his lips before licking a stripe up the side of his throat, tongue dipping teasingly into each fluttering gill.

Dew's moan is soft and keening. It's music to Aether's ears, and he can't help but rock his hips down into Dew's, drawing out another and another and another.

He paws at the elastic of Aether's boxers after a little while, gasping as Aether licks and sucks at his collarbone. "Get them off," he pants, even as he presses his bulge to Aether's, drawing noises from the both of them at the friction.

Aether reluctantly pulls back enough to kick his boxers off, and Dew's quick to follow with his own. His dick's already flushed and stiff, wet at the tip and well on its way to leaving a puddle of pre in the hollow of his hip.

"Aether," Dew breathes, eyes not leaving his face. It pitches up breathily, and Aether reaches down to squeeze the base of his cock.

"Not gonna leave you hanging, baby, I promise," he swears, shuffling as quickly as he can down the bed so he can lick a stripe up his hip. His eyes flutter shut at the taste, petrichor and a little salty and all Dew. "Bet you're getting wet down there too, but you taste so good here."

Dew's hands fly into his hair, tangling and pulling, but Aether can't even bring himself to wince at the sharp pull on his scalp. He slowly, thoroughly, licks up every drop of Dew's taste, even as his little cock steadily blurts out more. Aether gets a hand on himself, even though he's well on his way to fully hard, stroking slow and loose as everything gets him more worked up.

Aether gets one hand on Dew's hip, holding him steady as his hips try to buck. "C'mon," Dew whines, dick twitching each time he can feel the heat of Aether's mouth close to it. "Please."

That one word does funny things to Aether when Dew says it. His head lolls forward, groaning loud and low and rumbly in his chest. Tension spikes in his core, and he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from spilling over the sheets. "Fuck, darling, Dew, yes," he rambles, kissing the crease between Dew's hip and thigh. "I just- fuck. Do you want to cum like this, or on my cock? Anything you want."

There's a tug at his hair, and Aether crawls back up Dew's body as his water ghoul directs him. "Want you in me," Dew says, pressing up on his elbows to kiss him, parting his lips to let Aether's tongue slide against his. He almost mewls as he tastes his own precum.

Aether only breaks the kiss when he's out of breath, a hand sneaking between Dew's thighs to press fingertips against his rim. Dew gasps, eyes shining like gems in the low light. He's the most beautiful thing Aether's ever seen. His heart aches.

Aether catches himself, forces himself back into the moment with a shake of his head. "Breathe for me, darling," Aether whispers, leaning in to kiss away Dew's panting noises as he slips a finger inside.

He takes his time with prep, one then two then three thick, glamoured fingers, aided by Dew's slick. It sounds wet and obscene, but for once Aether isn't hearing it. He's laser focused on the little breathy gasps he's swallowing down, the slick sound of their lips and tongues together. Dew's claws dig into Aether's shoulderblades, and Aether takes the pain willingly, eagerly. Wants every sensation burnt into his brain.

Eventually, Dew pulls back, every gill on his body fluttering, tail curling around Aether's calf. "I'm not gonna break, jackass," he says, but there's a fondness in the way his lips quirk up, something soft in his eyes.

Aether scoffs, playfully rolls his eyes. He presses his fingertips hard into the spot he knows makes Dew's dick drip before he pulls his fingers out of his ass. He winds his tail around Dew's. "Come on, let me be good to you," Aether says, rubbing the tip of his nose against the bridge of Dew's. "Treat you how you deserve."

Dew's grip tightens, claws digging in. Aether wonders how long the marks will last, is secretly grateful that his own quintessence won't work on himself.

"Want you," Dew says, trying to nudge his hips up so Aether's cock slides against his taint. It presses his hard little cock against Aether's belly, and Dew groans as it drools into his happy trail.

"You have me," Aether promises, entranced with the way Dew's hair spools through his fingers like water. He holds the back of his head, tilts it up just enough to kiss him. Soft, gentle. What Dew deserves.

He gives himself to Dew just like that. Presses in slow and reverent. They both gasp into each other's lips, a soft groan at the first taste of pleasure.

Dew's just as wet as he ever is, and Aether groans into the kiss. His thighs shake with the effort of slow and steady. Dew hitches his legs up around his hips, locking his ankles around the small of his back.

The kiss breaks, Dew pressing his forehead to Aether's as their hips meet, nudging that secret place inside Dew that feels like coming home.

Dew curses softly, pretty blue eyes rolling into the back of his head as Aether's balls press heavy against his ass and the head of his cock nudges at his prostate. His dick kicks at the stimulation, blurting another rivulet of pre onto his belly.

Aether feels something strange swoop in his chest, and he cups Dew's face in both hands. "Baby, look at me," he says, a little panic beading up unbidden in his tone. "Dew, please look at me. Need you to look at me."

Dew's brow furrows, and he shakes his head, eyes focusing on Aether's face. "Starshine? You okay?"

Loaded question.

But Aether clears his throat, tries to even out his breathing. The wet warmth of Dew's body combined with the panic he's trying to keep at bay makes it just a little difficult. "I'm okay, Dew. Just. I wanna look at you."

Thank all seven saints, Dew doesn't press any further. He knows him, more than anyone else ever has. His hands skate up from Aether's shoulders to card through his mohawk. His expression is soft, warm, even as cool blue eyes examine every inch of him. "I'm right here."

Aether smiles, kisses him again. "I know."

"You've got me, and I've got you," Dew says, that determined edge cutting through his whisper.

"Yeah," Aether agrees, unable to tear his eyes away from the upturn of Dew's lips. "We've got each other."

They spend another moment like that, Dew's eyes fluttering as his hips shift minutely, the friction of Aether's cock teasingly maddening. But he never shuts his eyes, and his hands shift to hold the sides of his face.

Dew swipes a bass-calloused thumb over Aether's cheek, wiping away a tear that he hadn't even realized had fallen. "Hey, none of that," Dew says, licking the tear from his thumb coyly. "We're right here."

Despite his teasing, there's a little concern in the ocean depths of his eyes. Aether takes a deep breath and leans into Dew's hand. Nuzzles into it, feels the scrape of his overgrown stubble catching on Dew's callouses.

"Right here," Aether echoes. They lay there for a moment, just holding each other's faces, foreheads pressed together, until Dew huffs.

His bony ankles dig into the small of Aether's back. "Not gonna break, Aeth," he mumbles, trying to shove his hips back onto Aether's cock even though he's fully sheathed in his body. "And not to mention the elephant in the room or whatever, but night's not getting any younger. Fuck me. Please."

Aether knows better than to push at the obvious deflection. He groans as Dew says please again, rocking his hips forward and dragging a strangled noise from Dew's throat.

"Oh fuck," Dew laughs, a little startled. Aether smiles back at him, sets a steady rhythm. Pulls out until just the head rests inside of him, pushing back in smoothly until their hips press together again.

Even if Aether were a stronger ghoul, he wouldn't be able to hide just how affected he is by the clutch of Dew's body. He fits so perfectly inside of him that if Dew told him that Lucifer Himself had made him for Aether, he'd be more than inclined to agree. He groans loudly in the still of the dark, fingers tightening almost imperceptibly in Dew's hair.

Dew's head rolls back against the pillow as Aether starts to roll his hips into him. Aether's body covers his entirely, body shoved slightly up the mattress, rustling the sheets in the hearth. Dew does his very best to keep his eyes on Aether, even as the pleasure makes them start to unfocus and go a little cloudy.

Aether watches his kiss-swollen lips part slightly, his fangs nibbling at the plushness of his bottom lip. He always goes so soft when Aether gets to fuck him like this. All vulnerable and open and intimate in a way he never is outside of their bedroom.

"Yeah, darling?" Aether says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Dew's. He brushes a strand of silver hair from his forehead, tucking it behind a seaglass horn.

Dew opens his mouth to answer, but only a sweet little moan escapes past his lips.

Aether laughs fondly, adjusting his head just enough to taste that noise on his tongue with a kiss. Dew's hands fly back to his hair, pulling hard.

He rewards him with a deep thrust, just the tiniest bit faster. Knows the exact angle to hit the spot that makes Dew squeal. "Fuck, baby," he groans as Dew's lean thighs tighten around his waist. "Feels good, huh?"

"Yeah, it feels good, asshole," Dew whines. Aether can feel his cock kick hard against his belly, drooling precum. "Don't stop." Aether shakes his head. "Wouldn't dream of it," he promises, and he knows he means every word.

It's slow and languid just like that for a while, time syrupy around them. Wrapped up in each other's bodies, so tangled together they may as well be one creature. Sharing breath, hands roaming soft over each other's skin.

Aether tries to burn every minute detail into his brain. Petrichor and salt scent of his arousal, tangled with snowmelt and lilies and candle smoke and ozone. The texture of his scales against his skin. The cool puffs of breath from his gills. The tight clutch of his ass as their hips work together. The shine of silver hair in moonlight. The feel of his cheekbones against his palms.

He doesn't want to think of the world outside of their nest, their hearth. What will happen when the sun rises and they receive the mandatory summons to the chapel from one of the Imperator's ghouls. But. Just in case. He memorizes it all the same.

"Lucifer, fuck, Aeth," Dew gasps, back arching off of the bed with a particularly precise thrust. His dick jumps hard, and Aether worms a hand between their bodies to wrap his fingers around him. His shaft is slick, even though he's barely been touched. Dew practically mewls at the contact, eyes flying open, wide and blue like Aether's looking up into a cloudless sky.

"Oh, shit, baby. Squeeze me just like that," Aether coos, swiping his thumb just under the tip of Dew's cock. He doesn't jerk him off, just holds him, a little pressure and friction when his hips jolt.

Dew's eyes roll back, but Aether can't bring himself to make Dew look at him. Wants to let him lose himself in all of the pleasure he can get. "Aether," Dew gasps, clinging to him, trying his best to rock his hips back into his.

Every little feeling Aether has for this ghoul laying beneath him grows and swells until it's all encompassing. He watches Dew lose himself to the pleasure, keeps his hips angled just right so every slow stroke brushes against his prostate. "I've got you, baby," Aether promises, nuzzling into Dew's cheek.

"Fuck, starshine, please," Dew says, voice strained with a keen when Aether gives him a particularly precise thrust.

"Please what, darling?" Aether says, starting to pant. Sweat beads at his hairline. "I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me what it is."

Dew rolls his eyes, but a sharp whine escapes his lips. Fingers tangle a little tighter in Aether's hair. "Fuck me, starshine. I'm not gonna break."

They know he's talking about more than just this. But Aether gives him a little harder thrust anyways. Wants to keep pretending.

Dew pulls him down to his mouth as Aether sets a harder pace, finally giving into chasing his own pleasure. He dutifully swallows down every moan and grunt, gasping out his own noises as Aether fucks him.

They share breath, panting and desperate, staring into each other's eyes like all of the answers they'd ever need could be found there. Aether, very quietly, in the back of his mind, thinks it's true. Tries to drown himself in those deep blue eyes. "Fuck, darling, Dewdrop, feels so fucking good," he groans as the kiss breaks, lowering himself even lower to nuzzle his cheek against the side of Dew's head.

Dew's head lolls back against the pillows, baring the column of his throat, each gill fluttering with his panting breaths. He's gorgeous like this, silver hair haloed out around his head and almost metallic in the low light.

Aether freezes, and Dew lets out a confused, protesting noise. His claws dig into the backs of Aether's shoulders. "Said you weren't gonna stop, asshole," he pants, his chest heaving. The motion makes his nipple piercings glint.

"I know, I'm sorry," Aether breathes. He still doesn't start again. Not quite yet. "Just. I wanna look at you, darling."

The frustrated expression melts off of Dew's face, fingers gentling on Aether's back. Dew looks up at him, eyes scanning over his face as his hand migrates to his cheek once again. "I'm right here," he breathes, swallowing hard.

"I know," Aether says, petting through Dew's hair. His voice cracks. "I know."

He stares at Dew, forcing himself to just see him. No infirmary beds. No rituals. Here and now. In the dark and quiet of their bedroom. Safe in their hearth. The ghoul he loves with everything he has. That he'd follow anywhere.

Aether kisses Dew, fingers tangled gently in his hair. "I love you, Dewdrop."

He can feel Dew's smile against his lips. "I love you too, Aether."

They hold each other close for a while, no more words, just reveling in the closeness. The warmth of their bodies. Nothing else matters.

He doesn't know exactly how long has passed, doesn't want to know, when Dew's ankles tighten around the small of his back again. "You wanna keep going, starshine?"

Aether nods wordlessly, giving him one more sweet kiss before he starts to move again. Dew's eyes roll back, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as Aether jerks him off in time with his slow, deep thrusts.

"Right there, baby," Dew groans, craning his neck to nibble at Aether's jaw. His dick twitches against Aether's palm, and Aether matches his groan, cock throbbing where it's buried in his body. Aether nods, careful not to clip his chin against where Dew's face is right against him.

"'Course, I got you," Aether promises. He sneaks his other hand under Dew's hips, adjusting the angle until each slow stroke makes Dew mewl. It doesn't take long until Dew's thighs start to tremble around his waist, body going tense. He groans like he's been punched in the gut at the way Dew clenches around him.

"Aeth," Dew gasps, eyes wide. One of his hands leaves Aether's face, reaching down for- "Gimme your hand, Aeth, please, gimme your hand."

It's barely a moment that passes before Aether's setting Dew's hips back down carefully, rhythm never once faltering. He takes Dew's hand without hesitation, entwining their fingers with a gentle squeeze. He marvels a little at how much bigger his hand is than Dew's. But he doesn't stay distracted for long, refocusing his efforts to Dew's pleasure.

He holds Dew's hand, pinning it a little to the mattress as he holds himself up with it, his other hand working his cock. Dew squeezes his hand back, pretty blue eyes rolling back as he bucks his hips up into Aether's hand.

"You close, darling?" Aether asks, feeling the pleasure churning in his own gut. It tightens and threatens to snap at any moment.

Dew nods, kiss swollen lips slightly parted. "Yeah, please don't stop."

Aether redoubles his efforts, pressing his forehead to Dew's as his body jolts with each thrust. Dew's cock stiffens even more in his hand, and Aether tightens his grip as he strokes him. The slide is wet and slick with Dew's pre, and with the gasping cries Dew's giving him, it's about to be even wetter.

"Come on, darling, please cum for me," Aether whispers into the fins of Dew's ear. "Let me make you feel good."

Aether rocks his hips into Dew's once, twice, three more times before Dew's back arches almost violently with a sharp, soft cry. He keeps his hand moving on his dick, working him through his orgasm as cum splashes up the flat of his belly and his sternum. It spits and dribbles over Aether's knuckles, pearly white and sticky.

Dew's ass clenches hard around his cock. That, combined with Dew's shuddering, gasping cries, are enough to make him follow Dew over the edge. The tension deep in his gut snaps.

They press their foreheads together as they cum, Aether buried as deep as he can get in the clutch of Dew's body. Dew clings to him, whining softly as Aether works himself through it, little humping thrusts as he empties himself into his body, squeezing Dew's hand all the while. Dew squeezes back.

The room falls back to silence, save for panting, heaving breathing as the two catch their breaths. Aether carefully pulls out, but makes no attempt to move or go clean up, smoothing his thumb over the back of Dew's hand as he watches his gills flutter unevenly with breath.

He's beautiful. It makes his heart swell, fluttering against his sternum like a bird as Dew cards through his sweaty mohawk, strands of violet hair carding through his fingers. Aether knows exactly what he'll do for this little ghoul laying beneath him. Where he'll go, what he'll do.

"Darling," Aether breaths.

"Starshine," Dew coos, grinning a little giddily.

Aether swallows hard. Wipes his hand clean on the sheets of the hearth before bringing it up to tuck a strand of silver hair behind Dew's ear. Dew leans into the touch, eyes half lidded. A satisfied purr kicks up in his chest.

"Dewdrop," Aether tries again. A little furrow forms between Dew's brows as he tries to focus, worry seeping into his expression. "I want you to listen to me, okay?"

"Aeth," Dew whispers, blue eyes darting over his face. "Starshine, what's wrong?"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut. They both know what's wrong, but that's not worth mentioning right now. "I have a confession, darling. I was selfish. You want my scar. And I want to give you my scar, and to wear yours. I swear on all Seven Sisters, I want nothing more."

"Aether," Dew says. There's the sharp edge of wariness in his tone. Aether shakes his head, gently cups the side of Dew's face to keep his gaze.

"Please, Dew," Aether says. There's something in his voice that makes Dew freeze, staring up and actually listening. "I was scared. Of becoming your mate just to have the bond broken before it could even properly form. I- I didn't want to feel it happen. I didn't want it to kill me too. It's selfish and it's awful, considering what might happen to you, and I'm sorry."

"Aether," Dew breathes, his voice hitching. He squeezes Aether's hand so hard that the delicate bones inside grind together. He doesn't mind.

"Dewdrop. No matter what happens tomorrow, I will follow you anywhere. To the Ninth and back, through each and every circle until you tell me to stop. And if you want my bite, I will give it to you. I'm sorry I didn't do it the way I know you wanted. I didn't give you the big ceremony, with our pack watching and our Papa marrying us in the Prince's name. I'm sorry they can't be there for it anym-"

"That's not your fault," Dew hisses. There's tears welling up in his sea blue eyes. Aether presses his forehead to his. "Aether, that's not your fucking fault."

"Please, darling," Aether begs. He squeezes Dew's hand. Dew squeezes back. "It would be the honor of my life to wear your scar. Damn the Ghost Project, damn the Emerituses, damn it all. That would be what I'd be proudest of. I want to wear your scar, and I want you to wear mine. I love you more than anything. I thought, that by denying you what you wanted, I might have a chance of surviving whatever may come. But fuck that."

"Aether," Dew tries again. Aether just shakes his head.

"I don't want to be in a world where you're not there, Dew," Aether whispers. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "If the very worst of my nightmares comes true tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that, I will follow you, my love."

"Aether, don't say that," Dew whispers, pulling him down to nuzzle his cheek. His voice breaks. "I'm gonna be fine."

"I know you are," Aether swears. "But it's true. Being Up Top without you is not something that's in my cards, darling. Being anywhere without you isn't something I want to have to do. The Prince Himself would have to fucking stop me. I want to be yours, by scent and by scar."

Aether has more planned to say. He opens his mouth to say it, but all that comes out is a strangled yelp as Dew pulls him down to kiss him. It's clumsy, like new lovers, all teeth and tongue and passion. Aether melts into it all the same.

Dew lets him go, pushes him back just enough to look him in the eye. "You mean it?" he says, a little uncertainty shining through the cracks of the facade he's trying to pull back up.

"Of course I mean it," Aether promises, leaning down to nuzzle the side of his nose against Dew's. "Every word."

Dew nuzzles back, melting into the affection. "Then. Well. Aether, would you do me the honor of wearing my scar?"

"Yes, my darling," Aether breathes. They're still holding hands. "And would you allow me to give you mine?"

Dew beams, a brilliant dazzling gems in his eyes. "Yes, I would."

Aether tilts his head, offering the most vulnerable part of himself to Dew. His pulse, the lifeblood within. He gathers the magick at the very core of him, the pure quintessence, and brings it up to the surface, where it rests just under his skin. This would be easier Down Below, without the vessels they reside in containing the force. But it's easy enough for his magick to pool around his pulse.

If Aether cries when Dew's teeth sink carefully into the crook of his neck, Dew doesn't mention it. Mostly because he's crying softly too, tear tracks trailing over the sharp planes of his cheekbones. He stiffens under him when he tastes Aether's magick.

Aether doesn't shut his eyes, winding fingers through silver hair as the needle sharp pain lances through his nerves. But there's something else budding in his chest, pounding in time with his heart. It's growing, looking for something that isn't there yet. Aether turns to press a kiss to Dew's temple, his fangs still in his throat.

When Dew pulls back, it feels like he's taking something with him. His lips shine ruby in the low light. He makes no move to lick them clean. He's never been more beautiful. "Your turn, starshine," he says, lips and eyes shiny and wet.

Aether nods, ducking his head to nose at the crook of Dew's neck. He feels the puff of breath from Dew's gills, feels it hitch as he presses a kiss there. Aether squeezes his eyes shut, Dew's pulse thrumming just under his lips.

He presses his fangs there, carefully pushing in until he feels skin split under them. Dew tastes like his scent concentrated, fresh spring meltwater, lilies that have just bloomed, the way the chapel smells after every offering candle has been snuffed, and the iron metallic taste of blood underneath it all. Aether groans softly under his breath, but then that thing in his chest that's been budding and pulsing blooms as Dew's magick reaches out to meet him. Water and fire meeting quintessence in a complex braid.

It feels like completing an electrical circuit. Feels like pressing the last piece of a puzzle into place. It feels like coming home. Dew gasps sharply, arms wrapped tight around Aether's shoulders. Aether shudders hard, careful not to disturb his teeth in Dew's throat, doesn't want to hurt him any more than he already has.

After a moment, Aether pulls back, sees the print of his teeth in Dew's throat. Pride and possession and love swirl in a deadly mix in his chest. There's blood on his mouth, just like Dew. He grins down at him, feeling the tendrils of their matebond start to entwine and tether.

Aether's never felt anything like it. He wants to feel it forever.

Dew lets out a sob, or a laugh, and pulls Aether down to kiss him, blood on their mouths be damned. Aether kisses him like a man starved, fingers tangled in Dew's hair, holding him so close like he can keep him from ever leaving.

When they pull back, it's only far enough for Aether to breathe, for the two of them to stare into each other's eyes, amethyst to aquamarine. Their lips ghost against one another, and they're not sure who starts it first, but before they know it they break into exhausted, delirious laughter.

"You're bleeding," Dew laughs, eyes dropping to the crook of Aether's neck. Aether chuffs, delighted.

"So are you," he beams, ducking down to lap up the mess dripping down into Dew's collarbone. The press of his tongue makes Dew giggle. He smells like Aether here. Where the bit of the magick Aether left behind will live forever.

Dew follows suit, cleaning up Aether's matebite and encouraging it to heal. When it does, it will leave a silvery scar. Permanent. Claiming. Dew's mark on Aether, and vice versa. Where their magick will tether them together forever.

The two of them curl together into their hearth, encouraging their delicate, brand new bond to blossom and strengthen. Sharing soft kisses and touches as their magick weaves together. Aether lays on his side, his back to the door, Dew curled up against his chest. Aether tucks a strand of hair behind his mate's ear. "I love you, Dewdrop."

Dew smiles brightly, tucking his face into his mate's collarbone. "I love you too, Aether."

In the safety of their hearth, Aether presses a kiss to the crown of Dew's head. Breathes in his scent. The way it now entwines with his own. Nothing can ever get to them here.

Outside, the sun rises.

[kittenfangirl20]

Abel: But my twin brother Cain is in Hell as a Sinner, dad wouldn’t do this if it put Cain in danger.

Peter: From what I heard Cain is living in another Ring of Hell and has a very powerful lover, I think it may be the leader of that Ring. So since the killing only takes place in the Pride Ring, Cain wouldn’t be killed.

*Charlie looked sadly at the kitchen, her parents were such loving people, how could they be ruthless killers like that.

Abel: This must have to do with what happened to mom. You weren’t born yet Charlie, but after dad found out that my mom was sent to Hell, he flew down there to bring her here. He did bring her back to Heaven, but she was dead. I think one of the reasons why he started to wear that helmet was to hide his pain from everyone else.

*Charlie knew that Adam had been married two other times and Abel’s mom was her mom’s second wife, in fact out of all of Adam’s children Charlie was the only who had the ability to be impregnated or to impregnate someone else that Adam and Eve had*

Charlie: It doesn’t feel right.

Peter: I agree, but so far that is the only effective way to deal with the overpopulation in Hell.

Abel: This isn’t your fault, I can’t even blame dad and Lucifer either. But it still sucks.

*after a couple minutes Adam and Lucifer came back, in spite of what Charlie heard, she still loved her parents, but she wanted to find out more about Hell*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Lieutenant Lucifer Au

Lucifer was waiting outside of Sera's office, apparently there was something she wanted to task him with. He had no idea what it would be.

Sera opened her door: Oh good, Luicfer come on in.

He got up and went inside. There was a man with large golden wings, soft brown hair and golden eyes that shined brightly.

Sera: This is Adam, the first man and father of humanity.

Adam put up a peace sign with his fingers: Hey, how's it going?

Lucifer heard about the first humans and Eden, he never got the chance to see the garden before Samuel ruined everything.

Sera: I am untrusting you to show him around heaven and keep him safe.

Lucifer frowned, so he was basically a glorified babysitter? Wonderful.

*though he couldn’t help but notice how attractive Adam was, in fact he was way more attractive than any of the angels of Heaven, Lucifer wondered why God had wanted to create a being like humans, but it wasn’t his job to question God*

Lucifer: What would you like to see first.

Adam: I am kind of hungry, I never got to eat much after being thrown out of Eden and I heard Heaven has lots of good foods I want to try.

*there was something just so endearing about Adam that he couldn’t deny him*

Lucifer: Of course, follow me.

*they walked through Heaven as Adam looked around in awe, he has never seen anything like this, he first lived in a garden and then he lived in a simple home with his family, now he was living in a golden city that he was told was paradise, Adam drooled a little when he saw all the different types of food and he wanted to try everything*

Adam: I shouldn’t eat too much.

*Lucifer looked over at Adam, he knew that Adam could still gain weight up in Heaven, but he didn’t think that others should judge him for wanting to try good food and he would still be very attractive if he got chubby*

Lucifer: You should enjoy whatever you want to.

Adam: Thank you.

*Lucifer gave Adam a plate and started to give him suggestions over what he should try first*

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[halfelven]

wish i was in the ocean during a storm getting absolutely battered

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[himluv]

More Lucanis thoughts after last night's sesh.

5. So... His "failure" at Weisshaupt hit me WAY harder this time around. I was too caught up in the plot last time to catch the nuance, the details. This has absolutely wrecked him. He flat out says that, "whatever else I am—" (read: a monster/abomination) "— I'm a professional. I thought I still had this."

"This" meaning this aspect of himself. Being a Crow. Being the BEST Crow. He was so sure that this part of his identity was still there, was something Zara couldn't take from him (unlike his mind, body, and his Grandmother (cousin too, but he doesn't know that yet)).

He doesn't fail his contracts. Lucanis Dellamorte, Demon of Vyrantium, does NOT fail contracts. But... He just did. So, what does that mean? Who is he if not this?

And he isn't really open to being treated softly in this moment. While he doesn't disapprove of an affirmative or humorous response (which reminds him to sleep and take care of himself or let's Rook take some blame for an impossible task), the only one he does approve of is the distant response that tells him he needs focus.

6. All of the above just makes the timing of the Zara quest line incredibly brutal. He's at an all time low when he gets a lead on Zara. He NEEDS this, so you go and help and it's going great and then fucking Illario swoops in, steals the kill, and Lucanis loses control of Spite. And Spite almost KILLS Illario.

That is... The worst possible thing that could happen to Lucanis in this moment (other than Spite succeeding in killing Illario). Not only can he not fulfill his contracts, he is an immediate danger to the only person he has left. He is out of control.

But, he also now knows that something is wrong with Illario. I personally think Lucanis has known all along that Illario betrayed him (because come on), but he was really trying to ignore it. To stuff it down and move on like he's always done.

But, Illario used blood magic on him. Zara called Illario Amatus (*snort* dumb bitch, you played yourself). And so the painful ball of yarn starts to unravel and Lucanis already knows where it leads. It just goes deeper and darker than even he expected of Illario.

Because that's some of the tragedy, too. Lucanis and Illario love(d) one another, but they also resent one another. Lucanis is not kind to his cousin, and basically calls him vain and a fuck up at every possible opportunity (seems accurate, but damn). Because Lucanis resents that Illario is allowed to fuck up.

Meanwhile, Illario resents Lucanis's golden boy status. He wants so desperately to be seen as capable and worthy of Caterina's approval/affectionate (such as it is) that he doesn't see the burden it's become on Lucanis.

Just.... UGH! I have a lot feelings about these idiots, obviously.

Bonus:

My favorite moment from Bloodbath is this delightfully disgusted look Rook and Lucanis share when Zara stands up covered in blood.

Okay, recent Lucanis thoughts as I replay the game. Below the cut for spoilers.

1. The whole concept of this playthrough is "take. Lucanis. Everywhere." So. I'm taking him with me on all missions to see what banters and such happen.

2. During Davrin's recruitment mission, Rook touches Lucanis on the shoulder as they swoop around to inspect the griffon noise (they touch any companion this way, but I am imagining Lucanis losing his fucking mind because TOUCH).

3. Took him with Harding to meet Stalgard. The fight against the rock wraith thing was HILARIOUS and I'm surprised more people haven't mentioned it. Some banger Lucanis lines:

"Are we fighting an angry rock?!?!"

And, "Harding! What did you do to piss off a ROCK?!?"

4. Had him in the party for the Siege of Weisshaupt, which means I missed out on "you call that 'nice and quiet'???". Neve replaced it with a very cultured, "Venhedis!" And it was nowhere near as good.

That said, every other Lucanis moment of the Seige so far has been A+, God tier quality content. There are posts of all his banter about the horns and the cloud-face, which yes. All delightful. What I haven't seen mentioned is his tenderness.

He checks in on Mila multiple times and his voice is so reassuring without being patronizing or implying doubt in her knowledge or ability to conceal herself, it is fucking adorable.

And, when in the library, Davrin finally reveals that he must die to kill the archdemon, and Lucanis goes straight Pikachu face. But then, after a beat, he says something like, "Davrin, I know we have our differences, but you have my respect for this sacrifice." (Which is sweet, but kinda hilarious when you know how the aftermath of Weisshaupt goes for them).

And that's where I saved the game and went to bed lol. This man has — so far! — improved every quest line he's been a part of. It almost makes me feel bad because I love everyone else, but it's gonna be a long time before I play this game any other way than take. Lucanis. Everywhere.

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[sysig]

I know you, a little to the left (Patreon)

[softersinned-arc]

you ever think about a character who just got so spectacularly fucked over by canon that you really don't know where to even start with making it right so you kind of just have to hold them in your hands and say "i love you so much and someday i'll do right by you" because

[ahlam910]

Please help❤️🙏

Hello everyone, I am Ahlam, 21 years old. My life before the war was simple, filled with ordinary dreams like any young woman my age. I envisioned a future full of the ability to help others. I lived with my family in a warm house full of love and security, thinking about how I could achieve my dreams and become an impactful person in society.

But suddenly, everything changed. The war swept through our city like a relentless storm. In a single night, my home became just a memory, and the city I once knew crumbled before my eyes. The sound of planes and shells became the only thing people could hear. We tried to find shelter, a safe place to hide our dreams and lives, but the war followed us wherever we went.

We were forced to leave everything behind—the house, the memories, and even the university. We became displaced, homeless, with no destination, just trying to survive. I walked with my family through unfamiliar roads, searching for a place to take us in, trying to escape danger, running from one explosion to the next, from one ruin to another.

The war didn't just destroy our city and homes, it destroyed our dreams. My dream of completing my studies became far out of reach, and every day, I feel hope slipping further away. But despite all this, something inside me refuses to give up. There is a desire to escape this reality and build a new life, a life worth living. I dream of continuing my education, I dream of standing on my own feet again and achieving the goal I was once striving for: to help others who have lived through the pain of war like me.

I ask for your help, humbly. I can't get out of these circumstances on my own. The donations you gather will help me travel to a safe place where I can continue my studies and start a new life away from war and fear. The amount I'm asking for is the key to a new life, to the dream of becoming strong again and one day helping my family and community.

Help me rebuild my life and become the person I dreamed of being. Every donation, no matter how small, is a step towards safety, a step towards a better future.

Thank you for reading my words. Many thanks and respect to you

Vetted by:

@gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #73 )

@90-ghost

@heba-20

dlxxv-vetted-donations

@ibtisams

[tonycries]

The Family Matter?!

Synopsis. Babyfevér - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, breéding, mentions of kids/ marriage, a LOT of creampíes, Gojo’s powers, cúmplay (like a lot), spítting, overstím, exhíbitionism (Geto’s), chokíng Nanami, pússy-slappíng, proposals, rúts (Choso), bíting, true form! Sukuna, overspill, dp, bondagé, mentions of dàddy kínk, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. To the one anon that wanted this - how did you read my mind?? Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Santa, baby…

“B-but- Christmas isn’t for another few months, Toji—”

Now, Toji has to admit - that broken, honeyed-out little drag of his name is enough to crack even that tough demeanor of his - just a bit. And it’s all he can do to calm down the raging twitch of his buried cock, driving it deeper and deeper against your mushy g-spot to shut up those dangerous moans of yours. 

“B-b-but-” You’re flinching when his deep, baritone voice pitches dramatically high to mock your own, a large palm coming down to give your poor clit a branding smack! “-but, you think that’s gonna stop me, ma?”

Stupidly, you’re whirling your dazed eyes over your shoulder to catch his, only for the calloused pads of his fingers to swiftly force your face back down. 

“Not me, you don’t get to hah- look at me just yet, doll.” Toji grits out from behind you, feverish puffs of breath sending goosebumps down your spine. Down to where your puffy cunt was just bulging with all long, solid inches of his swollen, overworked cock. Sloppy. Overspilling. “Not until you’re giving me another brat by Christmas.” 

A sob wrenches out of you when Toji jostles his sharp hips against yours. Harder, until you could feel every minute smack of his still-full, sensitive balls, every slosh of his syrupy sticky cum coating your walls from earlier. 

“Look.” 

You’re shaking your head in almost-bratty protest, the fat of your ass still pushing and pulling against his rugged thrusts. You feel like you could go insane if you saw any more. Thighs twitching to a shy close, “Ngh- can’t s’too- too much.”

This only pulls out a displeased growl from your pussydrunk boyfriend, rasping out a warning. “No fuck-  don’t you fucking dare-” Big, beefy hands wrench your legs even farther apart to admire the mess he’s made, bruising where he holds them unable to escape. “Don’t you even think of it, woman.”

It’s accompanied by another harsh slap! on your puffed-up clit, this time harder than the last. Shocking you to your heated core until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, already-ruined cunt just clenching in painful pleasure. 

He laughs - laughs, “Instead of squeezin’ the fucking soul outta me, look here at how you’re wastin’ my cum. How can I make you a momma in time like this, huh?” 

You’re blinking away those big, fat globs of tears to finally spy back down again at your drooling cunt. Swollen folds spread shamefully, gaping. Every slam of his hips makes you gush down his achy shaft with a gloss of your sweet sweet juice and his own cum. It splays in a creamy little puddle at your silken sheets, clinging to your bodies like a second, sloppy skin. “Y-you’re so filthy, Toji.”

But Toji couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted - not one bit. In fact, he could feel the tip of his angry head growing even fatter, expanding to meld its way deep into your elastic walls.

“Filthy, huh?” he chuckles so darkly. “Got such a mouth on ya, can already tell you’re gonna be a ah- strict momma.” His fingers are prying your jaw to sag open, whispering so slow and syrupy along your open mouth, “Well, let me tell you a little secret, ma. Doesn’t matter what you call me now, because in about nine months you’ll be calling me something else.”

“And what would- mmpf!” Oh, for how much he loved your sharp mouth, he sure was well and fully intent on shutting you up. Toji’s hitting his cock at the back of your pussy, just mashing deep into your g-spot in sinful sync. Over and over. “-and what would that be?”

Another finalizing smack to your pulsing clit, so smug and messy. He tilts his head to that growing pool below you, splurging farther and farther with each decisive, feral ram. “Your baby daddy, that’s what.” 

As if on cue, you’re cumming - you can’t even remember which saccharine sweet high of the night, but all you know is Toji’s gifting your gummy cunt with a few bullying kisses on your ravaged g-spot. Rough, lingering clashes of his weepy tip on your ravaged g-spot, sending your toes curling, white-hot shocks of pleasure. Again and again and again-

“Fuck- fuuuck yeah take it.” he’s grunting out hoarsely, hips stuttering and so so feral. Barely having the sanity to pull out in his jagged half-thrusts, splitting you apart on all his weighty length to cum inside you - deep.

Painting each and every inch of your heavenly cunt that could be reached with coat after coat of velvety white - all the way from where he was gliding his fat tip across your cervix, down, down, down to your sensitive spots, your sopping wide opening. “Want- need it so bad. Need ya to make me a daddy again. So fuckin’ bad you have no idea- you’d be fuckin’ scared.”

Those mean fingers smushing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout dance down to gather the dredges of his own cum, oozing out of the corners of your slit in a milky white sheen. Still rutting into you, he suckles on them languidly like his favorite candy, “Mmpf- as sweet as ever, doll.”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ mean, Toji-” your jaw slacks open at his lewd actions. “Our kid better not get such an- hah- an awful personality.”

That makes him pause - it makes him pull away his digits, glistening and connected with stringy ropes of the mess he’s made. Grinning for just  a split-second before shoving the entire length of his fingers into your plush mouth. 

Toji huffs cockily, the rounded tips of his fingers swirl around and around your lolling tongue, addicting you onto the slighty-salted taste. “Our daughter will be lucky to hngh- get my personality n’ your pretty looks.” And you’re barely even lucid when he’s whispering into your sweat-sheened forehead, “So you better give me good news for Christmas this year, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Take it, like a good lil’ wife.”

Your mouth is sagging open at Nanami’s uncharacteristically gritted words. So hoarse, pained - like they were dragged out of his raggedly heaving chest with each bullying ram of his hips. 

It was barely midway into the evening, and you had no clue how you ended up like this. How those fleeting little titters during your romantic at-home dinner date about kids wound up with Nanami splayed on his broad back on the soft silken sheets. Sculpted abs curving into your back when he nuzzles your neck, plowing his furiously hard cock in his favorite mean full nelson.

“Ha- you’re being so-” you’re gasping out in a wet stutter, ass grinding back onto those neat lanes of blond at his thick base. He’s spearheading you so- “-so mean, Ken.”

“Am, I?” he’s purring, a low rumbling growl from the bottom of his chest. “Well, I might be the stricter parent, that’s right.”

Rolled-up sleeves graze against your heated skin, and you could feel every ridge of the veins along his forearms when he spreads your dangling legs even wider. Jutting his hips so deeply upwards to bow your body to the throbbing curve of his dick. “But, I apologize, darling.” Neat rows of his pearly white teeth sink down on your earlobe, “Feel free to do something- anything about it. Because m’afraid I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

It was a promise - just the clingy feeling of your walls molding and wetting according to his very shape has him losing his mind. His sanity.

Choking back a long, drawn-out groan when two thick fingers slide down to roll over your puffy clit, “Fuuuck, my love, you’re so- hngh perfect like this.” The bed creaks in protest when his powerful thighs arch even higher upwards, all those hours at the gym paying off when every frenzied mash into the bulging treasure of your g-spot makes your mouth water. He breathes into the intimate crook of your neck, “Though, I bet you’d look even prettier as a momma, right?”

Somehow, that makes your face burn more than being split apart on his relentless cock has. 

“Oh- shit.” you whine, fucking your hips back in a sloppy little staccato. Reaching your trembly arm around his strong neck, your fingers find his favorite speckled yellow tie. Yanking until Nanami’s stern lips in a syrupy sweet kiss. “Really wan’ you to hah- breed me, Ken.”

“Fuck- Oh yeah?” he gasps. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that that came out as a fucking whine. The ever-stoic Nanami Kento crumbling bit by bit with each rummaging thrust to shape your gummy walls. “Then why’d it fuck- take so long. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this since the ah- day I met you, my girl.”

Sharp hips dig into the plush of your ass with each pivot, it’s bouncing you back and forth along his slobbering cock. So rough. So tall and angry, you’re hit with a steaming hot gush of milky precum every time Nanami’s sliding out of you up to his thick, girthy tip. 

“Been thinking about you and I- and a little one. A few, actually. One blonde with your eyes, the other two with mine and your gorgeous smile.” That sweet little admission has your twitchy fingers subconsciously dragging at the heavy fabric of his tie. Tight around Nanami’s straining neck, making his head light and cock twitch wildly to draw little patterns on your cervix. “Fuck! Fuck no- keep pullin’ like that, darling.” 

You could feel his raw length rub against sensitive sports you never even knew felt good, in sync with that wandering free-hand of his. Now dancing upwards to glide his touchy thumb over your bouncing tits. “K-Ken, m’so close.”

“How pretty these would look all full of milk, darling.” he muses, sounding more like he’s speaking to himself than anything. Your knees are buckling now, cunt eagerly taking in every powerfully pressurized thrust of his. But Nanami hasn’t had enough of his fill, feeling a burning trail down your arching body. Down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, “And here- where m’gonna fuck-” He’s cutting himself up as his hips slam up into you like with a mind of their own, “-fill you up, make you a momma. Oh, you’d be the best momma. The best.”

He’s fucking you so rough now - so jagged that you’re white-knuckling his tie, reeling him in so close. “And you’d- fuck m’gonna-” you’re sobbing now, over those drawled-out squelches from your velvety cunt. “You’d be the best da-”

You can’t finish your sentence - you couldn’t, because with a few more practiced strokes, you’re cumming all over Nanami’s massive cock. Feeling your elastic walls try to suck him up so hard you wondered whether it didn’t hurt. 

But it didn’t - it felt so sinfully good, in fact, that it was only a matter of a few blissful seconds before you’re being filled up with thick globs of his seed. Drooling out of you with each creamy rut into you, your gaping entrance only takes more. Still pounding into you, bottoming out - yet still pushing to give you everything he had to give.

“Sh-shit.” Nanami marvels at the silky ribbons of cum being stuffed inside, the way it slews up with your honeyed slick to form a glistening gloss down both your fronts. “Wait- oh, wait.” Nanami’s trembling cock spurs out a few more overflowing shots of seed at the very thought of what he was about to do. Still stuffed in, he’s reaching over to rustle through the pockets of his dress pants scattered mere inches away from the two of your slick, convulsing bodies on the bed.

You’re jolting when you feel something cold and metallic slide around your left ring finger, “Didn’t think I’d let you be the mother of my kids without a ring, did you, my wife?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Escape?

“Gorgeous…” Geto’s sultry, slow whisper sends goosebumps running down every inch of your skin. And it’s so soothing - so gentle, and yet- “-doesn’t matter how much you tug, these things won’t let you escape, m’kay?”

A wrenching sob rips from your hoarse throat, and all you can manage to do is tug on those tight, hot-pink handcuffs around your wrists. Pulling to prop your fucked-out body against the very top of his luxurious futon, “S-Sugu, you’re so mean.” Your wide eyes scan the pristine tatami room at his shrine, “Anyone could walk in-”

“And yet you’re still being such a slut, my girl.” He flashes you a rosy red grin, so blindingly pretty that it makes your cunt throb. “Still waiting f’me to breed your pretty pussy. Which would it be? The fifth now?”

Geto doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you’re abruptly sitting upright, bottom lip wobbling with need. Your swollen pussy is just weeping beads of his cum at this point, sobbing down where he was still buried so eagerly inside your gummy walls. Your thighs shaky in- fear? Anticipation? The need for more? 

“Ah ah-” you feel two soft little smacks to the side of your cheek. “Don’t zone out on me just yet, gorgeous. S’this hah- boring for you?” And despite all the pleading shakes of your head, he only plows on, “Aww, what a shame. Guess I just hafta spice things up-”

It’s all the warning you’re getting - barely even - before your poor, weepy cunt is back to being just split apart on his fat head. Not even being eased into it, no care or concern for those overstimulated spasms when he stuffs you full. 

“F-fuck-” your eyes are shooting open - when did they even close? - at the sound of nearby footsteps in the hallway behind those sliding doors. Very nearby. “I swear someone’s gonna catch us, Sugu-”

The only sound that rings throughout his humid, heady room is your wet gag - muffled around the pale, slender fingers of his being shoved between your kiss-bitten lips. All you can register are the soft pads of his digits pressing down on the back of your taste buds and the unforgiving little pulses of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. 

Leaning down - until he’s so dangerously close, until you could count every long, dark lash on his eyelids, every flex of his muscles - slosh of his syrupy sweet inside you - as he sets a languid, lazy pace. “If someone catches us then I will hngh- jus’ keep going, do not test me, pretty girl.”

The other of his splayed out fingers are drawing methodical, dizzying circles on the very tip of your sensitive clit. Matching his teasing place, every grazing nudge of his leaky tip coating your bruising g-spot. 

“Haven’t I already told ya not to start things you c-can’t finish?” Geto’s husky voice is talking you through every clingy thrust. Falling from his pretty lips with each deep snap, fucking you into the drenched futon leisurely like some cocksleeve. “N’ what did you do, hm?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to - because Geto’s fingers were still firmly swiping around your tongue. Murmuring, “Exactly that. Just had to make that fuckin’ hah- stupid little joke about me not being able to handle another daughter, huh?”

“Mmpf- hngh Sugur-” you try to moan out at a low thump! outside, but he’s shushing you pliantly quiet with a ragged pump into your womb. Making you gush velvety ribbons of his previous cum.

“Heh, think this cunt actually wants to get out of this without being bred?” It was true, your painted-white walls were just clinging elastically to Geto’s shaft every time he drove into you, sucking up every bit of him like you’re trying to milk out something delicious. Again. 

“And guess what?” he’s so crazed now, eyes glowing with a dark delight. Hips pistoning into yours with fearsome accuracy to smash over and over into the bullseye of your sensitive spot. Sloppier. The shuffling outside getting louder. So unfairly good that you’re barely registering his next words, “M’jus’ gonna breed this slutty pussy until you give me another. Until everyone knows you’re my slut.”

It only takes one, two, three more drilling clashes with your g-spot for you to fall apart once more. 

Your own orgasm bursts out of you. Squirting in glistening dredges again and again until it’s just a few fatiguing shocks of pleasure that have you heaving for air, whining Geto’s name like a mantra. The overstimulation too much, his twitching cock too big - over and over-

“F-fuuuuck- squirting all over, y’made such a mess.” Geto’s moan is so pornographic when that angry divot at his flushed head explodes with spurts of thick hot cum. So addictively sweltering against your plush walls, it floods into your womb, down your thighs - to your lungs it almost feels like. “Gonna give me another daughter? Yeah?” He breathes, head thrown back while he stuffs you too-full, until he could see the seeping white on your creamy cunt in his glassy peripheral vision. And he still isn’t done cumming - thinning out to mere sticky wisps. “Gonna make you so full- so swollen. Until everyone looks at you and knows what I did- how I defiled you. They’ll look at you and see me. Me, me, me, me-”

There’s such an animalistic cadence in the way he’s rutting into you, pushing you further and further up those drenched sheets. Just dragging your body forwards with one strong arm around your handcuffs when his sheer volume gets too much that you’re trying to pathetically escape. 

Thump!

In a split-second, Geto’s grabbing at a hidden dagger from underneath his robes. Throwing - dead straight through the paper doors - only for a loud thud! to echo from outside. “Bet the scum outside don’t even need to hear the pregnancy announcement, huh?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - My strange addiction

Oh, there’s nothing you loved more than Choso losing control - around the time of year when the weather grows a little warmer, when your sweet boyfriend becomes a little more restless. Those dark, dewy eyes of his turning black with something primal, desperate. 

Ingrained in his blood to breed you. To do nothing but breed you. 

Like right now. 

“Oh?” you’re purring with a coy bat of your lashes, looking over your shoulder to where he was looming. Flushed, gulping, absolutely drunken off your heady scent. “On your rut again, Cho?”

And that makes his entire body jolt, as if zapped by a sudden wave of electricity. Large, trembly hands fist your thin shirt to pin you down like some ragdoll onto the cool kitchen counter. Breath hitching, such a pained grunt leaves him at the sound of his name leaving those pretty lips of yours. 

Almost guiltily, he’s baring a wet gasp, “Y-yes. Saw you makin’  ah- makin’ us dinner in the kitchen and-” It’s like he hasn’t even realized what he was doing, slapping his raw cock against your drooling slit with each word. Smack! Smack! Smack! “-and- I just thought about how- just needed to…”

But alas, Choso doesn’t get to finish a single thought - because you’re stepping up onto your tip-toes - ever-so-slightly. Feeding your needy cunt with just the round girth of his very tip.

“Just needed to what, Cho?” you hum, quirking a devilish brow his way, holding back a keen at the sheer stretch of him around your sopping entrance. “Or do you wanna stop?”

Fuck, Choso swears he could feel his overworked balls squeeze so painfully at the very thought. “No-”  he’s hissing, glassy gaze widening almost comically. “No no no no no- please no. please, please this is all I want.” 

With a sultry giggle, you reach behind to pull him roughly by his soft strands. Choso’s grunting out hoarsely, letting himself be dragged to clash his lips against your bruised ones in such a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, he drinks you in like a man depraved. “All you ever want is to just hah- fuck me in this kitchen, Cho?”

It’s so cute the way he’s sputtering dazedly into your sagging mouth, such a sweet whiny cry of, “Yes but no- fuck, I jus’ wanna–” The slow drag of his heavy tongue coats the crook of your neck in his saliva, hammering his swollen cock upwards until he was practically lifting you off the ground with sheer inhuman force. “Jus’ wanna breed you full, baby. Breed this pretty pussy like m’meant to.”

It’s with an almost-animalistic type of worship that Choso’s just ramming the rest of his thick cock into you until he’s spearheading straight into your spongy g-spot, weighty balls - painful, and ready for breeding - smacking against your ass. Addicted. 

“O-oh, fuck–” you can’t stop your honeyed gasps. “You’re s-so big- so hard even after just this morning? What a naughty boy.” 

Just slamming you down onto the cool marble,“Fuck- fuck fuck y’know what I imagined when I hah- saw you in the kitchen?” Such throaty groans drag along with each and every plunge into your slobbering pussy, Choso was always so talkative when he was like this. Slurring out a mile a minute, “Saw my pretty wife, the pretty mother of my kids.”

And you knew what he was going to say, but that doesn’t stop you from milking him so tight, velvety walls contracting in a way that almost made it difficult to maintain his sloppy staccato. Back arching into such a slutty bow to drag even needier down his drilling length

But your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t done, kissing away hotly at the corner of your mouth. “N’ s’not jus’ the hngh- rut talking either. Fuuuuck-” All six feet of his muscled body pins you to the counter, and distinctly, you could feel him scramble desperately to buck up a knee to angle his hips even deeper. “Saw you makin’ breakfast before school, and I’m- hngh- and I’m getting the kids ready - a boy and a girl, both as gorgeous as you.”

“Y-yeah?” Is all you can breathe out, “What- hngh- what else?”

You didn’t expect his humorless chuckle - broken, and a few pitches higher than normal. “What else?” His eyes are absolutely crazed now, and he’s biting down on your pouty lower lip. “Oh what didn’t I see?” 

Bowing till you could feel every ripple of his abs against your back. Every slow tremor of his glossy head nudging past your defenses, hitting deep at the bottom of your g-spot. It takes a few more sloppy pumps for you to realize that Choso’s still speaking. 

“Saw the wedding- saw the first birth, the way I cried-” The way he was crying now, ragged, overstimulated tears dripping down his pretty cheeks. Panting out wetly, “-what a great momma you are, the best. The way I help you hngh- milk these p-pretty tits when it’s too much. But my most favorite of all-”

You don’t hear the rest - and he doesn’t tell you, because he’s too busy cumming. Cumming and cumming so much that Choso thinks he can’t stop, swollen base rummaging deep inside to plug up those thick ropes of hot seed inside. It was impossible that he hadn’t achieved his dream with this. 

It’s bloating you up, too much. Spilling out of those little gaps at the dips and ridges of his twitchy cock that your inner thighs cover in a clingy white sheen. 

Drawn on instinct, you can only scream when Choso’s sharp canines bite down on the sensitive spot at your neck. Hard enough to draw blood - and, if you two were in any better state of mind, you’d have noticed that he did draw blood. 

A thin saturation of heady red coating his devilish grin, delicate strings of spit still connect to the mating mark. “-my favorite was when we made another.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - DOUBLE STUFFED!

“One more.”

“Kuna-”

“One more.”

When all you’re getting is that leeringly dangerous grin - the very same one he gifts any weak curses just about to be killed at his feet - you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Either you take it - or he makes you. 

Gliding your palms across Sukuna’s bulging pecs, your trembly legs twitch atop his muscled thighs. Gingerly jutting along where your poor cunt was being split apart on his twin bulgingly hard cocks. Up and down up and down up and-

“S’too much-” you’re whining, feeling the gush of his sticky cum coat down your thighs. Oozing out of your bloated cunt with every syrupy sweet bounce of his ravaging cocks. “I- not enough space-”

Any you were about to stupidly babble out is cut off when Sukuna wraps five thick digits around your exposed neck, intentionally dipping his sharp nails to leave branding little divots right about your racing pulse. A warning. A punishment. “Did I tell ya to keep runnin’ that hah- mouth, brat?” he spits, waiting for you to shake your head deliriously “no” before grinning. “Then why am I hearing so much t-talking n’ not enough of this slutty lil’ cunt of yours taking one more? You hear that?” 

All that was ringing in your ears was the honeyed echoes of squelches from below, smacking and slapping in sync with your pathetic movement. 

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s snapping you out of your thoughts, one hand resting at the glistening plush of your hips, the other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you just slobber down his angry, red shafts. Glossing over him all the way from those fat tips to the creamy ring around his base. “Wastin’ too much of my hngh- cum with yer talkin’, brat. How are ya gonna have time to carry my seed?”

And he’s so large - so strong. Not even breaking a sweat when he’s getting up from his decadent throne with you boneless in his arms, still stuffing your cunt full with all greedy inches of both cocks. 

“O-oh, fuck, Kuna!” you’re squealing when gravity pulls you down until you could feel the scratch of his pink happy trail against the sensitively grazed areas of your skin. The dizzying push of two matchingly massive girths stretching your gummy walls to its limits. Your nails draw jagged red line down his tan skin, trying to keep just an ounce of your sanity together, “Fuck you’re in so hngh- deep.”

“Easy on the back there.” Sukuna’s rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the way you’re so fucked-out and easily sliding down his cock like some pretty sex toy. Whimpering about some baby names.

Not like it mattered, anyway. He’d name the little devilspawn whatever you wanted - after fighting about it for the fun of it. Heh, he always has been soft on you, huh?

All it takes is one hand holding you up, another to toy with the sensitive nub of your clit. Rolling and teasing you even deeper into his arms while another still rests firmly around your throat. 

The remaining hand? At Sukuna’s favorite place cupping your teary cheek, gliding away those big fat tears with the cure of his soft thumb, “Shh shhh, you can take it. You’re my pretty lil’ queen, right?”

Even his mind a hot melted mess on your dripping cunt. Just fucking into you ruthlessly, up, up, up till he was bulging at the very back of your cunt. One fat tip firmly kissing your g-spot, the other gliding in a silky smooth cadence against your poor cervix.

Matching veins rubbing matching sensitive spots, rendering you so awfully dumb on his cocks. Mixing with the hypnotic splattering of his seed against the velvet of your walls, it’s impossible to not feel like you’re about to fucking burst. 

Intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones on your face, you’re dragging them to rest at that palpable little nudge along the middle of your stomach. Pressing down to make him feel where he was buried deep, hiccuping lewdly, “You’re right here, Kuna. S’gonna be- hngh! impossible to not give you an heir.”

An heir. 

And fuck he couldn’t take it anymore - if anything even fucking heard about this, they’d faint. 

Because with a shuddering gasp, the king of curses was just dragging your weight down his cocks - over and over - to gloss your insides with each new coat of the thick, syrupy cum weeping out of his angry heads. So overfilled, but still greedily swallowing everything Sukuna gives. 

“Fuck-.” With an angrily strained growl, Sukuna only speeds up his motions on your clit. Methodical. Urgent, even. Still fucking him seed deeper to smash his quivering tips at your g-spot. Both - two divots pressurizing you at the same time. “How dare you make me cum first, woman. Think you’re soo fucking funny, huh? Better give me hundreds of lil’ hellspawn to make up for it.”

“N-noo-” you croon, but that limp little curl of your lips at the abundance of seed seeping out of you gives you away. It was so unlike him - so startling to spy the blushing rouge at his ears, the way his fat balls smack and only squeeze harder when you milk every drop. So hot, and splattering right down both of your legs, forming a creamy puddle at his floor. “I didn’t-”

You don’t finish your sentence, you can’t. Because with all of his brute strength, Sukuna is just wrenching that orgasm from your grasp - fucking you over and over through your high. 

The puddle only grows wider. And there’s no warning before he spits, once. Twice. Right onto the middle of the overwhelmed taste-buds on your tongue, gently shutting your mouth with one hand. The other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you drool a glossy coat of cum down his front. Making a mess.

“S’inauspicious, y’know. Having the momma cum first-” He’s gruffing, sure you were still crashing into wave after wave of pleasure to even hear his whines. “-so why don’t you give me one more?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Meet the Gojos

“Toru- we’ll get caught.”

“Shut up- fuck- shut up.” Gojo’s face was ashen, grinning so dangerously at the sight of you completely and utterly bound into that obscene mating press he loved so much. Your pretty pussy at the perfect angle for him to hammer his achy cock so thoroughly into you. “S’not what this cute cunt is sayin’ though, sweetheart.”

Fuck, if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have smacked him maybe. But you knew right by the glowingly amused tinty in his blue eyes that he was waiting for that to happen - goading even. 

You’re whining hotly, fingernails digging sharply into the winding wooden desk rested cool beneath your skin. “The- the elders are about to have a- hngh! meeting in here soon and-”

Gojo’s lips curl  when your breath hitches, feeding you each and every one of his merciless inches over and over- “Well then it’s damn good that they’ve been bugging me for an heir, dontcha think~?” 

You’re letting your drooling maw fall slack in disbelief - only to create the perfect opening for your boyfriend to catch you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Spitting out little profanities with each harsh push of his fat gliding tip across the slippery slopes of your walls. “Heh, always so fuuuck- cute when you’re fucked dumb on my cock.” he’s chuckling, mouth looser than usual with the way the tight channel of your cunt is sucking out every one of his honest thoughts - his soul. “But ya needa get more firm, I’m gonna be the fun parent.”

It takes another harsh snap! of those toned hips bruising against your ass for you to jump back into your heady reality. 

“T-Toru…” you’re murmuring, but it comes out so much more breathless than you wanted. Catching on to that syrupy, fucked-out tone of yours, Gojo takes the opportunity to ram his swollen length even meaner into your slobbering cunt. Wringing out your narrow hole to mold around the exact shape of his massive dick. “We- ngh! We’ve got to set an example.”

You feel the fat girth of his shaft grow two sizes even bigger at your scolding. Bulging those two prominent veins down the middle to imprint onto your gummy walls. The roaming point of his glossed-over head pressing straight onto your g-spot, making you writhe underneath him. Bucking up for more more more-

A pale, splayed-out palm slams! down onto the creaky mahogany right beside your head, and when you’re batting your dazed gaze up you see-

Oh. 

Oh fuck - forget setting an example, you were about to be made one. 

Because Gojo’s blue irises were sparking with tiny rods of lightning, teeth bared in such an amusedly feral grin that it made your cunt ache. 

“Fuck-” even his voice sounded deeper - raspier, cracking ever-so-slightly with need near the end. “Fuck, you can’t talk shit to me about ‘setting examples’ when you get so fuckin’ wet just because I play a little rough.”

Playing a little rough was an understatement - and both of you knew it. Because if Gojo was simply toying with your sanity before, then he was well and fully intent on breaking it right now. Right along with your poor pussy with those bludgeoning, harsh thrusts you were being gifted with.

The expansion of his weighty cock has you squealing with each powerful slam, “Fuck- fuck you little-”

“Hunk? Absolute catch?” he grins, voice dropping to a low husky drawl. A slick little trail of drool dips down the corner of his mouth already with every cracking beg and plea, followed by a series of lingering grinds - not even thrusts, just slow, shallow swerves to feel you tighten wetly around his hot shaft. The lights flicker above, “Father of your kids?” 

That makes you wrack in a sinful shudder, words tumbling out before your syrupy sweet brain could compute them, “You’d make a- a good daddy, Toru.”

Crack! 

It’s happening in a split-second - a stuttering gasp catches in Gojo’s throat, those baby blue eyes going wide. Glowing. In the distance, your popping ears catch the sharp shattering of that prized vase in the corner of the room. 

But right now it felt like you were the one about to break - because ribbons and ribbons of Gojo’s hot, potent seed were knocking on the door to your womb. Splurging in thick dredges to stuff you full from the inside out. 

“Fuck- fuck, you evil evil woman.” Gojo breathes out, the only thing he could seem to do at this very moment. When the tethering clenches of his balls have tapered out, he’s pulling out to smack! the length of his throbbing, red shaft on your clit. Mouth hanging open at the way just buckets of his own cum gush out of your tight hole. “Shit- m’gonna breed this cute cunt. Gonna fill her up until you’re so round and swollen.” he’s babbling, gliding pale fingers across the sloshing cum now seeping onto the desk to shove it back inside. 

“Fuuuck- m’gonna breed her till she hah- doesn’t know what it’s like to not be stuffed full. Until you’re giving me a cute lil’ blue-eyed baby.” Crackling with jujutsu energy, he’s smack down on your puffy cunt - hard! “Until m’not the strongest. Not even second- or third or fourth or fifth-” kissing your pouty lips in addicted little pecks. “-no. S’gonna be my- our kids. All ours.”

“Ngh! Toru–” you’re whining, only taking another few messy swivels on your cunt before you cum. And you swear, the lights go out at this very moment - the only thing you can see being Gojo’s flickers of purple jujutsu and his gleamingly white grin.

He smacks another hand down on that wooden meeting desk - the now broken desk, standing wearily on only three legs - and the puddle of cum seeping below you. “Think we’ll be excused from the meeting? Because m’not done with you just yet, ma.”

A/N. Yuh I had two Kendrick references I apologize (I don’t).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sheila--e]

the way Sheila's described as both being covered in scars and also being a very self destructive person with little care for herself and a desire to die for a good cause (or a very long way of saying she's got suicidal tendencies yet masks it as a form of courage) makes me think she self harms. it wouldn't be out of this world tbh. coping mechanism adopted from her self hatred and a need of punishing herself for being a horrible person. she doesn't know where to put all of those chaotic feelings, and the only way she can redirect it is to herself. not out of character frankly.

[girlwtdragontattoo]

Yandere elf x reader - Bath time :)

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Please check out her blog ✨ Another BIG thanks for creating him!

This is a follow-up to my last fic: if you want to read that one, click here. I'm not sure if I'll do another one, a bit out of ideas lol.

Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, explicit

—————

The water stung your damaged knee. Silas was preparing something in a wooden pail, humming some tune, while you sunk deeper into the hot spring. The water brushed your chin, as you glared at the back of the stupid elf’s head, bobbing back and forth as he dunked colorful fluids from flasks into the bucket. His long, luscious hair was levitating on the water's clear surface, covering his butt.

You were so close to freedom. He told you he’s enchanted the area now, stopping you from leaving entirely. No idea how that worked, but he showed you by pushing you gently against an invisible barrier. Your cheek had squished against the unseen partition, like when a human tests their cat’s intelligence against walls in those videos. “To protect you”, he explained in his sing-song trill.

If you hadn’t been injured, you would’ve made it. Away from this maniac.

“Look what Mama made!”

Silas held the bucket under your nose, smiling serenely. The liquid was a mix of pinkish goop and specks of sparkles. Your eyes lingered on the strange soup, then turned up to meet his excited face.

“What the fuck is this”, you mumbled crossly.

“No swearing, darling!” He patted your head. He didn’t know what the word “fuck” meant, but he read that it is bad for children to use. “It’s my healing salt! Doesn’t it smell amazing?”

Silas kept holding it under your nose. It did smell good, damn it.

“It will heal your poor leg. Plus, it makes everything feel a bit tingly. Healthy for cleaning up down there.” He gestured to his crotch.

Fuck.

Without warning, he dunked the solution into the bath. The mixture oozed slowly into the clear spring. The effect of it was almost instantaneous. You felt the biting pain ebb from your limb and you sighed in relief. Elf magic was so fascinating. If only Silas wasn’t such a freaking psycho. You would love to learn more about it. And then go back home and sleep in a bed without tits in your face.

He was right about the prickly sensation. You felt a warmth pulsate down there, as you absentmindedly sunk deeper into the water. Your gaze blurred and you felt the comfort of the heat engulf you.

Silas pulled you to him and placed you in his lap. His towering upper body remained out of the pool, the breezy touch of his skin a great juxtaposition to the searing heat of the water. To be fully engulfed, he would have had to spread himself across the whole spring, leaving no room for you.

You felt him grow below you. The effects of the water seemed to work on his form as well. His cheeks blushed.

“Be good, darling.” He breathed into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s heal you completely.”

Your leg was fine. You didn’t need any more healing.

Silas’ lips brushed yours, his tongue slinking quickly and entangling in yours. The potion and his saliva were making you go crazy, your lap roaring with want. It was impossible to bottle up.

The potion made movement slow. You were attempting to push away with the last of your wits, but it came across as you gently pressing his chest together. He misunderstood and held your face up to his breasts.

“Drink up…”, he trebled, leading your mouth to his hard teat. It was hopeless.

Your wet lips traced around it and you felt the elf jitter under you with excitement. His hands were softly trailing down your back and took hold of your bottom, squeezing the soft tissue. The water delayed his movement, but you felt him lift you slightly, hovering dangerously above his throbbing shaft.

You could feel him against your entrance, nudging slightly. The heat consumed you, thrumming in the area, wanting. You released your lips from his chest, gazing dozily into his red face. If he was blushing more, you could not tell. He looked so enthralled; the big, dumb eyes full of devotion to you.

Silas crashed into your lips again, kissing desperately, lapping up every part of your mouth. The more saliva you exchanged, the more you felt yourself pulsate. The waves within you crashed, begging for relief. You tried to use your arms to push him off of you, but they felt so limp.

You hated this effect he had on you. You couldn’t stop yourself. This surge and needing the release - it drove you insane.

Floating above him in the spring, you felt him twitch there in unfair expectation. He was far too massive for you.

Silas wrapped one arm around your waist, pushing you closer into his body. Your breasts compressed against his and he moaned shakily at the sensation.

“Mama will heal you, dear…”, he huffed after releasing himself from your lips, with bits of drivel escaping his mouth. “I lov-“

You couldn’t take it anymore. You sat down on him, letting the beginning of him enter you with a strong jerk. He filled you up, with just so little of him inside. Your entire body shook from the flash.

Silas head knocked back; his eyes crossed as he let out the loudest yelp you had ever heard from him. He had never felt you like this before. He only dared milking himself in your sweet mouth, for fear of tearing you apart. But this… the feeling of your tight, velvety walls, the little he could feel of it was enough to make his world spin.

He instinctively grabbed your hips with a jolt and lifted you up and down on him. He wanted more of that sensation, more. More. More!

You were bouncing on top of him and felt every sinew explode with electricity. He bucked his hips slightly when you bobbed back down, but not too much in fear of breaking you, slowly deepening each thrust.

Although you could hear his pitiful “Ah! Ah! Ah!”s, your entire environment seemed to muffle. All you could feel was the inconsolable penetration. The way every jab made your groin burst into flames. The water splashed vigorously around you, as he guided your body into his. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. His head was still jerked back with his eyes in the back of his head, it seemed he was unable to do anything other than plunge halfway into you.

You couldn’t help but release low moans yourself, the note of your bellows making him tense up more. His large hands were clasping your ass, the flesh spilling out between his long fingers. You whimpered and let him consume you, every thrust splitting your walls further. The loud clapping of your bodies and the vigorous splashing, you were intoxicated. The sounds. The sensation. It was diabolical.  

You let out a string of deep moans, as you came, the wetness around his shaft increasing as you tightened your grip around him. Silas couldn’t hold it any longer, either, as he erupted within you, squealing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He spilled out of you. A puddle of white foam bubbled around you. Silas heaved loudly, blinking excessively and tilted his head back forward, staring dumbfoundedly at you.

He looked like you beat him up. Tears were escaping his rippling eyes, as a tiny sob hiccupped out of him.

Fucking baby.

“D-Do you feel better now? Have I healed you?”, he squeaked, pulling you into his arm cages again.

You rolled your eyes and nodded out of sheer vanquish. There was no point explaining to him that this wasn’t how you heal humans. There was no point explaining to him that mothers don't do this.

Silas kissed your head and swirled his hand in the water, making his semen drift away from you. “Oh…all the precious milk. Gone…”

He grabbed a sponge from behind him and started cleaning you feebly, his hands still shaking from the massive release. You saw a tear fall from his cheek. Without thinking, you brushed another one off his cheek.

He gaped at you after the gesture, pausing his scrubbing.

“O-oh darling. You really love me, don’t you? That’s why it felt so good…”, he smiled widely, more tears splashing out of his googly eyes.

You didn’t answer. You didn't know why you just did that.

Silas hugged you so tightly, you let out a wheeze.

“I love you too, my sweet!!” he squeaked and squished you more. “It’s getting late. We still need to have dinner! And you need a proper portion of milk!”

You closed your eyes, sighing.

Another milking session...

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.