#and yet. i cannot stop smelling my wrist.

[letterful]

^ this perfume simply has no right being as good (& addictively, mouthwateringly tart) as it is.

[gamblersdoll]

“options.”

sum. he likes to play games with you, acting like he big dog, but you can play with him too. trueform! sukuna, fighting to smut, fluff at the end, spitting, deep mating press, (somewhat.)

“whats with the face, woman?” the ancient monster only asks because you aren’t entertaining him, you aren’t throwing tantrums about him not giving you attention. “youre quiet.”

“im not going to feed into your bullshit today.” you snark back, your arms limp and fingers padding away at your phone and he quirks an eyebrow up. “im not fucking stupid, ryomen.”

ryomen?

he nodded his head slow, chuckling to lean back and rub his chin. “do you know who yer’ talkin’ to?” he asks, you must have forgotten, had to be. the fuck was your problem? youve always been an obedient pet, sometimes having your days where he can somewhat understand and help you calm your nerves. was it that time again? no, he wouldve smelled it, if not— he wouldve tasted it. “talk.”

“you keep playing with me, always saying how im your favorite mortal,’ yet, you sneak off to other women when youre done with me.” you bring up, but it didnt hurt when you said that. thats what this was about? his harem?

“because i can.” he leans up and closer to you. “because i can do what the fuck i want to, thats what happens when youre a demon— let alone, king.” he reminds, you tend to forget your place when it came to him.

“you do that, then.” you chuckle, you were sick and fucking tired. “but when i find a man who i dont have to worry about ditchin’ me for other women, dont be angry.”

“thats okay, because you wont see another man.” hes starting to get pissed, because youre over-fucking-stepping. how dare you think you can seek out other men? when you had a demon who can give way more than what a mortal man cannot.

why was he even angry about that thought?

“so its okay for you to lie in my face and say im your favorite, but you seek other women? make it make the fuck sense.” because he wasnt making sense. you couldnt put that together, youre his favorite but he ended the night with other people to get him off. was your offerance not enough?

“lie?”he scoffs, grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you close. “no one has deceived you.” he makes his tone deep, eyes staring into yours snd he has a snarl to his lip.

“prove it, you goddamn liar.” you spit in his face, watching his blink slow and hard as he takes a deep breath in. “do something, i fucking dare you.” you growl, watching your fluids drip down his cheek.

he had to be more pissed at the fact you called him a liar than the actual truth, the truth of the matter being he does sleep around, (and excuses it by saying hes the king, so he can) and he hated that you labeled him as such.

his legs slammed against the back of yours, yeah he was furious— his second row of arms holding your hips down and one hand holding your wrists down together. “got really smart with your mouth, brat. thats not good.” he clicks his tongue, his only free hand smacking your cheek. “youve lost your goddamn mind, woman— did you think id let you get away with calling me a deceiver?”

“fuck you.” you moan out, this was pathetic. but who could blame you? imagine having a giant ancient demon drill his cock into you, while you feel the other one growing harder, and having him focus on you.

“think im a liar, mm?” he asks, his face getting closer to yours and he shakes his head in disbelief. “you want me to stop having others serve me the way you do? mm?” he asks so sweet, it shouldn’t be allowed for him to sound this way.. not with him being a dick and drilling his first dick inside. “cmon, little one— answer. say what you want.” you muster up the strength to speak, only for him to knock it down and him to pitifully laugh down to you. “oh, poor baby.. can you not speak? is it too much?” he asks, slowing his hips and slowly pulling away.

“no, its not—“ you try to say, but he spits in your face, and you knew that he was trying to prove a point.

“see how that feels, nasty thing?” he asks, taking his thumb and smearing it against your face. “say what you want, woman.”

“want you to stick with me only—“ you finally get it out, cut off with a moan only for him to coo at you. your hands pat at his chest, or so you thought.. since his belly mouth opens and licks at your palm.

“that what you want, pet? for me to only have you serve me the way you do?” he asked, watching your head nod and he smirks. “and what makes you think you get that privilege?” he wasn’t fucking serious, whats with all these fucking questions?

“because—“ you moan after, how the fuck long was this going to go, man? “because i can take all of you, thats why.” you let him know that, and now hes intrigued.

he laughs a little, licking his canines and grinding his tip deeper. “thats all you had to say, pretty one.” he blurts, his hold on your wrists become different, his hand holding yours. “takin’ it so good, think you can handle another?” you nod, him slowing just a little and pressing the second cock’s tip up to your slit. “you wanna try again?” he makes sure you know what youre saying..

because no mortal woman have ever taken him before..

until he learns the hard, satisfying truth about how you can stretch really well when you’re attracted to someone. the second cock slips in, your teeth grit and a slight stretch can be sometimes uncomfortable. his eyes blow wide, his mouth opening slightly in a gaze. “oh?” he says in a marveled voice. “fuck, hell yeah!” he laughs in a boisterous voice, spitting on your folds for lubrication and thrusting his cocks inside your cunt. “my absolute favorite mortal, for sure. ill eat my own words.” you nod, looking up to the ancient monster that fucks itself into your walls and feel it in your throat. your eyes roll back, him lightly smacking your cheek and forcing you to look up to him. “take all of it, take all of this king cocks.”

—

“you dyin’ on me?” he asks, him leaning back on the bed as you pull your panties up. “no, no, stay the way you are.”

“not dyin’.” you say monotone, pulling them off and feeling his eyes.

“youre still doubting my loyalty to you, are you?” he asks gruff. he scoffs, beckoning his fingers to you. “come.” come you did, literally and sexually only five minutes ago. “why do you doubt?”

“you never said youd stop, but.. should i have a reason to believe you?” you asked, looking up to him and he feels a pang.

why did they way you look at him hurt?

“i did. you just are too naive to see.” he pulls you until him, hearing your yelp and holding you close.

“you didnt though, you never said ‘ill stop whoring myself around,’ or however you want to say it.” you suggest that he calls himself a whore? him? no, he wouldn’t suffice to that.

“the moment you were able to get two of my cocks inside of you, i decided that.” he pointed out what he thought was obvious, but that only occurs in his mind. “and… i suppose when you spat in my face and i didnt decide to eat you.” he sighs, the side of his face staring down at you. “so be proud of that, youre my favorite.”

the feeling of hurt and betrayal leave you, knowing one thing was for sure.

you were his favorite, and he was yours.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 5

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He’s still there when you return to your desk. Just like the ring on your finger, Loki is immoveable. Your knuckle hurts from trying to yank it off.

You sit at your desk and try to ignore him as he stares from one of the acrylic chairs across from you. They’re rarely used, more so for the illusion of accommodation than anything. 

His gaze casts a blazing heat over you. Your focus is fractured by his unyielding observation. He hums, a taunting tune, as you type and pretend to be alright. You’re not. You’re far from it. 

That sinking doom is muddled in a sludge of disbelief. You just can’t accept this is real and yet hat pit in your chest assures you otherwise. How did he do this? Thor always says his brother is a trickster and you know well of Loki’s unsavoury past, as most New Yorkers would, and yet, this is nothing you could ever predict. 

“What is it you mortals call it?” He speaks at last, jarring you from your troubled trance. ��A honeymoon? Would you like to go away, darling? I know this place on the other side of the moon. Your moon, that is... it’s not too derelict and the sky is rather romantic--” 

“Stop,” you splay your fingers over the keyboard. “I’m working.” 

“Mm, yes, you’ve some time to go...” he checks the watch on his wrist. “What are we at? Less than two hours. I must admit, I am counting the minutes.” 

You stand and take a deep breath, “I need a tea.” 

You twist on your heel and march away. You doubt caffeine is going to help your nerves. It’s more that the flavour is familiar enough to offer some shred of comfort.  

As you enter the breakroom, he’s already there. You hate that. How does he do that? You glance over your shoulder then turn back to the room. 

“What is it you prefer?” He peruses the selection of pods. “Mm, pumpkin spice?” He takes a pod and sniffs it, “smells less than appetizing.” 

“I can do it myself,” you approach him and reach for the box of oolong pods. He catches your hand and runs his thumb decisively over the large emerald. You wince as he keeps hold of you. 

“Darling, I am your husband. Allow me to show you the advantage of this union--” 

“I know why you did it. You get to stay. I never wanted you gone, I only delivered the message. You don’t have to do this. If you want to stay, I’ll lie but this is... it isn’t necessary.” You tug but cannot free yourself of his snare. 

“While that may suffice, I don’t have much faith in your skills of deception. I have considered all facets of this plan and we must prove this union to be genuine, thus we may as well commit--” 

“Loki,” you hiss and his brow arches. “Prince, whatever, this is strange. In your research did you not figure out that ‘mortals’ as you call us get to know each other first?” 

“Not always. Not for the majority of your history. There are some rather entertaining scenes along the way. Some I had the pleasure of witnessing myself,” he snickers. “An arranged marriage is not unheard of, even presently in some regions. I could not wait to charm you but I can more than make up for that.” 

“Charm me? You couldn’t even ask me? Talk to me?” 

“We are speaking now. We are working through our first marital hurdle. Together,” his grin assures you that he is being less than authentic. This is a game to him. “Allow me to prepare your tea, wife. You are hard at work.” 

You scrunch up your nose in frustration and he lets you go as you pull away, “why me??” 

His lashes flick up and down as his lips curve deeper, “when you say my name, I imagine you moaning it, and it doesn’t sound so bad.” 

You gurgle. Your stomach knots and tugs. Something inside you plucks. You step back and hug yourself, as if hiding from him. 

“Uh, I...” you look away and shake your head. “You’re right. I’m working so I would appreciate the tea. Thank you. Just milk, if you don’t mind. Please. Er.” You wobble around on your heels. The slither of his voice sticks in your ears and you smell smoke. What is happening? 

You go back to your desk and sit heavily. You stare at the screen as it hazes to a medley of colours. The font obscures in your distant vision and fold your hands on the edge of your desk. 

This is very strange. This is hard to swallow. It’s not what you had planned for today. Or really ever. Not just marrying Loki but anyone. You’re perfectly happy alone. You’ve built a small life for yourself. It’s not that bad. You like the routine and the simplicity and now he’s gone and messed it all up. 

“Darling,” he purrs as he appears with your tea, jarring you from your gloom.  

You sit back and bite down on your tongue. He sets the cup on your coaster, coming close enough that you roll back in your chair. As he stands straight, you rest your elbows on the armrests. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice now. You’ve already messed it all up.” 

He laughs again. You hate that. He thinks everything is so funny. This is your life. 

“Messed what up, exactly? I know a Midgardian’s life cycle, I’ve lived through many and so by my estimate, you are overdue for marriage--” 

“That isn’t-- oh my god,” you drag your hands down your face. You drop them into your lap and look at him. “When I told you, you were angry. You looked at me like you hated me. So, how do you think this is going to work?” 

“Hate is powerful but there are things that can overwhelm it,” he shrugs. “I do enjoy the way your legs look when you walk in those shoes and your skirt compliments you well. Now, I know you do not hate me, I can read others rather well. You are intimidated yes, but fear can also make one...how should I put this, sexually aroused?” 

“Oh god. Please,” you wheel back to your desk and shield one side of your face with your hand. “That’s not—Like I said, we can pretend.” 

“This marriage is very much real, darling,” he intones. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“Yes, it is--” 

“Lokiiiiii,” you growl and pop your head up to snarl at him. 

He smirks and tilts his head, “ooh, say it again.” 

“Stop, please.” 

He chortles and his eyes flare. You don’t like the way they glint, “darling, your dear husband brewed you a tea, please, do not let it grow cold.” 

You sigh and look down at the cup. You raise it and blow the steam away. You sip. It’s rather nice, richer than you would expect. In fact, it’s so good you can’t stop drinking. You’ve had that oolong a dozen times over and you’ve told Tony to get a different brand as it is far from your favourite, but today, it is like honey. 

You wipe your lips at the dribble left behind and set down the cup. Loki resumes his seat by the wall, “hmm, just over an hour to go, darling.” 

[ivystoryweaver]

Hello amazing writer-person.

May I request the following…

"i cannot stand you, and yet i also cannot stand to be away from you."

… with our moody baby Marc Spector 🌙

(Congrats on the 500, you rock) 🎉

TY & ILY! 💜 (not me finally finishing my oldest request)

Luminous white orbs fixed on you as he cinched you close to his side. "It's a full moon. Try not to scream...at least not until I get your pants off."

☾ ��*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Content: f!reader, action, violence, smut, Marc is a cheeky bastard because let him have fun sometimes

Word Count: 1.5k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Give me your hand." Moon Knight's white, bandaged arm reached for yours, but your stubbornness alone stopped you as you wrenched yourself free of his grasp.

"I don't need you to hold my hand," you told him, peering over the building's edge to the street below, several stories down. "I'm gonna jump."

"The hell you are," he protested, yanking on your arm. "Hold on to me. I'll get you down."

Although he wasn't tall for a superhero, he was strong enough to make a point.

"You can't even fly. How are you supposedly going to 'get me down'?"

Luminous white orbs fixed on you as he cinched you close to his side. "It's a full moon. Try not to scream...at least not until I get your pants off."

You couldn't see his face but you were certain he was smirking.

He leapt over the side of the building, dragging you with him. Despite how much you wanted to resist his help, you couldn't fly, and you didn't want to die, so you held on tightly, tucking yourself into him - arms wound around him trustingly and your face pressed into the gauzey fabric covering his throat.

He smelled like ancient secrets and sun drenched sands. Warm and woody, enticing your eyes closed as you entrusted your life to his embrace.

The wind in his cape, the power of the full moon and his years of experience helped him slow your shared descent through the night sky. Hitting the pavement with an inconsequential thud, you barely had time to get your footing before he grabbed your hand again. "Let's go."

"I think I can take it from here, Lunar Legionnaire." You mockingly tossed out one of his recent media nicknames, wrenching your hand away from his, but following his lead to an abandoned warehouse.

"In here," he directed. "Those things are still following us. They have our scent."

"Then we better not stay here," you reasoned. "Unless the great Fist of Khonshu needs to catch his breath?"

"Hilarious." White eyes narrowed into judgmental slits. "You're the one panting, sweetheart." He moved in closer. "Or were you that excited to be close to me?"

Before you could smart off, you heard a metallic rattle and then a growl. Jackals. Supernatural, invisible jackals.

But he could see them.

"Get behind me," he ordered.

Which of course you did not, shouldering right past him. "Thanks for the ride down, but I work alone."

He groaned, squeezing his wrapped hands into fists. After bouncing on his toes for a moment, he reluctantly followed. "Got your six."

His gaze fell to the sway of your leather clad hips, down over your curves.

"That's an interesting way of letting me know you're staring at my ass."

"That's an interesting way of pretending we haven't worked four missions together."

"Look who's counting," you teased.

"Counting on this being the last one, maybe. You have a death wish or something. I'm always saving your - "

Moon Knight didn't even finish his sentence before you whirled around and leapt in his direction, firing your wrist rockets into the jackal right behind him. He ducked just in time.

And that sound drew the rest of them.

"Nice work," he groaned, racing past you, breaking into a sprint as he called back over the swish of his cape, "It's gonna be a long night."

“Hey, you’re the one following me.”

The two of you spent the next annoying half hour eliminating invisible foes, working in tandem, despite you both maintaining your loner status, at least mentally.

You finally ducked into an alley, grateful for a breather.

"Are there any more of them?" You gasped, gripping your knees as you doubled over, winded from your exertion.

"Not that I see," Moon Knight answered, giving you a once over. He didn't get as tired as you, but then again, you didn't have superpowers. It felt kind of endearing to see you not perfectly put together.

"You know, you look good like this," he commented, moving into your personal space. "Sweating. Panting. I feel like I've seen it somewhere."

He tapped his gloved finger on his masked chin, pretending to think. "Was it the last time I saved your ass?"

As badly as you wanted to retort, you were still a bit out of breath.

"Oh I remember," he went on, yanking a crescent dagger from the center of his chest. He backed you up against the wall, pinning you in place with his hips. "It was the last time you were underneath me...in Dubai."

"Bullshit. I was on top," you panted, eyes fixed on his weapon, feeling wetness pool between your legs as he pressed his obvious erection against your core. "What's that for?"

He traced the pointed dagger's edge over your bottom lip before flicking his wrist, expertly cutting through the thick fabric of your mask. Before he could pull it free and reveal your face, you struggled against him as your hand darted up to keep your mask in place.

"What the hell?" You snapped, even though you physically responded eagerly to the friction between your bodies. "No faces. That was your rule."

"Don't you ever break the rules?" He challenged, stashing his dagger and gripping your hips. Thrusting against you with a seductive pulse, he dragged you back and forth over his straining length.

"Show me yours first," you ordered, still holding your mask in place with one hand. Strangely enough, this man had been inside you twice, but you had yet to lay eyes on who he really was.

Without hesitation, he complied. His gauzey mask disappeared, revealing a man far more handsome than you expected. Dark, soulful eyes peered into yours, such a beautiful contrast to the haunting white glow.

You stared as his gaze flickered down to your parted lips.

"That bad, huh?" He half joked, quickly summoning the supernatural fabric to cover his angular features once more.

You swallowed thickly, the thought of sinking your fingers into his dark curls convincing you to slowly lower your mask, pulling it free from your face and hair.

Tilting his head, as if studying you, Moon Knight shook his head playfully. "The magic is gone."

You slugged him on the arm as he chuckled, amused with himself.

"I can't stand you."

His mask disappeared again, instantly. "I can't stand to be away from you."

His lips crashed into yours with unrestrained fervor, the force of it taking what little breath you'd regained.

You sighed into his mouth as his tongue slid over yours. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you twisted your way through his curls, which were every bit as gorgeous and soft as you expected.

"Can you make a useful part of this damn suit disappear?" You huffed, tearing your mouth from his.

Yanking at the leather of your pants, he worked you free, hoisting your thick thighs around his waist. Then, as you were anticipating, just enough of his suit vanished so that he could push his heavy, pulsing length up inside you.

"Been waiting for this all night."

“That’s an interesting way of saying you’re obsessed with me.” Despite your biting commentary, you sank against him in relief, your head thumping against the brick wall behind you, its rough surface scraping against the curve of your ass. But you didn't care. He was your drug and you were getting your fix.

"Look at me," he lowly commanded, gripping the nape of your neck and staring possessively into your eyes. Heavy, deep thrusts sent your body bucking against his. "Like that?"

"Yes, right there. Feels good."

"Thought you worked alone, sweetheart." His lips curled as your eyes flashed with defiance. "You think you can get yourself off like this?"

You shuddered, your velvet walls fluttering, clenching at the sound of his infuriating voice.

"Nah...I think we work better together.”

"Just...shut up. Keep doing that. Faster."

He went slower. But deeper, hitting something devastating within you.

"Saving your ass from jackals is worth the look on your face when you come for me."

And as if his voice alone could control your body, you came undone, your body betraying your stubborn mind, agreeing with him. And, as predicted, you might have screamed a little.

The glint in his eye didn't last long as you shuddered around him, gripping him so deliciously that he actually moaned. It sounded so good coming out of his plush lips. His clenched, corded neck tensed and bobbed as sweat dripped from a singular curl.

The sight of him losing control because of you was worth a bout with jackals and all the danger that came with it.

His hips stuttered as he tried to pull out of you, but you clamped your thighs around him and held him captive. "Stay right here."

The longer you gazed at him, the more you wanted to never see that stupid white mummy mask cover his face, ever again.

Hot breath fell on your ear as he took a minute to come back to himself.

Easing back, he touched his forehead to yours - a gentle contrast to the scandalous public encounter you'd shared.

"I'm Marc."

You felt lighter somehow, sharing a laugh with him before he kissed you deeply.

"Nice to meet you."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. edging ♡

warnings: fem bodied reader, they/them pronouns used, petnames (angel, baby), titty play, somno, edging but otherwise tame

a/n: it's my birthday!!!!!!!! so naturally i am giving yall a gift ♡ this is a general fic & not abt any idol in particular!

His hands roam your body over your clothes. The rough pads of his fingers brushing against your inner thighs, your stomach, the column of your throat. You stir quietly, nose scrunched as those hands wander beneath your underwear, brushing against the pulsating heat of your sex. He presses against it, watching in amusement as you grind against his hand.

“Does my little angel want me that badly?” He knows you cannot reply, only chuckling to himself as you let out a whine. He removes his hand, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth to lick, “Oh, baby, you smell heavenly.”

You can hear the wet sounds of him sucking his fingers, pressing them—still covered in drool—against your cheek. The cold makes you flinch, betraying your little ruse.

“My little angel’s conscious, aren’t they?” He muses, touching you over your clothes once more. He pushes down your top, exposing your chest to his hungry eyes. His fingers pinch your nipple, flicking the other one, his mouth latching onto your breast. His teeth scrape, tongue pressing against your salty skin. He sucks a mark there.

Oh, my gods, you think. Your thighs are spread, a sudden hardness poking at your entrance. You feel hands tugging at your underwear, and then you hear them rip. “Sorry, baby, I can barely wait another moment to have you.”

A hand smacks your sex, pulling yet another pitiful whine from you. Your eyes finally open, gazing up blearily at the man above you. His lips split in a grin, your eyes darting down to his hands that hold the length of his thick cock between your spread thighs. Your lips part, closing quickly before parting again. Your tongue darts out to wet them.

“Pretty little mouth you have there.” He smacks his length against your stomach, drawing your eyes back to it. Your pupils are blown wide, completely fixated on him, “Maybe I should use it next time.”

He slowly slides himself back and forth, collecting your arousal before pushing the tip into your eager hole. Only the tip, before he’s pulling out. A whine comes from you, blinking up at him wantonly as he slips just the tip in again. And again, it’s taken from you. Just the tip, again. And again. And again. And again.

You sob from frustration, moving to grab him and guide him home before his large hand stops you. Your eyes are filled with tears as you utter the one word you think he wants to hear, “Please!”

Instead of finally shoving himself into your waiting heat, he pulls away entirely, pinning both wrists above your head. “Patience, baby.”

His other hand plays with your chest while your body cools down, a sticky mess between your thighs aching as you find yourself completely desperate for him.

He forces you to stay like that for a while, mouthing at your chest while your breathing goes from labored to calm. You start dozing, his warm mouth latching onto your neck and placing wet kisses. It feels so good, but does nothing to quell the ache. A soft sigh escapes your lips, and he props himself up again.

“Let’s try this again, baby.” He sinks the tip of his dick in easily, your walls parting to take him eagerly. Once the tip pops in, he’s taking it back out. “You will learn patience. The sooner you do, the quicker I fuck you.”

In, out, in, out, in.

He slowly sinks into you, the stretch delicious from being tormented for so long. You immediately try to buck your hips into his, only for his hand on your throat stopping you. “Patience. I want to see how long it takes before my pretty angel falls apart from nothing but my dick inside them.”

taesan, jay, heeseung, ricky, theo, keeho, eunseok, wonbin, san, seonghwa

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡

[just-some-random-blogger]

I want Otto to spit in my mouth then call me a good girl as he proceeds to wrap his hand around my throat as he ruins me until I’m a bimbo cumdump and tells me that I’m his breedable little slut 😇 daddy kink is most included

A fic like this would be so amazing if you have any spare time 😭 daddy kink is up to you if you’re comfortable

My Lord

You adore getting in trouble, knowing what awaits you. But you fear you may have gone too far for roping in his son, Gwayne.

Otto Hightower x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, sorry gwayne girlies he's only mentioned, age gap, you saw the ask this is just filth, smut (drunk sex, piv, degradation, choking, creampie), typos, etc.

A/N: anon be honest did you read my tywin fic and say 'yah, now do otto' cos HAHAHAHH

I feel like the room is closing in on me, and the ceiling was about to come into my face. There was no balance in my body, and yet somehow I was still upright.

"You stupid little girl."

I feel a pull on my arm, and the next thing I know I'm felled on the bed. I moan, happy to be on a soft surface. A few moments pass and I feel the bed dip in front of me. A hand comes to my nape and shoulder. Soon, I am sitting upright.

I smile when I see the beard and worry lines before me, "my loooove."

Otto pulls his face away when I reach for it. He pushes them down and brings a cup to my lips, "drink."

I do so ardently. I finish the whole cup of water. I gaze dotingly upon him when he pulls the cup away and wipes the corner of my lips. He sets the cup on the bedside table and I slide onto his lap. I press my face into his neck, "you smell good."

He recoils, trying to push me off, "and you smell like cheap mead."

It is a halfhearted attempt, which is why I manage to rake my fingers up his shoulders and tug at his collar. I pepper kisses on his neck, "smell so good."

Otto cannot keep his hands to himself; he brings his hands to my hips. He sighs, looking at me. He pulls his face back enough that I have to stop my ministrations. I whine in return. His brows tighten, "if you wanted me why waste my coin indulging debauchery with my son?"

I lick my lips and shift on his lap. I pull my skirt up and press my groin against his. He groans as I scratch my nails on his cheeks before cupping them, "I want to give you a son."

His expression immediately shifts. He stiffens, in more ways than one.

I roll my hips, "or 10."

With a heavy huff, I am pushed on my back and his legs knock mine open. I release a deep sigh as I pull my legs to my chest and reach into his coat, "Otto."

His response is pushing my skirt up and pulling my smallclothes down. My stomach drops when he presses his hot hands into the back of my thighs. His eyes are down turned, eyeing the glistening heat of my core. I look down at him but throw my head back when he rubs circles into my folds.

He moans at the sound, "you are a desperate harlot, aren't you?"

Before I can retort, he pushes his fingers into my mouth. I grab his wrist in surprise but suck them nonetheless. A line forms between his brows as I swirl my tongue around his digits. I nod to his question and he pulls his fingers away.

I prop myself on my elbows and watch as he frees himself from his breeches. He takes his half-hard cock and presses it against me, thrusting against my slick until it is coated and he's fully erect.

I try to grab him to guide him in, but he takes my hands and forces them by the side of my head. He looks down at me as he grinds, "you forget yourself. I should punish you for it."

I whimper and shake my head, "no, please. I'm a good girl."

"You are a stupid, fucking whore who does not listen to her lord liege," he stops grinding to grab my throat and the back of my knee. He pushes my head back and leans into my ear, "perhaps I should finish in your mouth, make you the true whore you are."

I feel my core flutter at the idea. I knew he would not let me peak though, and I so badly wanted to.

He begins to roll his hips, "mmm, I'm sure such a depraved act excites you."

"Please," I mumble.

"Please what, foolish thing?"

"Want you to fill me."

He takes a moment then sighs. I moan when he enters me and plays with my clit. His hand comes up to muffle my mouth and I happily whine into it. He pushes my thigh down again when he starts slowly bucking into me, "does my filthy come slut want me to breed an heir into her?"

I whine and grab his coat, knuckles turning white as I pull him into me.

He begins to thrust faster, "maybe then you'll stay away from my heir now that you have something better to do."

The flicking of his hips grows more intense with every stroke. The friction of his movements stimulates my sensitive nub, making me arch my back and groan.

He frees my mouth of his hand, only to bring it back down to my throat. He pushes himself up a bit and maneuvers more roughly, "I'll fuck you every night, watch my seed spill from your cunt-"

I cry out his name.

"-and once your belly swells, you'll remember the debauchery that made it so."

All the sounds that remained were that of fucking and my whining. Soon, the heat in my stomach burned hotter and hotter and I was dying for release. Otto rubs the sides of my neck and pants, "will you give me a babe like a dutiful come slut?"

I nod rapidly and whimper. His name falls desperately from my lips a couple times before I am overcome with my mind fogging peak. My body shakes in satisfaction and my body melts in hot passion. Soon, Otto grunts and releases into me. He makes sure to chase every bit of pleasure before slowly coming to a halt. He sighs and looks down at me.

He rubs my thighs a few times before pulling out. He watches me quiver as his seed seeps out of me, molten and thick. Otto tilts his head, "clean yourself up, whore. When I return, you better be asleep."

[multific]

Push and Pull

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: A couple of months ago you were arranged to marry Aemond Targaryen. The Princess of the East they called you, somehow you fell in love at first sight with Aemond. But now, your insecurities come forward regarding the woman from his past.

Aemond was beyond confused.

Just that morning, you told him how you never wished to be his wife.

And now, there you stood, crying your heart out as you kept going on about Alys.

Aemond would be a liar if he said he didn't love Alys, he sure did. His relationship with her however had to end when his mother announced his marriage to the Princess of the East. 

Aemond broke off his interest with Alys the moment he was told he would marry someone.

He didn't wish to bring suffering to a woman. While he did love Alys, he knew his duty as a prince.

Then you arrived.

And what a lovely Princess you were. Much like him, you were reserved and he often found you with your nose in a book. 

Your beauty took his breath away.

You were much like him, yet so different.

Aemond learned that you were the fourth child in your family, meaning no one really took care of you.

All your siblings were boys.

But nothing broke Aemond's heart more than seeing you cry so much.

"I know you wouldn't even look my way if it wasn't for our marriage. I know I will be never her." you whispered the last part.

It made Aemond move.

He was now standing in front of you, he grabbed your hand as your other hand grabbed his wrist, afraid he would hurt you.

"I do not want you to be her. I want you to be you. Princess of the East. My Wife. As you are. I do not want you to suffer."

But it was clear, you didn't believe him.

And he was not blaming you for it.

Everyone often reminded you just how beautiful Alys is, how much Aemond loves her.

"I will not lie to you, I do have feelings for her, but I also have feelings for you. You are my wife, the woman I will live with for the rest of my life. I wish to have a great relationship with you. So we could try and be happy."

Aemond let go of your hand but you didn't let go of his. Holding his wrist, he felt you pulling him closer.

Your other hand came up to his shoulder and started to push him away.

Pulling him and pushing him at the same time. 

It was confusing. 

He was confused.

You could see it in his eyes.

"I want nothing more than for us to be happy. But I refuse to live in the shadows of another woman. Refuse to be a second choice because I know you would go running back to her the moment you would be allowed to. Your duty keeps you here, your mother keeps you here. If I cannot be the only one you love, I don't wish false promises of happiness from you." Aemond looked straight into your eyes, his free hand moved to remove his eyepatch.

He honestly thought you might get scared or disgusted but no, you didn't even blink as you looked into his eye and the sapphire which replaced his lost eye. 

"I want to have you as you are. You are my wife. You are my only love. I do not wish to have anyone else. She is the past, you are the present and future." he tried to take a step but your hand on his chest pushed him, while your other on his wrist pulled him.

It was clear to him, you were conflicted.

You wanted to be held by him but you were also scared of empty promises.

He understood, bringing your hand to his lips he kissed the back of it.

"I swear on my dragon's and my own life. I am not lying when I say these words to you, Y/N." suddenly your hand on his shoulder stopped pushing. Instead, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him close with both of your hands, arms moving around him, Aemond hugged you back.

You really hoped you didn't make a mistake by trusting him.

You really hoped he was not lying.

You weren't sure what you would do if you found out that he did.

But somehow, as his breath tickled your neck and he pulled you close, smelling your hair, you had a feeling he really wasn't lying. 

He will have you as you are, his perfect wife. And you will have him as he is, a great husband who promised you the sky and the stars as he pulled you in for a kiss.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[quecksilvereyes]

oh, sister, I am sorry. your eyes are sunken and your skin is bruised. your lips are chapped, your nailbeds bitten raw. your husband's hand on your waist is a ghost's touch held by the band on your left ring finger and I-

I am dead.

I got on the train, Su. Nevermind your tears, nevermind the plea you could not shape with words, nevermind your fingers on the pulse point of my wrist. "stay", you'd said, as you have always done, dictionary in hand and baby teeth yet lodged in your jaw. "don't go where i cannot."

I step through a wardrobe and you follow, damned be reason. I slay a wolf and you follow, I cling to the little ones and you follow, I am crowned and you follow, I am-

I go past a lamp post, and you follow, damned be dread. I go to a train station and you follow, trembling hands and tender heart. I go, and I go, and I go, and you follow. Sun of my skies. Light of my life.

I go. you stop.

are we too old for stories, now? ten-and-four and ten-and-three, budding bodies and steel bones, we are cast from our home. i hold the little ones until i drown in them. you grip your skirts until no iron can press the shape of your palms from them. and you have ever been, cruelly reasonable and logically callous.

say you, glass shard eyes and rouge-red lips: we are english. we are children. she thinks she has found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe.

say I, trembling hands and coiling guts: we are narnian. we are monarchs. if she's not mad and she's not lying, then logically she must be telling the truth.

my sister Susan, beautiful as folk tales are and twice as sharp, did you intend every invitation you took for me to twist the knife a godly animal once thrust into my guts? perhaps it was the way your eyes turned blue, or the sound of your laughter losing its bells. perhaps it was just my trembling fingers at the back of your legs, drawing stocking lines where no stockings had ever lain.

the line came out shaking, and you rubbed it off until your skin cried red. the hem of your dress still dripped wet when you left that day, turning on heels too narrow for you to walk in.

do you remember? it took you days to come home, and mother wailed for all of them. you crawled into my bed that night, as you did when we were parents to our little ones, those terrible months. your head on my shoulder, your breath in my ear, I held you until morning.

your mouth in my throat, eyes heavy with sleep, tongue heavy with champagne: we are here now. we must make the best of it. he cannot have all our lives, and all our joys. i wish you would laugh again.

doesn't little lucy, shrieking mouth and tumbling legs, laugh enough for us all?

lucy's manic. if she didn't laugh she'd cry.

i think sometimes, in the parts of my guts that are still a schoolboy, and are mean and cruel to match, that the alcohol makes you softer than the daylight ever could. i do not tell you.

i press my lips to your forehead. i wrap my arms around you. the year between us rings heavy, and when I get up in the morning, you do not follow.

I tried, Su. I did. I applied for university, I saw that girl with that smile. with those eyes. I let you take sections from the paper before I ever touched it, I held the little ones in my arms, and I made coffee in the morning. I sat all my exams.

I smiled when the little ones came back smelling of home.

Aslan's wounds, did I try. but-

I have ever been a thing made for stories. brave the way knights are, bloody knuckles and buckling pride. a horse between my calves, a sword in my hands.

I think, sometimes, that I was born for my sword, for the hollow ringing of my heart when I first held it. a part of me, even then, ten-and-three and soaked to the bone.

such bravery is not made for real world boys and real world taunts. there is a map, I think, from the summits of my knuckles to the jaws of every boy who ever looked at me and bared his teeth.

I am sovereign. I am the skies for your sun to burn in.

I am made wrong, for this england, and I cannot take this life you want. I belong, I think, into myths and legend, the star-studded shards of our home.

so I went on the train, Susan. so I died, and I named what you have chosen. so I banned you from their scorning mouths. so you grip your husband's hand, realest of us all, and you cry. you do not follow.

Forgive me.

[hatkuu]

wow no one has mentioned this yet????? ig i’ll be the FREAK to do it: vamp!kylar will absolutely eat the hell out of u when u have ur period 🧛 he can probably smell when it’s approaching too and gets so excited. esp bc he gets so fixated on when ur ovulating so when he knows ur period is coming he’s like a fruit fly and starts rubbing his hands together all giddy like

- 🎀

oh my gosh yes. yes. i was too embarrassed to write about it but. period sex with ANY kylar constantly floats around my brain. vampire kylar would be sucking on his fingers like he'd just ate a drumstick from kfc. finger licking good HAHSJSJAK

afab reader, period sex, period mentions, reader wears a skirt, general creepy kylar stuff., kylar's weird scent kink thing is in this too...

drabble continued utc!

I think the first time you're having a period with your freakish vampire boyfriend around - he's visibly on edge. Kylar's gnawing at the palm of his hand while sitting next to you in the cafeteria, sweating as his other hand grips on the sleeve of his hoodie. You note that he is looking at everything and everyone except you.

You'll reach out to touch him, placing a reassuring hand on Kylar's shoulder.

"Are you okay, Kylar?"

Kylar flinches back like you've just burned him - eyes bulging out of his head as his hands quickly shield his face from view.

"Y-Yes! I-I'm fine! J-Just—"

He peeks at you through his fingers, pupils dilated until only a sliver of green remains.

"—I-It's just really hot i-in here."

You throw him a weird look, rolling your eyes as you stand up from the cafeteria table. You absolutely cannot deal with this shit right now. Being hit with wave after wave of crippling cramps, the last thing you needed was your boyfriend being noticeably disgusted with you. You shuffle awkwardy, trying not to cause yourself more pain as you stand. Does Kylar hate you now? Is he scared of you? Fuck, you don't know if your irritability is stemming from the slick, sticky blood feeling between your thighs or your boyfriend - lost in his own little world - ignoring you when you need him most.

A strangled, panicked sound escapes Kylar as you stand. The hand covering his face reaches outward, snatching your wrist with a disturbing amount of strength. You try to slip out of his grip - upset that now he wants to touch you - but he does not relinquish his hold no matter how much you tug against it. He exhales shakily, his nails dig into you - they've gotten long - really long.

"Y-You can't go— You can't."

You try to pull away with more force, spluttering with confusion as Kylar refutes your struggle with ease. He can't possibly be jealous - you've spent almost the entirety of this week with him - he's staring at you with this horrible, anguished expression. It's the last thing you want to see today. Your bottom lip twitches beneath your teeth, tears pricking your eyes in frustration.

"Kylar! Stop being so weird— What is wrong with you today?"

Your scuffle turn heads. You can feel so many eyes on you, looking at you and Kylar, laughing as they see Kylar's hand is latched onto your wrist. Only then do you notice the gaunt, sickly shade of his face. Heavy, darkened bags rest under his eyes. His lips are chapped too, more than they usually are. Speckled bits of dried blood rest in between the grooves of each crack. Kylar twitches, sweat slicking his choppily-cut fringe to his forehead. He looks ill. He tugs you closer, talking in a low tone that makes your stomach churn.

"You're— You're on your period."

What. The. Fuck.

You don't remember telling him it was that time of the month? How does he know—

"W-What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"J-Just— c-come with me—"

He breathes in shakily, composing himself as his eyes trail up your form, lingering far too long on the juncture between your shoulder and neck. He stands to meet your height, breathing heavily as you flood his senses with a scent that is so undeniably you. Sweet, but not too sweet. It makes his body buzz with a sickeningly fuzzy feeling. His mouth fills with sailva as you hold his gaze, scrutinizing him with your cutely furrowed brows and a jutted-out bottom lip.

"I-I need to tell you something."

You can see the desperation in his expression. His other hand shakes at his side, aching to latch onto you and never let go. Festering like a fresh wound, Kylar's carnal urges get the better of him. His other hand grabs your shoulder, pushing you closer towards his chest.

He smells different. Like dust, dirt and nothing all at once. He doesn't smell like garlic and pepper. Normally, you're assaulted with the scent of the plants - but strangely - it's gone entirely. You look up at Kylar, brows still furrowed in confusion because this is your boyfriend but... something is inherently wrong about him.

Kylar tugs you out of the cafeteria.

You don't struggle.

-

"I-I need to taste you—"

"H-Huh?"

Kylar pushes you into the dilapidated storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him as he grapples you against the wall, panting against your mouth.

"I haven't— You smell so good, a-and I just need this," He cuts himself off, snapping his gaze toward you incredulously from his position against you. He visibly shudders, twitching as he falls forward onto his knees, grounding himself between your thighs. He eagerly tugs your school skirt down, panting as he is met with your panties. "I-I need this. N-Need to feed f-from you— no one else."

"W-What! Kylar! We are in school right now! It'll be too messy a-and it'll get all over you-"

You choose to ignore your boyfriend's weird phrasing of eating you out. 'Feeding' from you is new.

His forehead rests heavy against your swollen uterus - you don't know what he's doing - until Kylar leans closer to your clothed pussy and begins sniffing you. Sniffing you - and moaning like he should have gotten between your thighs the moment you sat next to him in the cafeteria. You squeak, latching your hands in his hair in a pathetic attempt to steer him away from your bloodied thighs. Your tightened grip doesn't deter Kylar. He groans loudly, unashamed as he tilts into your touch, panting puffs of hot wet air against your skin.

"Y-Yes! Oh, y-you have to let me— you smell so perfect, j-just—ah—just let me taste you,"

He's so close, so close to snapping and just biting into the soft skin of your thighs. His eyes dart between your face and your clothed heat. His jaw is clenched tight, gnawing at the skin on the inside of his cheeks. Strained to the last thread of his patience, Kylar lets out a hoarse, weak sound. His fingernails jab painfully into your thighs, carnal desperation evident in each action. Despite this, he looks up to you, teary eyed from the struggle of holding himself back.

"P-Please."

You nod, loosening your grip in Kylar's hair as he practically vibrates with excitement. He tugs down your panties, eyeing the pad that sits at the seat of them as his tongue slides over his bottom lip hungrily. You whine as his fingers nestle themselves against your overly sensitive folds. Slick with blood and wetness, Kylar's fingers prod at your folds, eagerly pressing against the spots that make your knees weaken against his hold.

Kylar's tongue inches out to lave at the smeared blood across your inner thigh, moaning at the taste. He latches onto you, lips forming a tight seal against blood-slick skin, mixing red with clear saliva as Kylar's teeth brush against you. Two particularly sharp teeth nick your inner thigh and you tug his head backward as his fingers continue softly rubbing at your clit. He presses an apologetic kiss to the wound, affectionately licking at the punctures, careful not to let any of the blood spill onto your white school shirt.

"I-I knew it'd be good—" He gasps, his mouth and wet tongue making quick work of your other blood-smeared thigh. "Y-You're so—ah—so, so, delicious, my love."

You blush, opening your eyes to look down at your boyfriend. Kylar's still twitching with excitement, tongue hanging out in anticipation as he nears your pussy. You whine weakly, pulling on his hair as dull throbbing cramps torment your lower abdomen. Kylar smiles at you, eyes much brighter - looking far less ill than before, too. He pulls his fingers away, admiring the sticky sheen of blood that coats them before quickly popping the digits into his mouth and moaning at the taste. He pushes you backward against the wall of the closet, spreading your thighs wide enough for his head to fit snugly between them.

He licks a stripe against the seam of your folds, eagerly lapping up the blend of arousal and blood. Your hands weave in his hair, pushing his nose against your clit as Kylar laves at your pussy, humming as your thighs trap him against your heat. Kylar groans, savouring the sweet, metallic taste of you against his tongue. He pushes closer, nestling his nose against your clit just close enough that with each press of his tongue against your entrance you cry out in pleasure, hands tightening in his dark hair. Kylar fucks you with his tongue until you're sobbing, wrapping an arm around each thigh to hold you firm against his mouth.

He moans as you grind against his tongue, chasing your release that hums deep within your core. Your grinding stutters as the coil burns hot within your stomach, tightening until it snaps.

You cry out as you cum, squirming as Kylar continues to hold you against his face. He groans, lapping up your arousal as it seeps onto his tongue. Your thighs clench against his head, quivering as Kylar slows his licking into gentle, loving laves against your pussy. He smiles as your hands fall from his hair. Kylar presses a loving kiss to your pussy, inching upward to press a kiss against your bloated abdomen as well. Even though he just gave you the most intense orgasm of your life, he's still so intimate with each of his actions, no matter how lewd or messy.

He pulls up your panties, your skirt, and readjusts the rest of your clothes before fixing his own.

Kylar stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then licking up the blood collected on it. He looks undeniably better than before; gone is the sickly tone of his skin, the heavy bags under his eyes, and now his eyes hold a twinkle that doesn't falter. He helps you up with ease, pulling you into his chest and nuzzling into your neck.

"Thank you," He whispers, smiling against your neck, pressing soft, affectionate kisses to the damp skin. You return his embrace even as your legs still tremble from the onslaught of pleasure Kylar gave you. You feel better now. Your boyfriend isn't disgusted at you. Quite far from it, actually. So you'll ignore that his teeth are sharper, that his skin is as cold as a cadaver's, that you swear his eyes were red at one point. He's your boyfriend. His strange, newfound affliction for blood doesn't mean anything. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, breathing in his new scent of dirt, dust and nothingness. He giggles at your newfound neediness, rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

"Let's do this again tonight, okay?"

[sweethartlullaby]

was it worth it?

word count: 684 genre/theme: angst, dating as a bet as always, imagine whoever you would like... sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

He sees her standing there, and his heart drops. The cash roll is slipping through his fingers but he cannot bring himself to tighten his hold. 

He opens his mouth to call her but she’s already out, and the bell ringing signals her exit. He takes a heavy step towards her but she’s already running and getting smaller in his vision. Before he can think, he’s already running after her down the street. 

He yells her name when she’s back in sight, but she doesn’t stop. The streets are emptier, and the pavement still smells wet from the rain earlier tonight. 

He shouts as he picks his speed up, determined to catch up to her. He has to explain, he has to get his side of the story out to her. He can’t let her leave with the thought that she is nothing to him. 

He keeps chasing her, and the smaller alleys make him nervous. But she won’t stop and he has to get to her. And it’s not just because he needs to explain himself, but he doesn’t think it’s safe for her to be alone here. He finally pushes himself to run to her, and he grabs her wrist before turning her to face him.

“Listen to me.” She won’t face him, but he sees her tear-streaked face and his heart breaks.

“You lied to me.” She murmurs, and he loosens his hold on her small wrist, but not letting her go.

“It’s not like that.”

“Then, what is it like? You didn’t date me for money?” She nudges her chin towards the cash in his other hand. Wordless, he almost loses his grip on her. But he remembers that this is about more than that. She is worth more than the amount he holds. She has to know.

“Why me? Why couldn’t you just break another girl’s heart and stay out of my life? Why approach me?” She sobs. 

He remembers the day he asked her out when it was just a bet at the time. He didn’t need the money, but he couldn’t forever be seen as the boy who can’t speak to a girl. So his eyes searched the room until they stopped at her. The girl he always had an eye for but could never find the right words for.

Yet that day, he didn’t know what came over him as he approached her; as if he had done it a million times. He opened his mouth to introduce himself but the words got caught in his throat and her friends started giggling amongst themselves. Yet, she just smiled at him. 

She introduces herself.

He does the same, with a nervous grin. 

“Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand and that was the beginning. 

And now, it is all in shambles in front of him. How can he explain himself? Anything he says will sound like an excuse.

“Did you ever even like me?” She asks, disappointment clear in her voice.

“Yes, I did. Please,” He gets closer to her, as he begs her with everything he is.

“This is real. You and I, we are real to me.” He whispers and brings her face up to his. But all he sees is anger and agony and his hand trembles despite his effort to hold his ground. She releases herself from his grip and shakes her head.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” She hisses, and time suddenly freezes. He hopes that he’s dreaming because he can’t find a way out of this otherwise. He chokes on every word he wants to scream and he watches as she slips into the darkness again, leaving him to mourn in the silence by himself. He can’t feel anything, not the ghost of her hand still in his, not the warmth of her body next to him, not the tears on his cheeks, not the numbness about to swallow him whole. 

He stands there, helpless as the woman he wants forever with walks away from him. And the worst part is that it is all his fault. 

a/n: hello!! i made a few changes to my blog and i added a masterlist which i will pin! you will be able to find all my works there. i hope you enjoyed this and since i am on a break right now, i am trying to write as much as possible so that i can just post those stories later on! thank you so much for your support and for reading. i hope you enjoyed!

[konigsblog]

hi orla baby! how are you? i hope you’re having an amazing day, because you deserve it! remember to eat and sleep well, stay hydrated and always keep smiling 🩷 i love you!

it’s my birthday today, and i was thinking about birthday sex with simon >.< like he surprises us by coming home early just to be with us for our birthday bcs he knows how important birthdays are for us & he also knows how much we miss him (i’m overly clingy 🥹) i don’t care if he’s rough or gentle, i just want him so much :(((( literally cannot stop thinking about belly bulge— size kink, a mix of praise n degradation and breeding with him omg

so sorry for only getting this done now, i've been pretty busy lately and haven't been able to get around to this one :((( thank you so much!!! i hope you're doing alright and i hope you enjoyed your birthday!! 🌟 i love you GRHRFGR;

BIRTHDAY GIRL

simon ghost riley x f.reader (it's your birthday, and the birthday girl gets her wishes) drabble i guess 🙁

tw; size kink, praising and degrading, unprotected sex (use protection) belly bulging, use of pet names. message me if i missed any.

simon told you he wouldn't be back in time for your birthday, that he had extra work assigned and price wasn't letting it go. you were upset, but you couldn't get mad at simon because it wasn't his choice!!! deciding to bake some cookies to cheer yourself up.

too distracted by the loud music blarring from your headphones to notice a pair of strong arms wrapped around your body, one hand covering your mouth. you panicked, up until you smelled that familiar and comforting scent, simon. “si–” your body thrown onto the island countertop, the look in his eyes expressing desire :((

taking his girthy and lengthy cock out, slapping against his abdomen as he ripped your pajama shorts off. pushing the tip of his cock into your panties, getting the material all soaked as he fucked your thigh making you whine for his meaty size inside you. “patience, birthday girl..” that seductive tone in his voice drove you wilddd!!!

he got you all slick and dripping, grasping at his hand and begging so kindly, telling him you'll be good, a deep chuckle flowing into your ears. pulling on your smaller hips and tugging your body closer to his big length, panties off and laying next to your head. slowly easing into your slit before into your hole, immediately grunting at the tightness, growing even harder than he was before!!! “missed this precious pussy..”

his pace increased quickly, giving you barely enough time to adjust before he was ramming into your needy cunt!! “take it, take it like the good girl you are.” stuffing his fingers into your mouth to muffle your whimpering sounds, balls smacking against your ass repetitively as he continued to fuck your tightness :(

you squealed his name desperately, the knot in your stomach already threatening to snap! “si– please, fuc–!” you gasped, his grasp on your hips tightening at the sounds of your moans and whimpers, watching as he bulges out your belly. “not yet, sweethear'.. look at that, bulging right out your stomach.. so– small..” it was true, you're tiny in comparison to him, his hand placed over your stomach before pressing down, making you gasp and clutch onto him.

you could sense he was getting close; his grip tightening, broad hips bullying into you. “stupid baby, strugglin' to take my big cock.. such a sweet girl– bet you've been desperate for this, yeah?” you knew he wanted an answer, but you were too far gone to say anything. “simon, i'm gonna cu–” pulsing around his again and again, cumming around his size and squirting against his abdomen, coating him in your slick.

simon spurted warm and sticky seed deep inside tour wetness, his thumb rubbing at your cunt before he pinned your wrists above your head, encircling your wrists with his fingers before holding it in one first above your head. “mm', not done with you, baby.. missed that stupid face, so needy, all slick..”

[porcalinecunt]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.

→ you were never ment to be a good husband, and neither was he. so what now? simple. when the spouses aren’t home, someone else is.

🎧 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

♟️𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 / 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐜𝐰 — infidelity. trans!reader. pussy slapping. degredation. some spanking. edging (?). rough sex. creampie. no aftercare. mean dom! sae. sex addiction (?).

a/n » i told yall i was cooking up smth ;) anyways, life sucks sm ass rn but sae brainrot + a need for angst got me making this. this might end up as a mini series but i’m not 100% sure yet. i’ll see how well it does on here and on ao3 (pls support my works there too 🤍) otherwise, enjoy the fic!

Cold. That’s the only thing you could feel besides your numbing fingers and goosebumps rising on your limbs. The house could get so cold during the wintertime, then again, it’s much warmer than when Rin was home.

Rin Itoshi, the man many would kill to have a chance with, who was your beloved husband. Together for half a decade now, marrying while still being quite young. To many, it was a dream come true and you cannot blame them for that. Rin had it all. Wealth, looks, a successful career as a pro soccer player. He had it all, or better said, almost had it all. Even for him, he lacked the very thing a husband should have. Love for his spouse.

He wasn’t the most loving husband, instead the polar opposite. Many days he was mostly cold, floating around you as if he was a ghost. You rarely hear him utter an “I love you” or any sweet names you’d give him. The most you get is a quick peck on the cheek, then off he goes. again and again.

So it was no surprise you’d find another man to spend spare time with, it was who it was that made it so taboo. And he had just arrived.

The doorbell rang, startling you out of your trance. Your body almost moved completely on its own, turning the knob till the door cracked open, revealing your company for the night.

He didn’t say a word, only standing there. Sae Itoshi, your seemingly brother in law. Then again, he doesn’t really deserve nor fit the title. He’s the very last person Rin would want in his home, and for very good reason. He’s cruel, untrustworthy, and a liar, but then again, he’s all the things you’d wish Rin was. Even if it came with the uglier bits. Sae didn’t waste time walking through the door, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

The man didn’t utter a ‘hello’, and was already prying at your pants. Palming at your soaking cunt, not breaking the kiss to let you breathe. He could be so greedy, so selfish. His lack of foreplay and even care for you was addictive, he was quick and straight to the point, useful when it comes to covering your act up quickly.

“S-Sae..”

You winced, but the man doesn’t stop for anything. Instead, tearing off the loose pajama top you had on and trailing his lips from your face to your jawline. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he carried you off into your bedroom. Plopping you onto the very bed your husband sleeps on, the sheets still smelling like him.

“Still aren’t gonna leave him?” Sae asked, his tone condescending and almost mean.

You shook your head, hearing him scoff before he began to unbutton his shirt. You felt your stomach twist once he fully shed off his white collar top, immediately going for the belt next. You sat up, almost reaching out to unzip his pants but was pushed back down. This time, his hand gripped your wrist and pinned you down.

“So impatient, Rin has been neglecting you huh..”

You quickly nodded, your cunt throbbing with need. It’s been too long since you had a cock stuff you full, your fingers couldn’t satisfy you nor could any of your toys. Rin didn’t help either, even when you two did have sex, he lacked the intimacy and treated it more like a chore if anything. You don’t remember him even trying. With Sae, however, it was almost like the man knew your body better than your own husband. It’s a damn shame you can’t always see him.

Sae climbed on top of you, crashing his lips against yours. His tongue poked and licked at your lips till he pried them open, stuffing your mouth till you whined from the overwhelming feeling. You clung onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin till it became red.

He snuck his fingers between your thighs, digging into your boxers till his slender fingers reached between your folds. He teased, pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit. He chuckled when he heard you shudder against his touch, prompting him to gently slap your cunt. Your legs snapped shut, but not enough before he forced them back open and placed another (and harder) slap. You screwed your eyes shut, hissing from the slight sting yet the rush of pleasure that sent chills down your back.

“S-Sae please—“

“Please what? Speak up.”

He leaned closer, spitting his venom in your ear. His lips touched the flushed lobe, to the point where you nearly fell backwards.

“Please fuck me, please i’ve been waiting for—“

You whispered, already breathless. You couldn’t finish, however, as Sae once again landed another and harsher slap on your soaked cunny. A loud yelp tore from your throat, before a string of sobs filled the room.

“C’mon, giving up already..?”

He inched his hand away, causing you to grab his wrist and place it back onto your weeping cunt. You pleaded, and oh did you plead. Begging for his cock, for him to use you to his heart’s content, even if he broke you a little bit. He was yours, torn out of Rin’s arms and onto his dick effortlessly. It was embarrassingly easy, but then again, Sae always gets what he wants. Always.

He finally tore your boxers off, discarding them and looked down at the view in front of him. Flustered and eager, your legs spread wide open and your eyes syrupy from the tears you shed earlier. The sight made him harder than a rock, prompting him to fish out his cock from his tight pants. It was already leaking precum, the tip a flushed red as he stroked it, lubing up his dick. You took him plenty of times, so he’d stop using lube and fuck you raw.

“You like this don’t you? Taking another man raw while Rin is away. So fuckin’ shameless..”

He hissed, emerald eyes staring down at you like a predator. His face filled with lust and a carnal desire that begs to be released, released onto someone like you. Slowly, he sunk into you, biting back a groan. He looked down, watching his cock dissapere in your tight cunny. He watched your face shift, your mouth opening into an O shape and your eyebrows tilting upwards. It was a sight he could never get bored of. He leaned down, bottoming out while pressing kisses against your cheek and jawline. You were caged between his large arms, his body hovering over yours. You couldn’t help but open your eyes a bit and stare at your lover’s face. He was so damn beautiful, almost unreal. It’s no surprise he caught your eye when you saw him for the first time.

Sae moved slowly, dragging his cock in and out while peppering open mouthed kisses against your neck and chest, his mouth eventually catching one of your nippled. He licked and toyed with it while pinching the other between his fingers, grinning when he heard your mewls and cries. The sounds you made went straight to his dick, an insatiable appetite growing in him. He just couldn’t get enough, no matter how many times he stuffed your greedy cunt.

The sound of skin slapping against one another got louder once he quickened his pace, fucking every little sound your throat hid out. “Ah-ah-ah—“ choppy moans and cut off sobs from his sharp thrusts filled the rooms till its all you could hear. You could barely hear Sae’s degrading names and the rare groan that slips off his tounge.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you?”

He muttered against your skin, pulling away as he slowed down a bit but his thrusts remained harsh. Inching closer and closer to your cervix, your eyes rolled back till you began to see stars. Your fingers curled into the sheets below you, the pit in your stomach growing till you felt like you were gonna pass out from the heat and pleasure.

“Sae..! Why did you slow do—“

A loud smack along with a stinging pain on your inner thigh cut off your whines and forced a crooked sob out of your sore throat. Before you could look up, Sae pulled you up by your arms and flipped you onto your stomach. Pulling your hips up till your on your knees, you looked up from the pillow to meet Sae’s eyes. Strands of his hair stuck to his face, his gaze focused on your current position. While he lacked the love Rin at least had, his tone dripped with lust along with his seductive details in his face and body made you disregard how he could care less about you.

Rin still had the decency to treat you like how a lover should, you were just another paramour to Sae.

And he treated you as such, slamming his heavy cock back in your abused cunt. His hands gripping on your hips, enough to surely leave hand marks. You couldn’t keep up with his pace, to the point where Sae was just pulling your numbing body onto his dick. Fucking you hard and deep like if you were a damn fleshlight.

“Sae! Sae! Sae!”

You sobbed, clawing at your bedsheets until your fingers curl into the already ruined pillow. You stuffed your face into it, trying to muffle your screams. You’d hate it if any of your neighbors overheard what you were doing when your husband was away.

“Y-you’re too good, fuck..! Ah..!”

He abruptly stopped, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing your head up from the pillow.

“Yeah? Better than your dear husband?”

In a dumbified state, your lover balls deep and your body hot and numb, you nodded.

You admitted it, you actually fucking admitted it.

He laughs, breathlessly. In a mixture of shock and appeasement, he picked up his pace until your body was practically rocking up against the bed. He kept your head up, deep emerald eyes staring holes into your mind. He didn’t have to keep guessing, he already knew anyway. He just didn’t expect you to admit it in your most vulnerable state. Usually, a good husband would reassure his love for his significant other, even in the act of infidelity. Whether it was a lie or not, the spouse would always be first and everything.

But he could make someone break that rule so easily, and it fueled his ego to no end. The rush and pleasure he gets from this, from fucking his brother’s husband dumb till his cunny was filled with his seed. Even the image of it gets his dick hard. No matter what Rin would do, Sae would always get the upper hand. Even when it came to the very person who vowed up and down to be with him till death.

That gut wrenching feeling pushed Sae over the edge, as he shoved your head into the pillow once again and pressed his body against yours. You let out one final cry as the warm feeling of his cum filling your cunny overwhelmed you, twitching and shaking underneath him. Your mind went blank, only thinking about his cock that still sat in you. Not at all about Rin, or the fact that you're doing this behind his back. You didn’t remember the overwhelming guilt that would wash over you once Sae leaves the room. The short afterglow of it all, that’ll slowly melt into the same loneliness that had you running into his arms anyways.

An addictive cycle, one you refuse to break despite the consequences it’ll bring soon enough.

Sae pulls out, the feeling of your empty cunt ruining the afterglow. You weakly turn your body around, watching him redress himself. He didn’t have the decency or time to give you proper aftercare, after all, he has better things to tend to. Better yet, a better person.

“Still with her?”

You asked, annoyance and jealousy made clear in your tone. Your lover turned around, just as he was buttoning up his shirt. His face was traced with irritation and maybe a bit of anger with the way you referred to his wife.

“Tch. Think I'm gonna leave her for you?”

“You might as well, Sae..”

He turned away at your response, clearly not listening. You rolled your eyes, staying quiet as he slips his shoes on without saying another word. He leaves the room, as you listen to him walking down the stairs and out the front door. Cold and alone, once again.

Being selfish was the worst decision you could’ve made, and not just for you.

Your phone dinged, revealing a text from your husband. With a grimace face, you opened it much to your regret.

rinnie 💙: I miss you y/n. Let’s do something together once I get back, yeah?

You clutched your phone. Rin almost never texts, let alone even says “i miss you”. Reading that message was a punch to the gut, as you could almost hear the sincerity of his message.

Bastard. Why now?

🎧 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

[sheafrotherdon]

“Yusuf,” whispered Nicolo. “Yusuf, are you awake?”

Yusuf whined unhappily. “Sadly, yes.”

Nicolo said nothing.

Yusuf let out a long, slow breath. “What is it?”

Nicolo, sitting cross-legged beside their campfire, shifted as though uncomfortable. “I fear I am ill.”

“Ill?” Yusuf pushed himself up from his bed roll to sit and look at Nicolo better.

Nicolo nodded.

Their camp was undisturbed – there was no acrid smell of vomit, no stench of emptied bowels, and Nicolo did not look feverish. He was perhaps pale, but it was hard to tell given his usual countenance and the effect of firelight on his face.  “Ill,” Yusuf repeated.

“Something has been wrong for a long time,” Nicolo offered. “I have not said anything for fear of worrying you, but. . . “ He lifted his hand to his chest, flexing his fingers over the spot where, no doubt, his heart beat quickly.

“Nico. We do not get sick.”

“This is not true.”

“We may experience a purging of something that would do us harm, we have demonstrated this in vivid fashion all too often,” Yusuf said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “But true sickness? In all these years we have not suffered, despite walking through plague.”

“It is not the plague,” Nicolo said firmly.

“Then what is it?” Yusuf asked.

Nicolo looked over toward him. “My stomach is constantly unsettled and spoils my appetite,” he said at last. “My heart beats wildly for no reason – there is no danger, and yet it will not cease its clatter.”

“Oh?” Yusuf offered.

“My palms –” And Nicolo held up one hand as if to demonstrate, “—sweat, and my skin prickles. I cannot catch my breath. Sometimes . . .”  He shook his head mournfully. “I tremble.”

Yusuf felt his own heart pick up its pace, hope unfurling inside his chest like first sunlight. “Is there . . . do you feel this all the time?”

“No.” Nicolo shook his head. “It comes and goes; it steals upon me in the night on watch; it seizes me when I follow you along these overgrown paths; I wake from dreams and . . . “ He stopped, swallowed, and his cheeks pinked.

“Nico.”  Yusuf pushed off his blanket and moved to sit at Nicolo’s side. “This does not sound like illness.”

“No?”

“No.” Yusuf gathered up all the courage inside him and reached out to touch Nicolo’s face. “Or if it is, I too am sick.”

Nicolo looked suddenly alarmed, his hand coming up to wrap around Yusuf’s wrist.

Yusuf smiled at him. “Do not worry. I may know a cure.”

Nicolo frowned, looking as serious as Yusuf had ever seen him, and Yusuf had only a moment to watch that expression change as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Nicolo’s own. It was a soft kiss, short, and as Yusuf pulled away Nicolo protested, humming, his free hand grabbing Yusuf’s elbow. “Wait,” he whispered.

Yusuf did so, watching Nicolo as his gaze drifted between Yusuf’s eyes and his mouth.  “Yes?”

Nicolo pulled in a breath and leaned forward, kissing Yusuf gracelessly until Yusuf tilted his head and their lips slid together. It was far from the best kiss in which Yusuf had participated, but no kiss could compare in summoning such joy to Yusuf’s heart that he thought it might burst.

“I am embarrassed to realize that I . . . that we -- all this time? It was this?” Nicolo asked as they parted, and Yusuf laughed out loud.

“My best beloved,” he said simply, and Nicolo smiled hesitantly, hopefully, and they kissed again.

[terresdebrume]

Dear Niko,

I do realize I only sent my last letter a few days ago, and it is likely not in your hand yet, but you did demand an immediate account of my return to school, and so here we are.

St Hilarion remains largely equal to itself. The repairs to the gymnasium were conducted in time, which means that I have a decent chance of avoiding rugby classes in the middle of winter this year. The rest of the buildings are just as old and decrepit as they used to be, and my room still smell terribly musty. Simon Waller, despite my dearest wishes, has neither fallen off the surface of the earth, nor thought of anything more entertaining than calling me Tinker Bell. I suppose I should be grateful, at this point, for his lack of imagination: I shudder to imagine the things he would call me if he were in possession of a single creative bone. Although, perhaps then he would come up with something offensive enough to force the adults to react and finally put a stop to his harassment. One can always dream.

In happier news: Simon and I do not share a homeroom this year. I was, as you can imagine, deeply relieved to learn this. Most of his posse is also with him, which I dearly hope will allow me some feeling of safety if only during my core classes. I will need all the study time I can get if hope to get A's on all my GCSEs, and Simon and his group are too significant a distraction.

There is a new student in my class. His name is Charles, he used to study on the other side of town, and he had swept half our year off their feet by the end of first period. He is handsome enough, but very charming: he seems to be perpetually smiling or laughing, is sociable, amiable, and respectful enough of teachers to be forgiven the few lapses he has shown so far. By the end of the day, I had overhead both his math and biology teacher praise his upbeat approach to classes, and his obvious determination to do well. Yesterday in English, he was one of the few students to have done the summer reading, which is a surefire way to get on Mrs. Devlin's good side.

Perhaps the only teacher who was not immediately enthused was Mr. Phare, the PE teacher. Charles apparently has some sort of special dispense for swimming classes, a condition linked to chlorine... Only Mr. Phare must not have been informed beforehand, so when Charles showed up in his regular uniform, covered wrists to ankles, instead of a swimsuit, Mr. Phare became quite irritated and nearly had him thrown out.

Fortunately for him, Charles is otherwise an excellent sportsman. He has since applied for a d successfully joined the boxing club, the basketball team, the tracks club, and the criquet team, of which he seems to have become an immediate hero. I must admit that I was glad we were not assigned to the same group in that class: PE is torture enough without the added humiliation of having some sort of sports whiz witness my shame.

I must admit his presence worries me. Not because of him, I assure you! He seems perfectly respectful so far, and I have been trying to heed your advice and be less pessimistic, therefore I will assume this persona of his is genuine until and unless I am proven wrong. I do however find him intriguing, which as you know usually means I forget that it is impolite to stare at others. Should that happen, and should Simon or one of his friends notice it, I have no doubt they would turn this against me somehow. After all, you know how these boys are: always insinuating things about people's sexualities to make them feel bad about themselves.

Of course, such accusations would be entirely unfounded, but if Charles Rowland must learn of my existence at any point this year, I would rather it weren't as the odd boy with an unsettling infatuation on him. Not, of course, that its at all likely to happen, but sometimes I cannot help but worry.

I suppose we shall have to wait and see what this year has in store for both of us, then.

Best regards,

E. P.

[krisssssssy]

This is technically for Ardyn's birthday on 4/30, but I was too impatient. Give this man a happy ending. I will post the text here, since it's short, but you can read on AO3 via the link above.

Summary: Ardyn wakes after the events of Dawn of the Future, reunited with his beloved.

Audience: Teen and Up

It was the warmth of the sun against his closed eyelids that stirred Ardyn from his slumber.

He blinked his eyes open, the light nearly blinding, as if he had not opened them in a millennia, or more. It hurt, he realized, the harsh rays of what seemed to be a mid-afternoon sun. Yet, it did not hurt as it had once. The scourge beneath his skin was oddly quiet.

As his eyes adjusted, he glanced around, finding himself in a place he often visited in dreams. Fields of golden wheat flanked him on all sides, and a great Linden tree grew marvelously to his right, little yellow buds bursting forth from its leaves. He could smell it - not just the earthy scent of the wheat, but the sunny, honey-fragranced blossoms from the tree. He had forgotten, somehow, what this place smelled like, and it made his heart ache.

In all his dreams, whether set upon him by his own tortured mind, or from the Bladekeeper himself, he had never felt the sun on his face, or breathed in the natural scent of the world around him. This alone motivated him to sit up, anticipating the usual ache of his limbs, the stirring of the scourge in his veins whenever he moved. But there was nothing. He felt, for the first time in how many thousands of years, light. He moved his arm about in front of him, testing the sensation.

A familiar, tinkling laugh flooded his ears, the sound so overwhelming his eyes began to water. He scanned the environment, turning his body with an uncharacteristic ease. The sun behind her cast her frame in shadow, but he recognized her, of course. She was a frequent visitor, though it was difficult, at times, to ascertain whether it was the woman from his memories, or from the Bladekeeper’s dark visions.

“Ardyn,” she called out, drawing out his name on her lips, her voice as carefree and beautiful as he remembered. Sometimes in dreams, her face was but a shadow, or missing entirely, and it caused him great anguish upon waking. But as she grew closer, he saw her, clearer than he could ever remember.

Was this some trick? he pondered. He knew the Gods’ own cruelty too well to trust that such visions would be benevolent, and he eyed her, cautiously, though his heart raced with affection.

She stopped suddenly, setting her hands against her hips, her face set in a scowl. “You cannot greet your fiancée properly?”

Ardyn looked up at her, confused. In all his dreams she had never been like this. He began to laugh, daring for a moment to believe this truly was his beloved.

She made a “hmph” sound, looking away from him for a moment, before she moved towards him once more. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you, my love?”

She stood above him, hands at her hips, looking as petulant and beautiful as he remembered. She wore her traditional Oracle gown, a white cotton draped delicately over her small frame, golden bangles clinking on her wrists. Her hair was as he remembered, cut short, just above the shoulders, and the same shade of blonde as the linden tree blossoms that were scattered on the grass. Her eyes were a brilliant cerulean, so similar to the eyes he once had, before the scourge had turned them a sickly yellow. My Aera, he thought. His heart felt as if it might burst.

“This is a strange dream,” he said aloud, and Aera huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know!” she said, excitedly, before kneeling down before him and grabbing his hand.

He looked at his fingers curiously as she held them, no longer adorned by his usual leather gloves, and he realized he was not wearing his usual clothing at all. He had on his old linen shirt, and simple trousers - what he used to wear, however many hundreds of years ago.

He felt a sudden pain radiating from his hand, and he looked in stunned surprise as Aera bit him, her teeth sinking into the flesh of his index finger. In all his many dreams, she had never done that. He gasped, trying to comprehend that what he was feeling was actual pain.

In all the time he had lived with the scourge, his body grew dull to most sensations. Even the harshest pain was like a faint touch, the only sensation, truly, was the one of the scourge writhing within himself. That ached, of course, but the pain of the scourge drowned out everything else, so that even when Noctis had defeated him, even those feelings were overwhelmed by the scourge dancing inside him like an unruly flame.

He furrowed his brow. Noctis had defeated him. So where was he now?

Aera was looking at him expectantly, her teeth still embedded in his finger.

“Is this the Beyond?” he asked, though in truth, it did not look as he remembered.

She released his finger. “No, you silly man. There is no Beyond, not anymore. Don’t you remember?”

He tried to remember. “The Chosen King,” he said slowly. “He killed me.”

Aera flung herself dramatically against the grass beside him, huffing. “You don’t remember anything!”

He smiled at her, despite his confusion. He had forgotten in all this time how endearing she was, how genuine her emotion, the way her eyes seemed to twinkle, an everpresent love and affection always radiating off of her. The true Oracle, he thought. His Oracle.

He reached his hand out to touch hers, so small in comparison, yet when he looked at her, he was in awe of her strength. How much stronger she had always been, compared to him. Did she not realize what he had become?

She looked over to him and smiled, her eyes squinting closed. When she opened them once more, she frowned, seeing the doubt and grief on his face. “This is no place to be sad, my love.”

“Where are we?” he asked, so afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would wake up from this dream, and be cocooned by darkness once more. His eyes watered.

“We are in the realm of possibility,” she said matter-of-factly. “The Chosen King did not kill you, my love. You sacrificed yourself to rid Eos of the Astrals and the Bladekeeper’s tyranny. The Beyond is no more.”

He tried to remember, but it was like trying to recall a dream upon waking, like sand slipping through his fingers. There was a comfort, though, that Aera would remember for him.

She smiled and looked over to him, squeezing his hand. “You are a hero.”

“A hero?” he asked, incredulously. “I am no hero.”

“Ah, Ardyn,” she said wistfully, scooting closer to him and laying her head upon his shoulder. “You took Noctis’s place as the sacrificial King, felt the blades of the 13 before - well, after you, I suppose. To not only dispel the darkness, my love, but to grant Noctis a new life. He succeeded in destroying the Bladekeeper, and that is why you are here now, and not trapped endlessly in the Beyond.”

“You are real,” he said quietly.

She whipped her head up towards him animatedly, her eyes full of a kind of stubborn heat. “I am! And I can bite you again, if you forget.”

He began to weep, unsure why, of all her words, it was these that made him believe. He laughed between his sobs, his chest heaving, and Aera flung herself around him, squeezing him so tightly his breath caught.

He wiped the tears from his face, annoyed that he was crying, because it always stained his face and clothing an ugly purple. But when he looked at his hand it was clear. He wiped it against his white linen shirt, to be sure, but there was no trace of the scourge.

“You no longer have such a curse upon you, my love. You are free.”

“Is this…heaven?” he asked, tentatively, wondering if perhaps the Astrals were simply a microcosm of something even larger - was there a God that existed above the Bladekeeper himself? What remained? Evidently, there was something, and he felt foolish, for all this time believing the Universe to be so narrow.

“You could call it that. But no word can sufficiently define it. I said before, this is the realm of possibility. Where we go from here, my love, is our choice.”

“I want to stay here, with you,” Ardyn said, firmly. Aera grinned at him, and shoved him back onto the grass, pushing on his chest. She straddled him, her face mischievous, and he simply gazed up at her awestruck by her beauty. How had he forgotten?

“You are still plagued with regret,” she said.

Ardyn was silent for a moment. “Yes,” he agreed.

“It’s only natural,” she said simply, “But you must understand, my love, the slate can be wiped clean. You are you, now, truly. My Ardyn.”

“I…I will try. I put my faith into you, entirely,” he said, looking upon his fiancée with reverence.

She smiled. “You are wise to do so,” she said teasingly. “We have an eternity, my love. The memories of your time enveloped in darkness are already fading.”

“What have I done to deserve such an afterlife?”

“It is as all creatures deserve. Someday we will dissolve back into the Source, to be remade, anew.”

He did not truly understand, tears still spilling from the corners of his eyes. Aera’s gentle fingers brushed them off his cheeks, and she leaned down, placing a soft kiss against his lips.

Why had he ever left her? he thought, returning her kiss, threading his hand through her golden hair. In the time before Angelgard, he had sought to rid the world of the scourge, entirely by himself, leaving Aera alone. Now the thought seemed utterly mad. He could not leave her side, now.

“I love you,” he said, the words bursting forth as if by reflex, forceful and intense.

Aera giggled, pressing her forehead to his. “I have loved you always, and I will love you always still.”

She rolled off of him to lay on her side, facing him, her hand coming to his cheek. Ardyn slipped an arm over her waist, pulling her body into his, breathing in her fresh, floral smell, the scent of sylleblossoms flooding his senses. It calmed him, whatever sorrow and regret he felt before fading in her presence.

“She who moves Heaven and Earth,” Ardyn said softly, remembering the verse from the Cosmogony.

Aera laughed, kissing his face. “And I would move them once more, if it led me to you.”

----

Thank you for reading! I know I make Aera a bit sassier than she appears in Episode Ardyn but she IS quite sassy in the Prologue, so whatever. Ardyn loves it.

[a-driftamongopenstars]

Perhaps dealing with the curse of the shadowlands and the ill effects that might bring. One losing a torch or light for a time? Whump recovery

ah thank you! :) this is just what I needed for some writing today <3 featuring my oc Gleam, tiefling wild magic barbarian :) also on ao3

Suffocating, harrowing darkness. Astarion feels it on his tongue, the rot and the fear. He has nearly forgotten that it used to be the very part of him, in all his waking hours. And now it creeps upon him by surprise, tearing into his flesh.

The light cannot enter here. This territory belongs to the curse.

He can hear the shouts of the others, but cannot see them. Shadowheart’s pleas to her Lady for protection of her allies, all falling on deaf ears. Karlach’s fire unable to light up even an inch of this darkness. Astarion can hear Gleam’s voice, calling for him.

The fear grasps his insides, turns them inside out. 

After fruitless attempts to conjure light from their ring, Gleam’s face lights up but for a second, enough for Astarion to see the desperation and fear on their features, before dissipating into the thick of the dark again.

“We must get out of here,” they call. 

Astarion opens his mouth to answer, but instead, shadowy bile drips from his mouth, burning - and he gasps.

“Astarion!” Gleam calls.

He can hear shadows rustling, preparing to strike from the nearest corners. The ground beneath his feet shifts, breathing with hunger for prey. Soon, he will be just another ghoul-like creature, and nothing, no one can stop it.

It is then that he feels the pulls around his arms, warm and familiar. He feels the smell, so very familiar, breaking even through this veneer of nothingness. Gleam’s voice just beside him, their strength pulling Astarion out from the darkness into the dim light of a brazier.

“It’s all right,” Gleam says, their hands finding purchase around Astarion’s face, making him look up. And look he does, into their bright eyes. His own shine with tears, the fog of terror dissipating in his mind as those warm hands clutch his head and help him out of the trance that the darkness would have imposed upon its prey.

“We’re safe, for now,” Gleam says as Astarion clutches onto their wrists.

They kiss him, and he kisses them. Brief, sweet, grounding.

“They won’t have you.”

The barbarian edge to that perfect growl.

Astarion kisses them again, unwilling to let go just yet. A moment of weakness, shining through his well-built facade, but damn it all, he must have it. And he must have Gleam, for whatever it is worth.