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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

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— heatwave

I’m suffering through the heatwave over here, and Bakugou is the only thing that could make it better or worse.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, Bakugou is your roommate, sweaty sex, dirty talk, spanking, creampie.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“It’s too damn hot,” Bakugou growled as he lay the back of his head against the couch. Even the soft, worn fabric was uncomfortable against his back. Retaining more heat than necessary paired with his body temperature it had sweat pooling against his skin.

Life as an up and coming Pro-Hero had been rough. With long shifts, terrible hours and little pay he was stuck in this dingy, stuffy apartment. Waiting for the day he’d add an extra figure onto his paycheck to have enough to move out. Things like air conditioning were a lavish luxury that he couldn’t afford right now, so it meant suffering through the torridness with a small ice pack he’d grabbed from the freezer.

The only bonus was having a roommate like you.

Originally Bakugou had been adverse to living under the same roof as someone, unable to trust anyone living in close quarters with him. There was an entire cacophony of issues that could arise from picking the wrong person— from being kept up all night, the mess they could leave behind to having friends or hookups in his shared space.

But you had been a godsend, understanding of his unsocial work schedule and his house rules. You could even argue that you were a better roommate than he was, with his friends delighting in showing up unannounced and causing a mess in his apartment. Something that you were always so understanding of when you’d join them for movie nights or dinner.

You were a blessing. Or now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a curse. Now forced to watch you practically saunter around in the shortest short shorts known to man in a feeble attempt to try and deal with the extreme temperatures. Your top half not much better, the stringy vest top you wore— without a bra no less— exposed your midriff and the cute stiffened peaks of your nipples. Not that he was looking, and even if he was what did you expect him to do.

Rubbing sweat from his upper lip as he spreads his legs wide on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes roaming your figure as the shorts hugged the swell of your ass perfectly. Dipping in between the cheeks as he imagined pulling them apart to see what was hidden between them, the material dangerously close to revealing it to him anyway—

You were doing absolutely nothing to help quell the heat oozing through his body. In fact, Bakugou was certain you were making it worse. His cock jumping at the sight of you, pulsing beneath his shorts as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Praying that this sudden heatwave would cease and he could stop being tortured by the sight of you like this every damn day, it was bad enough when he’d catch peeks of you in a towel coming from the bathroom towards your bedroom, or forgotten panties left strewn around. But this? This was unbearable.

“I can’t deal with this heat,” The whiny tone to your voice had Bakugou silencing a growl deep in his chest, watching you hold the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically, “I wanna sit in the freezer.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bakugou knew from experience the heat alone would be enough to shut down the entire machine, and you both definitely didn’t have enough money to replace it if it did.

And that freezer was the only thing satiating the heat so far. Shoving his melting ice pack against his chest, the contents quickly changing form to liquid as he tried to make the most of it before it would have to go back inside the freezer.

“Let me feel,” You came around the couch to stand in front of him, his eyes set in a heavy glare as he tried to weigh up whether it was worth letting you feel how cold the pack was.

It was bad enough having you so scantily clad in such short proximity to him right now, certain he could now smell the saccharine of your perfume as you pulled the top of your vest down, exposing the swell of your breasts as you presented your sternum to him.

Bakugou pushes the pack to your chest and immediately regrets it when the sound you let out is downright sinful. You have to know what you’re doing to him, the way your lips curl into a delicious looking pout and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good.” You moaned, eyes clenched shut to focus on the cool chill that slowly washed over your chest.

His cock jumps in his shorts as he tries to shift his hips to avoid you from noticing the now very evident bulge, the throb pounding through his veins as he feels a different kind of heat beginning to take over.

He should stop here, take his ice pack back and tell you to go and sit in front of your mini desk fan again. Get you out of the room and as far away as possible and save this for another day, a day when you’re both not delirious from the intense heat.

But his depraved thoughts have already consumed him, the thought of your plush body pressed against his while he slides his throbbing cock inside you now at the forefront of his mind as he presses the pack lower. Watching as you arch your back towards it, welcoming the cool chill as you lean forward to splay your sweaty palms against his thick thighs.

And whether he’s delirious from the heat, or it’s the desperate look in your eyes he doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s kissing you fiercely, the ice pack drops forgotten between your bodies in favour of grabbing your hips.

“Fuck,” You kiss him back, words swallowed by his chapped lips as you feel the bulge between his thighs press snug against your crotch.

Your hands reach up to card through messy blond spikes as your nails graze his damp scalp, your tongue swiped against his as he palms your ass. Calloused fingertips disappear beneath the flimsy fabric as he squeezes the fat of it, tugging you down against his hardness as he pulls more sultry sounds from your throat.

“It’s too hot for this, Katsuki.” You whine, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air in the humid room.

At this chance Bakugou’s lips venture lower, peppering kisses along your jawline towards your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your vest. Tugging the fabric down to reveal your round breasts, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips at the marvellous sight.

His nighttime fantasies can’t compare to the sight in front of him, crimson eyes shamelessly ogle your skin to commit the sight to memory as he leans forward.

“Shut up,” He rasps back gruffly while mouthing your breast.

You’re right, it’s entirely too hot for any kind of strenuous activity, especially when he’s sweating so much it already feels like he’s run a marathon. But the way your soft body feels pressed against his is too much to pass up. Especially when this is what he’s been dreaming about ever since he moved in with you, fisting his cock too. It’s too much to leave it to chance that he may get this opportunity again later. Bakugou’s always been a greedy man, and he wants to have you now.

“Fuck,” You cry out when his teeth graze your nipple, pushing your crotch against his with more urgency.

Certain you’ve leaked through the flimsy fabric, desire surges through you dense and fast. A stark contrast to your lethargic movements as you grind yourself down on his lap pathetically.

“Katsuki,” You whine.

His strong hands are doing all the work as he moves you how he pleases. Strong palms pick you up by the meat of your ass to drop you back down on his length. Grinding your puffy clit against his pelvis with each motion as he has you crying out in pleasure.

“Fuck, Katsu. S’too hot—”

You weren’t sure whether it was the humid air permeating the room or the way that Bakugou was looking at you with smouldering eyes that had your body aflame. Muggy, vapid air filling your lungs as clammy hands stroked along his bare torso. Mapping out a course of newly discovered territory as you let your thumbs brush against his pebbled nipples, his chest vibrating against your touch with more sultry groans.

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He hummed, his fingers brushing the crotch of your shorts, “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh,” You gasped when you felt the calloused pads stroke your labia, involuntarily leaning forward to give him more space as Bakugou began to spread you apart for him. Fingers gliding through your messy folds, dragging your essence along your slit until he found your puffy clit.

The contact had you jolting forward, nails grazing his chest as he focused his attention on it. Circling it tentatively with the pad of his finger as you began to rock your hips back against him, uncaring about how debauched you looked as you began to seek your own pleasure.

“Yeah?” He rasped, and the gravelly husk did nothing but increase the desperation inside you, “You like that?”

“Fuck, please—“ You buried your head in the curve of his neck, your lips pressed against the slick skin as you tasted the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue.

“Please what, sweetheart,” He cooed.

“Please—“ You gasped when you felt his thumb press against your empty hole. He knew exactly what you wanted, he was toying with you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your fingers.” You were shameless, your hips grinding back against him as Bakugou finally took mercy on you and pushed his thumb into your sloppy entrance. The slightest penetration enough to drag a deep moan from your throat as he kept his focus against your clit, leaning his head back against the couch to try and see the blissful expression on your face as he worked you with precision.

“Got no damn idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” He husked against your ear, lips soft against the shell as you clenched around him in response, “Always walkin’ round in those fuckin’ short shorts got me wanting to bend you over every surface in this house.”

“Oh fuck,” You mewled, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as he kept his pace constant against your clit, his thumb positioned to press against your spongy wall as his other hand tightened its grip on your ass. Spreading you open, as you found your bliss, “Katsuki.”

“That’s it, good girl.” He hummed, feeling your walls pulse around his digit as he kept his pace. Working you through your release as he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your temple.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d wished the same, coming into the kitchen to see him still in full hero gear after work. Dirt and grime covering his body as his mask was pulled up over his forehead to show his blackened eyes, bending over to grab the carton of juice from the fridge as he held it up to his lips to chug it. Watching his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid flowed, giving you the perfect view of him as you tried to busy yourself to hide the fact you were blatantly staring.

Or the moments where he’d come out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips to shout at you for using the taps in the kitchen while he was showering. The cheap apartment had one flow of hot water and it shut off that luxury whenever it was used elsewhere. The cold water catching him off guard as he glared at you, water droplets drooling down his perfect skin and making him look more like an ancient god or deity than your roommate.

“So why didn’t you?” You asked when you’d come down from your high.

“Huh?” Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before.”

“I like livin’ with you,” He shrugged, “Didn’t wanna jeopardise that.”

“You wouldn’t have,” You smiled, pulling yourself back from his neck to meet his gaze, “I like you too.”

“That mean I can finally eat this pretty little pussy?” He groaned, shuffling his hips, “Been thinkin’ about it since the day I met you.”

“Later, please—” You pawed at the hard bulge between his thigh, his pre staining the fabric as you pressed against the tip.

“Fuck,” He grunted, shamelessly bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of you. His tongue sweeping against his digits to clean them of your slick, “Gonna take you over every damn surface in this house, princess.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of his shorts, Bakugou lifting his hips off the couch to help you drag them down just enough to free his heady cock— the sight of it better than you’d ever imagined in those nightly fantasies.

He was thick and long, bulging veins that forked along the length of him only made him seem that much more intimidating as his balls sat heavy at the base. Neatly trimmed blond hairs decorated his pelvis as they created a pretty trail along his abdomen, unable to resist running your hand along it as his stomach folded at the touch. A sharp hiss sucked sharp through his teeth as you wrapped your hand around him at the base, holding him steady so you could see the tip. The head a swollen pink as pre continued to bead at the slit, drooling down towards his frenulum as you moved to settle between his thighs. Wanting a taste of him yourself as you swiped your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock.

“Oi, I thought you said later,” He teased, rough hands steady on your hips to stop you from moving.

“Please,” You whined pathetically, “Wanna taste you.”

You brought your thumb to your lips as your tongue swiped at the surface, tasting him on your tongue as your lashes fluttered. Crimson eyes focused on your movements as his cock twitched in appreciation, tempted to let you do whatever you pleased. But he’d been waiting far too long for this moment, and there was no way he could wait any longer.

“You little minx,” He groaned as you sucked your thumb, “I promise later.” He groaned, tugging at your shorts, “Do you like these?”

“Yeah, they’re— what the fuck, Katsuki?”

You gasped when you heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric, “I said I liked them.”

“Sorry,” You could tell from the smug grin on his face that he was anything but as he positioned you above his leaky cock, “I gotta have you now.”

You held onto his shoulders as he wrapped a large fist around his cock, dragging the tip through your slick as he felt it catch against your tight entrance. His other hand on your hip slowly dropping you down onto his length as you felt the pleasurable ache of him stretching you open ebb through your pelvis.

“I got you, sweetheart,” He groaned, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you as he felt your warm walls wrap snugly around him, “Gonna take such good care of you.”

You felt hot, the heat radiating from your sex sweltering and yet you didn’t want to let go. The thick girth of his cock filled you perfectly as you felt him pressed against every ridge and groove of your cunt like he was made for you.

Your lips move together languidly, tasting the saltiness from his upper lip as you move together in tandem. Wet and sloppy while his tongue strokes yours, desperation evident by the way you try to deepen the kiss. As though you’re trying to melt into him, to feel him devour you whole.

“Oh, shit.” You choke back a cry when you feel the tip of his cock hit a spot deep inside you, certain you’ve never had something quite so big before.

You struggle to lift yourself up with your legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you grind yourself against his lap. Your clit catching against the trimmed hairs at his base as you roll your hips with desire, your chest pressed taut to his as you start a lazy pace. The scorching heat inside the apartment makes it difficult to breathe as you writhe in his lap, his warm breath fans against your skin almost feels cooler than the thick air clouding the room.

“Kats. It’s too hot.” You whine pathetically, your pace clumsy and sluggish as the desire inside you burns hot and heavy.

“You started this.” He retorts cockily with a smug smirk on his face.

“I did not.” You pout, “This is your fault.”

“Stop whinin’” He reaches back to bring his palm down on your ass in a rough smack, the sweatiness of his quirk has his skin tacking to you as it increases the sensation, clinging to your skin as you gasp in surprise. A painful pleasure courses through your veins as the skin prickles beneath his touch, your pliant walls clamping down around his girth in retaliation.

Without hesitating he reaches his large palms back to cup a cheek in each hand, lifting you up languidly as he marvels the glossy sheen your slick leaves on his cock.

“You just sit there and look pretty, let me do the work.” He spread is thighs wider, giving himself more air as he shifted your weight. Picking you up and dropping you down on his length as he listened to the pretty sounds that spilled from you like a siren, drawing him in and capturing his heart as you pulsed around him.

“Why couldn’t you have got an ice quirk?”

Clammy hands paw at his shoulders as Bakugou repeats the motion, skin tacking to skin as he bounces you on his cock. The kinetic energy builds heat swiftly and harsh as you feel the stickiness against your skin. Your wetness seeps out against his pelvis and matts the hair at his base, catching your clit with each drop of your hips.

“Shut the fuck up,” He scoffed, “You won’t be sayin’ that come winter.”

The thought of having his warm body to warm you during those cold winter months, still being with him then— had you clenching around him.

“Oh yeah? You like the sound of that?” He grinned, “Can feel this pussy clenchin’ around me.”

“Fuck, Katsuki.” The heat was becoming unbearable, radiating from your core as it burned molten lava. The coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you danced on the crux of your release, gasping for air as he changed tact. Holding your hips tight under sweaty palms as he planted his feet flat on the ground, pistoning his hips up into your pliant sex, “There— oh, god. Right there—”

“That’s it,” He rasped, watching your tits bounce with each rapid thrust, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“‘m gonna cum,” You choked out between moans, feeling the curved tip of his cock drag against the spongy spot inside you with each thrust, “Oh shit—”

“Cum for me,” He growled, “Cum all over my cock.”

The tips of Bakugou’s thumbs pressed against your pelvis, tightening his grip as it only increased the pressure. Sweat trickling down your temples as he sent you vaulting over the edge into euphoria.

“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his cock as you willed him to come with you, trying to milk him of his seed.

The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before, mind-numbingly intense as you cried out a jumbled mess of his name. Your nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he hissed beneath you, shamelessly searching for his own end as the heat radiated from your body. Sliding against each other from the sweat that now trickled down your skin, leaving a glossy sheen against you both as he used you for his own pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bakugou grunted, moving to lift you off his cock before you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, unbothered about the stifling heat in the room as you kept him tight against you.

“Cum inside me, Katsuki.” You gasped a he choked back a grunt, your words all it took to meet his own end.

His guttural moans are sinful, erotic as you cling to him with fervour. Committing the sensation to memory as though it’s the last time you’ll have him like this, as if the heat has him in this delirious state. And maybe it does—

You never thought Bakugou could look so pretty like this, completely vulnerable as he exposes his most intimate self to you. Thick, white spurts of cum spurt from his tip as he empties his balls inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes hot and heavy as you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

Bodies slumped together on the couch as you feel the dampness of skin against skin, your vest that now sits useless around your waist is soaked and warm as the fabric clings to your body.

“I’m so sticky,” You whine childishly, making no attempt to move as Bakugou’s fingers trace absent-minded patterns along your exposed back.

“How the fuck dya think I feel?” He rasps, “My ass is stuck to the couch.”

“Eww,” You tease, running your nose along his collarbone as you take in the musky scent of him, “We’ll have to get another couch.”

He catches you by surprise as he presses the forgotten ice pack to the back of your neck, although it’s mostly melted it’s a stark contrast to your sweltering body as you flinch in surprise. Your cunt clenches around him at the sensation as Bakugou grunts from the attention.

“Oh shit, don’t do that sweetheart—“ He hisses, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you tight against him, “You’ll make me hard again.”

Something that you’re not sure you’d mind, even though your body is screaming out for a different kind of relief now. Desperate to cool your temperature down as you scrunch your nose in irritation.

“I feel so gross.” You complain as he gives your ass another playful spank as you barely move from the impact, your bodies stuck together with a mixture of heat and sweat.

“Got no one to blame but yourself, princess,” He groans, “I was just mindin’ my business until you came over in those little shorts.”

“You weren’t complaining when you were balls deep.” You moved your head back to glare at him.

“My balls feel like they’re on fire now,” He scoffs, leaning forward to peck your pouty lips, “Cold shower?” He asks, although he’s already decided he’s showering with you— he’s taking every moment he can with you now.

#Bakugou x reader #Bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #Katsuki bakugou smut

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sweetheartsaku · 3 months ago

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(BLLK) wherever u go i won't be far to follow

𝜗𝜚 BLUE LOCK VARIOUS: LILLIES.

a/n: [fem!reader] GAIS GAIS GAIS dew we fw the bllk posts 🤤it seems yes!!!!!! sorry for the tag !!@infpdoll @amelielovess for u<3

— characters: chigiri, rin, bachira

part one ! ♡ isagi, kunigami, nagi, reo

chigiri hyoma ; H.S.K.T - leehi, wonstein

can we imagine him sitting on the bathroom counter as you gently massage the jade roller across his face after a face mask. his hair is freshly washed (you brushed it 100 times on each side) so the room smells like peony and coconut, shower is foggy and little bits of his crimson baby hairs seeping out of his headband (〃´𓎟`〃) don't forget to kiss his forehead!!!!!!!!

gives the best?? massages???? maybe it's because of his high maintenance leg, used to doing it on himself so when you groan in pain after a scenic date, he most definitely wastes no time rubbing all the sore out of your legs

PEAK of his day is when he first wakes up and you guys brush your teeth next to each other, he knows sooner or later he'll be under your grasp as your thumb lightly rubs under his eye, rubbing away all excess sleep while your other hand runs through his hair.

secret kpop stan chigiri... totally not self-projecting HUH WHAT WHO SAID THAT what is a kpop stan uhm ! is a gg stan, gets defensive when someone discredits his faves and most DEFO a kiss of life (julie biased), le serrafim (sakura biased) and itzy (yuna biased) fan. probably owns a twt fan acc, i said what i said 🥰

by the way, don't tell him you notice when blush graces his face when you delicately graze the side of your finger across his lashes.

rin itoshi ; soft spot - keshi

rin itoshi who goes completely quiet when it comes to you. not because he secretly doesn't like you or anything, but quite the opposite (=´∇｀=) ! when he sees you, he's completely speechless and ends up staring at the girl who just stole his heart (for an uncomfortably large amount of time). when he sees almost anybody, he always has some sort of venom to spit but when he sees you, he can barely find any words for love 🥹

FACE MASK VICTIM NO.2 !!!!! lowkey flinches a little (affectionate) because he more used to the hot eye masks he gets at the convenience store, when the cold peach mask makes contact with his face, he gets a lil shiver nd' it's the cutest thing

idc how generic i sound HORROR MOVIE DATES!!!!!!!! i'm so here for horror nerd rin, i find it the cutest thing on earth and i just just just. waiter waiter one glass of rin please ! if you're scared (me), he tells you when there's a jump scare and covers your eyes when there's gore or when there's a freakazoid on screen

loves to sit in silence and play horror games too, whether it be the bathhouse, platform 8, as long as it's with you <3 secret valo/splatoon sweat

face scrunch when you push his bangs back n' give him a peck at the crown of his hair (;´□｀)/! not a physically affectionate guy but with instincts as sharp as his you wonder why he just lets you pepper his face with kisses...

baby face.

bachira meguru ; never ever getting rid of me - waitress, the musical

HUGS FROM BEHIND!!!🥹 puts his hands in front of your eyes and tells you to "guess who!!!" but not in a super senior way but more like a "y/nie y/nie guess who guess who!!!!!" way. he's such a cutie patoot i'm dead

music taste range is INSANNEEE biggest fan of babymetal, knows every lyric to hitorie or 2019 genre gacha sabrina carpenter die-hard, white girl radio enjoyer i don't make the rules (me too bachira, me too.)

LOCKS IN AT THE ARCADE (he hasn't won anything yet. key word YET!!). his attention span per machine is very limited but tries his absolute hardest into getting a plush he noticed your eyes wouldn't stray from and stays there for a while, persuaded he's guaranteed to get it. "look, look y/n!!! it's right there i'm sure i can get it. one more try?" same with gachapons. how can you not love this man

PDA lowkey isn't a thing and tackles you when he feels fit. loves to spin you around and does not give a damn if you have two left feet, an unconditional loverboy and is just the cutest (precious) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

i am going to bake him into a cupcake.

matching absolutely everything!!! keychains, exchanged shoe laces, patches, bracelets. on the topic of fashion he love love loves when you wear things that are a little odd (this is for the fashion girlies) like mismatching tights, oddly coloured charms on necklaces and/or chunky glasses :3

finds minion facebook memes and laughs.

#bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #bllk fluff #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #blue lock imagines #chigiri x reader #rin x reader #bachira x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader

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thatbloodymuggle · 6 months ago

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MASTERMIND (iv)

FOUR - MOON AND STARS

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 9.8k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, graphic descriptions of violence, smut, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, p in v

“Fuck, Eris,” you moan.

He slaps your leg harshly in a wordless command to keep your voice down as he buries himself further between your thighs.

You’re not quite sure how you ended up here, pressed up against a bookshelf with Eris on his knees beneath you, your leg swung over his shoulder as he feasts on you like a man starved. You’re sure the myriads of ancient philosophers behind you are rolling over in their graves right now. But with the way he’s suckling on your clit like it’s his last day on Earth, you can’t complain.

You bite down on your lip so hard you can taste blood to keep the sounds at bay, but he seems determined to make your job impossible as he curls a finger against that delicious spot deep inside you. Your legs tremble violently as you feel your high approaching, and you grip onto his crimson hair for dear life. He can feel you clench around his fingers, and he flicks his tongue against your clit at a punishing speed.

“Eris, I’m—”

Your lips part in a silent gasp as you reach your peak. The ecstasy coursing through your veins is dizzying, and your legs fall limp. Eris holds you steady as he continues his ministrations, riding you through your orgasm until the overstimulation is too much and you’re pushing his head away. You glance down shyly through spotted vision to find up looking up at you, grinning like a devil. He pulls your panties back into place and eases your leg off his shoulder before rising to his full height. He taps his thumb against your mouth, and you part your lips obediently. He dips his fingers into your mouth, and you wrap your lips around them. Your cheeks flare at the taste of your own arousal, and he groans as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, sucking them clean.

“Always so good for me, Little Bird,” he murmurs while pressing a chaste kiss on the shell of your ear.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and dips down to your height to capture your lips in a slow, but sensual, kiss.

“I think I like you better on your knees,” you mumble into his mouth.

He grins against your lips, “I’d gladly spend eternity on my knees for you.”

You sink your teeth into his bottom lip teasingly, “If I’d known that all it takes to defeat the Fox is spread my legs, I would’ve dropped my dress a long time ago.”

He nips you back harder, “Don’t mistake my insatiable appetite for weakness, darling.”

Despite the playfulness of his words, there’s an underlying warning that makes your skin prickle with thrill. You whine in protest as he pulls away. He wipes his thumb over his mouth, collecting the remaining evidence of your tryst, before sucking it between swollen lips.

“As much as I would love to stay hidden with you between bookshelves all day,” he smooths down the front of your wrinkled dress, “I do have a meeting to get to.”

Your lips dip into an exaggerated pout and you reach up to fix his tousled hair, “What will I ever do without you?”

The lilt of your teasing tone elicits a toothy grin.

“Allow me to walk you out,” he intertwines your fingers with his.

You frown and keeping your feet planted in your spot despite his efforts to guide you away, “Can I stay for a bit longer? I was hoping to get through the late Lady Margrave’s anthology before I was so rudely interrupted.”

His lips twitch upwards, but you can see the hesitancy in his eyes.

“I’d rather not leave you here alone,” he maintains.

You raise your hand to his face, rubbing your thumb along his jawline in a coaxing manner, “I promise I won’t be long. And Sage will keep an eye on me,” you reference the smokehound who is currently sleeping soundly in her favorite spot in front of the fireplace.

He purses his lips, and groans as you teasingly trail your touch down the sensitive skin behind his pointed ear, “You are the devil.”

“I learned from the best,” you muse as you place a swift kiss on the corner of his lips, “Is that a yes?”

“A reluctant one,” he quips, “Only if you promise not to stray from the library—in and out.”

“Promise.”

With your fingers metaphorically crossed behind your back, you don’t feel an ounce of guilt lying through your teeth.

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles before hesitantly pulling away, “’Till we meet again?”

You flash a coy smile, “’Till we meet again.”

Your shoulders slump with relief as he winnows away in a flash before he can change his mind about letting you stay. You pat your hair down and adjust the skirt of your dress before wandering back towards the front of the library. Sage twitches softly as you take a seat on the couch behind her and pick up your book. The fire warms you as you mindlessly page through the anthology, biding your time before you plot your next search of the house. Your eyes flick back and forth between the text in front of you and the grandfather clock in the corner, your leg bouncing with anticipation. Once the clock strikes 11:00, you deem fifteen minutes to be an acceptable waiting period. You shut the book and place it on the small table beside you, knowing that it will be magically reshelved. Sage sluggishly lifts her head when you rise to your feet, and you give her a soothing scratch between her ears.

“You’ll keep quiet about this, won’t you?” you coo as if she’s a loving pet, rather than a vicious animal.

She merely blinks at you, vermillion eyes unbothered.

An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest. Eris must really trust you if this creature he’s trained to kill doesn’t so much as bat an eye at your snooping. You give her one last stroke before rising to your fall height and setting off towards the grand, oak doors. You slowly creak them open, peering out to make sure the hallway is empty before exiting.

The chronically dim light of the hallways works to your advantage as you slink along the shadows in the corridors. This is risky—much riskier than you last venture, as the clock hasn’t even struck noon yet. There are sure to be guards and Vanserras lurking behind every corner. But with only two weeks left to uncover Eris’s true intentions, time is ticking. It’s been difficult keeping Rhys’s incessant pestering at bay, and you’re not sure when you’ll get another opportunity to search through the house with Eris’s constant watchful eye.

You don’t rush through your movements this time. You empty your mind of everything except Azriel’s map, your eyes and ears at high alert. Beron’s office is about a mile and a half from the library, four floors up. With your creeping pace it will take at least thirty minutes to get there, so you can’t afford even a momentary lapse in focus. You approach your first guard and hold your breath as they unknowingly pass you. You keep your side pressed against the wall as you continue, your footsteps feather-light.

The Mother must be on your side, as you finally make it to the right hallway without running into a single Vanserra. You presume that Eris’s brothers must be with him at whatever meeting he is currently attending. The hair on your arms stands on end as you approach a large, scarlet door. Of course it’s red, you think to yourself. You pause, scanning both ends of the hallway. You wait a few beats, looking out for any unexpected guests, before emerging from the shadows and approaching the blood-colored door. You press your ear against the wood, listening carefully for any breathing or movements. You can sense some wards inside the room, but thankfully none on the door. So, with a deep breath, you wrap your hand around the doorknob.

Your heart beats at a thunderous pace as you creak the door open, inch by inch. Your shoulders slump with your relief as you are greeted with an empty, albeit ghastly, room. You hastily step inside and shut the door behind you before fully taking in your new surroundings.

Unlike Eris’s chambers and office which hold a warm glow, this room is…cold, to say the least. The walls are made of the same limestone in the hallways, and the floor is covered by a carpet the same shade of red as the door. In the center of the office sits a sleek, black desk. From what you’ve heard about the cruel High Lord, this is a fitting space.

You scan over the papers on his desk, careful not to move anything out of place. Nothing piques your interest, so you move to his cabinets. The first drawer slides open easily but contains no information you didn’t already know. You go to pull the second open, but frown at the ward keeping it sealed tight. You could use your spell-cleaving abilities—but doing so may alert Beron that someone went rifling through his office. With a sigh of frustration, you redirect your search to more discrete hiding places.

You run a hand underneath the desk, and find a small, hidden compartment. You pull it out, and a rush of adrenaline surges through you as you stare down at the box full of correspondences with Brialynn. Although she is no longer a threat to Prythian, you eagerly rifle through them, hoping to find something that may reveal Beron’s next steps. But as you page through, your hope diminishes. Nothing useful—yet again. You carefully rearrange the parchment the same way you found it, and slot it back underneath the desk.

“If I was a misogynistic tyrant, where would I hide my secrets?” you wonder aloud.

You scale the room, running your hand along the bookshelf in the corner. Most of the books have collected so much dust, the titles are nearly impossible to read. But there’s a single binding in the corner catches your eye. It’s dust-free, unlike the others. You pull it out, but instantly regret your decision as you flip it open. You shouldn’t be surprised, really, that the only used book in Beron’s office is filled with obscene images of nude females. But that doesn’t stop your face from contorting with disgust. Despite the bile rising in your throat, you still flip through it just in case there is something of use buried within the explicit photographs. However, you are only met with disappointment and an even more blistering nausea as you come up short. You shove the book back in its place with a shudder. Pig.

Having searched every nook and cranny of the dreadful office, you’re at a loss. Your eyes land on that second warded drawer, and you bite your lip in contemplation. Is it worth the risk? You fish a spare coin from the depths of your pockets and pinch it tightly between your fingers.

“Heads, cleave. Tails, don’t cleave,” you mutter to yourself.

If Rhys could see you know, he’d be screaming. Your lips twitch at the thought, and you throw the coin high in the air. It clatters against the desk and rolls around for a bit before landing.

Heads.

Cleave, it is.

You place both hands on the cabinet and shut your eyes. You take a deep breath in and dispel every lingering thought in your head with a slow exhale. You focus on the feeling of the cabinet at your fingertips, picture yourself physically sucking out every last drop of magic. A wet chill snakes across your hands, up your arms, as you twist and play with the magic, coaxing it to unfurl from the cabinet. Click.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound, and you find the drawer cracked open. A toothy grin stretches across your face as you grab the singular folder lying within. However, your smile drops instantly as you page through the contents: log after log of Eris’s whereabouts, finances, and even his smokehounds’ patrol patterns. Thankfully there’s nothing here that links Eris to the Night Court, but Beron knows about his monthly visits to the Spring Court. He knows his son is up to something. And if he finds out what, then…

Thunderous footsteps in the hallway break your train of thought. Your face pales, and you hastily shove the folder back inside the cabinet. Your hands tremble as you quickly put the ward back into place. Just as the lock of the drawer clicks, so does the blood red door swing open.

You stand, frozen, as you stare into the cold, dark eyes of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. His lips are snarled, and his presence seems to engulf the whole room, but for some reason, his gaze isn’t fixed on you. He strides forward in three thunderous steps, and you stumble backwards to the other side of the desk, shaking like a leaf. But again, he seems to look right past you as he stops in front of the drawer where you were just stood moments earlier. Every survival instinct you have seems to vanish as you stand there, waiting for him to throw you in the dungeon, or better yet, execute you on the spot. But he doesn’t so much as look in your direction as he opens the cabinet and flips through the folder.

Is he blind? How on Earth is he not seeing you?

You glance down at your trembling hands, and the silver ring sitting snugly around your thumb winks at you. It couldn’t be—could it?

You creep backwards towards the door, and Beron slams the cabinet shut with a huff.

“Must be a false alarm,” he grumbles under his breath.

He marches towards you, and you scramble out of the way just in time for him to brisk by. He swings the door shut with a slam behind him, and despite being left alone in the room, relief doesn’t wash over you.

Your legs wobble as you reel over what just happened. You should be dead, or at the very least, behind bars. But by the grace of Eris, you’re standing here unscathed, despite feeling like your heart is seconds away from giving out. You stand unmoving for a few minutes, until the shock settles enough to make your escape.

The hallway is empty, and you don’t hesitate to slink into the shadows along the walls. You try your best to remain light-footed, but you can’t creep out the way you crept in. You all but run through the house, heart still pounding in your ears. Your stomach churns as you turn a corner and find yourself in a brightly lit passage—no shadows in sight. No sneaking through this one. If you get caught running, your near escape from death will be all for nothing. So, you take a deep breath before emerging from the shadows and setting into a steady stride. You breathe in and out with each step, counting your paces until you near the end of the stretch. Almost there.

But as you turn the corner, you collide with something hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eris stares down at you, wide-eyed.

Think quick, you urge yourself.

“I was just—I was just looking for a restroom, and I got lost,” you stammer.

Your tone is unconvincing. But you hope the lie is enough considering you aren’t, in fact, too far from the library he left you in.

His jaw clenches and he grips your upper arm tightly, pulling you into an alcove around the corner. You want to shrink under his scrutinizing glare, but keep your chin high.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” his tone is firm despite his hushed whisper.

Your force your lips upwards into an innocent smile, “You just scared me, that’s all.”

He purses his lips and studies you as if he can see straight through your lie. He sticks his head out into the hallway, checking to make sure you’re alone, before speaking in a low murmur, “You promised you’d be in and out.”

“I know,” you hook your pinky finger with his in an attempt to settle his unease, “I’m sorry. Really.”

His relaxes slightly into your touch, but the tension in his shoulders is still apparent.

“Let me walk you out,” he sighs, and you silently sing praises that he doesn’t press the subject further.

He pulls his hand away from yours but rests a hand against your lower back as he leads you down the hallway. You follow quietly, still on edge. Even as you exit the walls of the Forest House in favor of the chilling autumn wind, you remain silent. The two of you pass at least a dozen sentries on your journey through the courtyard, but with Eris by your side, they don’t so much as bat an eye. It isn’t until you’re at least twenty yards out of the golden gates that you halt and turn towards the crimson-haired man beside you.

“I really am sorry,” you blurt, “I didn’t mean any harm.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not angry with you, Little Bird,” his voice is warm, but holds a certain harshness as he continues, “But you must think me a fool if you believe I can’t sniff out a lie when I hear one.”

Your cheeks flush and you divert your gaze to the ground beneath you. Intermix lies with half-truths, if needed. He’s privy to others deceiving him, Azriel’s voice rings through your mind. You twist the ring around your thumb in thought before raising your hand, the silver glistening brightly underneath the beating sun.

“What is this?” you deadpan, gesturing to the ring on your finger.

His eyes harden and his soft smile dips down, “I take it you met my father?”

“I ran into him in the hallways,” you speak with conviction this time to conceal your lie, “And I wasn’t looking for the washroom. I wanted to surprise you in your chambers, and I thought I could find my way there on my own.”

He scans your face as he mulls over your response. To your relief, he seems to take the bait.

“It’s something I picked up during the war on Hybern,” he finally answers your question, “When adorned, the wearer becomes invisible to any High Lord’s gaze.”

Your lips part as you study the shining piece of jewelry on your thumb. You move to slide it off and return it, but his hand wraps around yours.

“I told you I want you to keep it,” he affirms. You open your mouth to protest, but he changes the subject before you get a chance, “When will I see you again?”

Your height weighs heavy, but you force on a playful smile, “Bold of you to assume I want to see you again.”

He matches your teasing tone, “Bold of you to lie again.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin betrays you.

“Tonight?”

His eyebrows shoot up and his grin widens, “So eager to see me again, aren’t you darling?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, “I can always occupy myself with my filthy little romance novels,” you drawl.

“It would be cruel of me to leave you imagining my head between your thighs when I can show you the real thing,” he stalks closer to you with a wide-mouthed smirk, “Meet me here after nightfall. I’ll send you a signal when I’m ready.”

A red tint crawls up your neck at his sinful insinuation. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, you raise your lips to his ear and whisper lowly, “’Till we meet again.”

Before he can respond, you winnow away in a flash. The dust-filled cabin greets you. You don’t bother discarding your boots or coat as you pace by the fire. What the hell do you do now? Telling Eris what you found in Beron’s office would mean blowing your cover, effectively ending your mission. But not telling him would mean putting him in danger. You run shaky fingers through your hair, pulling tightly at your roots as if the pain will give you some sort of answer.

You tug desperately at your connection with Rhys, screaming down through the cobblestone tunnels of your mind. Your patience is wearing thin, and the walls of the cabin seem to shrink in closer with each pacing step.

Are you okay?

Finally, Rhys’s voice chimes through and you feel like you can breathe again.

I found something, you skip the niceties, in Beron’s office.

You can hear the frown in his voice as he replies, I thought I told you to stay far, far away from him.

You roll your eyes and choose to ignore his chastising, Do you want to hear what I found or not?

Obviously, he quips, irritation clearly laced in his tone.

Beron knows Eris is up to something, you cut straight to the point, I’m unclear on the extent of his knowledge—I had to get out of there before I could really comb through it all. But he knows Eris is sneaking around behind his back.

There’s a prolonged pause, and you hold your breath as you wait for Rhys’s response.

That’s it?

Your eyes widen in incredulity, and you hiss over the connection, What do you mean ‘that’s it’? Eris is in danger.

I mean that’s not our problem to deal with, and your job is to dig up information on Eris, not Beron.

The nonchalance in his voice makes your blood boil.

It most certainly is our problem if Beron is out for blood. If he makes a move against Eris before Eris gets to him, not only is our alliance with Autumn shot, but so is Prythian stuck with Beron as High Lord for another eternity.

You don’t attempt to hide the distress in your voice—even if you risk revealing more than you intend about your feelings towards the Autumn Court heir.

You’re right, Rhys reluctantly replies.

You head lulls back in relief, I know I am.

I’ll have Cassian tip Eris off when they next meet in Spring, Rhys decides.

You frown. Cassian and Eris meet on a monthly basis in the Spring Court, and if you remember correctly, they aren’t due to meet again until you leave Autumn.

You need to inform him sooner, you argue, What if Beron makes a move before then?

If we tip him off now, that may very well expose you. And my first priority is your safety, not the sly bastard’s.

Much to your displeasure, Rhys’s tone is firm and leaves no room for discussion.

Fine, you bitterly relent.

You raise the cobblestone barriers of you mind before he can reply. You know it’s childish and rude, but right now, you couldn’t care less. You were already on edge, and now your mood has been soured even further.

“Stupid High Lords,” you grumble while kicking the dust underneath your feet, “What ever happened to democracy?”

Democracy hasn’t existed in Prythian in at least a millennia. But that doesn’t stop you from fantasizing about a world in which it does—a world void of archaic classist ideologies, misogyny, and most importantly, pompous High Lords who have a stick so far up their ass they can’t see straight. You lay on your bed, still fully clothed, and stare up the ceiling as you immerse yourself in your imaginary land. Maybe it could be ruled by females—warriors like the Valkyries. Education would be a universal right. A soft smile tugs at your lips at the thought of it. Maybe you could work teaching younglings, fae and humans alike, the works of Tydeus and his scholarly counterparts. Or maybe you’d be a scholar yourself, travelling from territory to territory, documenting the lives of each kind of resident because everyone’s story deserves to be told.

Anxiety still grips you like a vice—but dwelling on it would be futile. So, you close your eyes and keep building your dream wor;d. And for just a moment, you let yourself slip away from the harsh reality of your predicament.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Meet me after nightfall, he said, I’ll send you a signal, he said.

Night has fallen. It fell nearly four hours ago, in fact. And as the clock nears midnight, there’s still no signal in sight.

You’ve been trying your best to busy yourself—folding clothes, reading, tending to the fire. But with each minute that ticks by, your patience thins and your worry grows. He’s probably still wrapped up in whatever business he has. But after your revelation in Beron’s office that morning, you can’t help but picture a grimmer scenario.

As the long hand of the clock passes the 12, your resolve crumbles. You hastily pull on your boots and drape a cloak over your shoulders. Before you can talk yourself out of it, the world twists and folds and you find yourself in the spot outside the golden gates where you left him earlier that day.

It’s deadly silent, the only sound coming from the large oak trees rustling against the wind. The stars twinkle bright above, giving you some source of light as you scale the area. You keep quiet, eyes and ears alert for any sign of life.

A sinister feeling rolls through your gut. Something’s wrong. You’re not sure how, or why, but you can sense it—clear as the night sky in Velaris.

You calmly approach the golden gates, chin held high as the sentries come into view. They look over you in a scrutinizing manner, but don’t make any movement to stop you as you pass underneath the glistening arch. Once through, you conceal yourself in the shadows as you scale the courtyard and head towards the closest entry to Eris’s chambers.

The moment you enter the Forest House, the sinking feeling in your stomach grows. You make quick work of the stairwells and hallways, moving swiftly but remaining in the shadows to avoid detection. This time, the image of Azriel’s map doesn’t guide you—rather, your body moves on its own accord, as if being tugged along by some otherworldly force. Your steps falter as you approach the oak doors of Eris’s private chambers. You slip out of the shadows and press an ear to the door. All you can hear is the crackling of a fire, and so with trembling hands, you slowly twist the door open.

Your heart breaks at the sight before you.

All you see is red. It burns bright ruby in the embers of fire. It flows deep crimson in the locks of his hair. And it bleeds angry scarlet from the skin of his back.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice is almost unrecognizable. He sits crouched in front of the fire; head slumped. His limbs are limp, shoulders heaving in shuddered breaths. And his back faces you, displaying a tunic so bloodied, you can barely see its eggshell white color.

“Leave,” he croaks.

But you can’t. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. All you can do is stare at the violence of the red. Everywhere.

His head cranes to the side, and your eyes meet his. Gone is bright amber. They are cruel—handcrafted by the wicked of the world.

“Are you deaf?” he snarls, “Get out. Now.”

His cold gaze returns to the fire. Despite the malice of his tone, you creep forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. As you walk closer, you can see the slash marks more vividly. You can see how the fabric of his shirt splits around each slice, count the number of marks on his back. He’s trembling. With rage or pain, you’re not sure—perhaps both. And as you approach his side, you can see how he holds his hands over the blazing flames. It’s reminiscent of your burn and pull away game. But he never pulls away.

You crouch down beside him on your knees, facing his side. But his gaze is unmoving from the flames. His jaw clenches tightly as you study his profile. Up close you can see the swelling around his eyes, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Your own eyes water but you refuse to let them fall. Instead, you reach your arms out to his. You move slowly to avoid startling him, and he doesn’t stop you as you gently wrap your hands around his wrists. The fire burns hot against your skin, but you grit your teeth through the pain.

He allows you to gently guide his hands away from the flames. You intertwine your fingers with his and rub his knuckles soothingly even as his hands lie limp in your grip. His head remains trained towards the fire, and you can see the reflection of the flames dancing in his golden irises. You lower your head reverently to his hands and brush your lips against them. You place a delicate kiss on each knuckle—as if doing so can take away just a little bit of his agony. Just as you think he may relax into your touch, he snatches his hands out of your grip.

Eris rises abruptly, hissing at the pain, and braces himself with one arm against the wall. He glares down at you.

“I told you to fucking leave,” he bellows. But you don’t so much as flinch at his harsh tone. Instead, you rise from the ground in front of him.

“No,” you speak with conviction, but maintain a gentle tone.

His jaw shifts, “I’ll call for my guards.”

“No, you won’t,” you retort.

He’s furious—you can surmise that much. But his cold exterior is slipping, and you’ll be here to catch him when he falls.

“Wipe that pathetic look off your face,” he sneers, “I can’t stand it.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply simply.

His façade cracks. For just a moment, you can see the anguish hidden beneath his glaring eyes. His hand slips down the wall, and he grunts as he pushes himself back up. But his body is trembling, his legs shaking. You lurch forward just in time.

You loop your arms around his neck, careful not to graze any of his wounds, and encourage him to lean his body weight onto you. With a shaky breath, Eris succumbs to your touch and rests his head in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap loosely around your body to stabilize himself.

You can feel his eyes shut tight against your skin, and you gently stroke your fingers through his hair. He slowly tightens his grip around your waist, his hands fisting the fabric of your dress, until he gives into your comfort completely. You stand there for a while holding him, each of you afraid to be the first to speak.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You continue threading your fingers through his locks, “I know. But I’m here.”

His grip around you tightens. You know he’ll need to lie down soon, but you don’t want to push him.

“Let me help you,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, “You can’t,” he pauses before adding, “Faebane.”

You surmised as much. But that doesn’t stop the nausea at the far too vivid image of his torture.

“Allow me to try. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. But after a few beats of silence, he grunts and lifts his head from your shoulder. You don’t miss the wince he tries to hide at the movement. He doesn’t protest as you wrap his arm around your shoulder and tug him in the direction of the bed. He leans his weight against you and allows you to guide him slowly. He grits his teeth with each step, but doesn’t so much as whimper at the shooting pain. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he nearly cries in relief when you reach the bed. He slumps down on his stomach and turns his head to the opposite wall, so he doesn’t have to look at you.

You stare down at the man before you, and hastily wipe away the tear that trails down your cheek. He looks…broken. You desperately want to march into Beron’s office and kill him yourself. But you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. He flinches as you rest your hands at the bottom of his tunic, gripping it softly.

“May I?” you ask.

He nods reluctantly against the pillow.

You take a deep breath to brace yourself before ripping the fabric and sliding it off his body. You swallow your gasp as you lay your eyes on his bare back. At least a dozen angry red slashes cover the expanse of skin. They are raised, surrounded in half-dried blood. It’s clear that whatever torture device his miserable excuse for a father used was laced with Faebane, as they show no signs of healing.

Eris shudders as you run a finger along the side of one of the wounds, careful not to press too hard or touch the affected area directly. You can’t heal him with the generous amount of Faebane. But you may be able to take the pain away.

The room is silent aside from the crackling fire as you hover your hands over his back and shut your eyes. You empty your mind and focus on your fingertips. You imagine tendrils of bright light extending, curling around each wound and stroking it with a gentle touch. You picture your mother—how she used her healing hands long ago to take away your pain when you cracked your head against the staircase banister as a youngling. You remember her soft touch, which in and of itself soothed your anguish. And then, you evoke an image of Eris. You focus on the strong bridge of his nose, the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs, the freckles on his skin.

A moan of relief fills the otherwise silent room, and your eyes snap open. Eris’s features are relaxed—a stark contrast to the look of agony they held moments ago.

“Better?” you ask softly.

He nods, his chapped lips parted.

“Do you have a washroom?” you ask.

He blindly points an arm to the back left corner of the room.

The elegance of his bathroom doesn’t even register in your mind as you hastily grab several washcloths and wet them with warm water before returning to the bed. Eris hasn’t moved an inch.

“I’m going to clean them, if that’s alright,” you speak clearly.

He nods silently again.

The bed creaks underneath you as you sit on the edge and begin to work on his wounds. Even though he can no longer feel pain, you still take great care to clean each area carefully as to not further irritate the skin. With the mess of blood gone from his back, you can clearly see each laceration. They’re deep—painfully so—but once the Faebane wears off, you figure they should heal quickly.

“All done,” you set the bloodied rags aside and stroke your hand soothingly down his side.

He sluggishly turns over but still doesn’t meet your eye, even as he lays with his back on the bed. You remain seated on the edge, not wanting to cross any more boundaries than you already have.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks quietly, his eyes trained on the fire across the room.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. You knew the question was coming. And with the heavy emotions weighing on you, you can’t bring yourself to lie.

“A gift from my mother,” you reply, “She was of the Day Court, gifted with limited healing powers.”

He hums, “What was she like—your mother?”

Your lips curl into a soft smile and you kick off your boots so you can rest your feet on the bed.

“She was warm. Like a crackling hearth,” you roll the ring around your thumb, “Smart as a whip. I think in another life, she would’ve been a renowned scholar.”

His lips twitch upwards, but his eyes are solemn.

“Why wasn’t she?” he asks.

Because her life was stripped away by a cruel male who unknowingly impregnated her, you think.

“Because she loved being a mother more,” you reply.

He nods in understanding. Silence fills the air again, but this time, it isn’t suffocating. You divert your gaze to the fire, watching how the flames move together in a coordinated waltz.

“I’m sorry,” Eris croaks, “For snapping at you.”

You turn your head, eyes wide with surprise. For the first time since you first entered the room, his gaze is trained on you. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. Their amber hue is magnificent. Even with the sorrow they hold, you wish to be bathed in the golden, bright as the sun, for the rest of your days.

“Your eyes are breathtaking,” you whisper in response.

The golden resembles honey as his lips stretch into a soft smile. He shifts over slightly, beckoning you to come closer. You tentatively crawl forward and lie a few feet away from him, but he pulls you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his arm, sinking into his touch.

“They’re my mother’s,” he muses.

“What’s she like?” you use his own question against him.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “When I was young, she was bright—like the sun. But she’s…dimmed since then,” he diverts his gaze to the ceiling and wets his lips before continuing, “Autumn is beautiful, in all its colors. But people often forget how unforgiving its harsh winds can blow.”

You purse your lips as you mull over his words. You shift in his hold so you lay on your side, facing him. You’ve always longed to trace the bridge of his nose, the sharp cut of his jawline. And this time, you don’t stop yourself.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” you ask while dusting your fingers over his freckles.

“Many times,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering at your delicate touch.

“Why don’t you?” you run your finger down the tip of his nose.

He catches your hand in his, resting it against his chest. You suck in a breath as he shifts, turning his head to face you.

“Even in all its cruelty, this is my home,” he rasps, “You haven’t seen the wickedness I’m capable of. I wasn’t made to fly free like you, Little Bird.”

He wears a soft smile, but the sadness lingering beneath the mask is hauntingly beautiful.

“It’s only in darkness that we see the brightest stars,” you barely speak above a whisper.

His forehead falls against yours, and you melt into his touch.

“You’re too good for me, Little Bird. I can’t give you the life you want—the life you deserve,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

You furrow your brows, “You don’t know what I want.”

His nose bumps yours, “And what is it that you want?”

A hurricane of emotion crashes over you. As you look into the golden of his eyes, you feel everything all at once—the fear, the confusion, the guilt, and most overwhelming of them all, love.

“I want you.”

It’s Love that surges you forward. It’s Love you hope he feels as you connect your lips to his. For the first time in your life, it’s Love that takes you over completely.

“I want you,” you repeat against his mouth, “Darkness and all its shining stars.”

It’s slow, but filled with a passion unlike any you’ve shared with him before. It’s salty—from his tears or yours, you’re not sure. And as your lips slide against his, you breathe a life into each other you never knew was missing before.

He raises himself from the bed and cages you between his elbows, his lips never leaving yours. You tangle your hands into his hair as he slides his tongue along your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. As he lifts you up and fiddles with the zipper at the back of your dress, you are reminded of the wounds on his back.

“You need to rest,” you gasp against his mouth, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles as he drags down the zipper at an agonizingly slow pace.

Any semblance of logic leaves your mind as he drags the fabric down your body. He disconnects his lips from yours and you arch into his touch as he reattaches them to your neck. He makes quick work of your bra as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as he wraps his lips around your nipple, flicking over the other with his thumb. He takes his time, worshipping every dip, every curve of your body. The arousal pooling between your legs is almost too much as he switches his mouth over to your other breast.

“Take me,” you gasp, “Mark me,” he toys with the band of your panties, “Have me,” he pulls the material down, “I’m yours.”

He groans against your breast before removing his mouth and licking his swollen lips, “You can’t say those things to me, Little Bird.”

“I mean it,” the hand trailing up your quivering thigh pauses, “I want you. All of you.”

He rises so your eyes are level with his, his hand still inches from where you need him most. He searches your face for any sign of hesitation—but there’s none.

“Are you sure?”

You grab his face and pull his lips down to yours. He shudders at your wordless affirmation but moves his lips against yours with a fervor you’ve never felt before. As his tongue swipes into your mouth, so does his hand continue upwards. You whimper as drags his middle finger through your slick, teasing your entrance before sinking in. Your eyes flutter shut as he curls it inside you, using his thumb to rub circles on your clit. You struggle to keep up with his kiss as he pumps his finger in you, stimulating the most intimate part of your body. Just as you fall back into rhythm, he works a second finger inside you. You mewl and tug harder on the hair at the nape of his neck. He rests his forehead against yours as his fingers stretch you out, his thumb continuing its ministrations against your clit. You feel the coil tightening in your gut, the unbridled pleasure building rapidly.

You grip his bicep, squeezing it slightly, “I need you inside of me. Please.”

You gasp as he curls his fingers once more before pulling them out. Your body involuntarily chases after his touch, but he doesn’t give you a second to process the loss as he reconnects his lips to yours. Your hands tremble with need as you hastily work on the fastenings of his pants, eagerly pushing them down. You palm him through his underwear as he shoves the material off his legs. He moans into your mouth as you dip a hand underneath, wrapping your hand around his hardened length. You can feel him pulsing with need under your fingers as you stroke him. You retreat as he shoves the last bit of material down his legs, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he frees himself completely.

Eris braces himself with both arms above you and your heart thrums in your chest as he stares down at you.

“You’re sure you want this, Little Bird?” he asks.

Your doe eyes are wide with need, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

“You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” he whispers as he nudges your thighs further apart.

You nod and wrap your arms around him, careful not to touch the wounds on his back. He runs his tip through your soaking folds, and you jolt at the sensation. You brace yourself on his shoulders as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your lips part in a silent gasp as he pushes just his tip in. He presses his nose to yours with a heavy groan, but doesn’t move as you adjust to the foreign stretch.

“Keep going,” you gasp.

He peppers kisses along your jawline as he inches in further. Your toes curl at the burning stretch, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“I need you to breath for me,” he mumbles against your jaw.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath as you force yourself to exhale, eyes squinting as he shifts inside you. You cry out as he pushes in another inch, and he rests his forehead against yours once more.

“Talk to me, Bird,” he mumbles.

“It hurts,” you gasp, “But keep going.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls out slightly before pushing back in. He inches in further which each shallow thrust, and you slowly become accustomed to the stretch.

“Feels better now,” you gasp as he sinks in a bit more.

“Just a little more,” he coos, thumb stroking your cheek soothingly.

You think you might implode as he pushes in completely, his hips meeting yours. He releases a guttural groan as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full, and you’re sure you’re adding new wounds to his shoulder with how hard your nails are digging in.

“How does it feel?” his voice is strained as he reins in the instinct to pound you into oblivion.

“So full,” you whimper.

He catches the tear that trails down your cheek with his thumb.

“Is it okay if I move?” he asks gently.

You nod and wrap your legs around his hips to brace yourself. He hooks one arm underneath your thigh, steadying you before drawing back slightly and pushing back in. You moan in unison at the feeling, your walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Do it again,” you gasp.

His hips move again in a shallow thrust, and although the burn hasn’t subsided completely, it’s now accompanied by a budding pleasure in your gut. He reconnects his lips to yours, swallowing your gasp as he pulls out almost completely before sinking back in.

“Faster, Eris, please,” you moan into his mouth.

He shudders at the way you say his name, eagerly fulfilling your request as he slowly accelerates his pace. You whine with each roll of his hips, completely enamored with the way he fits into you so perfectly.

He reaches a hand down between you and you cry out as he uses his fingers to stimulate your clit. His thrusts never falter, and you relish in the sound of his skin slapping against yours each time he bottoms out.

“You were made for me, darling,” he mumbles against your mouth, “The way your cunt just sucks me in.”

He raises your leg slightly, the new angle allowing him to hit you even deeper. The pressure in your gut builds with each thrust, and you feel your high rapidly approaching as he flicks your clit even faster.

“’M so close, Eris,” you groan into his mouth, barely able to keep your lips sliding against his.

He moves with a newfound vigor, latching his lips against your neck.

“Let go for me, love,” he coaxes, grunting at the way your walls spasm around him.

He flicks your nipple with his free hand, and that’s all it takes for you to find your release. You all but scream as you reach your high, clutching tightly onto his hair as waves of pleasure roll through you. His teeth press into your neck as his pace falters, and he bottoms out again before spilling into you. His groan is even louder than yours as he keeps rolling his hips, riding through both of your orgasms. Your vision spots and you feel like you’re floating as you come down from the peak of your high, falling limp beneath him. He slumps against you, pressing your body further into the mattress. With his weight on top of you and his softening cock still inside you, you’ve never felt more alive.

You stay like this for a while, reveling in the aftermath of your orgasms, until the lust-filled fog raises and the soreness between your thighs registers. He pulls out slowly, and you wince at the overstimulation. He raises his head from your neck and places a sweet kiss on your lips before flopping down beside you, exhaustion finally kicking in.

You lazily drape an arm over his stomach and nuzzle your head into the crook of his shoulder. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you even closer, and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“How was that, Little Bird?” he mumbles into your hair.

You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. There are no words that could do justice to the feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss consuming you. You can feel him smiling against your head as you struggle to speak.

“I don’t think I can ever read my filthy little romance novels again,” you blurt, rather ineloquently.

His chest rumbles with barking laughter, and you can’t help but giggle at the sound.

“Don’t be discouraged,” he grins, “I’m sure we can incorporate your little books into the bedroom in a way that’ll truly leave you speechless.”

You flush at the insinuation, but swiftly reply, “If we’re already planning for next time, then I’d like to be involved in that discussion.”

“Oh?” he muses, “And what is it that you’d like next time, Little Bird?”

You hum in thought, tracing shapes along his abdomen. You peek up at him from his shoulder, and find his eyes already trained on you.

“I could feel you reigning yourself in,” you purr, “Maybe next time you should let go.”

“If I let go then you won’t be walking for a week,” he caresses the dip of your waist.

You nip at his nose teasingly, “I think I’d be perfectly content staying in this bed for a week.”

He takes a steadying breath, and you smirk at the effect you so clearly have over him.

“One day, Little Bird,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “One day I’ll absolutely ruin you.”

You grin and nuzzle your head back into his shoulder, “Sounds like a plan.”

You lay like this, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, for a while. No words are shared, and the only sound filling the room is the crackling of the fireplace. You hope your touch conveys all that you can’t say.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few beats of silence.

Déjà vu surges over you. You remember the first time you laid beside him—how little, and how much, has changed since then.

You echo his words from that night, “Never thank me.”

You want to say more. You want to tell him everything you feel. You want to open the book of your mind, let him read every single footnote in the story of your life. But there’s so much to say, you wouldn’t even know where to start. So instead, you settle for the words on the very tip of your tongue.

“My brightest star,” you hum, placing a kiss on his ear.

He strokes his thumb along your shoulder, “If I’m the stars, then you’re the moon.”

You smile into his skin, and your eyes flutter shut. Between the comfort of his touch and the whirlwind of a night you’ve had, you find yourself unable to keep exhaustion at bay.

As you drift from consciousness, there’s no Rhys nagging in the back of your mind. No sister to beg for forgiveness. No dead mother, no cruel father. There’s just Eris.

And for the first time in your life, you feel peace.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Throughout Eris’s long, miserable existence, Pain has been a constant.

It sings in the tortured cries of those who have wronged him. It swims in the eyes of his mother, a shell of the woman she used to be. It bleeds from his skin, with each lash he’s earned from his father.

��It’s Pain that wakes him, yanks him from his fleeting escape from reality.

He hisses at the feeling of silken sheets rubbing against the fresh wounds littered across his back. He moves to push himself up, but pauses at the weight on his chest. When he looks down, Pain vanishes momentarily.

Somehow, you’re even more breathtaking in your sleep. Your cheek is pressed up against his shoulder, arm draped over his stomach. You look so innocent like this, and he wishes the image to forever be imprinted in his memory.

Just as suddenly as it vanished, Pain returns.

He shifts slowly, wincing as he slides out from underneath you. Your head falls against the pillow and your gentle breaths falter, but you don’t stir. Eris grits his teeth as he pushes himself up so he’s seated, his back against the headboard. The cool wood is soothing against his burning skin. He knows that sleep won’t come to him, now that Pain has arrived again. So instead, he indulges himself in you.

Guilt washes over him as he watches how your bare shoulders rise and fall with each breath. He’s selfish for indulging himself in you when he knows he can’t have you. He knows it will have to end soon—before you can fall victim to the tragic fate of Vanserra women.

Eris is just thankful you haven’t realized the shimmering thread of gold tying you to him yet.

He was sure the bond would snap into place for you tonight. Shame pools in his gut as he realizes how badly he wanted it to snap in place for you. In all his selfish desires, there’s nothing he wants more than to call you his. But by some grace of the Mother herself, you’re still blissfully unaware of your mate.

Since the night of the Equinox, the night when you were wearing that sinful little red number, he’s spent hours on end reading about mating bonds. Much to his disappointment, he’s yet to find anything on how to sever them. But he’s learned two things.

The first is that mating bonds don’t always snap into place for both parties at the same given moment in time. And when they don’t, it’s statistically more likely for males to feel that shining thread of gold first.

The second, and the one that puzzles him right now, is that if the bond doesn’t snap into place immediately, it does when you’ve realized your feelings for your other half, at the peak of your vulnerability. With the…the rawness of how you spoke to him tonight, of how you gave yourself to him entirely, he couldn’t imagine a moment where you could be more vulnerable to the bond’s hold over you.

His fingers ghost over your hair, which looks resembles a halo around your head, as he mulls over the possible explanations. Perhaps the bond is one-sided, and it just won’t snap into place for you. He hasn’t found any literature on this, but if human can be made Fae, then surely nothing is impossible. Alternatively, it’s possible the bond didn’t snap into place because you weren’t wholly vulnerable—because you were holding something back.

Just as that thought crosses his mind, so does your body shift, exposing a bit of black ink on your side. Eris pauses his stroking movements and his brows cinch together. He doesn’t remember you having a tattoo—and with how many times he’s seen, touched, imagined your naked body, he’d surely remember it. A lump grows in his throat, and against his better judgment, he reaches forward and tugs the sheets down your body.

The cold heart you were just beginning to warm freezes over entirely as he lays eyes on the Night Court insignia inked beside your breast. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, making sure his imagination isn’t playing tricks on him.

But the only one playing tricks is you.

His jaw clenches so tightly that it might break as he brushes over the marking with his thumb. Behind the Illyrian Mountain lies a shining sun—symbolic of the Day Court, he pieces together.

Morrigan’s big, brown eyes. Your ability to appear out of nowhere, as if emerging from the shadows. All the questions about his family, his business dealings. Lurking around the halls of the Forest House. Your penchant for ancient literature unbecoming of a regular merchant’s daughter.

Bile rises in his throat as everything hits him all at once. He snatches his hand away from your body, as if you’re poisonous to the touch. Eris scrambles to the side of the bed and heaves, but nothing comes out. He squints his eyes shut and tugs harshly at the roots of his hair.

He’s a fool. A fool for not realizing it before, for being so entranced by your allure that he didn’t see what was so obviously sitting right in front of him. A fucking fool for thinking that someone could love him, so unequivocally.

You’ve had him wrapped around your finger this whole time—pinpointing his weaknesses and using them to your advantage. You’re no better than he is. No better than Beron. No better than your pathetic gang of friends in Velaris.

Worst of all, you are the darkness you speak so fondly of.

Pure, unbridled rage bubbles in the pit of his stomach. Red hot fire surges from his fingertips, and he knows if he doesn’t move away from you he’ll burn the whole house down until only ashes are left.

So, he finds himself back in front of the fireplace, his hands dancing with the flames, with only Pain to keep him company. And as he stares into the burning embers, he decides his next move. If you want to play him like a pawn, then so be it. He’ll just have to take your queen.

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justporo · 9 months ago

Text

The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy! With a wonderful gifted artwork by @nathaira-draws (please follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier

~~~

You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.

But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.

Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.

Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.

And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.

And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.

You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.

Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.

The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.

As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.

Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.

This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.

The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.

His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.

You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows. “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”

His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.

You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.

His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.

“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.

Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.

It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.

The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.

Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.

“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.

The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…

Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.

Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.

Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.

“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.

The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.

When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.

In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.

By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.

Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”

Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.

Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.

Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike.

Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.

The whisky would have to do.

But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.

Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.

The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.

It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.

And yet the most you had done was sit there.

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?

Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.

Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-

“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.

His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.

Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.

Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.

He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.

But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.

The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.

You were both in for a treat.

With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.

The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.

The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.

The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.

Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.

One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.

His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.

His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.

And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.

You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.

Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.

But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.

The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.

You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.

“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”

“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”

And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.

Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.

After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.

His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.

You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.

Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.

Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.

Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.

But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.

Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.

His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.

He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.

And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.

Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.

Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.

“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.

You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.

“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”

And Astarion groaned, confirming it.

With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.

You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.

He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.

Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.

Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.

You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.

But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.

In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.

He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.

He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.

The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.

With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.

As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.

With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.

After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.

Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.

It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.

“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.

The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”

“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.

You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.

He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.

Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.

Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.

“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.

The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”

You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.

“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.

You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you

“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.

Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.

“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.

“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.

“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion bg3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x mc

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redvexillum · 2 months ago

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A/N: Get it? Grace-fall? It's Graceful. Lol! This brilliance can only come from licking the most expensive and luxurious of doorknobs made of diamonds. Just saying.

SUMMARY: Once a devoted nun, your mortal life ended steeped in sin, condemning you to Hell. You pray relentlessly for redemption, though salvation seems far out of reach. The claws of lust have sunk deep into your soul, your very being dripping with unholy desire. Fallen from grace, you find yourself ensnared by two devils who revel in your surrender, indulging in your flesh and your corruption with wicked delight.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, p in a, double penetration, underlying sexual tension between Alastor and Lucifer, corruption kink, Lucifer has it bad for religious kink, nun!reader, threesome

Hell was not supposed to feel this... warm.

You had been devoted to the Lord, a devout Sister draped in virtue, but even devotion hadn't saved you. Somehow, someway, you’d landed yourself in the depths of Hell. Each morning and every night, you knelt on blistered, infernal ground, your trembling hands clasped in prayer for forgiveness that never came. This place—a supposed refuge for sinners seeking redemption—mocked you. Perhaps your soul was too stained, your sins too vile, to ever dream of Heaven.

Because you carried a shameful secret.

By day, you were the perfect image of piety, wrapped in robes and righteous words, sharing scripture with a voice that trembled with supposed faith. But when the moon rose, so did your desires. Behind closed doors, in the hushed, hidden dark, you cast away chastity like trash. You indulged, flesh against flesh, sin layered upon sin, until your moans sounded like prayers to something other.

And here, in Hell, it seemed you hadn’t changed.

“A-ah, A-Alastor—!” your voice broke as his hands guided your trembling body back against his chest. His claws traced a teasing path up your bare thigh, the sharp tips leaving tingling trails of heat on your sensitive skin.

Once he learned about your past, Alastor couldn’t resist. He delighted in theatrics, and what better costume for his new obsession than the very one that had shielded you in life? He’d conjured a habit reminiscent of your old one—but he’d tailored it.

Or, more accurately, ruined it.

The fabric was thinner, so sheer you could see every contour of your body beneath the strained, clinging cloth. It was tighter, accentuating every curve you once tried to hide. Worst of all, a scandalous slit cut up the side of the tunic, revealing the sinful truth that you wore nothing beneath. Every step threatened to bare your soul—along with everything else.

“T-this isn’t w-what we wore,” you stammered, your voice soft, trembling with both shame and something far more dangerous. You prayed he wouldn’t notice how your body betrayed you, prayed his hand wouldn’t slip lower. But you knew if he did, he’d find the damning evidence of your arousal soaking your thighs.

“Nonsense, dear,” he purred, his voice rolling over you like warm molasses. His breath curled against your ear as his hips pressed insistently into you. "We’re even matching. Look.”

Despite your better judgment, you dared to glance. Alastor stood behind you, garbed in his own blasphemous rendition of a nun's attire. His coif bore an upside-down cross embroidered in crimson, the stitching precise yet sacrilegious.

It was wrong. It was so wrong.

Yet, it set your skin aflame.

“D-does it please you to torment me?” you whimpered, trembling as his palm ghosted over your breast. His thumb brushed the hardened peak of your nipple through the taut fabric, and you bit your lip so hard you tasted copper, desperate to muffle the sinful sound that escaped.

“Torment you?” Alastor chuckled, low and rich, like a velvet sin. His hand slid down, grazing your quivering stomach. “Why, my dear, I would never! I’m simply guiding you on your new path—one of passion, indulgence, and…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that danced over your skin. “…pleasure.”

You didn’t stop him.

You couldn’t stop him.

Shame pooled like molten lead in your chest, mixing with the treacherous pleasure that dripped from your core. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you croaked, “P-please, Alastor, d-don’t tease me.”

“Oh, darling,” he crooned, his tone mocking yet tender, “I don’t tease. I teach.” His fingers edged lower, tracing lower, lower still—almost slipping beneath the slit of your tunic.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Your entire body froze, your muscles locking in mortified panic. The air felt thick, suffocating, as you whipped your head toward the sound.

“Hey, Alastor, why’d your shadow—”

The voice halted, the words hanging in the heavy silence. Time seemed to stop as the intruder took in the sight of you—trembling, dishevelled, pressed against Alastor’s chest in your barely there nun’s habit.

Your breath hitched.

It was Lucifer standing before you.

The Morning Star, the fallen angel whose name was both a cautionary tale and a forbidden promise, stood before you in the flesh. His aura radiated power, a blend of overwhelming authority and unearthly beauty that stole your breath. You should hate him. Every scripture had told you to loathe his existence, to see him as the ultimate deceiver, the tempter of mankind.

But as his crimson, molten eyes softened when they rested on you, it was impossible to feel only hate.

Your feelings for him were complicated—a tangled web of reverence, fear, and an unwilling fascination. The longer you were in his presence, the harder it became to deny that he was not merely a villain. He was something far more nuanced, far more intoxicating.

But all thoughts scattered as you felt Alastor’s hardened length press against your backside. His arousal grew unmistakable, and the firm weight of it sent a jolt of heat through your already trembling frame.

“Ah, did my pesky shadow cause this little interruption?” Alastor mused, his tone smooth yet dripping with mockery. “Hmm, no matter. You can run along now, King,” he added with a laugh that was as sharp as broken glass. “I’m spending time with my dear, after all.”

You flinched as Alastor’s hand slid down, lifting your leg with practised ease. The slit of your habit widened, the cool air licking against your exposed, soaked core. Every inch of you screamed in humiliation as Lucifer’s gaze dropped, his eyes roving over your quivering body until they landed on the most intimate part of you.

His crimson eyes widened, his lips parting slightly as if in disbelief.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Lucifer finally growled, his composure cracking as his brows furrowed in exasperation. “How many times have I told you not to bastardize this?” He jabbed the apple-shaped head of his cane toward your altered nun’s habit, his disdain palpable.

But Alastor only chuckled, his amusement unfazed. “Oh, we’re just having a bit of fun, aren’t we, dear?” His voice dipped with a teasing lilt as he pressed his cheek to the crown of your head, the motion emphasizing the sharp grin you knew was stretched across his face.

His hips moved subtly, his hardness grinding against the cleft of your ass with an agonizingly slow rhythm. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and despite your better judgment, a soft, breathless moan slipped from your lips.

“A-ah—” You couldn’t stop the sound, and shame burned hot in your chest. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your flushed cheeks as you whispered, “I-I’m sorry… p-please, forgive me.” Your words were breathy, punctuated by quiet cries as your hips began to move on their own, seeking more of the sinful pleasure Alastor offered.

Lucifer let out a low, frustrated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Goddammit.” His voice was a mix of anger and something darker—something that made your stomach flip.

The door clicked shut behind him, the lock turning with a finality that sent a thrill of both fear and anticipation racing through you.

“You did this on purpose,” Lucifer accused, his voice low as he stalked toward you. His serpentine tongue flicked out briefly, a glint of heat in his crimson eyes as they roamed your trembling form.

“Hmm, perhaps,” Alastor hummed, his tone light but his actions deliberate. You gasped as you heard the fabric tearing—not yours, but his. You felt the unmistakable heat of his cock sliding against your soaked folds. He moved slowly, deliberately, coating himself in your slickness as if savouring every second.

“I’d be lying,” Alastor murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, possessive growl, “if I said your little stares every time she prayed didn’t irritate me, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s cheeks flushed with golden light, his composure cracking under the weight of Alastor’s accusation. “I-I—!”

“Oh, you didn’t think I noticed?” Alastor’s grin was audible in his voice, wicked and triumphant. He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow movements that had you sobbing with need. Your chest heaved as desperate pleas spilled from your lips, the heat inside you unbearable.

“P-please,” you cried, your voice trembling with the weight of shame and lust that burned away all restraint. “I c-can’t—”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened, his conflicted expression twisting into something more primal.

Alastor chuckled darkly, his voice a slow ripple of sinister delight as he teased you with the head of his cock. The stretch was exquisite, a sweet, aching burn that had you trembling against him. Every inch he pushed into you was a battle between agony and ecstasy, your body straining to take him deeper. You craved it—wanted it to hurt, to feel the sharp edge of your desires as penance for the sin of yearning for something so profane.

Yet, Alastor moved with an almost mocking grace, his control absolute as he bared you to him. His slender hands slid the front of your tunic aside, completely exposing the glistening heat of your cunt to the cool air. Without effort, he lifted your other leg, thighs splayed wide in his grip, and fully sheathed himself inside you.

The sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and you cried out—a broken, helpless apology spilling from your lips. “Forgive me,” you sobbed to a silent heaven, your tears streaking hot down your cheeks. “Forgive me, Lord, for indulging in this sin with a devil.”

Alastor groaned deeply, the sound reverberating through you as his cock throbbed against your quivering walls. “Do you know, dear?” His voice was a sinful melody, tainted with amusement and heat. “You’ve driven the king of Hell to fuckhimself with his hand while watching you pray so sweetly to your Lord.”

Your tear-filled gaze lifted, meeting Lucifer’s smouldering, fiery eyes. His sharp features were shadowed with hunger, and there—pressing against the fabric of his tailored pants—was the undeniable proof of his desire.

Alastor’s grin turned razor-sharp. “Oh, don’t glare at me like that, my dear king,” he crooned, his hips moving with agonizing slowness as he withdrew, only to thrust back into you. The slick sound of your arousal filled the air, making you burn with humiliation and desire. “If anything, you should be thanking me for giving you this chance. Go on, my dear,” he growled, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Beg him. Revere the king of Hell. Pretend it’s just you, alone in your bed, consumed by your wicked little fantasies.”

Heat flooded your cheeks as the memory clawed its way back into your mind. Last night—your knees sinking into your mattress, your cries muffled by your pillow as your fingers worked frantically to fill the ache inside you. You had moaned for it, begged for it, your body trembling with the desperate need for a cock to stretch you open and take you to pieces.

Alastor had seen it all.

A sob broke from your throat, your lips trembling as the weight of his gaze bore down on you. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you moaned, “Please…”

The word lingered in the charged air, and it was all Lucifer needed. The devil sank to his knees, his movements predatory as his hands gripped your hips. His tongue found you—hot, rough, and unrelenting as he licked a path from your swollen clit down to the dripping heat of your folds.

Your body jolted, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch, and Alastor groaned above you, his breath ragged. The devil king’s tongue swirled and slithered, exploring you with a reverence that bordered on worship. You felt his expert hands move to cradle Alastor’s heavy balls, fondling them with a precision that had the radio demon’s voice breaking into a strained moan.

And then, in one smooth motion, Alastor withdrew from you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, but your eyes widened when you looked down to see Lucifer take him into his mouth.

The sight was devastatingly sinful: Lucifer’s plush lips wrapped around Alastor’s cock, his throat working as he took him in deeply, while his thumb slipped back to brush over your clit in teasing strokes. Your hips bucked against his hand, your body caught in a storm of sensations as pleasure spiralled higher with every touch.

Alastor’s hips began to move, thrusting into Lucifer’s eager mouth with low, guttural groans. The sensation of his movements sent shockwaves through you, the mingling sounds of slick arousal filling the air. But Lucifer wasn’t done with you. With a loud, wet pop, he released Alastor’s cock, his hands stroking the length with practised ease, before his mouth returned to you.

You cried out as his tongue plunged into you, curling and twisting inside your heat. His lips latched onto your swollen clit, sucking with a hunger that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Alastor’s laughter—low and strained—filled the room as he watched Lucifer lose himself in you.

And you?

You were drowning in it, consumed by the sheer decadence of being ravaged by two devils who seemed determined to ruin you, body and soul.

A strangled cry tore from your lips, your tears streaking down in hot, salty trails as you trembled under Alastor's punishing grip. His claws dug into your thighs, leaving faint crescents in your tender flesh, a stark reminder of his control.

“More… more,” you begged, your voice raw and breathless. Your body ached, caught between the sharp edge of need and the shame of your surrender.

Alastor’s dark chuckle filled the room, rich with cruel amusement. “Oh, you naughty, naughty girl,” he chided, his voice a silken blade. “This isn’t enough for you, is it? Always craving more, no matter how much you’ve taken.” His words cut deep, each one a taunting echo of your fractured piety, your countless nights spent giving in to your base desires.

Behind you, the wet sounds of Lucifer’s mouth stilled. His fiery gaze raked over your trembling form, lips glistening from the evidence of his ministrations. Without a word, he snapped his fingers, a crackle of hellfire igniting around you. The fabric of your outfit dissolved into nothingness, replaced by a fleeting, fiery heat that licked over your skin.

Now bare, you shivered—not from cold, but from the vulnerable intensity of their attention.

Lucifer’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed—not at you, but at the smug demon holding you open like a feast laid bare. “You…” The words rumbled low in his throat, his fury palpable as Alastor’s grin widened.

With a growl, Lucifer’s composure snapped. He tore at the front of his pants, shoving them aside with deliberate impatience until his cock stood proud—thick, long, and demanding your attention.

Your breath hitched, your mouth watering as heat coiled low in your belly. The sheer size of him sent your mind spinning, imagining how it would feel, how he would stretch and fill you.

Alastor’s voice broke through your haze, a taunting melody dripping with mockery and delight. “Will you pray for forgiveness tonight, my dear?” His words were a cruel caress against your soul. “Perhaps you can taste the king while begging for the Lord’s mercy.”

Lucifer’s muscles tensed, his eyes widening in shocked restraint as his hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock. The tension in his body betrayed the effect of Alastor’s words as his knuckles whitened, trembling.

“Go on,” Alastor purred, his lips curling into a devilish grin. “Say your prayers now, while your purity is torn asunder by two devils who know no mercy.”

A broken sob escaped you, a sound dripping with desperation and forbidden lust. Your body quivered as Alastor shifted behind you, the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against the tight ring of your ass.

Lucifer growled low in his throat, his cock brushing against your soaked, trembling folds. He lingered, waiting—demanding your surrender not just of body, but of soul.

“F-forgive me, Father—ah!” The words barely left your lips before Alastor surged forward, breaching you in one merciless thrust. Pain and pleasure collided as your body strained to accommodate him, your cries loud and uninhibited.

Lucifer didn’t wait. His cock drove into your slick cunt with equal ferocity, stretching and filling you until there was no room for anything but them.

Your body burned, every nerve alive with the overwhelming sensation of being taken, utterly consumed by them. Tears streaked your face anew as your fingers scrabbled for purchase, finally clutching at Lucifer’s shoulders for support.

Their groans filled the room, deep and primal, vibrating through you as they moved in tandem. Alastor’s breath ghosted against your ear, his voice a sinful whisper. “Don’t stop, darling. Continue your prayers.”

The command was both a taunt and a promise, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he thrust into you, sharp and precise. Lucifer’s hands gripped your waist, his movements relentless, dragging cries from your throat that echoed like hymns to your undoing.

The world blurred, every sensation heightening as their bodies claimed you, leaving you gasping and trembling between them. Your prayers turned to pleas, the words dissolving into moans as you surrendered completely, letting them unravel you piece by sinful piece.

“F-forgive me—ah—” The words faltered on your lips, swallowed by the sinful symphony of their bodies entwined with yours. Alastor’s hips rolled with an exquisite precision, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Lucifer groaned deeply as the thin wall separating your cunt and ass flexed with every thrust, their cocks filling you beyond what you thought possible.

“F-Father, f-for I have s-sinned—hah—” Your head fell back against Alastor’s shoulder, your body arching as though in prayer. But this wasn’t piety—this was surrender. Held aloft by their unrelenting grip and their thick, pulsing cocks, you were trapped in a sinful rhythm, their thrusts alternating to keep you on the edge of madness. Sometimes they moved in tandem, stretching you impossibly full, and other times their rhythm broke, their erratic movements overwhelming your senses.

It was too much—your body couldn’t take it—but never in life had you felt such raw, unbridled pleasure.

“K-keep praying,” Lucifer growled, his voice husky with need. His lips descended on your breast, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucked it into his mouth. The sharp sensation of his teeth grazing your nipple made you cry out, your back arching further into his touch. He bit down lightly, tugging before resuming his fervent suckling, each sensation sharpening the ache coiling in your core.

The intensity of it all made your body clench instinctively, gripping the two cocks inside you. Both devils moaned, their pleasure vibrating through you.

“M-my l-last c-confession—hah—please, ah—” Your voice broke as your body gave itself over to the debauchery, your cries mingling with the wet, obscene sounds of their thrusts. The squelching echoed in the room, each sound a testament to your sinful surrender. Your slick dripped down their lengths, leaving trails of debauchery on their thighs.

Lucifer groaned, his teeth grazing your nipple again before tugging it firmly. His hips rolled with increasing fervour, his cock stroking every sensitive nerve inside you. Behind you, Alastor’s pace quickened, each thrust a deliberate claim as he ensured you would feel his presence long after this moment ended.

“M-my last confession w-was yesterday,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you turned your head to the side. The vulnerable expanse of your neck was laid bare, and Alastor wasted no time. His teeth sank into your skin, sharp enough to draw blood, the sting mingling with the pleasure coursing through you. The heat of his bite spread through your body, making your thighs tremble as he pulled you open even wider.

Lucifer took advantage of your vulnerability, slamming his hips into you with reckless abandon. The head of his cock hit your clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves of ecstasy radiating through you. The sensation tore cries from your lips, your voice cracking under the weight of your pleasure.

Your body began to quake, every muscle tightening as you climbed toward the precipice. “Th-these are my s-sins,” you whimpered, your voice choked with desperation.

And then it hit you—a tidal wave of release that crashed through your body with devastating force. Your eyes flew open, unseeing, as your orgasm seized you. Your inner walls convulsed wildly, clutching at their cocks in a desperate rhythm as your juices spilled over, drenching them in your shameful surrender.

A broken, anguished cry tore from your throat, echoing off the walls.

Lucifer groaned, his glowing red eyes narrowing as his restraint snapped. His fangs elongated, glinting in the dim light as he growled. He gripped your hips tighter, slamming into you with renewed vigor, his movements fuelled by the sight and feel of your release.

Behind you, Alastor moaned deeply, his hips rolling as he chased his own pleasure. The rhythm of his cock driving into your ass became erratic, his voice trembling with wicked delight.

Together, they claimed you completely, leaving no part of you untouched or unmarked, their sinful union branding your body and soul in ways you would never recover from.

Your body quaked, overwhelmed by the sensations tearing through you. The remnants of your first orgasm still pulsed faintly when a second wave began to crest, building swiftly and mercilessly. Your muscles clenched again, pulling tight around them both, every nerve alight with searing pleasure.

Your cry was raw, piercing the room as your release overtook you once more. Every inch of you spasmed, your inner walls fluttering as the force of your climax rippled through you. Lucifer groaned deeply, the sound guttural and primal as his own restraint snapped. His cock throbbed inside you, releasing hot spurts of his seed into your womb, filling you to the brim.

Behind you, Alastor followed swiftly, his thrusts faltering as his hips slammed forward one final time. He shuddered, a strangled moan escaping his lips as his warmth flooded your ass, mingling with the sinful heat of Lucifer's release.

The room stilled, save for the sound of ragged breaths interwoven with the heady scent of sweat and sex. You felt their combined arousal spilling from you, dripping down your quivering holes and pooling onto the floor. The sensation sent another shiver through your body, shame and satisfaction coiling together in an intoxicating mix.

When Alastor released his grip, you collapsed onto trembling knees. Your hands reached instinctively for Lucifer, your lips finding his softening, spent cock. Pressing reverent kisses along his length, you tasted the salty mixture of his essence and your own arousal on his heated skin.

“P-please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. You were insatiable, a vessel of endless need, the embodiment of Lust itself. Your lips trailed down his shaft, leaving a wet path of kisses before you flicked your tongue over the sensitive head.

“Please… more,” you murmured, kitten-like licks teasing the tip as a small bead of seed lingered there.

Lucifer hissed softly, his cock twitching faintly at your touch. His crimson eyes softened, a dark smile gracing his lips as his hand lowered to cradle your head. His fingers combed through your sweat-dampened hair with surprising tenderness, an almost possessive gesture that made your heart race.

Alastor chuckled from behind, the sound low and indulgent. “Oh, my dear, you are truly something sinful,” he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet. “But isn’t that why we adore you?”

You should have felt shame—a deep, bone-chilling regret for your weakness, your inability to resist this sinful allure. But as Lucifer’s hand guided you back to his cock and Alastor’s fingers traced possessively down your spine, the warmth of their attention ignited something darker inside you.

Perhaps this was your punishment, a divine reckoning. To know this insatiable hunger, this endless need, and to revel in it despite the crushing weight of shame.

You opened your lips, ready to receive more, your body trembling with anticipation. If this were to be your punishment, you would take it with open arms, submitting fully to the sinful ecstasy they offered.

Forever bound by pleasure and despair, you realized one undeniable truth: you would never escape this, nor did you truly want to.

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lady-lauren · 4 months ago

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❥ DRACULE MIHAWK X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.5k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: knife play (and sword play), sword slicing clothes, sword against pussy, sword/knife against throat, sword to your mouth, (listen his massive sword is everywhere), some fear-play, semi-public sex, former student/master relationship, degradation, praise, some aftercare, creampie

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

Time slows as your eyes catch the glint of a black blade. You see yourself in the mirror-finish; frightened, pressed with no escape.

“I’m growing…tired of this little chase.”

Cool metal kisses your chest, the heaviness of his sword lingering just above the panicked swell of your breasts. Mihawk gazes down, head tilting as he analyzes the predicament—you, back down in the filthy alley, heartbeat a sonorous tune up the spine of his blade.

“Sounds like someone is losing his edge.”

“I don’t have time for your brattiness. You’ve got quite the bounty on your head.”

He moves the massive saber lower, the trailing point curved, sharp.

Threads begin to pop before the blade fully begins to slice through your shirt. Carbon steel stings cold against the heat of your tits.

“I thought your precious world government would give me a pass, given that I’m,” you can’t help but suck in a quick breath as he presses down with his sword, slow, methodical, enough to hurt and not break skin, “y-your student.”

“Former student. Who is very clearly out of practice.”

“Took you two weeks to catch me.”

“Because I’m patient, sweetheart.”

Though his patience seems to be running thin. You’ve never been on the receiving end of Yoru, the great sword only ever used when your master deemed it necessary. The weapon can cleave apart a war galleon, swing a shockwave to crumble glaciers.

Yet now the midnight blade is gentle, precise, peeling away cloth until your breasts spill into the night air.

“Wh–what are you—?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he presses the tip of his sword to your throat, tilting your chin with the point, “you can benefit from a quick lesson.”

Your swallow rolls against the blade.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never dreamt of this, of being at his mercy. Mihawk never crossed boundaries, not while you were his to teach. Only times change, tides shift, and now he’s taking what he wants.

He doesn’t have to tell you to be still.

“Pretty.” He twists the wide sword flat, barely catching the hard peak of your nipple with the edge before smoothing over your skin with the blade. Your teeth grit as you shiver, trying to keep your breathing even. Mihawk repeats the motion, teasing your nipple until it hurts from the icy steel. “Sensitive, too.”

Nails scraping in the dirt, your eyes flash to the mouth of the alley, shadows passing in the street lights.

Mihawk traces the deadly metal along the curve of your breast, so torturously pressing into the fat like he’s testing the elasticity. The blade pinches against your skin, not enough to draw blood, just enough to remind you of his meticulous control.

Adrenaline lights up every nerve in your body as the weapon drags down, a stinging line drawn to your stomach. One wrong move and he could slice you open. Just a single squirm and the heavy sword would pierce skin, impale your insides on the most powerful sword on the four seas.

“Mi-Mihawk, please.” The tremble in your voice is a white flag waving.

“What are you begging for?” There’s a twitch at the corner of his sharp mustache, a smile, self-satisfied and impish. He presses the blade into the softness of your belly, prodding you, teasing.

“Don’t hurt me, please, I-I’ll—”

“Do anything?” he cuts in, the smile shimmering up to his eyes, concentric rings focusing on how your thighs press together. Hot, needy, all the fight in you draining to one vulnerable point.

“I won’t hurt you,” the promise comes with a shift of his sword, roaming lower, “just want to play with my catch.”

You try to concentrate on anything other than the weight of danger. A low breeze kicks against the crimson of his cape, mud and dust caking the hem. Yellow haze of distant street lamps reflects off his chest, sweat beading in the grooves of muscle—from the chase or his focus, you can’t tell. He looks a bit older than you remember, all the more wiser on how to play.

“Why?”

“Because I can,” he knocks his boot against your ankle, kicking your legs apart, “because I want to.”

Your tongue feels thick in your mouth. The world has shrunk to just you, the sword toying at the juncture of your thighs, and its wielder—nothing else matters. Not the voices in the distance, the hard dirt against your back, the thoughts you had prior to falling prey.

It’s a surreal feeling of being caught between moments, between life and the fucked up desire to feel more of the crucifix sword against you.

“Always guessed you were hiding a pretty cunt. Let’s see if I’m right.”

The blade sinks between your open legs, knife’s-edge dragging along the seam of your pants. Unhurried, simmering like heat slicing through butter.

Fear kicks in your chest, rings in your ears. He’s so close to the most sensitive part of you, the sword you always admired cutting through your panties. Cold steel like ice against your weeping flesh—you feel strings of your slick glide against the blade as he exposes you.

You whimper as your bare cunt is spread delicately, the tip of the steel peeling apart your labia.

“Messy already.”

The precision he wields paralyzes you, the razor edge of the blade brushing against your swollen clit. Pleasure sings down your veins like the pinging of metal, chills erupting over your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut and will your body to stay still, for your hips not to buck.

Mihawk teases your clit again, and again, swirling the sharp sword over the sensitive bundle of nerves. You choke back a sob, muscles in your thighs twitching as you try to stay calm as he riles you.

“Now what if I…?” he asks himself, the deep baritone of his voice laced with curiosity.

You gasp as the black blade dips lower, curved point teasing your clenching hole. On instinct your legs try to close, stopped only by his quick reaction. His boot kicks at your knee, hissing like you’re ruining his concentration.

“Easy, sweetheart. I don’t want to make this pretty pussy bleed.”

Patient as ever, he gives you a few moments to collect yourself, lungs taking in too much air.

Then the sharpness of his sword pressed back into the squish of your cunt, tip barely easing open your hole like he’s testing, analyzing. A too curious predator prodding his meal.

“Fuck, please…” you bite from between your teeth, clumping dirt in your palms as you fight not to move, fight the fear bubbling inside your belly.

“Do you know what you’re begging for yet?”

“Touch me. Please. I-I need something inside me.”

Mihawk circles your opening, spreading wet muscle, “Tempting words.”

“You know what I mean.”

The blade skims up from your hole, passing through your folds, flicking over your clit with a metallic ping.

“Clean your mess first,” the giant blade gleams as he so easily moves it over your panting body, bringing the tip to hover just above your lips, “then I’ll consider fucking you.”

Your eyes meet his, the shape of the sword going fuzzy in your vision as you evaluate him. Golden eyes are glazed over with lustful focus, watching, waiting.

You don’t break your gaze as your tongue falls from your mouth, licking the underside of the blade. Tangy slick, viscous and gooey, meets your tastebuds. You’d be ashamed of your mess if it weren’t for the way his cock bulges in his pants, thick length throbbing down his thigh.

In all your years of training, he never once let you touch Yoru. And now he’s flipping the edge over your tongue, washing the jet-black color in your spit.

“Does this please you, Master?” you drop the name like acid against the blade.

“I could cut out your tongue.” He proves his point by digging the great sword into your wet flesh, just enough to hurt. He wouldn’t. But oh how he could. “If I didn’t have better uses for it in mind.”

Careful patience snaps. In a blur, the blade is gone, replaced by strong hands maneuvering how he pleases. A jerk and you’re off the ground, a push and your exposed tits are scraping a brick wall.

Mihawk fingers the hole he sliced between your thighs, pant seams ripping farther apart as he spreads your thighs wide.

His cockhead pops into your cunt, length sliding in deep as he groans against your back.

“So wet from my sword.”

Spearing into the most intimate parts of you, Mihawk sets a grueling pace, heady slaps of skin on skin and his thick cock dragging along your walls. He’s working towards a goal, purposeful, kissing the back of your neck as he seeks release.

Your hands slide down the granulated wall, gritty brick digging into soft skin. Your nipples are puffy against the same treatment, tender breasts singing with pain.

“Should’ve,” he inhales with a deep groan, distracted by the suck of your cunt, “known you were such a slut, should’ve made you beg for me sooner.”

You moan his name repeatedly, begging him not to stop, all hot whispers into night air. One hand dips around your body, deft fingers smearing over your clit. Orgasm quickly begins to bloom over your senses, making your toes curl and your back arch against him.

You stare at the ground as Mihawk continues to pump inside you, helplessly whining as he chases his high. You’re fine tuned to every thrust, the way he angles, enough to notice the little inconsistencies. A more shallow plunge, a longer pull of your walls along his shaft before his balls meet your ass.

A hand latches to your throat, lifts your head and forces you back against him. He sucks at your neck, teeth nipping harder than his blade ever touched your skin. His cock swells at the new angle, pressing apart your gummy walls. Over and over he thrusts up into you, slick squelching from the intrusion, dripping down his balls.

Mihawk fucks you through the gap he cut into your pants, seams now tearing down your thighs.

“This how you want me to turn you in? Fucked open and dripping like a whore?”

Before you can register the movements, Mihawk unsheathes the knife that hangs from his neck, pressing it to the column of your throat.

The soft scratch of his beard meets your cheek as the cold metal of the knife skates up your sweating skin.

“Perhaps I can make you even more messy, hm? Since you get off on this shit.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your neck as you try to tilt away from the blade. Yet some part of you wants to press closer, feel the sharp edge dig into your vulnerable throat. Mihawk’s thumb pets the steel, purposefully keeping it steady as he grinds into your cunt.

“Fuck, fuck!” you choke down a whine.

“Worried? I could slice you open now— your bounty is dead or alive.”

The realization of the true danger makes you weak, hands slipping down the wall. He could. He might. It would make it so much easier. Fuck you, gut you, take the prize.

“P-please, don’t. Please. I’ll go with you, you can do whatever you want.”

Mihawk hums in a twisted pleasure, the sound snaking down your spine. The knife blade twists against your skin, tugging you closer to him.

“Let me feel this slutty cunt cum, then I’ll decide.”

A war breaks open in your mind, a battle between fear and ecstasy, swirling together into a messy battlefield that leaves you in a state of limbo. Neither side can win, not when you want both so badly. The fear makes you sweat, the bliss makes your pussy cream around the fat cock that keeps invading your insides.

You’re overwhelmed, panting and whimpering as your former master uses his power and strength to control you in ways you never thought possible.��

The curved, sharp edge of the knife slides down your throat, resting at the base as Mihawk drives his hips harder, jostling you closer and closer to danger.

And the danger is the spark in your belly, igniting the churning coil of shameful bliss that makes you want to sob. The fingers on your clit pick up pace, rubbing fast and mean until you feel too hot.

“Oh god, please, please, I wanna cum, wanna cum so bad for you,” you grit your teeth as you focus on the blinding pleasure, chasing it up the cliff’s edge.

“Do it,” Mihawk groans as he licks up your cheek, arching the blade at the base of your throat, “cum for me, sweetheart.”

He holds the knife tightly to your neck as you come undone, the metal warm from your body. Your moan vibrates against the steel, sharp edge scraping until it hurts. The pain bleeds into pleasure, a wicked mixture that makes your adrenaline filled nerves explode with your orgasm. You feel like you’ve been smashed into by a tidal wave, a rush of emotions and bliss toiling over another in the current.

You babble against the blade, nonsense and pleas. Mihawk follows your flow, pausing his thrusts as your cunt sucks around him. His fingers against your clit go soft, gentle swirls as you wind down from your high.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, yeah,” he hums with delight as his cock begins to pulse and spurt, pearly strings dripping from where he’s plugged inside your pussy. The mess sprays into your ruined clothes, drools down your thighs.

Mihawk drags the knife over your throat, languid, smearing against the wetness of sweat. He traces the column of your neck, letting you feel the flat of the blade stinging over your skin.

“You did good, sweetheart, so good.”

After the knife is sheathed around his neck, he leans forward to trail kisses over your throat, tongue laving over the sore skin rubbed raw from the edge of his blade.

Your heart is racing, pussy still tight with fear as he pulls his shaft from your swollen walls.

Mihawk pulls you from the bricks and into his arms, petting your hair as your face tucks into his chest.

“You feeling alright?” A kiss to your forehead makes you coo, nails digging into him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I’m okay. Guess I’m going with you now.”

A rare laugh rumbles in his chest. Smooth and soft, like a cat purring to soothe.

“Yes, you are. But we’re going home. You clearly need more training, after all.”

You still feel a little numb, arousal and adrenaline still buzzing down your veins. Mihawk brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, down your back, then steps away to pull his coat from his shoulders to wrap around yours.

“And now I have much more…creative ideas for teaching you how to wield a sword.”

#kinktober #mihawk x reader #mihawk smut #op x reader #tw.knifeplay #tw.fearplay #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk smut #one piece x reader #one piece smut #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dripping banner by @/adornedwithlight

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ghostly--photography · 3 months ago

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Oh Captain, My Captain | Q. Hughes

Warnings - smut, kissing, p in v, wrap it before you tap it

Word Count - 1k

Summary - Your own way of congratulating Quinn on the new captaincy…

The grand ballroom of the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver swirled with glitz and glamour as the annual charity gala for the Canucks kicked into high gear. Quinn Hughes, the freshly minted captain, looked resplendent in his tailored tuxedo, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. You were already tipsy from one too many glasses of champagne and had been watching him from across the room with a smoldering gaze, your heart racing with desire. you had been fantasizing about this moment for weeks, dreaming of the night when you could finally claim him as your own, in the most intimate of ways. Their three-year relationship had been a whirlwind of love, passion, and stolen moments, but tonight, with the eyes of Vancouver's elite upon them, you wanted more than just a kiss behind the curtain. you sailed through the sea of well-wishers and teammates, your crimson dress hugging your curves and leaving little to the imagination. As you approached Quinn, you could feel the heat of his gaze on you, a silent promise of the fire that awaited them. "Take me to the bathroom," you murmured into his ear, your breath hot and urgent. "Now." Quinn's eyes widened in surprise, but the hunger in your voice was unmistakable. He knew that tone all too well. With a quick nod, he disentangled himself from the group and led you through the throng, his hand firm around your waist, guiding you to the secluded sanctuary you so desperately craved.

Once in the bathroom, Quinn locked the door behind them, the sound echoing through the marble chamber. Your eyes were dark with lust, your chest heaving with anticipation as you reached up to tug at his bowtie. "I've wanted you all night," you breathed, your fingers trembling with the need to feel him. Quinn's gaze roamed your flushed features, his desire mirroring yours. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he backed you into the plush vanity. The cool marble countertop pressed against your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your body begging for more. His hands roamed your waist, sliding down to cup your ass, lifting yours slightly so you could feel his arousal pressing against yours. you moaned into the kiss, grinding against him, your need for him growing with every passing second. Quinn broke away, panting, and whispered, "Are you sure about this?" You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life." With that, he scooped you up and placed you on the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. The heat between them was palpable, their three years of passion culminating in this moment of raw desire, hidden away from the prying eyes of the gala.

Quinn's strong hands gripped the fabric of your dress, hiking it up to reveal your lacy red lingerie, matching the color of your dress and the passion in your eyes. He kissed along your collarbone, feeling your pulse race under his lips as he reached behind to unclasp your bra, letting your breasts spill free. He took a moment to admire the soft mounds, teasing the peaked nipples with his thumbs before leaning in to capture one in his mouth, eliciting a gasp from you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, urging him to take more. He obliged, suckling and biting gently, eliciting a symphony of moans that filled the small space. His other hand trailed down your body, slipping under your panties to find you wet and ready, his fingers teasing your clit in slow, torturous circles. you squirmed and bucked your hips, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he expertly worked your body. Quinn could feel the tension coiling within you, the same tension that had been building in him all night. He knew you were close, your breaths hitching and your legs tightening around his waist. With a final, firm press of his thumb, you came undone, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm, crying out his name. He kissed you deeply, swallowing your cries as he felt his own need for you reaching a fever pitch.

Quinn's own desire was now a raging inferno, his cock straining against his pants. He pulled away from your kiss, his eyes never leaving yours as he unzipped his fly and freed his erection. Your eyes widened with lust as you watched him stroke himself, the sight making you wetter. "Take me," you begged your voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down his spine. He stepped closer, aligning himself with yours, and with one swift motion, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. you gasped, your body adjusting to his size, your walls clenching around him as you felt the head of his cock hit the spot that made you see stars. You moved together, a dance of passion that had been perfected over the years, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. The reader's nails dug into his shoulders, your hips rocking in time with his thrusts. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, punctuated by their ragged breaths and gasps of pleasure. Quinn's grip on your hips tightened as he pounded into you, each stroke deeper and more demanding than the last. They were lost in the moment, the outside world forgotten as they claimed each other with an intensity that left them both breathless. Your orgasm built again, a crescendo of sensation that had you biting your bottom lip to stifle your cries. Quinn felt you tighten around him, and with one final, powerful thrust, he followed you over the edge, filling you with his release. They held onto each other panting and trembling, their hearts racing as they rode the waves of pleasure that crashed over them. For a brief moment, the bathroom was their private paradise, a sanctuary of passion amidst the swirl of the charity gala.

Their breaths mingled in the steamy air as they stared into each other's eyes, the reality of their heated tryst in the bathroom of the charity gala sinking in. Quinn's forehead was dotted with sweat, his eyes smoldering as he gently kissed the reader's neck, his cock still inside you, pulsing with the aftershocks of climax. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your body clinging to his as if you never wanted to let go. With a soft moan, you whispered, "Quinn, that was..." But the words trailed off as you couldn't find the right ones to describe the intensity of their lovemaking. He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin, and kissed you tenderly. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, gently setting your back on your feet. He helped you fix your dress and lingerie, his touch gentle but urgent as if he couldn't bear to part from your body even for a second. They managed to compose themselves, sharing a secret smile in the mirror that spoke volumes about the unbridled desire that had just been unleashed between them. With one last lingering kiss, Quinn opened the door, and they stepped back into the gala, the scent of their passion lingering on their skin, a delicious secret that only they shared amidst the swirling ballroom. The rest of the night was a haze of stolen glances and knowing smiles, the electricity between them palpable to everyone who saw them. Little did they know that the new captain of the Canucks had just scored the ultimate goal in the most unexpected of places.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #hockey imagines #hockey #nhl #ghost writes

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cntloup · 11 months ago

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18+ MDNI Fem!Readerperiod sex, blood and cum obvdon't read if it makes you feel icky

"C'mere, love." Simon beckons softly and you step out of the bathroom.

His hands fall on your sides and gently wrap around you.

He lifts you up and carefully sets you down on the towel which he laid out on the bed.

He sits on the edge of the bed and softly caresses your thighs, tracing higher and placing his palm over your abdomen, tenderly kneading the soft flesh.

You hum contently at the warm sensation.

"Does it hurt, love?" he asks, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yea. A bit. Fucking cramps." you pout.

"I'm sorry, dove." he coos while softly massaging your belly to soothe your pain.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he questions to make sure, always so considerate and careful with you.

"Yes. I'm sure, Si." you respond eagerly, feeling a surge of need and desperation inside.

"Come on. Pleassseee!" you plead, making cute grabby hands at him.

"You're adorable." he chuckles.

He hovers above you and carefully spreads your legs.

You let out a shaky sigh as the cool air touches your sensitive pussy, laid completely bare and vulnerable before him.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, dove." he croons, leaning in to kiss your lips lovingly.

He strokes his leaking cock a few times and lines himself up at your entrance.

You whimper at the slight brush of his bulging tip against your folds and hook your legs tightly around his waist.

He pulls away ever so slightly, "Ready, love?" he asks while looking fondly into your gorgeous eyes which are filled with love and desire.

You nod and he slips the tip through your labia with ease, your slick and blood acting as lube.

He gently pushes inside, watching your reactions.

He halts as your mouth hangs open with a quiet gasp at the stretch.

"It’s ok. You can go on." you reassure him.

He slowly pushes deeper and deeper, wary of your fragile state.

You gasp while your tight spongy walls get stretched out so wide by his thick cock.

His chest rumbles with a deep groan as he bottoms out inside you.

"You ok?" he murmurs.

"Yeah. Just give me a moment." you breathe out.

"Take your time, love." he whispers, pecking your lips.

He nuzzles your head and runs his fingers through your hair, placing soft kisses on your lips, face and neck while you adjust to his size.

A few minutes pass.

"Ok. You can move now." you give him the green light and he obliges.

His thrusts are gentle and languid, his touch so tender and loving.

He takes such good care of your delicate aching body, it makes your heart flutter with so much love, it's almost overwhelming.

He holds your hand and intertwines your fingers together as he tenderly makes love to you.

You shed silent tears as your heart melts for him, fully immersed in his warmth.

He kisses your tears away while whispering 'I love you' over and over again.

And his voice is muffled by your skin as he trails sloppy open-mouthed kisses on your body.

And soon, the euphoric stream of your orgasm floods through your body.

Your back arches and your legs tremble as you let out broken sobs, his name falling from your lips as you reach your peak.

He spills thick ropes of his cum inside your womb while panting and grunting heavily in your ear.

The white of both your juices mix with the crimson blood and a pretty pink seeps out of your sensitive swollen cunt.

"I love you." he rasps out, still out of breath, lips brushing against yours.

"I love you too, Si." you mumble, lost in the dizzying post-climactic sensation.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod #mw2 #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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thewulf · 1 year ago

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Let Me Help You || Legolas

Summary: Request - hiyaa, i dont really have a specific request but could you do something along the lines of reader hiding an injury from legolas and ofc he notices and takes care of her!❤️‍🩹

A/N: As always, thank you so much for the requests. You keep me inspired and wanting to write more and more and more! Hope you enjoy my favorite price!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: Insecurity, angsty, fluffy

You had killed thousands of spiders in the years of them slowly encroaching on Mirkwood. It was no longer a task but an annoyance to go out and take care of a nest. The only problem was the annoyance made you careless. You’d gotten a bit overconfident in it all. In the years you had been fighting them back not one had even come close to hurting you. Until today.

You were focused on a larger spider playing with it instead of just killing it, your first mistake. The second was ignoring the creeping spider on your right thinking you had more time than you really did. When you felt the stinging sensation of the spider jabbing its poison into you, you spun around and killed it instantly. Hissing in more pain than you could have imagined you ignored it and continued to eliminate as many spiders as you could. You would be fine. You would just have to head straight to a healer once you make it back to the city. Spiders poison did not work fast enough to kill you, only make you delirious.

Tauriel gave you a quick look when she saw you walking weirdly, favoring the side that had not been stung, “Is something the matter Y/N?” She pulled you back and asked once she ordered all the guard back to the castle.

Shaking your head as nonchalantly as possible you straightened up. You had thousands of years of practice to keep your face stoic even in pain, “I pulled a muscle in training yesterday. The healer told me to keep it easy, but I fear I did not listen to her words.” You smiled to her hoping she bought your lie.

She shook her head, “Why did you not tell me? You could have sat today out.”

“And miss out killing spiders? Who do you take me for Tauriel?” You laughed ignoring the growing pain on your side. Taking a quick peak down you wanted to curse seeing the green garment slightly stained with your crimson blood. It was dry by now, surely the wound was actually healed. You just needed help removing the poison.

The remaining walk back was spent in comfortable silence. You had known Tauriel for longer than you even remember. She had always been a constant in your long life. She was a few hundred years older than you and took you under her guidance early on as your parents were close friends. Poor families with strong daughters that wanted more than the living on the outskirts of the big city. Tauriel was the one with the plan, you were the one that followed always wondering what you would’ve been had Tauriel not been there?

Nevertheless, she decided she was going to be a part of the Silvan Guard and that was that. She trained hard, day in and day out. She brought you along once you were old enough to decide if that’s what you wanted. It didn’t come as a second thought as you accepted her offer to begin training. You’d worked your ways up through the different guards behind Tauriel. Finally, a few hundred years prior you had been selected by the king to join the guard. Tauriel was promoted to Captain of the Guard, and you had never been prouder. She was everything and more. A sister you never really had but always wanted.

You’d met Legolas properly the night of the celebration and even chatted for a while. It was not lost on you how his eyes occasionally glanced around the room and landed on Tauriel. She was truly a stunning elf maiden. It surprised you she had not been courted yet, that you knew of. Why wouldn’t Legolas be interested in her? She was stunning beyond measure, kind as could be, a true proven warrior in the field and the Captain of King Thranduil’s guard. What more could you actually ask for?

What you didn’t know was that he kept his eyes on her for security to the king. If he needed to react he was the castles first line of defense when he was home. For he liked Tauriel but only as a dear friend he had grown close to over the years. Ever since your arrival to the guard he had only seemed to have eyes for you. He was just simply good at hiding it from you. Only watching you when you were preoccupied in the ring training or on guard. He couldn’t help himself from just admiring you from afar sometimes. He found you to be the most exquisite elf he’d ever laid his eyes upon. The only problem he had was trying to get you alone. You always disappeared when Tauriel was around and Tauriel was always around, being your best friend and his close friend. It had frustrated him for centuries.

Even his father, King Thranduil, found amusement out of Legolas’s inability to string together a coherent conversation together. For as amusing as he did find it he was growing worried Legolas would never actually be able to figure out how to reach you. Thranduil was hesitant over his sons pining over the elf, but he had found in the limited time he had truly known you, not just heard of your talents, that you were a great match for his son. It had been almost a hundred years since you had joined his guard, and Legolas had grown closer to you but there was just something that was stopping you from indulging him. He had no clue you acted so distant was to protect yourself. It would be hard to pretend you didn’t have a crush on the elf.

You had nearly gotten to the castle before the familiar golden blonde elf appeared in front of the both of you. The poison was really starting to hurt now. You needed to get away from the both of them and down to the healers. You’d just have to think of a good excuse after a moment of listening into their conversation.

“Tauriel, Y/N.” He gave the both of you a quick bow which you only returned with a head nod for you were not so sure you wouldn’t be able to wince from the pain, “How did the day go?” He asked as he looked over both of you. Your heart rate picked up when he spotted the dried blood on the side of your dress. Legolas was observant and even as Tauriel answered him his eyes stayed laser focused in on your form.

“Successful day. I am positive we have not reached the nest yet though. We will be back out tomorrow if you care to join us, my prince.” She answered giving you a curious look as his eyes were still looking right at you.

He gave her a quick nod as if to almost dismiss her before turning back to you. Tauriel stood there stunned at his curious behavior before she walked away slowly hoping to hear the conversation between her two obvious friends. No matter how many times she had told you the two of them were just friends you would never seem to believe her. It was slowly driving her mad as the both of you seemed be so clueless over the others fascination with the other.

“Are you all right?” He asked after a moment of the both of you looking at the other, “You look pale and there is blood on your side.” His head tilted in concern as he stepped closer.

A quick nod, “I am just fine. A small nick on this side is all. I must get going to bathe now if we are to be back out there tomorrow.” Giving him a nervous laugh, you attempted to walk away but he was having none of it. He had let you walk away far too many times, and he wasn’t letting you do it anymore. He wanted to know you. He wanted to understand you. He wanted to spend a lifetime and more with you as he was utterly fascinated with everything he had learned and is learning about you.

You looked down at you wrist being held by his much larger hand then back up to those blue eyes you found so mesmerizing. When he saw you weren’t prepared to speak he did to fill the silence, “You are not fine. You are favoring your left side. You will not look me in the eye and that blood is not even dried! What is wrong Y/N?” He nearly begged while giving your wrist a squeeze hoping to coax an answer out of your stubborn mouth. A trait he both loved and hated when it came to him being on the receiving end.

You looked down, “It is embarrassing. Promise you will not laugh?” You asked him knowing there was no way out of this. When he was focused on something he would not let it go. You were his focus right now and you had a feeling you would pass out before he would just let you wander off now.

His eyes scrunched in concern at your request. What had happened in those woods and why were you hiding it from him? “I would never laugh at you mellon nin.” He grinned right to you.

Rolling your eyes you answered him, “That is a lie for you laughed at me just yesterday!”

He had yet to drop your hand and had no plans to as he waited for your confession, “I was merely laughing with you. Not at you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him you responded, “I was not laughing though.”

“That is beside the point.” He grinned knowing you had bested him, “Can you please tell me what is wrong then?”

“I need to go to a healer. I got stung by a spider. I was careless out there and got bested.” You spoke quietly hoping no others had heard. Your reputation would likely suffer. How could a Kings Guardself get stung so easily?

He frowned taking your words into consideration before deciding what to do, “Follow me. I will heal you. Up to my chambers.” Your feet started following him as he led you to his room. You had been there a few times, but this was beginning to feel different. He was casting gazes at you that you had never seen from the elf you’d grown to love.

“Sit there.” He pointed to his bed like it meant nothing. You hesitated as you looked over the pristinely made bed you’re sure a helper had done up for him.

“Are you sure…”

“None of that. Sit.” He waved you off not letting your brain give it a second thought. You watched as he gathered a few supplies from his bathroom before kneeling at your side.

After a few moments he spoke, “I will have to cut into your dress further.”

“You are lucky I am handy with a needle.” You nodded letting him know it was fine. You would have to show a little skin if he was to actually heal you.

“I will have a seamstress repair it. Do not bother with it.” He smiled right back at you before he began to delicately cut the fabric away. He knew he should not be enjoying this as much as he was, but he was finally getting some time alone with you. It felt like a miracle even if it was at your sake.

“That’d hardly be necessary.”

He hummed before cleaning off the wound, “It’s all right to let people take care of you, you do know that right?”

It was your turn to frown as you took in his words, “I must rely on myself. My parents live far away. My brother was killed in the war. It is just Tauriel and I now. And even then she is busy being the captain most days.”

Legolas looked up to you with a sadness you had hardly ever seen, “This may sting.” He spoke quickly in a much older version of Sindarin. You could hardly make out what he was saying. Instead, you closed your eyes fighting the growing stinging sensation in your side. It would burn until it was all out and unfortunately for you it had been spreading for some time. You clenched your teeth together as the spell worked to pull all the spiders poison from your system. When it was all clear you felt that signature wave of exhaustion come over you after all the adrenaline had finally started wearing away.

“Thank you.” Blinking your eyes rapidly you were trying your hardest to stay awake. At this rate it would be a miracle if you could make it back to your quarters without passing out due to the exhausting beating you.

He gave you a quick nod as he studied you. His concern only grew as he spotted your weary eyes giving way to your overtiredness, “Lay down. Rest your eyes.”

“Oh, Legolas I cannot.” You stood with a wobble for which he quickly grabbed at your waist steadying

“I insist. You will not make it back in your state. My bed is comfortable. Rest, mellon nin. I will be here in the morning.” He pulled the covers back guiding your over. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep at all. He was going to watch and listen to make sure your heart was steady. Your breathing was regular. He knew that you would be just fine, of course. That did not stop the twinge of worry as he saw you in a far more fragile state than he was used to. And you were trusting him instead of running away

“Thank you.” You whispered after he had pulled the covers up over you. Thankful for the night cover because you were sure your cheeks were blazing red. It felt oddly intimate to be cared for so casually. Nobody had really ever done that for you before.

“Quite literally, anytime. Now rest, I will see you in the morning.” He pushed you to close your eyes. And he was right. It did not take you more than a few moments to fall into a deep sleep helping your body recover.

When your eyes opened sunlight was hitting them. You had slept through the night for the first time in a long time. You peaked your eyes over seeing Legolas standing close but far enough to give you your distance with a brilliant smile on his face. You admired his beautiful blue eyes that reflected even brighter than usual. It simply was not fair that an elf could be as handsome as he was.

He took a step closer when your eyes locked with his, “How do you feel?”

“Much better. I slept very well.” You gave him a lazy smile as you sat up in his bed. It hit you that you spent the night in his chambers let alone his bed. Your mother would be horrified to learn you had done such a thing. But you had the suspicion he would never let such a thing get out to anyone. He would find a way to get you out of the royal tower without a second thought. This was Legolas. He would never let your reputation suffer on his behalf.

He nodded taking another step closer, “I told you my bed was comfortable.” His smile only grew into a smirk as he witnessed your cheeks flame up with color. How easy it was to get a reaction from you now that he could properly talk to you, “You look much better this morning. Much more color in your cheeks.” He teased you only worsening your reaction.

You looked down feeling his gaze too much, “You tease me so Legolas.”

He laughed softly, “Indeed. Is it so hard to believe I enjoy seeing you blush?”

You felt you heart pick up speed, “You do?”

“Aye, I enjoy everything about you actually.” He smiled feeling like he was finally letting it all out, “You’re the most interesting elf I have ever got to meet.” He only smiled seeing your shocked expression grow.

“What are you saying Legolas?” It came out as a whisper as if you were afraid of his answer. And you were truthfully.

“I love you. I have loved you for a long time. You have just never given me the chance to show you.” He grinned once more as he kneeled next to the bed, so he was eye level with you. He grabbed at your hand holding it in his.

Your eyes snapped up to his at that admission, “I thought… I thought you liked Tauriel?” You blinked at him more confused than ever. Had you truly been that oblivious to his feelings? You felt your hand growing warm in his.

“Tauriel?” he let out a low laugh, “No, never. She is more of a sister to me than anything.” He had confirmed what she had been telling you for years.

Licking your lips, you were sure he had heard your heart rate speed up at a rapid pace, “Oh, this is news to me.”

He smiled at your sudden bashfulness, “Is that all then?”

You felt the heat creeping up your cheeks, “You like me?” You asked him in response to his question.

“I love you.” He corrected you, “Meleth nin.” He brushed messy stray hairs away from your face. He was thrilled when he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you didn’t recoil or run away. You seemed more at a loss for words than he had expected. You always had a quick comeback to his words, but these had you stumped.

You whispered the words, “Meleth nin.” With the widest eyes right back at him.

His grin only widened seeing your expression shift from confusion to shock right back to bashfulness. He found you adorable in every sense of the word, “I’ve been trying to tell you for yours. But you always…”

“Run away.” You laughed bringing him to laugh right alongside you. The tension in the air evaporated in an instant as the two of you enjoyed a round of laughs shared early in the morning as the sun rose for the day.

“Exactly that.” He’d confirmed bringing you back down to reality.

After your fit of giggles had ended you looked down and away from his intense gaze, “Please forgive me for I thought you loved Tauriel. I did not want to intrude.”

Feeling his warm fingers beneath your chin he brough your eyes up to look right into his blue ones, “You must here me when I say that I forgive you. I forgive you a thousand times. Although we could have started this years ago it is all right. Please, will you let me take you out tomorrow? I’ll show you my favorite path behind the castle with the most beautiful flowers.” He paused trying to read your ever so stoic expression. When you broke into another grin he breathed out that sigh of relief he so desperately needed. He never imagined it to be so nerve wracking admitting such feelings to a friend like you.

“I would love to Legolas.”

He grabbed at your hands giving the back of one of them a slow kiss, “You do me a great honor, Y/N. “He let your hands go as he stood and moved towards the door.

Your face broke into a frown, “Where are you going?” It sounded whiny as it left your mouth. How had this elf made such a mess out of you so quickly?

He smiled not minding it a bit. He found he quite liked the departure of your usual self for one that’s much more needy, “You need to eat, meleth nin. I am grabbing you a plate of food. I will be but twenty minutes.”

You shook your head, “I can go, no need for you to make a trip out of it.” But before you could swing your legs over the bed he was stopping you.

He walked back over pushing you back down in bed for the second time in as many days, “No need to. Rest, please?”

You huffed, “I feel fine Legolas.”

“Meleth nin, let me help you.” He brushed his thumb along your cheek, “Please?” He asked once more now that you had calmed down a bit.

“Fine.” You crossed your hands over your chest trying not to argue with him. He was just being sweet. Let him do this.

He leaned down placing the softest, gentlest kisses to your temple, “Thank you.” He whispered before placing another kiss on your cheek. Pulled away he knew he would leave your mind reeling for at least the next twenty or so minutes.

“I will be back. Rest please.” He insisted once more as he walked to his bedroom door. Turning back to you he only grinned seeing you tucked so cozily in his bed. A sight he had wished to see for so long.

“As you insist, my prince.” You winked. Closing your eyes, you only heard his laugh before the door clicked shut. You decided fairly quickly that you could get used to this. Somebody to help. Somebody to care. Somebody to be there for you.

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