#divider by: saradika-graphics

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 8.5k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: piv sex, fingering, blowjobs, semi-public sex

‣ preview: “Who's impatient now?” she laughs, smirking at him before he kisses her, all tongue and teeth. His hands clamp down on her hips, fingers embedding little crescent moons into her sun-kissed skin. A low groan – or is it a growl? – rumbles in his throat in warning.

“Must you torture me so, darling? By the gods, let me have you.” AO3 ┊ series masterlist

It's a crisp autumn evening, and the High Hall is the place to be. Music pours from the open windows in rich, melodic tones, inviting the Gate's best and brightest. Tonight marks the celebration of the rebuilding of the city – and the heroes who helped defend it.

Presently, Ysera wanders about the ballroom, searching for Astarion. Her heels click against the decorative tiles as her eyes scan the crowd, hoping to spot his distinctive curls amidst the lords and ladies dressed in their finery. He had left her for only a brief moment to fetch her more wine, but as more people began to arrive, they had gotten completely separated.

Ysera suppresses a string of curses as she stumbles forward, her movements severely hampered by her shoes. Astarion had insisted she wear something more practical, but it felt appropriate to wear something nicer to such an important event. The elaborate star-shaped motifs decorating the velvety exterior were the perfect compliment to her gown, the very same one that he had finished for her only days earlier.

Wearing anything less than her best would have been an insult to Astarion’s efforts. Were she more graceful, she would move like a living constellation. The wine will do her no favors, but it will certainly improve her mood.

The beveled edge of a tile throws her off balance yet again, and Ysera braces to crash into the ground, throwing her arms out in front of her in a last, desperate attempt to keep herself upright. To her surprise, her palms slam into something equally as solid but far more forgiving, and an arm snakes delicately around her middle to steady her.

Ysera opens her eyes, expecting the scent of bergamot and rosemary to follow, but she instead finds herself glancing up at a stranger she's never seen before, wrapped in the aroma of wildberries and pine. The man holding her is human, but he’s dressed so exquisitely and carries himself with an air of elegance that one might just as easily mistake him for being of elvish descent. Dark hair frames his handsome face, and the corners of his verdant green eyes crinkle as he smiles pleasantly at her.

Embarrassment floods through her, color staining her cheeks as she extracts herself from the man’s grip and offers him a small smile in return.

“I'm so sorry! Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the man replies coolly. Even his voice evokes power and wealth, a deep, rumbling tone that somehow makes Ysera feel even more self-conscious about how out of place she must look.

Of all the men to inconvenience…

“I am Coran Moore.” The man, Moore, dips into a respectful bow. “Might I ask your name, my Lady? I don't believe I've seen you around before.”

Astarion had been right to try and teach her the proper way to behave amongst the members of high society, an old remnant of his time with Cazador. To hear Astarion tell it, Cazador had often paraded his spawn around during the elegant balls he'd thrown for whichever patriars were corrupt enough to lend him their influence – and what better bargaining chip than those who were already obligated to speak highly of him?

Ysera clears her throat and curtseys politely. Her form could be better, but at least she thinks she's avoided offending him further.

Small victories are still victories.

“Ysera,” she says. Then, after a pause: “Um, Whitlock. I doubt you're familiar with the name. I'm not really…”

She trails off, but Coran Moore’s eyes brighten with recognition.

“Everyone in Baldur's Gate knows your name, my Lady. The hero who saved the city. Or one of them, at least.” He flashes her a dashing smile, all teeth and calculated charm.

Ysera feels more than a little foolish. She chalks it up to whatever it is about him that's clouding her thoughts, unable to break away from his alluring stare.

“Oh,” she mumbles shyly. “Right.”

“Forgive me for my impudence,” Moore carries on, “but whoever convinced you those shoes were a good idea does not have your best interests at heart, I'm afraid.” His eyes drop to the floor to assess her heels as they peek out beneath her gown, and Ysera lets out a breath the moment they fall from her face, as if she's been released by some enchantment.

She twirls a stray lock of her hair that's escaped the fancy braids Astarion had woven into it shortly before their arrival.

“It was my idea. They matched the dress.”

She hadn't meant it as a joke, but Moore throws back his head and lets out a laugh all the same.

“Of course.” He extends a single, gloved hand to her, which Ysera takes for no other reason than it feels like the proper thing to do. 

“If I might be so bold,” Moore suggests, “I would like to invite you to my estate some time. If you have the time amidst all your well-earned celebrations, of course.” He addresses the look of confusion written on Ysera's face by quickly adding, “I would be thrilled to help you find a new pair of shoes. Or perhaps a new gown? I think you would look quite stunning in red.”

He must not need to imagine it, if the blazing heat that creeps up her neck is any indication. Ysera's too embarrassed to mull over exactly how appropriate such a remark is, even if his praise works wonders for her confidence.

“I have my own personal tailor whose work you simply must see.” Moore winks and releases her hand. “Special discount for one of the Heroes of Baldur's Gate, of course.”

The seconds pass like minutes as Ysera considers his offer. Her tail swishes anxiously beneath her skirts, thankfully hidden from view. Being designated as a local hero had come with plenty of perks; this, she convinces herself, is no different.

“I, uh…” She wrings her hands together. It would be rude to refuse him, no? This man is clearly someone important. Nevermind that she doesn't even know what she'll do with another gown that she has no use for.

“I mean – thank you. I suppose I could always take a look…”

“Excellent!” He claps his hands together. “When should I be expecting you?”

Ysera opens her mouth to make a suggestion before a familiar voice sounds out behind her over the music.

“Expecting you where, darling?” Astarion appears over her shoulder, slipping his arm possessively around her waist and deliberately pulling her against his chest. His ruby eyes narrow as he fixes an unflinching stare upon Coran Moore, lips pulled back in a strained half-smile.

“You must introduce me to this new friend of yours. I don't believe we've met, Ser…”

“Moore. Coran Moore.”

More holds out his arm to shake hands with Astarion, who makes no indication that he has any interest in returning the gesture.

“Astarion,” he says in a clipped tone. “And what is it that you want?”

“Ah, yes; I remember seeing your name amongst the reports as well,” Moore remarks in a disinterested tone. “I was simply trying to offer your… friend –” Astarion tightens his hold on Ysera “– an alternative to her unfortunate choice of footwear.”

His choice of words is intentional, calculated. Astarion knows he means to ascertain the nature of their relationship, and Astarion makes it clear in no uncertain terms. Moore's eyes flash wickedly, with a saccharine smile to match.

“Or anything she likes, really,” he adds. “A hero should look the part, don't you think?”

If he means to insult Astarion’s handiwork, the jab misses its mark entirely. His long list of clients are enough of a testament to his skill as a tailor – and at any rate, only a man without any more cards to play would stoop to such petty insults. 

Astarion shrugs off the blow with a roll of his shoulders and retaliates in turn.

“Yes, well, if we have the need for any of your cheap baubles,” he sneers, his voice high and contemptuous, “we'll know exactly where to find you.”

Moore visibly bristles beneath Astarion’s haughty glare.

“I beg your pardon?”

Astarion is all too familiar with this kind of man: pretentious, self-righteous, and utterly devoid of any real substance. He's played the part himself more times than he can count. The mask slips so effortlessly back into place that it's as if he'd never taken it off to begin with.

“I was under the impression you were a smart man, Moore. Shall I say it more clearly for you?”

Coran Moore clenches his fists and raises to his full height. The mocking grin that works its way across Astarion's face enrages him further, and before the pair of them can come to blows, Ysera intervenes by inserting herself between them.

“Okay, okay,” she says, pushing Astarion back, “that's enough. Your offer was very kind, Ser. Thank you for thinking of us.”

Moore’s demeanor changes the instant he turns his attention back to Ysera, no trace of his earlier anger in the way he looks at her. In another life, he would have made a fine chameleon.

“My Lady.” He bows again and turns to leave, but not before delivering one last barb.

“My offer – which I have extended to you and you alone – still stands. If you have any need for more … refined company, please don't hesitate to pay me a visit.”

And with that, he spins on his heel and walks away. The moment he is out of earshot, Ysera rounds on Astarion and jabs her finger directly into the middle of his chest.

“Astarion! You didn't need to be so prickly!” She huffs in exasperation when Astarion rolls his eyes.

“He was just trying to be nice,” she insists. “...by selling me something… which I'm sure is a perfectly normal thing to do at an event like this. I think.”

Astarion scoffs and clicks his tongue in admonishment.

“Was that before or after he invited you back to his estate?”

The accusation drains the color from her face, and Ysera pointedly looks away, suddenly finding the tiled floor far more interesting.

“I thought so,” Astarion says. Ysera doesn't have to ask how he knows – the answer is obvious enough, even to her.

“I saw the way he was looking at you, darling – there's only one thing a man like that wants, and I get the sense he's not above a little bribery to get it. And what a fine catch you'd make.”

Ysera buries her face in her hands.

“Give me that,” she mutters, swiping away the goblet in his hand and downing half the wine in a single swallow.

“You never should have let me convince you that coming here was a good idea.”

“Speak for yourself, darling,” Astarion quips smugly. “That was rather fun, wouldn't you agree?”

As they meander throughout the ballroom, Ysera's occasional muttering is drowned out by the menagerie of bards and other musicians who perform at the opposite end of the hall. Amplified by magic, the music carries far, much to her relief.

The last thing she wants to do is talk about Coran Moore and his strange proposition. After a while, a familiar face emerges from the crowd, and Ysera lets go of Astarion’s hand as she bounds ahead on unsteady feet. 

“Gale!” She throws her arms around the wizard, who struggles not to lose his own wine or the small plate of fancy hors d'oeuvres he's been snacking on. “You made it!”

Gale smiles warmly at her and chuckles. There's always such an infectious kindness to him that she can't help but grin back and hug him even more fiercely. When he sputters and sways on his feet, she finally releases him.

“Why, I could scarcely miss the opportunity for celebration!” Gale says, popping another square of something expensive looking into his mouth. “Good food, good wine – and even better company to boot.” He leans forward with a conspiratorial look on his face and adds: “My students have kept me busy, but I assured them my attendance tonight was quite mandatory.”

Ysera giggles and covers her mouth with her hands. The skirts of her gown rustle as her tail flicks excitedly beneath the layers of fabric. She has a sudden feeling of nostalgia for their time together back at camp, when the lot of them would sit around the campfire in the evenings exchanging stories and terrible jokes with one another. They all see each other so rarely now, but she will always cherish the memories she has of her dearest companions.

“I'm so glad to see you,” Ysera tells him. “Wyll and Karlach are here somewhere too. Probably off somewhere being pestered by the Duke before his big speech. Halsin is probably still here too… if he hasn't managed to rip off his suit yet.”

They both share a laugh, half expecting to see a bear eating its weight in appetizers somewhere amidst the crowd. He'd certainly be far happier that way, rather than stuffed into an ill-fitting ensemble that, despite its elegance, was clearly uncomfortable. If she sees him again, she’ll be sure to make the suggestion.

Ysera doesn't spot Halsin, but a shock of white hair catches her attention from only a few paces away.

“Is that…” She leans forward to confirm her suspicions, her smile growing wider when she spots two more of their companions.

“Shadowheart! Lae’zel!”

The cleric is dressed in a midnight black gown with a plunging neckline that tapers at her narrow waist before spilling into an array of satiny-soft skirts, complimenting her pale complexion and the braid that falls down her back like a moonlit waterfall. Beside her, Lae’zel looks as fierce as ever, dressed in the armor Ysera remembers so well from their travels. It's been polished to a mirror shine, along with the greatsword strung across her back.

Ysera spares a moment of pity for the poor servant who probably tried to take it away from her at the door.

“It's good to see you, my friend,” Shadowheart greets her, pulling her into a friendly hug. “Have you and Astarion been well?”

They launch into a lively conversation. Ysera tells them all about what she and Astarion have been up to since they last saw each other; Shadowheart, in turn, returns the favor by telling them about her and Lae’zel, and although the githyanki remains stoic throughout most of the conversation, it's evident by the way she glances periodically at Shadowheart that the two of them are doing quite well together themselves.

They've come a long way from trying to slit one another's throats in the dirt.

If Ysera had to use one word to describe Lae’zel, it would be intimidating. If she had two, she would call her admirable, though never to her face. But the wine has made her bolder than usual, and one more look at Lae’zel's too-serious expression makes her feel suddenly like bursting out in laughter.

“Don't look so sour, Lae’zel!” she admonishes, patting her on the arm. “It's supposed to be a celebration.”

Lae’zel scoffs lightly and peers down at Ysera, who feels very brave for not shying away.

“Do I not appear to be having fun?” she asks, in a tone that does nothing to counter Ysera's accusation. “Shadowheart assures me that it is an honor to be invited to attend such an elaborate ceremony.”

That, at last, is what makes Ysera laugh, struck by the absurdity of it all.

“Of course it is,” she agrees. In a moment of brilliant stupidity, she grabs the warrior by the hand and tugs her away from Shadowheart.

“Here, I know what'll help - come dance with me!” 

“Chk.” Lae’zel scoffs again and furrows her brow. “I have no desire to embarrass myself with such frivolities.” She looks very fierce, but Ysera is far too tipsy to care about insignificant things like her safety anymore. 

Shadowheart only smiles when Lae’zel throws an almost frantic gaze her way, uncertain how to deal with Ysera's uncharacteristic behavior. The two of them have never been exceptionally close, and even for such a hardened warrior, Lae’zel has no battle plan for this scenario.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart says unhelpfully. “It's customary. Go on and have a dance.” She'll pay for it later, but she knows a golden opportunity when she sees it.

Lae'zel allows herself to be pulled out onto the dance floor, though her posture is stiff and uncomfortable. Sensing her hesitation, Ysera chews on her lip for a moment and considers.

“Oh! How about this?” she offers. “Combat is sort of like a dance, isn't it? Maybe if you pretend you're trying to stab me, it'll be easier.”

Lae'zel’s scowl finally recedes, replaced by the easy smirk that flits across her face. She takes one of Ysera's hands and holds it aloft, mimicking the dancers around them.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

────

Astarion watches, perplexed and amused in equal measure, as he watches Ysera bully Lae’zel into dancing with her.

The sight of Ysera wobbling on her heels like a newborn fawn as Lae’zel leads her in a ferocious, chaotic waltz around the dance floor brings a grin to his lips, and he snorts when the other dancers part for them with looks of bewilderment.

Neither of them have any rhythm; Lae’zel, because she is unaccustomed to dance, and Ysera, because the wine has stolen what little grace she had to begin with.

A figure sidles up next to him, and Astarion catches a glimpse of Gale's trademark purple as the wizard gives him a thorough assessment.

“You look happy, Astarion,” Gale eventually concludes. Astarion swirls the wine in his goblet, takes a deep draught, and lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“Of course. I suppose we have the old Duke to thank for the wine. I'm surprised his coffers weren't completely emptied out rebuilding the city.”

It's a calculated response, meant to gauge Gale's true intentions. Astarion is less guarded these days, but he still plays his cards close to his chest. Old habits and all.

Gale takes a moment to consider.

“I mean you and Ysera,” he clarifies, bringing his own goblet to his mouth and taking a quick sip. “Although I must agree, the wine is rather spectacular.”

A moment of silence stretches between them. Lae’zel and Ysera continue their rampage across the ballroom, locked in a strange display as they push and pull against one another. He hears Ysera's heart thrums above the music, thundering when Lae’zel twirls her so fast she almost topples into a nearby pair of half-elves. There's no time to apologize before Lae’zel whisks her away again – though she certainly tries her best.

Astarion hardly notices the way his expression softens as he watches her. As it so often does when she's caught up in the moment, living her life to its fullest.

And Gale has the measure of things. He is happy, isn't he?

It's difficult for him to imagine a life for himself without her in it, and even less easy to envision one where he would be happy without her by his side.

After a moment of introspection, Astarion tips his head to the side. His eyes flick to Gale for only a moment before returning to Ysera. He takes another drink from his goblet.

“She was the one to find me after I fled the docks, you know.”

There's something akin to surprise in Gale's expression for a moment, before his face becomes inscrutable. He's not used to Astarion being so candid with him, but his silence is a token of respect, paid in full for Astarion’s honesty.

“She sat with me until sundown and made sure that we – that I – had somewhere safe to go,” Astarion continues. His smile turns sardonic as he adds, “In that moment, all I could think of was how weak and ashamed I felt, and she never made me apologize for any of it. She never has. I've never understood why.”

And that, above all else, is the honest to gods’ truth. He doesn't doubt her affection for him (how can he, after everything they've been through?), even if it's still difficult to understand her motivations.

Loving her comes easy. Finding that same compassion for himself is a monumental task. He's not half the man she thinks he is, but he wants to be. 

Gale fixes Astarion with a knowing look and rests his hand on Astarion’s shoulder.

“She loves you, Astarion. What other reason does she need?”

She'd told him nearly the same thing, what feels like a lifetime ago. The irony makes him bark out a laugh, and if it weren't for the fact that the tadpoles are very much gone, he would swear Gale had been conspiring with Ysera all along.

The memory is so vivid in his mind. The way the moon had illuminated her face and made her eyes shine like the sun. How resolute she'd sounded when she'd pledged herself to his cause, despite the risks involved.

‘I don't want anyone else to feel the way I did. I don't need any reason beyond that to help you.’

Beside him, Gale raises an inquisitive brow.

“It’s nothing,” Astarion says, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. “Just an old memory.”

Gale's brows raise again, but this time his attention is fully tethered on Ysera and Lae’zel. The githyanki warrior has increased their already frenetic pace, and Ysera’s expression has quickly grown to one of very apparent terror. Her body dips and twirls as she struggles to find a place for her feet, and in a desperate plea for assistance she catches Astarion’s eye for no more than a second before Lae’zel’s got her spinning once again.

Gale leans over and brings his face close to Astarion's.

“Does she know it's a dance, and not a duel? Might I suggest –”

Astarion presses his goblet into the wizard's hands and strides forward.

“Already on it.”

He reaches his destination in no more than a few clipped strides, carefully extracting Ysera from Lae’zel's arms. Lae’zel is breathing heavily from the exertion, eyes wild as though she's just fought a very intense battle. Ysera stumbles into his embrace, her vision spinning as she clings to him and tries to get her bearings.

“Careful, darling,” he croons, placing a single kiss atop her head between her horns. “Are you alright?”

“Oh gods,” she murmurs, “where am I?”

Astarion chuckles fondly and rubs his hand over her back in soothing circles. Her chin lifts easily when he slips a single, gloved finger beneath her jaw.

“Exactly where you need to be, my love.”

They melt back into the crowd, and as the music grows soft, Astarion’s world narrows to the space between them. The sconces along the wall begin to dim, casting a pleasant glow across the ballroom. 

Ysera looks up at him in adoration, admiring how handsome he looks in this light, especially as it catches in his eyes and reflects a thousand shades of gold-flecked crimson. She tucks her head against his chest, mindful of her horns, and winds her arms around his back.

They sway back and forth, but after a few moments she can sense he has something more to say. She lifts her head to let him speak.

“May I have this dance?”

There's a vulnerability in his voice she doesn't often hear, and the soft smile he offers her has never looked so good or so genuine. She knows he can hear the way her heart skips a beat, but at least this way she doesn't have to try to find the words for how she feels about him at this moment.

“I don't know the steps,” she says in response. 

“Don't worry,” Astarion assures her. One hand slips into hers as the other brackets her waist. She would trust him with anything, as long as he keeps holding her like this. “Just follow my lead.” 

Astarion guides her gently around the dance floor, their bodies pressed together as he instructs her where to place her hands and how to move her feet. She takes to it far more quickly than she had expected, and it soon becomes as simple as breathing. Her mind is blissfully empty but for him; the comforting familiarity of his body, the way he cradles her in his arms, and the citrusy scent of him that she will always associate with what it means to be home.

“I'm sorry for making you jealous,” Ysera says, still feeling more than a little guilty.

Astarion scoffs incredulously.

“Please, darling. In order for me to be jealous, I would have had to have believed that oaf actually stood a chance with you.”

It's neither a lie nor the entire truth. He had been afraid of losing her before, of course. Once, when he confessed his feelings for her against his better judgment, and again when the brain fell and there was nothing tying them together other than the treacherous thoughts that told him she had no more use for him.

Somewhere along the line, the veil had been lifted, and he had finally accepted she wasn't going anywhere.

Almost as if she's heard his thoughts, Ysera grins up at him and flashes her teeth. 

“Unfortunately for you, you're stuck with me.”

“It's a difficult burden to bear,” he teases her back, “but I think I'm fit for the task.”

Their noses brush against one another before they share a quick kiss, letting the rhythm of the music carry them in slow, wide circles around the ballroom.

“You know,” Ysera says, almost mischievously. “Coram Moore said something very interesting that you might want to hear.” Astarion inclines his head but doesn't bother to suppress the pout he makes at the mention of the other man’s name.

“He told me I would look stunning in red.”

Astarion presses his face against the slender column of Ysera's throat, which muffles his deep chuckle. He opens his mouth, and Ysera shivers as his fangs slot into the twin scars on her neck where he typically feeds from her.

“Did he now?” he purrs. “Shall we find out for ourselves?”

────

The moment Ysera and Astarion enter the suite they've been given in the upper floors of the High Hall, Ysera kicks off her heels and tugs her hair out of the braids Astarion had made for her with a sigh of relief. With a flex of her toes, the feeling returns to her feet, and she follows Astarion out into the balcony.

“Gods,” she groans, resting her face in her hands as she leans her elbows across the balustrade, “that was embarrassing.” 

Hands in his pockets, Astarion watches the sky, dark as the void and adorned with thousands of glittering specks of silver stars. His fangs catch the light as he smirks sidelong at her.

“Not a fan of the spotlight, love?”

At the end of his grand speech to those in attendance for the celebration, Duke Ravengard had turned towards Astarion, Ysera, and the rest of her companions and asked if any of them would like to say something. Her nerves had twisted into silent panic as several hundred eyes swept over her, and she had prayed to any god who would listen that someone else would volunteer so she didn't have to.

She had almost collapsed from relief when Wyll approached his father's podium to make a statement on their behalf, delivering a few concise words on the importance and enduring health of the city, and what an honor it had been to be on the front lines of its defense. Shortly after, the celebration had ended, and it was all she could do to stop herself from sprinting to their suite upstairs.

“I told you he was gonna ask one of us to get up there and talk,” Ysera laments. “And you thought he wouldn't be crazy enough to do it. I win.”

“I wasn't aware we were wagering on it, darling,” Astarion responds. “But since you're so insistent, what would you like for your reward?”

She doesn't need to think for any longer than a few seconds.

“A kiss,” she announces. “I want you to kiss me.”

Astarion sweeps her into his arms and slots his mouth along hers.

“How scandalous,” he murmurs against her lips. When he pulls away, Ysera pouts and balls her fist in his jacket to tug him back. Astarion rolls his eyes but willingly gives into her demands, this time nipping at her bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside her mouth.

“Insatiable, aren't you?” His voice is low and sensual in a way that makes her shiver.

“With you? Always.”

Ysera is light in his hands as Astarion hoists her up and onto the balustrade, holding her close while she steadies herself on the carved wooden beam. His fingers drag across her scalp as his fingers dive into her hair, and he tugs just enough to coax a soft moan from her. He has enough leverage to bend her neck to the side and bare her throat, but as he tears his mouth away from hers to turn his attention elsewhere, something catches his attention. 

Across the narrow courtyard, Coram Moore watches them through an open window. Astarion doesn't care why he's there, but as he grins wickedly over Ysera's shoulder a plan formulates in his mind.

“Darling, would you mind?” he asks, innocently enough that she won't suspect anything. He holds up his gloved hand, and Ysera immediately opens her mouth, biting down on the tip of the leather hard enough for Astarion to pull his fingers free. The moment his cool skin touches her leg beneath her gown is electric and she sucks in a breath, anticipation burning hot in her belly.

He takes his time with her, gliding his slender fingers up her calf, face tucked against her neck so she's free to make more of those pretty little noises for him. Ysera holds him by the hair, not trusting her balance the more and more he teases her. She can already feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, and her clit throbs with need as Astarion nears the place she wants him most.

Astarion is finally thankful for the vastness of her skirts, for the chiffon and lace that keeps her guarded from prying eyes. Nevertheless, his fingers trace a devastatingly slow path across her skin, drinking in the warmth of her and the sound of her increasingly desperate mewls and moans make it all but impossible for either of them to keep her pleasure a secret.

“Nnn… Astarion!” She gasps his name, but he can hear the concern in her voice.

“Yes, my love?” he inquires, fingers stilling just beneath the apex of her thighs. “Afraid someone might hear us?”

“No,” she says, “not really.” Then she smirks. “But if we don't get invited back next year, I'm blaming you.”

“Perish the thought.”

It’s settled. Let them all see, then, so there will be no doubt in anyone's mind that she is his. The next time he glances across the courtyard, Coram Moore has vanished.

Ysera is already in quite a state when his fingers brush against her through her underwear, and he groans when he feels the wetness seeping through the thin fabric. 

“Already? Why, I've hardly even touched you, darling.”

Astarion dips his head to nip at her collarbones and the tops of her breasts, and even a subtle shift of movement makes him hiss as his hardening cock brushes against her thigh. He doesn't need to see her face to imagine how smug that's made her, especially after his teasing remarks. But before she can comment on it, he slips his hand beneath the gusset of her underwear and drags two fingers along the seam of her, and she cries out at the sudden sensation.

“Q-uit stalling,” Ysera chokes out, less sternly than she would have liked. Astarion has already busied his fingers with her clit, tracing purposeful circles around her most sensitive areas with the precision of someone who knows her body almost better than she does.

“I'm doing no such thing,” he says, offended. “I'm simply affording you the pleasure you deserve. Or am I wrong? Does it not feel good?”

He asks the question with deserved arrogance, knowing very well how much she's enjoying this. Despite her impatience, the stuttering of her heart and the way she pants against him tells a clear enough story. 

“It would feel better if – ahh! ”

The moment Astarion sweeps the pad of his finger directly over her clit, Ysera bucks her hips and bites back a scream, mouth slack as her vision swims.

“Asshole,” she groans. Then, “Don't you dare stop.”

Astarion grins triumphantly. “Say please, sweet girl.”

“ Please don't stop, Astarion. Not if you know what's good for you.” The sweetness on her tongue turns to venom, and she barely gets the words out. But there's an edge to her voice that speaks directly to the lizard part of his brain that wants to forgo all this – what had she called it? Stalling? – and take her straight to bed. His composure is nothing when matched against her.

With more difficulty than he would like to admit, Astarion claws back the remaining threads of his sanity. He gathers her wetness on his fingers and presses a single one against her entrance; he slips inside with little resistance, stroking her walls with practiced efficiency. Her body easily acclimates to the second one he pushes inside, and Ysera arches her back to coax him deeper.

“Greedy,” he huffs, stealing another kiss from her. “Can you take another, darling?” 

“I’ll take anything you give me, Astarion,” she whimpers, shuddering when he makes good on his offer. It doesn't feel the same as his cock, but when he buries himself to the second knuckle and crooks his fingers, the pleasure she feels is enough to wipe whatever remaining thoughts she has from her mind.

Ysera babbles incoherently as he fucks her with his fingers, praising him as he swallows her moans with another hungry kiss.

“So good… you're so… ohhh…”

As Ysera writhes beneath his touch and bares her throat to him, Astarion finds his patience growing thin. He finds that he wants nothing more than to feel her unravel on his fingers, the cloying thought guiding every pass of his thumb as he guides her closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes,” she begs, “yes!” There is only desperation left for her now. Astarion gives her what she needs, and as his fingers glide across her walls one last time, she finds herself tossed about on the rising tide of her orgasm, burying her face into his jacket to muffle her sobs of pleasure.

Once her body has stopped its trembling, Astarion slides his hand from between her legs. Ysera opens her mouth without hesitation, letting Astarion press his slick fingers against the flat of her tongue. Her lashes flutter as she looks him in the eyes, tongue swirling around his fingers as she tastes what he's done to her.

And Astarion’s brain nearly short-circuits.

He can think of nothing but replacing his fingers with his cock; if he doesn't get her back inside now, it might very well be the end of him. Ysera seems to have the same idea, and she slips from the balustrade, barely pausing to grab him by the wrist as they retreat into their suite.

Astarion takes only as much time as is absolutely necessary to close the balcony doors and draw the curtains shut. Ysera's already tugged the laces of her gown open, and Astarion spots the fading glimmer of the mage hand she summoned to assist her before her gown flows like a river of ink down her body, leaving her in nothing but her smallclothes, which she wastes little time discarding just as haphazardly.

She strides towards the bed with Astarion in toe.

The mattress dips beneath her weight when Ysera sinks into the plush duvet, with wildfire in her eyes and a laugh that washes over him like a sunbeam through a stormcloud. Astarion barely has the time to begin shedding his clothes before she's reaching for him, tugging him down to join her only moments after he kicks off his shoes and undoes the buttons of his embroidered jacket. 

He crashes into her with a noise of protest, just as roughly as she surges up to capture his lips with her own. A quick flick of her tongue against the seam of his mouth is enough for Astarion to oblige her, and he groans as he parts his lips to let her taste him. She kisses him like it's their first, their last, and every time in between, hands tangled in the curls that he had worked so hard to style before tonight's affair.

“Patience, darling,” he tries, barely able to pull his lips away and admonish her eagerness before she's chasing after him. “You're going to ruin the stitching.” His trousers were already tight enough to begin with, tailored to accentuate his long, slender legs. And now, the growing need between his thighs is merciless, the swell of his cock straining against the only remaining barrier between them.

“I'm certain you can fix it,” she murmurs deviously, grinning when her teeth sink into his lower lip and his hips buck suddenly. “After all, you've just shown me how talented those hands of yours are.”

The inflection of her voice is downright sinful. Astarion struggles not to whimper when her hands fumble for the fastening of his waistband, fingertips brushing over the bulge in his pants with just enough pressure to make him ache for her more than he already does.

“Despicable woman,” he grumbles, tugging his pants and underwear down as Ysera hums contentedly and kisses him again. The aftertaste of wine and her own arousal is sweet on her tongue, and he can smell enough of it in the blood coursing through her veins that he yearns to pierce her throat with his fangs and indulge in the rich, heady taste of her. But he would need to abandon her lips to do it, a prospect neither of them seem to be too keen on at the moment.

The instant Astarion’s cock springs free is a euphoria rivaled only by the way it feels pressed against her flushed skin, leaking onto her stomach. Their bodies mold together, the space between them small enough that Astarion can't help but rock his hips forward to chase the friction he so desperately needs. His desire to be inside her overtakes his every thought, and he has half a mind to beg her for it as he tears himself away from the hungry sweep of her tongue.

“Ysera…”

She looks at him through half-lidded eyes, angling her gaze towards him with a look of adoration on her face. 

“I –”

He's only just opened his mouth before her hands slip around the small of his back, and Astarion finds himself dazed for the second time this evening before everything stops spinning and he finds himself beneath her. Ysera smiles tenderly at him, brushing away a stray lock of his hair that was so rudely obscuring his view of her lovely face.

“My turn. Let me take care of you now.”

Pleasure erupts within him like the fires of the hells themselves when Ysera splays her palm over his stomach and rolls her hips in a slow, steady rhythm across the hard length of him, teasing his neglected cock. She's absolutely soaked, and it feels so wonderful, but it's not enough, it's not enough, gods it isn't enough.

The loss of contact between them is agonizing when Ysera pulls away, but as she sinks between his legs and runs her tongue along the underside of his cock, his protests die on a shaky, broken moan. He watches, spellbound, as her lips encircle the head of his cock, her eyes trained on his. The hand she wraps around him is bliss, and his hard length twitches as she takes him eagerly into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “that's… wonderful, darling.”

“I had a good teacher,” she mumbles around him with a smirk, and the vibration of her voice entices him to thrust up into her until he hits the back of her throat. Ysera groans and takes him beautifully, following his lead and bobbing her head along the full length of his cock as she sucks and licks him. Her fingers cup his balls, teasing him in gentle sweeps that have him keening. With a hand buried in her hair that moves to wrap around one of her horns, he fights not to buck wildly into her mouth.

If she keeps this up, he's going to come.

Not that he doesn't want that, of course, but it's too soon. He needs more of her – all of her.

Astarion tugs gently on Ysera's horn and she releases his cock from her mouth with a soft pop , licking her lips as she sits up and waits for him to gather his thoughts. Elusive as they are, he finally manages a gruff, “Not yet, love… come here, will you?”

Ysera sighs softly and climbs back on top of him, grinding her hips against his sensitive cock.

Astarion’s mouth falls open and he pants softly, his throat constricting around a whimper he can no longer contain. He bites out her name through gritted teeth, brow furrowed as heat coils like a taut spring low in his belly. He grabs her by the wrist and tugs her forward, caging her close to him with the arms he wraps tightly around her back.

“Who's impatient now?” she laughs, smirking at him before he kisses her, all tongue and teeth. His hands clamp down on her hips, fingers embedding little crescent moons into her sun-kissed skin. A low groan – or is it a growl? – rumbles in his throat in warning.

“Must you torture me so, darling? By the gods, let me have you.”

He could take her right now, if he chose to. It would be a simple enough thing, to lift her just high enough so he could plunge his cock inside her eager little cunt. The bliss he imagines feeling as he thrusts wildly into her is almost enough to make him do it, but she seems so intent on taking control for now, and he'd be a fool not to admit the idea doesn't intrigue him.

And the admission of his desire for her was all she wanted, in the end.

The wetness between her legs drips down her thighs as Ysera extracts herself from his embrace, and the sight of her makes Astarion's mouth go dry as she wraps her free hand around his cock and sinks down onto him. Both of their lips part with a satisfied sigh, and Astarion throws his head back against the pillows.

She feels better than he ever could have imagined, warm and soft and unbelievably tight as her body molds to the shape of him. She bites her lip as she rolls her hips experimentally, her walls already pulsing around him.

“Astarion,” she moans, taking the hand he reaches out to her and threading their fingers together tightly.

“I know,” he says, squeezing her hand.

Something he learned early on in their relationship, even before it was a relationship, was her fondness for physical contact. Whether they were in the throes of passion, laying next to one another, or simply existing in each other's space, she always sought comfort in the closeness of him, delighted merely by the feel of his skin on hers. 

It wasn't easy, overcoming that particular distaste of his, but now, the thought of her not touching him, of not running her hand across his chest or cupping his face so gently as she smooths the pad of her thumb over his cheek is enough to make his dead heart ache with longing. 

She holds him delicately, not because he is fragile, but because he is something precious. Some one worth loving.

Her hips undulate as she rides him for all he's worth, his cock slamming home inside of her each time their bodies make contact. The heat of her engulfs him completely, unfurling through his limbs. Their movements are an extension of the dance they shared before, harmonized this time not by music but by their shared sounds of ecstasy.

A lopsided grin spreads over Astarion’s face, a single brilliant fang poking out beneath the uneven curve of his lips. He feels weightless and almost giddy, as though lost in a dream he hopes he never has to wake from.

“Have I told you lately that you are the most beautiful woman in all the realms?” he asks. His eyes rove over every inch of her body, from the place they're joined to the feminine curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and the blissed-out look she fixes on him.

She smiles back and rolls her eyes, sucking in a breath when his fingers return to her hips.

“You've had too much wine,” she insists. “You're drunk.”

Astarion huffs a laugh.

“What's the saying, darling? ‘Drunk words are sober thoughts?’”

“You're ridiculous,” she says, crouching low to hide the color in her cheeks with another passionate kiss.

“So tell me I'm wrong,” Astarion says, confidently calling her bluff. He kisses her back just as fiercely, the fingers of his hand tangling in the loose waves of her hair. The soft strands wrap around his fingers and he pulls hard enough to coax another undignified noise from her. 

“Tell me you're not the most stunning–” he bites her lip, groaning as he catches the single bead of blood that blooms on his tongue; “–magnificent… radiant creature to ever grace these halls.”

He explores her mouth between praises, free hand tracing absent-minded patterns across her skin as he lets himself enjoy every inch of her body. He drags his nails along the curve of her spine, and she arches into him with a broken moan.

The heat radiating from Ysera's cheeks may as well be an inferno; he doesn't need to see her face to know his words have hit their mark.

“If I agree with you,” she mumbles quietly, “will you stop embarrassing me?”

It's an absurd request, and one he has no intention of granting.

“Oh, no, my love,” he purrs, purposely lowering his voice because he knows it will drive her wild. “Never.”

His fangs graze the soft curve of her jaw, and Astarion revels in the way she shudders as goosebumps bloom across her skin. He mouths at the shell of her ear and she cries out with a sharp snap of her hips.

“And besides, we both know you wouldn't want me to anyway.”

Ysera's magic roars to life beneath her skin like a hibernating predator roused from slumber. Mastery over her powers has leant her formidable strength, and so it is with careful deliberation that she manipulates the Weave, until the very air itself crackles and seems to writhe around them. Traces of her magic burst around them like a constellation of stars, bathing them in soft, glittering light.

Satisfied, Astarion pulls her ear closer to his lips, near enough that she can almost certainly feel the wickedness of his grin.

“Does it please you, knowing how much you make me ache for you?”

“Everything you do pleases me, Astarion.”

He doesn't expect her admission to affect him so deeply, and he holds her close with a fierce possessiveness. His hips roll into hers at a feverish pace, his fangs a sharp, desperate question against her throat.

“Do it,” she commands him. “Sink your fangs into me and take what's yours.”

Astarion whispers his thanks against her throat before his fangs pierce her neck, warm blood flooding his mouth and coating his lips. Ysera hears every ravenous swallow he makes, lost in the taste of her on his tongue and the feel of her on his cock as he drives into her again and again and again. She cries out as the pain bleeds into pleasure, the drowsy satisfaction of losing so much blood nearly making her go limp in his arms.

But Astarion doesn't seem to mind, chasing his own pleasure with reckless abandon. One hand slips between them to tease her clit again, and as her cunt flutters around him and Ysera whines into his ear, he falls apart beneath her. He growls against her throat as he empties himself inside her, hips undulating wildly with each spurt of his cock. He doesn't stop until she comes again, her throat ragged with the way she screams for him.

When she has enough clarity to remember where she is again, Ysera lets Astarion gently roll her onto her side; he moves with her, his softening cock still buried inside her as he holds her close, kissing her face, her neck, her breasts. She sighs softly beneath his affections, letting him shower her with praise.

Tucked against his chest, her eyes flutter closed, and she drifts in and out of consciousness as she fights against the overwhelming urge to sleep. Astarion nuzzles his nose against the crown of her head and presses a soft kiss into her hair.

“You must be cold, darling. Let me get up, and we'll get you beneath the blankets.” He tries to roll to the edge of the mattress but Ysera tangles her legs with his and whines in protest.

“No,” she says, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Stay with me.”

Ysera sits up just far enough to cast a quick Fire Bolt, tossing the mote of flame into the empty hearth across the chamber. It roars to life, bathing them in its gentle warmth.

“There,” Ysera yawns, falling back into her pillow and snuggling close to him again. “Problem solved.”

Astarion can't help but laugh.

“Stubborn girl. Whatever am I to do with you?”

Ysera smiles softly and places a quick kiss on his lips. She knows the answer as if it's been there waiting all along. 

“That's easy. Let me love you.” She's still so warm as she drapes an arm over his middle, determined to hold onto him as long as she can. A hundred different responses hang in the silence that stretches between them. But before Astarion can settle on one that appropriately conveys the depth of his feelings for her and her endless kindness, Ysera has already fallen asleep, snoring softly with her face pressed against his chest. He cards his fingers through her hair, and when her lips pull back in a smile, he wonders if she sees him in her dreams.

“Don't be ridiculous, darling,” he tells her, finally letting his eyes close as he settles in beside her. His heart feels light, and the warmth he feels blossoming in his chest has nothing to do with the fire burning in the hearth or the comforting heat of her skin. “As if I could ever do anything else.”

[syleb]

pairing: caleb x you/reader, gender neutral terms, no use of y/n or pronouns

a/n: hello another self indulgent because that's how we roll on here, idc idc. just thinking about shotgunning with caleb gets me melting and well, i'm always a sucker for reassurances, especially when getting to give it.

cw: recreational drug use (marijuana)

word count: ~1.2k (AO3 link)

it was time for the clear daytime skies to dip down and welcome the darkness of the night, dripping with stars marginally visible by the naked eye. still, the notion that they are still there was enough to blanket you with a sense of comfort. it was like playing hide and seek, with the stars peeking in every now and then.

your legs outstretched over the arm of the couch as your eyes focus on the ceiling as the darkness continues to enshroud the entirety of linkon city and before you know it, your entire living room is clouded in darkness, save for the dim light of the moon rays shining through the window.

you ease up into a sitting position, swinging your legs over to rest your feet on the softness of your carpet and lean forward, gathering the ground indica into the paper to roll up a blunt, your tongue swiping across the material of paper to seal it and your lighter finishing the job by drying it as the flames run across it to dry it before lighting up the end, taking a long drag from it.

inhale. 

exhale.

you ease up from your couch, opening the door to the balcony and step out, letting the light breeze of the air brush against your skin, welcoming you into the breath of fresh air. you take another hit, then another, soon your mind eases into a chill state of mind and you exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding prior to all of this.

with you having been so deep into your thoughts, you don't notice another presence behind you, stepping slowly before his arms wrap around your waist, his chin finding its spot to nestle right on top of your shoulder. you can feel his body relax immediately, all tension from the day's work melting away by just your presence. 

"i'm home, pip-squeak..." he announces with a soft, but tired tone in his voice. 

and yes, he is home as he gives your waist a gentle squeeze, as if reassuring himself that he is in fact home with you in his arms.

his head no longer up in the clouds or filled with the fleet's words.

just you and him, with the night sky coupled with the moon as your witness.

you instantly melt in his arms, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder as you close your eyes, your free hand not holding the blunt rests over his arms, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"welcome home, caleb... i missed you," you whisper just as he cups your chin to turn your head, letting his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss as smoke escapes between both your tiers.

he smiles against your lips. soft, warm, and inviting before he plucks the blunt from your hold and takes a drag of his own, letting the smoke fill his lungs as his free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangled in your soft hair as he holds your head in place, blowing out the smoke slowly.

your lips part to welcoming the substance, inhaling it just as caleb crashes his lips against yours once more. the two of your sharing a passionate kiss in between smoke before he's guiding you back into your apartment, and refusing to break from the shared kisses. 

eventually the back of his legs touch against the couch and he's falling back with you following suit, the only time the two of you break the passionate kiss was to grab some needed air, and this allow yourself to settle properly on his lap, both knees resting on either side of him as your arms wrap around his neck, resuming the kiss. 

and this. this is all he truly needed, and what you needed. the presence of one another, lost in the haze of marijuana coursing through both your systems, the shared kisses, the tango of your tongues against one another like practiced choreography and your hands running along each other's bodies, mapping out the curvatures and dips, committing everything of each other's by memory.

he wants to sear everything about you into his memories. over and over again. so the moment he closes his eyes, you're there. because you are the one who keeps him grounded. you're the one that pulls him when he gets too high up in the clouds, inching closer to the sun. you're the one that keeps him on the path he needs to be on in order to get back home to you.

he pulls back for much needed air, your breaths mingling as he cups your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin as his purple hues gaze up into yours. dazed, tenderness and a sense of never-ending yearning. and it's that simple and complicated at the same time, a perfect balance only the two of you have accomplished.

you take his right hand into yours, lifting it up as his eyes widen and there's hurt in the gaze he gives, a torturing reminder that he can't feel you fully like he did before, thoughts in his mind swirl like a storm and when he tries to pull that arm away, you hold onto it tighter and guide his left hand to rest on your hips.

"pip-squeak, what are you doing? you know i can't feel you—" 

but before you can allow him to complete that sentence, you press your finger against his lips, easing it away for a moment just to dip your head down to kiss him softly. you lean back and brush your fingers along his arm and caleb simply waters with confusion in his eyes, his brow knitting ever-so-slightly.

"and you hate it, right? and i thought i did too, but..." you whisper as you take both his hands and hold them in front of you. "you see, that would mean i hate parts of you." you state, your eyes then locking onto his before you kiss the back of both of his hands. 

"and well, that's not true. because no matter what, caleb... i will always love every part of you, even the ones you can't feel me with anymore, and i hope..." you continue with a soft sight, a smile so tender it makes caleb's do backflips as he leans in, as if wanting to hear more. 

these words he knew he needed to hear, but didn't know how to ask for or didn't feel he could ever ask for. 

"i hope that knowing that much is enough for you to feel the warmth even without the physical aspect of it."

your voice is tender and sweet, his eyes shining against the brush of the moon's light through the window. you cup his face and brush your thumb against his cheek and he's melting. 

mentally, physically, and emotionally.

a connection he thought was severed had always remained right where it was before. in your heart and his. 

caleb chuckles and shakes his head as he tilts his head down momentarily. you reach to cup his chin and tilt it back up, only love and pure devotion spells in his purple eyes, all just for you. 

"you always knew what to say to me to get my head out of the stormy clouds, huh?" he whispers and simply gazes at the beauty that is simply you.

and you nod, placing a chaste kiss upon his lips before whispering against them. "of course, how else would i make sure you're right where you belong? with me."

[sweetcourtesy]

♔ Sideblog to reblog selfship/yumeship/self-insert content that isn't mine. Art, prompts, etc.

Why was this made?

I have no problem sharing selfship on my main blog, actually. But many self-inserters don't feel safe being seen outside selfship circles for different reasons. Thus here we are.

Who the hell are you?

I'm Yomiel (she/her or ze/zir) :] I follow from @yomielworld but my 'main' is @reinabeestudio (asks are sent to this one). There is where I share my own stuff; like art, writing or even regular gushing. I have my own f/o list and ship names, so I'll probably refer to those from time to time!

Tag list

#sweet talk.txt -> text post

#sweet art.png -> art by me

#sweet journal.txt -> writing by me

[uhohdad]

(18+) John Price x Reader

John knows what he’s doing.

He’s not an idiot, and he’s certainly not blind to the glow of your cheeks and the way your voice takes on both a stammer and a higher pitch when he’s around. A captain has to be vigilant, and that just so happens to mean he’s observant to the slight shake in your knees, the nervous laughs spilling from your warped lips without caution, the way your fingers fidget in his presence.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered, if he said he didn’t like being the object of your desire.

So he leans into it. Toying with you, entirely under the guise of plausible deniability. Keeping you guessing and fueling your fantasies, giving you hope that maybe, just maybe, your Captain returns your affection. He likes having you wrapped around his finger, and intends to give you just enough hope to keep you there.

Crossing his arms over his chest, watching you carefully as you struggle to keep eye contact, those pretty, shy eyes sneaking glances at his arms.

Lowering his voice and coating it in honey when he calls you Love, Sweetheart, Darling, just to make you falter.

Leaning in far too close when he looks at your screen over your shoulder, until you can nearly feel the heat of his chest on your back, the scent of a burnt cigar and laundry detergent intoxicating you, his voice a low and gravelly vibration in your ear. He’ll pretend he didn’t notice the sharp, squeaky inhale you make that sends blood rushing to his cock.

Approaching you from behind, resting a hand on the small of your back and sliding it off your waist as he turns to talk to you. Reveling in the way your wide eyes stare back at his, basking in the warmth radiating from your cheeks, knowing full well you’re too flustered to pay attention to a word he’s saying.

Oh, you should have seen it - the first time he responded to, “Yes, Sir,” with, “Good Girl.”

Your whole body tensed, a hitched breath catching in the back of your throat. Lips parted to say something, anything, but John broke you, didn’t he? With two little words - halted every thought in that pretty little brain and sent a wave of arousal straight to your panties.

He couldn’t even bite back his smug grin.

“You like being my good girl?”

You’re frozen, a fawn in headlights, shoes glued to the floor and unable to bring yourself to speak, settling on a faint nod instead.

“Then why don’t you bend over your Captain’s desk, Sweetheart?”

♡ DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Caleb

Caleb always talked about how he would he would show you around SkyHaven when you got there. It was never an 'if' with him it was always a 'when'. Perhaps that should've been your first red flag, but when you have feelings for someone those red flags look a little pink A/N: I was chillin' in the N109Zone while I wrote this. Sylus rubbed my feet and brought me food. pt. 1 here

“Just give me some time….”

What did he mean by that? The memory of the way his voice shook and how it seemed like he was talking more to himself rather than you — haunted you endlessly. You spent your days on edge, looking over your shoulder, tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up out of breath. You were never able to use your phone again after that it just wouldn’t turn back on. You spun the new device in your hand flipping it over to see the new phone case you purchased for it.

Apples.

“Well thanks for the new phone Caleb” You mumbled to yourself, setting it aside on your desk before sitting down to get to work. Part of you missed playing Love and Deepspace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to download the app again after what happened with Caleb. For months you had managed to fall for that pixelated man only for it to end the way that it did. You still had no clue what he meant by ‘Give me some time’ but it gave you chills nonetheless.

“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Camerons voice aka your work bestie. “What?” The word rushed out of you. She stared down at you with a concerned look “I’ve been trying to get your attention I called your name at least ten times” You blinked rapidly as you looked around trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You hadn't realized you were spacing out “I’m sorry I was just trying to get this finished by end of day” You smoothed out your shirt and turned to face your friend “What's up?” Just when you thought it would be bad news you watched as a saccharine grin spread across her face. “Somebody had these delivered” She pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind her back and gently placed them in your lap. “Just for you”

Your whole face lit up as you looked down at the gorgeous flowers. No one has ever gifted you flowers before. The gesture almost made you combust just from staring at them. Carefully picking them up, you took a long sniff relishing in the floral notes that filled your senses. After getting a good sniff you quickly searched the flowers for a card to see who your secret admirer could be.

‘𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒊𝒑-𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒂𝒌 ♡ ͏𝑰 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 -𝑪 ’

Your heart dropped to your ass in an instant; it can’t be Caleb he’s not real. You sprang to your feet letting the flowers fall to the floor — petals broke away from the stems as you kicked it away. The room grew blurry as your lungs constricted and your heart pounded like a drum in your ears. The last thing you saw was your friend reaching for you before you were suddenly counting the ceiling lights. Cameron shook you by your shoulders trying to get you to breathe properly. “What was in those flowers!? What did you do? Should I call 911?” She wasn’t speaking to you she was looking over her shoulder — who's she talking to? Please don’t let it be your boss that lady is strict enough as it is. She’ll have you head on a stick if she finds out you passed out on the clock.

“No I'll take it from here” A tall looming shadow stood over you; his face came into view as he leaned down and cupped your cheek in his hand. “Let’s go home pipsqueak you don’t look so well” Caleb? But how? You wanted to flinch away from his touch or get up and scramble away from him but your body was so heavy. “Ca…Caleb” It was so hard to speak your words coming out slurred as you continued to become even dizzier. “How?…..” His smile was blurry but his voice was clear "I take it you missed me considering this phone case"

The world seemed to be going by in flashes. First you were on the floor and next you were in someones arms and now you’re watching flashes of light pass by as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Get some rest” A gentle hand rubbed small circles on your back willing you to sleep. The heavy weight of sleep outweighed your will to stay awake.

You were groggy as you rolled over and instinctively snuggled into your pillow. You wanted to go back to sleep, but the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling. Breakfast? You sat up in a panic looking around the foreign room. This was not your room and this was not your city. Fumbling out of bed you somehow managed to wrap your feet up in the sheets falling to the floor with a hard thud “Fuck that hurt” just then you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. Terror set in as you tried to untangle yourself from the blankets as the footsteps grew closer. “Come on come on come on” you begged the sheets that seemed to continuously grip onto your legs. “You can’t be serious” You whisper-yelled to yourself.

The room door opens softly and there stands Caleb with a look of worry. “What happened?” He rushes to your side and tries to help untangle you. “Caleb!?” Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head staring at the man in front of you. You wriggle and flail only making things worse “Hold still!” Caleb pins you in place with his evol as he unwraps your lower half from the sheets and blanket. “There. All done” He meets your stare and gives you those same puppy dog eyes that you remember all too well.

“W-where am I?” It took everything in you to keep from cowering into the corner. You knew there was no point in trying to run since he could quite literally pin you in place. He beamed as he gestured towards the floor to ceiling window “Welcome to SkyHaven I hope you enjoy your stay” He said with a wink. Your lips curled into an angry frown while your eyes ping ponged between the view and him. “What? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I don’t understand how I'm seeing you” You rolled your shoulder to try and quell the pain radiating from it. There will definitely be some bruising or at least some soreness later. “That’s classified information Pip-squeak” Before you could ask anymore questions Caleb pulled you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You looked up at him almost entranced by how handsome he is. You shook your head and snatched your hands from his. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse! Take me home!”

He tilted his head and reached a hand out to caress your cheek “You are home” Although he had the warmest smile and lovestruck eyes; you couldn't help, but feel like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you. You stared dumbfounded; words escaping you.

Say something. Say something!

“I have to leave soon but I wanted to share a meal with you before then” That's when you noticed he was dressed in his colonel uniform — damn he looked so good too, but you refused to tell him that.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the door. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up with his long strides. “I can walk on my own Caleb let go” You yanked at his grip and surprisingly he let go — only for him to swiftly sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style into the dining room. He gently placed you in a chair and sauntered off to the kitchen returning with your favorite juice, a glass of water, and scallion pancakes. You stared at your plate not sure if you’re happy or pissed.

“I didn’t poison it so stop poutin’ and eat before it gets cold” You glanced at Caleb who occupied the seat next to you. He sat in a relaxed position with his head resting in his palm; studying you intently. You were still hesitant to eat anything this man put in front of you considering he kidnapped you to another world and won’t tell you how to get home. Caleb reaches a hand across you grabbing your knife and fork and slices a piece of your scallion pancake — popping it into his mouth with a subtle groan. He cuts another piece and turns the fork to you “See it’s safe”

You hesitantly part your lips as Caleb pushes the food into your mouth. The flavors bursting on your tongue had you audibly moaning as well. Caleb was a fantastic cook — you snatched the fork from his hand and dug right in taking a few sips of your drink to wash it down. The weight of his stare has you slowing down and immediately wiping your mouth “What are you staring at?” Calebs eyes soften as he slowly scans your face “You’re even more beautiful in person”

Even though you weren’t happy with him those words still gave you butterflies — you’ve been trying so hard to suppress them. You dropped your gaze and moved the last bits of your food around your plate “Don’t flirt with me you’re gonna make me nervous” He let out a soft chuckle and flicked your nose before leaning back in his chair — flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Caleb really was breathtaking; those violet eyes almost had you in a trance. You couldn’t help, but take in all his features — your eyes going from his eyes to his lips, taking notes of how full and soft they looked.

Continuing your perusal, you let your eyes move down, taking in his long muscular, but lean frame. His legs seemed to go for miles and you watched him spread them just a little wider when your eyes reached his lap. “You like what you see pip-squeak?” You finally snapped out of your self-inflicted trance and shook your head “You’re easy on the eyes even though you make my nervous system stand on end” You pushed your empty plate away, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your chair.

Caleb didn’t respond immediately — opting to just give your cheek a caress as he grabbed your plate. His silence was unnerving to say the least. Is he upset? Are you the reason he’s upset? Staying quiet seemed to be the best option. “So I’ll be leavin’ for three days I want you to stay here and when I get back I promise to give you the grand tour of SkyHaven” His voice was accompanied by the sound of dishes clattering and running water.

“Three days?!” You choked on your drink causing you to cough loudly. Caleb stopped what he was doing and rushed to your side — rubbing your back as you caught your breath. “I’m not staying here for three days! I have a life back home!” You pushed his shoulder so you could stand and get some space. You knew by the way his brows furrowed and the chilling demeanor that washed over him in an instance that you’d made him mad. “And how exactly do you plan on getting ‘home’ pip-squeak?” He took a step toward you making you step back. You didn’t get far as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. His eyes were becoming wild — this was the same look in his eyes before he ruined your phone for good. His heart was also beating rapidly in rhythm with yours.

You: Tell me how! Caleb: Didn’t you say you hated your job? You: Yes but- Caleb: Weren’t you the one who said you wanted someone to take care of you for once? You: Caleb I didn’t mean- Caleb: So why not stay here and be happy …. with me?

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood there letting part of yourself give in to him while the other half was ready to run out the door. Where would you go though? Who would help you? There’s no way Caleb is actually cruel enough to keep you here knowing damn well you don’t belong in this game. “I-I can’t” You croaked out not knowing if you wanted to kiss him or kick him. You watched Calebs’ expression fall, but he quickly covered it with a small grin. He stepped away from you and you almost chased after him due to the loss of warmth. He gripped you by your chin and you stood there frozen not sure what his next move would be. He narrowed his eyes as he searched your face for what? You didn’t know. To your surprise he placed the softest kiss on your lips. The gasp that followed was swallowed up by him as he deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to give him a swift kick to the crotch, but your heart was melting in the palm of his hand.

You kissed him back with the same fervor.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close. Caleb kissed you like he would never have this chance again while simultaneously savoring your lips like he had all the time in the world. He tapped the side of your thigh and you swiftly lifted it without question. Caleb picked you up, holding you close as he moved across the room and laid you down on the couch. He pulled away breathless and dropped his forehead on your chest “If we keep going I’ll be late for work”

“I should probably get home anyway Caleb we can talk about this another day, but let me go home first” You ran your hands through his hair — it was soft. He lifted his head and for the first time, since bringing up home, his eyes showed no sign of anger. “You’re right” He stood to his full height and helped you to your feet. “Lets get you some pain medication for your shoulder” He brushed his fingertips over the darkening area “Then I'll tell you how to get home” his words were almost a whisper.

“Thank you” You could feel the tension melting off of you in waves.

“Follow me” He helped you to your feet and headed down the hallway towards what you assume is his room. You followed closely behind him; stumbling a few times to keep up. Once you were in his room your stumbling became much harder to control. Your breathing was becoming heavy and your head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. You braced yourself against the wall willing the dizziness to stop.

“What’s wrong? Come lay down” Caleb said feigning concern. Your body was too heavy to even try to fight him so you allowed him to guide you into his bed and you felt a soft kiss on your forehead right before drifting off to sleep. “I’ll be back soon”

The room was dark only lit by the moon through the window when you woke up. You sat up glancing around the room trying to figure out where you were. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you saw the outline of a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

No he didn’t.

You bolted out of bed at the sudden realization that you were still in Calebs home. “Caleb!” You yelled as you ran down the hall out into the living room. The place was dark and quiet not a single sign of another person. You ran to the front door, frantically trying to open it, but somehow Caleb managed to bolt this door shut making it impossible for you to leave. “He locked me in?” Think.

The windows!

You opened one of the few windows that wasn't floor to ceiling and found that it luckily wasn't sealed shut. Freedom was in reach. You went to put one leg out the window when you were met with an electrifying pain. “Ow! Damn it!” There was some kind of electromagnetic wall just outside the window. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Your breathing was ragged and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. “Fuck you Caleb you were never going to let me leave”

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[wonryllis]

✶ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝒟𝐎𝐋𝐋? RICH BOY ENHYPEN PINNING AFTER YOU.

目录──────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

𝓉𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗘 ⋅ enhypen showing that you're not just one of the girls. wordcount total 2882 (approx 0.4k each) ⭑ CONTAINS— female!reader, fluff, suggestive, lots of swearing. % strongly recommend listening to ›› the respective songs while reading! jungwon's is inspired by ␥ kavin and kaning. ( THE ARCHIVE? ) PLS REBLOG ><

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. HELLGIRL BY ARI ABDUL

"shit. you gotta wear this one, angel," heeseung groans in satisfaction, ignorant and indifferent to the fact that all the store employees could hear him, someone who never brings over girls to places like these, going insane over one. and the fact that you were unable to wrap your head around this situation just yet.

it was surreal and it was nerve wrecking. but heeseung was adamant that he needed you.

needed you to dress so fucking gorgeous and stand by his side as his date for the night while he paraded around greeting his parents' guests. showing them that he is capable of being committed by bringing along a partner for the first time ever. that's what he tells you—

"is this really fine?" you ask again, hands dusting over the sleek satin hugging your skin in a way that it tickled. heeseung stands up and strides overs to where you stand, arms sliding around your waist to pull you against him. "it's more than fine, absolutely stunning," leaning into your neck to leave kisses, "and so hot," right infront of everyone, no one daring to say a word to him, except you.

you who has been an exception to all his rules, you who has made him want to do things he has never wanted to before. you who has swept him off his feet.

you push against his chest in an attempt to stop him,"we'll be late, should go now," he hums in a low growl, lips nipping right against your ear before he pulls away with much exasperation almost unsated. clicking his tongue in annoyance for the staff to hurry the billing once he's done admiring you. unable to stand that anyone beside him see you dressed so pretty.

"just smile and follow my lead," heeseung tells you once you arrive at the venue. giving you an encouraging look as he instructs the valet to wait until you seem calm enough to step out. that's what he tells you— heart eyes and odd actions speaking for themselves. his hands find your waist when you finally walk up the stairs, breath shaky as you pass the entrance.

"relax angel, 'm right here, we can leave whenever you want," he kisses the side of your head, lips lightly touching your styled hair. never caring about who's looking and who's thinking what. if only you knew it too.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STAY BY ARI ABDUL

"look behind you, princess," the voice incoming from your phone suddenly sounds too loud, paired with faint footsteps coming to a halt. jay's lips break into a wide smile when you turn around in an instant to look at him. your eyes following his hands holding an enormous bouquet of red roses, before you notice anything else.

before you notice the want in his eyes. the want for you.

"jay? i thought you were in— " you speak into the phone, eyes locked with his, but before you can finish he hangs up the call. approaching you with quick steps and immediately pulling you into a kiss. one that's short but deep enough to convey his feelings. "berlin? yeah, but i flew back for you," he breathes out against your lips.

"why?" "you know why love," his fingers twirl the hair falling into face, tucking them away and cupping your cheek as he gives you a smile before stepping away.

he waits for you to say something, to address his feelings but like always you avoid it and like always jay lets you. alas there will come a time when you would no longer be able to deny his love, so until then he will continue to show you all ways you own his heart in. his forever princess."what about that conference you were going to attend with your dad?" you ask, accepting his bouquet.

watching him with a soft giggle as he struggles to pull out a single rose and place it behind your ear. "don't worry about it," in a reassuring tone he leads you to his car. teasing you of a surprise each time you question where you are headed.

asking you to have your eyes closed while he leads you to the rooftop of a high-rise building owned by his family, illuminated by pretty lights and flowery wreaths, and a firework show worth a million.

all just for you.

to pose a smile on your face and to be the one to put it. to be the reason of your happiness and to be the person beside you in your best memories,"happy new year, princess," jay whispers into you ear as you open your eyes to see all of it. "jay this—" you gasp in a trance, gaze hooked on the sky while his is fixated in the way the fireworks shine against your pretty orbs and the gloss on your lips,"it's all for you,"

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. MEDDLE ABOUT BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"you owe me. you can't keep avoiding me forever, doll," jake chuckles, noticing how you turn the other way after catching a glimpse of him. finding it adorable how you do everything you can to not cross paths with him.

leaving him no choice but to wait for you outside your university, leaning against his black lykan hypersport; attracting unwanted attention while his eyes only look for your cute panicked figure amidst the crowd.

"i told you it was a mistake—" you refute, throwing a glare at his smug face as he drives right beside you, following your every step, nonchalant about all the stares you both get as long as you agree to him taking you out. "get in the car," or the other way round, he's fine with both. frustrated and knowing you'd never be able to escape him, you decide to give in.

"you owe me lunch," jake grins as his eyes watch you get into the passenger seat just like the passenger princess you are.

his passenger princess. first and last in his beloved car.

"jake this— isn't this too—" your heart skips beats at the sight of the dock and the luxury cruise restaurant closing in, scared and nervous about how much you'd have to spend but jake just shushes you. getting out the car first and coming over to open the door for you; one hand holding yours and the other cushioning your head as you step out.

"just let me have your time and i'll let you off of staining my prada with coffee," he begs, afraid you'd walk out of here if he were to tell you the real reason. if he were to tell you that you have his heart and no matter what you do his feelings are not changing. if he were to tell you he wanted to take you out to all these places and spoil you rotten and occupy your mind like you occupy his.

if he were to tell you it was indeed not your fault for he bumped into you on purpose to find an excuse to talk to you.

"but—" jake shushes you again, fingers rubbing against your lips as he shakes his head before pulling out the chair for you and helping you sit properly,"don't think too much doll, just do as i say, please?" planning to keep you busy until the sun goes down so he can take you to for a ride on his yacht.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. BABYDOLL BY ARI ABDUL

"fuck baby, don't cry like that," sunghoon panics, his fingers grazing under your eyes to gently wipe the tears. afraid if he's not careful enough, he'll break you. "as much as i love the way you look so pretty like this, tears are not for someone like you," he has no idea how to soothe your frantically crying figure, slouched in the passenger seat against the expensive leather of his aston martin.

his hands fumble around in an attempt to think of ways he could just make you feel better and smile for him. those adorable crinkle of your eyes that have him whipped.

fuming each time he thinks of the moron who took that opportunity away from him by making you sad. he swears if he finds him, he'll beat the living daylights out of him. remind him not to linger anywhere around his girl.

sunghoon softly cups your cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss you, lips moving slow and sensual, "forget him, let me make you happy," he whispers into your mouth once he pulls away, foreheads touching and hands caressing your face lovingly. he makes sure your belt is secured before driving off to one of the luxury malls in the city, ones where you need to be of a certain level to enter.

a place you probably could never have the chance to enter if it weren't for him.

"my princess gotta shop her sadness out, hmm?" sunghoon coos as he stops outside the building, watching you gape in surprise, surprised himself that you are yet to realize just how much you mean to him.

"come on, i'll buy you whatever you lay your eyes on," he insists before you have the chance to deny him.

his hands rest at the back of your waist, leading you inside after handing his keys to the valet. dropping a soft kiss on your temple when you watch his vip card being inspected with a nervous breath of how elite this place has to be.

and knowing how new you must feel to all this, sunghoon pulls you closer with the intention of making it known that this is how it's gonna be from now, "get used to it, baby," you're not his yet but he's gonna treat you like you are. after all it's only a matter of time before it happens.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

ぃ ⏤ now playing. GOOD GIRL BY THOMAS LAROSA

"good girl, you did a great job," sunoo pats your head teasingly amused at the confusion adorning your features. "sunoo, what were you doing there! you don't even have marketing?" the way you close in, demanding an explanation assures him that you indeed were affect by his presence, by the eye contact he held with you the entire time you were giving your presentation.

walking into the lecture hall in the middle of it as if he owned the place and taking a seat at a spot that directly put him in your line of sight. smirking, raising his brows and pushing his tongue against his cheeks to distract and annoy you.

"would you believe me if i said i came to see you?" his hands took ahold of your wrists playing with your fingers as he waited for you to answer.

"liar," you whisper, suddenly conscious of the implication behind his words and it makes him chuckle, of course what did he expect? you're hard to get, and perhaps that's the reason he feels so attracted, almost crazy over you.

like something he has to have, someone he has to have.

he takes a step closer, his varsity hat poking against the top of your head as his eyes bore into yours just the way they did inside earlier,"see? what do you want me to say then?" he whispers back, tone suddenly changing into a serious one. "you can't just enter any class like that," your innocent claim goes through him from one ear and falls through the other. how naive you are.

"i can if it's my dad's university," he can't help but chuckle at the expression on your face when you put the pieces together and realize it. all those times you came across him in places with strict attendance, it all made sense now.

"as adorably as you scold me, you're gonna see me everywhere you go," sunoo warns, leaning in impossibly close, lips hovering over yours,"you should stop fooling yourself baby,"

his hands move from your wrists to rest against the wall behind, voice dropping an octave,"and you should stop fooling around just because you can," you bite back, pressing your palm into his chest to push him back. "i'm fooling around because i want you, and i will have you," "you—" "we have a party this weekend at our summer villa, come with me?"

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. SINNERS BY ARI ABDUL AND THOMAS LAROSA

"jungwon? what are you doing here? are you okay?" it makes jungwon happy to see you worrying about him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pant as he watches you walk around the counter to his figure by the door. finding his cerulean blue chevrolet corvette 2lz parked in his usual spot, and him still dressed in the armani and hermès set you saw him in an hour ago when he dropped you off at your uncle's flower shop.

"mhm, just wanted to see my pretty girl again," he grins cockily once you realize there's nothing wrong and he's just trying playing around like always.

albeit to jungwon, it's never been a play and you have never been a toy.

this has been his way of showing you that you're not just another girl he's chasing after; because yang jungwon has never chased as opposed to what you think. and to harbour such deep and honest feelings that compel him to do what he has never done, that should have given you the hint by now. perhaps he'll just have to try a tad bit harder.

"how do you wear this?" he struts inside, passing by you to the space behind the counter you previously stood at, dangling a lone apron by his pinky and raising his brows at you, waiting. "your clothes will get dirty!" your attempts to curb him fall through for jungwon's persistence to stay with you holds like a strong wall, incapable of budging.

"i don't really care," jungwon's hands loop around the strings in a way that has the apron falling off making you giggle as you give in and just step in to help him,"idiot, that's not how you do it," you mumble.

and all he can think of is how he wants to be your idiot.

"how does this look? i think it looks so pretty on you," he says, putting a messy wreath on your head. to jungwon there's always flowers blooming everywhere you go, sweet scent overtaking all his scenes believing that's how you intoxicated him.

you slap away his hands in a shy chuckle that he doesn't understand, did he say something wrong? not aware and quite literally clueless of his own effect. by the time the sun sets down, you're asleep with your head down on the counter, facing him. and jungwon admires the way you looks so pretty, prettier than any flower.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STUCKINMYBRAIN BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"riki?" oh. you're here? riki looks up at the sound of your footsteps getting closer, halting a metre away from him, like you always do, not too close, not too far and it drives him crazy. "what are you doing here?" you ask, confused to find him waiting outside your mundane apartment building with his out of place red ferrari sf90.

"uh, you left this in the car last time," he fumbles out a dior liquid blush, clearly brand new and a shade you have never used before.

"that's not mine," giggling, you walk over to the other side, opening the passenger seat door to fish out the gloss you actually did leave and waving it in the air to show him,"this is mine richboy," the soft sounds of laughter, your teasing voice.

his favorite thing in the world as of late.

you who has him smitten with infatuation, unable to get you off his mind no matter how much he tries. you who never gives him the answer he wants but never pushes him away either. you who makes him feel like a pathetic loser, you who makes him want to try as many times as he can to win your heart.

"it's a gift," he quickly improvises, wanting you to accept it, of getting a chance to give you something. "you're gifting me a blush?" you question and it throws him off, blush?,"wait, it's not a lipgloss— i, i had no idea, i have never—" riki swears, he really had no clue,"bought makeup?" he nods and it makes you burst into a fit of laughter again. it warms his heart, leaning against his car and watching you with eyes that speak volumes of his feelings.

feelings that anyone could notice, anyone but you.

he lets you revel in his silly naivety, content to know you are not longer sad as you were a few days ago.

"now this suits you pretty little face," he says once you seem to calm down, bewildered at his sudden compliment while he walks over to you.

cupping your face and caressing your cheeks,"so pretty," mumbling under his breath, loud enought to reach your ears,"it's boring when you cry, baby," his lips hover over your own as both of your heartbeats pick up in sync, breath getting caught up at the shift in the atmosphere. "let's go on a drive, we'll get you a bunch of pretty glosses to wear for me,"

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @snoopypupp @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun

[siriuslylantsov]

home

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

description: in which spencer gets home and he needs you.

tags: MDNI smut! and fluff, established relationship, sleepy sex, pinv, little praise, brief nipple stuff (im a creature of habit), cockwarming, aftercare, this is just sweet and quiet.

a/n: anon who sent in the req, this is for you :) little gilmore girls adjacent line there at the end because i have that show memorised and i think its silly. smut is slowly getting easier for me to right and im really happy about that. happy reading! tell me what you think

wc: 1.3k

you feel the all so familiar lips on your shoulder and you know. you stir awake. with a groggy groan, you open your eyes and turn your head around. the strap of your tank top is peeled down to your arm and a messy mop of curls is tucked into your neck. he's home.

“hey,” you whisper. “you're home.”

spencer lifts his head up, “yeah, baby.”

you scoot back into him, needing him to be closer. chuckling, when you feel an unmistakable hardness against your ass. you nudge your nose against his. 

“you okay?”

“mhm. you're just so pretty,” he responds, lip caught between his teeth, eyes glistening even in the low light. you could see the need in his eyes, and even barely awake, you felt compelled to tease him.

you turn to face him, subtly wedging a leg between his. action ever so slightly causing some friction, just enough that it seemed innocuous. you scrunch your nose up appreciatively, muttering a quiet “thank you”, pressing your thigh more firmly against him. 

he pouts, knowing what you're doing. “please,” he mumbles.

“please, what?” you taunt, playing dumb.

“i need you, please angel,” he whines, hand finding your waist.

you caress his cheek lightly with your knuckles, the gentleness making him shiver, so sensitive. you smile at him and he returns it. “you have me, spence. whenever you want.”

he leans into your touch, eyebrows furrowed in mild exasperation. “why tease me then?” he implores. 

“it's fun,” you offer up uselessly with a shrug. everytime you do, it draws something whiny from him and you find it so endearing. 

he huffs, in disbelief and amusement. “you're impossible.”

“you love me,” you retort, melting into the pillow.

“i do,” he confirms with a nod, leaning in to kiss your lips, lingering for a moment to see if you'll kiss him back.

you do, it's a little sloppy but he's okay taking the lead. his tongue slips into your mouth as he slowly pushes you to lay on your back. finding the waistband of your shorts, he pulls them down along with your underwear. your legs instinctively part as he lifts himself to settle between them. he dips his head down to capture your lips again, the kiss more frenzied this time. his hand trails up to your shoulder pulling the other strap of your tank top too and bunching the fabric at your waist so your tits were out. you weakly paw at his t-shirt and he takes it off, kicking his pants and underwear off in the process, clothes in a tangled mess somewhere under the duvet.

he mouths at your neck, sucking lightly. his hand trails over your breast, kneading the flesh. his thumb grazes your nipple and it stiffens. he rolls the bud between his fingers, making you quiver, causing arousal to pool between your thighs.

“spence,” you whimper.

“i got you,” he responds quickly, dipping his fingers between your folds. groaning when he feels the wetness there. “always so wet for me,” he murmurs. your eyes flutter shut as he gently circles your clit.

“do you need my fingers first? or are you ready?” he inquires.

 “‘m okay. i can take it,” you reassure him, your tone a little petulant because of the lingering sleep. 

you look so unbelievably soft, he's afraid that he might break you. “i know you can, angel, but it's been a week.”

“need you inside me,” you slur.

your gaze meets his, equally clouded in lust. he takes the plunge, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance. he pushes in slowly, matching your sigh when he bottoms out. 

he stays there for a moment, relishing in the way you wrap around him. it's warm and soft and wet and overwhelmingly you, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. 

you seem just as content as him when you don't urge him to move immediately, raising your arms to pull him closer. your fingers trace the subtle lines of muscle on his shoulder blades, hallowed paths that you’re well accustomed to. 

your walls flutter around him and he buries his head into the crook of your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your skin, lips pressed firmly against you because he wants you to have it all, to absorb it, to take it. 

“perfect girl, you feel so good. so so good for me,” his words are muffled but heard by you all the same as he draws his hips back, only to somehow push in deeper. 

it goes like this. languid thrusts by him and soothing passes over his spine by you. it’s tranquil, the way that he fucks you–for a lack of a less crude word. it isn't making love either, in the sense that it isn't passionate or intense. but it's sweet, done with ease. practised motions of his hips has him dragging against your sweet spot incessantly. he can hear the hushed ah’s you let out, and god does he love how you sound. 

“i missed you,” he drawls into your neck, lips pressing feathery kisses to your skin.

your hand snakes into his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. “i missed you too, sweet boy.”

his pace quickens, ever so slightly, in mollified desperation. you almost feel a little bad that he's doing all the work, but you're too tired to think about it–and he feels fucking incredible inside you–so you happily let him. he lurks his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit again, angling his thrusts higher.

“fuck, baby, like that,” you keen.

“yeah?” he pants.

just like that. your orgasm washes over you in a wave of bliss–high, high and higher. the feel of you squeezing around him, drives him over the edge too. his hips snap as he fucks you through it, once, twice, and then he stills. 

he raises his head from your shoulder, “hi pretty,” he whispers, soft smile gracing his lips.

you hum in acknowledgement, the post orgasmic haze lulling you back to sleep. he chuckles quietly, brushing his lips over your forehead. he cautiously pulls out as to not wake you, corners of his mouth twitching when you make an incoherent noise at the feeling. 

he grabs a damp towel, warily cleaning the mess. he's careful when he redresses you, slipping on a clean pair of underwear and pulling the straps of your top over your shoulders, kissing either joint before lying down next to you. he pulls the covers up, starkly reminded of how cold you keep the room, holding your hand as he falls asleep too. 

your eyes flit open hours later at the feel of his fingers skimming over your face. rays of sunlight peek through the gap in the curtain. you look up at him, already staring down at you.

“creep,” you rasp, though there's no malice behind your words.

“i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologises.

“which time?”

“both,” he lets out sheepishly.

“it’s okay, i'm not,” you counter as you throw an arm over him and tuck yourself into his side.

he wraps his around you in turn, smiling into your hair. you rest your chin on his chest, half-lidded eyes staring into his wide eyed brown ones.

“what time is it?” you inquire, too lazy to check the clock that sat atop your bedside table.

“late,” he says, running his hand down your arm and up again.

“i’m hungry, i want pancakes. can we make pancakes?”

“we can make whatever you want, sweetheart,” he answers, prompting you to grin and spring upright.

you notice the clothes on your body and you stick your bottom lip out, “you’re sweet.” you look at him a moment longer, eyes following the features of his face in awe. you pull him up to hug him tightly.

“oh, i’m so happy you’re home.” you chirp giddily.

he squeezes you, “they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

you let go of him, jumping out of the bed. “yeah, well. sex does that too.”

m.list

[explorevenus]

my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’ 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

"I love you too, little one."

[ur-local-wizard]

Ruin You

Mattheo Riddle, an incubus, is used to getting his way. But when he falls for you --the one girl immune to his charms -- and learns of your innocence, he's overcome with the want to ruin you for anyone else.

MDNI! corruption kink, praise, fingering, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, creampie, loss of virginity, incubus!mattheo x fem!reader, I am not responsible for your media consumption

w/c: 1.6k

in response to this request!

masterlist au list

a/n: first smut ever!! I hope this lives up to all the expectations! <3

Seduction came to Mattheo Riddle as if it was his mother tongue – natural, unhurried. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and the way to angle his smirk just right to make people weak in the knees. His smile was devastating, his voice rich and deep, his touch always featherlight yet never failing to leave a scorching heat behind. He thrived off sexual innuendos, his existence woven into every fantasy and every intimate thought that flitted through every mind.

But you seemed to be immune to his charms.

Remaining blissfully ignorant to his attempts, you somehow escaped every interaction with the demon entirely untouched by the sin that dripped from his lips. It was confusing, infuriating, yet somehow intoxicating; only serving to make him thirst for more. 

“You know,” he purred, leaning closer to where you sat in the common room. “If you ever need help with anything, I’m here. You only have to ask.” 

You blinked up at him, and a wholesome smile spread across your lips. “That’s so sweet of you, Matty. You’re such a good friend.” 

He nearly choked on his own spit at your response. Friend? He was a literal demon of temptation and desire, and yet you thought his actions were friendly? 

His flirtations only escalated after that. Every smirk, wink, lingering touch, was only met with a beaming smile or polite nod. You were a puzzle, a challenge. He wanted to figure you out – to understand how to get his message across. And yet he found himself drawn to you in other ways; ones that weren’t driven solely by physical need.

Then he heard the rumors.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He was just drinking at a party like usual, when he heard Pansy’s voice. “Y/n’s a virgin? Makes sense I guess. But with a face like that, I expected more,” he heard her say. 

He felt the world tilt for a moment, and not from the alcohol he was drinking. Everything in him was screaming, the depraved part of him clawing at the edges of his restraint. A virgin. Pure. Untouched.

His body ached at the thought, and the demonic part of him longed to find you and corrupt you, defile you. But the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as he was – a monster, a predator, a creature of hunger and lust. He wanted you desperately, needed you even, but he would never force anything on you.

For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle was at a complete loss for what to do.

Although it was difficult, Mattheo tried to distance himself after that revelation. He told himself that it was for your own good, that you were better off without him, that he would ruin you if he got too close. 

But the more he resisted, the more unbearable the distance from you became. He still heard your laugh echoing throughout the corridors, still caught glimpses of you in the Great Hall, still felt the echo of your innocent touches that lingered, their memory like a brand seared into his skin. 

However, you noticed the change in his behavior almost instantly, and began to wonder if you’d done something wrong.

“Matty?” You asked one day, your voice soft and uncertain. You’d caught him just after curfew, when everyone was meant to be heading to their dorms. “Are you mad at me? Have I done something?” 

Mattheo’s fists clenched at his sides, not able to stand the way your doe eyes were filled with guilt and concern. No fear, no anger, no suspicion, just pure and genuine worry. It broke his heart, and he had to look away. “No angel, you didn’t do anything.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, and your brows furrowing. “Then why have you been avoiding me?” 

His mouth floundered as he searched for something to say. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t scare you? That wouldn’t hurt you? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie either. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, giving a non-answer while shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then explain it to me,” you said, looking up at him expectantly.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. You stood firm, gaze unwavering, arms crossed over your chest. The sight of you, so determined, so concerned, made him snap. 

“You drive me mad, you know that? Every time you smile at me, every goddamn touch, makes me go absolutely insane. I want you so bad… I wanna ruin you for anyone else.

“So? Who said I didn’t feel the same way, Matty?”

He stared at you in utter disbelief. “But all the hints I threw-” 

“Yeah, I get those now,” you grumble. “After I realize you share the same feelings. I just… didn’t want to assume.” 

He scoffs and takes a step closer. “So you want this too?” 

As soon as you nod, he’s on you. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging lightly, as he backed you against the wall. One hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, and you could feel his desire pressing against you. The kiss was fervent, full of pent-up desire, yet beneath the urgency there was tenderness. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re so fucking perfect.” 

His hands were warm as they slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. Your bra was next, falling away to meet your shirt, and you should have been mortified of being so exposed in the common room. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Not when his touch ignited something within you that you never knew was there, not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering sweet praises that made your stomach tighten with need.

His own shirt was next, falling into the growing pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Hands finding your hips, he spun you around, and you immediately braced yourself against the wall. The stone was hard and cold against your hands, and the cold air of the common room caused your nipples to pebble. His touch drifted down your back, before slipping under your skirt to rub against your core. Letting out a gasp of surprise, your hips jolted towards his touch, earning a soothing hum from the man behind you.

“I’ll be gentle, okay? So fucking gentle,” he murmured as he moved your panties to the side. Two fingers slipped inside your cunt with ease, earning a whine from you. 

“Fuck. You're so tight. So wet,” he groaned as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars. “I really am the only one to touch you like this? Gonna be the first and last, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you moaned, head falling forward as a knot started to form in your belly.

His fingers picked up their pace, pumping and curling just right, just enough to drive you dangerously close to the edge. “I want you to promise, angel. Promise me I’ll be the only one to ever see this beautiful pussy of yours.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, but that didn't satisfy him. Right as you were about to finish, he tore his hand away from you, leaving you teetering on the brink. The loss and emptiness made you whimper, but when you heard him unbuckling his belt, anticipation replaced the frustration. The suspense made you tense, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing, but he didn't move. “I want to hear you say it. Promise me, angel.”

“I promise,” you whined, growing impatient from the loss of sensation. You wanted him desperately.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips surging forward, thrusting into you with one swift motion. A choked gasp escaped your lips, the stretch making you wince. He stilled, letting you adjust, though his grip on your hips tightened like he was barely holding himself back.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Your fingers curled against the wall, and when you started to squirm, he took that as a hint to move. His first thrust was slow, gentle. It was your first time after all. But eventually his restraint snapped. His rhythm was deep and deliberate, fucking into you as if this was the last thing he'd ever do.

One hand snaked around your body to rub tight circles on your clit that made your knees buckle. He caught you, keeping you upright as his pace never faltered. 

“Feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he moans, his voice raw. 

His continued ministrations made pressure build once again, white-hot pleasure beginning to curl insistently in your stomach. You could feel it, the inevitable, and his increasingly erratic movements were a tell-tale sign that he was close too. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, coaxing you. “Prove to me how perfectly you were made for me.”

Pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming. You tightened and fluttered around him, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his throat. He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a groan. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, lost in the shock of what had just happened. Then he pulled out and turned you around, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You did perfect, just like I knew you would.”

tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls @riddleswhcre @riddleshire

[generalsdiary]

you brought your partner a flower bouquet. it isn’t something they often receive, and you felt a desire to change that. being a solemn, thoughtful person after thanking you they said;

“yes… it is sad that I’ll have to watch them die.” “they started dying the moment they were picked. kind of like humans, from the age of 25 their bodies officially begin to die.” upon hearing your words they look back at you, sharing a knowing look. “that is too short. I…” they clench their jaw for a moment. “humans have too short of a life span. we- I will find a way” soft, whispered words flowing between you two like a breeze on an early spring morning.

depending on the context behind their words, that perhaps brought you joy, that your loved one would go above and beyond to have as much time as possible with you. or it filled you with fear, knowing their history with such ways of life manipulation.

“no matter how much time we have, we will be alright. I cherish every moment I get with you. and once I’m gone-“

“please don’t say that.” their voice fell to a broken whisper. noticing the change in their body language, you moved closer, cupping their face, and matching their quiet tone you said, “let’s stay in the present. I’m right here, living and breathing. focus on me, on my heart,” you take their hand and place their palm on your chest. “on how it beats for you. for us.”

Dan Heng, Jingliu, Blade, Dan Feng, Neuvillette, Xiao, Wanderer, Scaramouche, Capitano

divider cr: @saradika

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 8k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: piv sex, fingering, oral sex, masturbation, blood drinking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, aphrodisiacs, rough sex, soft dom Astarion, with a liiiiittle bit of fluff at the end if you squint. as a little treat for myself. c:

‣ preview: She hasn't even finished before Astarion has tugged her forward, crashing their lips together with enough force that it knocks the breath from her lungs. And oh, if their mouths don't slot together just right, as if this was the only logical course of action for the both of them.

And when Astarion growls into her mouth and fists a hand possessively in her hair, everything but the taste of him, the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot that infiltrates her senses, and the feel of his body as he presses her into the wall and grinds his hips against her fades into oblivion.  AO3 ┊ series masterlist

The Underdark is hardly the most inviting place to make camp for the evening, but it's also not the worst place to they've stopped to rest along their journey. A forest of massive, vibrant mushrooms rises along the outskirts of their encampment, iridescent caps catching the light from their fire and reflecting back the most dazzling array of colors. If she can ignore the occasional eerie noises that echo off the cavernous walls, the place almost feels cozy, like some enchanted forest straight out of one of her childhood picture books.

There's a pot of stew simmering over the fire, the savory aroma of meats and vegetables enticing Ysera out of her tent the moment she's finished constructing it for the evening.

Gale catches her eye from across the fire, where he sits tending to their evening meal. A friendly smile beckons her over, and she gazes curiously into the pot when the wizard lifts the lid to add a handful of diced potatoes to the mix. 

She's been studying his methods for the past several weeks, asking all sorts of questions about any number of things he's doing. And to his credit, Gale has answered every one of her relentless inquiries with as much enthusiasm as the last, eager to impart his knowledge upon her. She hasn't yet had the opportunity to apply her newfound skills, but she's working on convincing him to let her cook something for them all soon.

“That smells amazing, Gale!” Ysera says, laying a hand over her rumbling stomach. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She doesn't bother to sit, hovering over the fire and shifting her weight from one foot to the other with restless excitement. After a long day of travel, the thing she wants most is a warm meal in her belly. Gale thanks her for her compliments and pauses a moment in thought. 

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he concludes, holding up a finger as an idea strikes him. “I've read about a certain mushroom native to the Underdark with a flavor profile that should compliment this particular stew quite nicely.”

“You want me to go find some for you? I can, but…” Ysera bites her lip nervously and tilts her head. The last thing she wants to do is disappoint him. “I'm not certain I know what you're looking for.”

The smile that crinkles the corners of Gale's eyes is infectious, and Ysera can't help but beam back at him.

“Not to worry!” he assures her. “Just a moment…” Gale secures the lid over the pot and rummages through a stack of books beside the fire, and Ysera catches a few glimpses of their titles and contents. Local guidebooks. Cookbooks. And finally, a thorough compendium of Underdark flora and fauna. He thumbs through this last book before stopping on a particular page filled with field sketches and various tidbits of information. His eyes scan the drawings and he points to a mushroom near the bottom of the page, one with a short, fat stalk and a tall, plump cap. It looks unassuming, and certainly far less vibrant than most of the fungi that seem to grow here. One could easily mistake it for the same variety she's seen growing on the surface.

“Here we are,” Gale says, tracing his finger over the words beneath the picture. “According to this, they can most commonly be found in the dark, damp caverns here in the Underdark. There's a cave not too far from here that should be the perfect place to harvest them, if you're up for the task.”

Ysera's tail swishes two and fro as she gathers the book in her hands and nods. She gives him a salute before grabbing her pack and bounding off towards the direction he's told her to start looking.

“Okay,” Ysera calls over her shoulder. “I'm on it!”

––––––––––––––––––––––

Although the Underdark is full of horrific creatures with sharp claws and dripping fangs, many of them, Astarion has found, are quite inedible. He's had just enough thick, astringent blood to temper his hunger, but the empty ache in his stomach remains. Even the bloated, putrid rats that Cazador used to feed him were only half as foul as the wretched creatures he had stumbled upon tonight.

He grumbles under his breath as he saunters back into camp, intent on finding Ysera and convincing her to let him steal her away for a quick bite. He'd only just fed on her the night before, but no matter how often he does, it never seems to be enough to keep him sated for very long. He thinks about it – about her – so often now that he's certain she's bewitched him.

Astarion can practically taste her blood on his tongue, the way it always pours in crimson rivulets over his lips and down his throat when she lets him drink his fill of her. The satisfaction of it is something that he hasn't been able to find anywhere else, the warmth he's gradually come to crave even more than the sun. And here in the Underdark the absence of the sun has only made him that much more ravenous.

It only takes a few minutes for him to search their entire camp, but she's nowhere to be found. When he hadn't found her in her tent, he'd selfishly hoped to find her in his own, as though she might have anticipated what he needed from her and saved him the trouble of tracking her down. He'd drawn back the tentflap with a flourish, an easy smirk spreading across his lips, only to be greeted by nothing more than what few belongings he had managed to scrounge up along their travels. 

Karlach snickers at him when he wanders back into the middle of camp and makes an exaggerated huff of annoyance. She leans over to Shadowheart, who's sitting next to her, and whispers something into the cleric's ear that makes her cover her mouth and laugh.

Astarion scowls at them both and taps his foot in annoyance.

“If the two of you are done gossiping, ” he mutters, “perhaps you'd like to tell me where Ysera is.”

Shadowheart pauses unbraiding her hair and shrugs. “Gale sent her out to fetch some mushrooms for the stew.”

Something like concern flickers over Astarion's face before he schools his expression into one of aloof indifference.

“Alone?”

Karlach's face splits open in a wide, toothy grin.

“You worried, Fangs? How cute.”

Astarion turns his nose up and scoffs incredulously.

“Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.” He folds his arms over his chest, but the sight of him pouting like a petulant child is hardly convincing. Another figure moves into his periphery, and Wyll joins Karlach and Shadowheart, taking several swigs of his bottle of wine before offering Astarion a look of genuine sympathy.

“Relax. Have some faith in her – she's perfectly capable.”

Astarion's expression sours. Of course Ysera is capable. He knows it better than any of them. But he's seen also seen her bumble through the woods and trip over one too many rocks to know that she's equally capable of walking straight into disaster, especially here in the Underdark where even the plants are hostile. It doesn't sit right with him that she's gone off on her own, and not only because she's his most reliable source of food for the time being.

“How long has she been gone?” Astarion questions.

Wyll, Karlach, and Shadowheart exchange glances, and even Gale seems concerned when Astarion throws a quick look in his direction.

“Come to think of it,” Gale admits, “she probably should have been back by now.”

The unease Astarion feels is foreign; he's used to worrying only about himself, and the realization that his thoughts have been preoccupied on her for the last several moments makes him especially irritated. He waits for someone else to intervene, but when none of them do he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily.

“Well, let's not all get up at once, hmm? I’ll fetch her.”

––––––––––––––––––––––

Ysera hums an absent tune to herself as she follows the path towards the cave. The farther she walks, the more familiar she becomes with her surroundings; she remembers the swaying lavender mushrooms that towered overhead the last time the party came through the afternoon prior, glowing brightly in the darkness. She follows them like a beacon, retracing the way they'd come before.

After a while, she comes upon a fork in the path, and a cursory glance tells her she should head left. The cave Gale had spoken of lies not too far ahead, and she picks up her pace as she navigates her way over a few jagged ledges. When she reaches it, she finds that the mouth of the cave is barely large enough to accommodate her, and she clutches Gale's book to her chest as she squeezes her way inside. The darkness inside swallows her entirely, and if not for the colonies of bioluminescent blue mushrooms scattered about the immediate vicinity, she'd be hard pressed to see much of anything, even with her darkvision.

The faint blue glow illuminates the cave walls just enough for her to navigate through the inky blackness, and she stops dead in her tracks when she comes upon a particularly large mushroom. Crouching beside it, Ysera reaches out tentatively and pokes it with the tip of her finger, delighted by the way it seems to shudder from her touch. She does it again, and as the cap scrunches up she almost imagines it furrowing its brow and scowling at her. The surface becomes glossy when it excretes a thick mucus, and she can't help but prod at it again. The substance burns her finger and she jolts backwards, tumbling onto her back as she frantically wipes her hand clean on her robes.

Ysera glares daggers at the offending mushroom before getting back on her feet and continuing deeper into the cave. There are fewer mushrooms here, and it's quickly becoming impossible for her to navigate on sight alone. And at any rate, she certainly won't be able to refer to the pictures in Gale's book.

A trio of brilliant blue light bursts forth from her fingers as she casts a quick Dancing Lights cantrip, squinting as the cave slowly comes into focus. Ivory stalactites descend from the roof, water dripping onto the walls and the floor of the cave and collecting in several tepid, shallow pools.

There are no mushrooms here that fit the description of what she's looking for, and Ysera spins on her heel to check another direction. A pale, grisly face emerges from the shadows when she turns, and before she can register exactly what it is she's looking at, she screams and swings Gale's book with as much force as she can muster. The sound of splintering bone and viscera pierces through the cave as the thing shatters into a thousand pieces, and the book flies from her hands before colliding with the rock along the back wall and tumbling into an empty crevice.

Ysera's heart thunders behind her ribs as she takes several deep breaths to calm herself. What's left of the grinning skull of the beast that died here grins back at her in a mocking fashion, and in a fit of frustration she summons a bolt of blazing fire and hurls it into the corpse, disintegrating it.

After storming across the cave, she peers down into the place where Gale's book vanished and groans when she realizes how deep it's wedged between the rocks. Even when standing on her tiptoes and reaching in as far as she can, her fingers don't seem to come anywhere close to snatching it. 

Ysera deposits her pack on the ground and wedges herself into the crevice, bent at the waist as she wriggles herself closer towards the book. A quivering mass of bright orange mushrooms lines practically every surface of rock here, and when she accidentally brushes her hand across the spongy caps a cloud of spores explodes and obscures her vision. Her nose tickles when she breathes them in, nearly slamming her face into the wall when she sneezes.

A warm, fuzzy feeling envelopes her body like a blanket, and she can't be certain if it's the mushrooms or the fact that she's practically hanging upside down that's making her feel lightheaded. She presses on regardless, determined to retrieve Gale's book and avoid having to share thre embarrassing story of how she lost it to begin with.

At last her hand clasps the leather spine, and Ysera sighs with relief as she pulls it free from another bed of those peculiar orange mushrooms. But when she tries to back out of the crevice, she only succeeds in wriggling helplessly, wedging herself even deeper. No matter how hard she struggles, she makes little progress.

Ysera lets out a pitiful wail. She curses the mushrooms, curses Gale's book, curses whatever stupid thought had convinced her to come all this way without bringing anyone along with her.

It would be less pathetic if she had simply fallen over the side of a cliff and plummeted to her death.

“This is so humiliating,” she mutters dourly. “Astarion would never let me live this down if he was here.”

She's too caught up with wallowing in self-pity to hear the footsteps that sound behind her, soft footfalls that she should easily recognize by now.

“Right you are, darling,” a familiar voice purrs. The amusement in his voice reflects the mischievous smirk that curves his lips, all traces of his earlier concern erased the moment he found her thrashing around like a rabbit stuck in a trap. “This is quite the predicament you've found yourself in, isn't it?”

It only takes Ysera a moment to recognize his voice, and her tail perks up with excitement.

“Astarion? Thank the gods.” She squirms again when she doesn't hear him step any closer, face heating as she realizes how ridiculous she must look.

“Stop gawking and help me!”

Astarion doesn't bother sparing her the effort it would take to mask the snickering laugh he lets out as an answer. Hands in his pockets, he strides smugly towards her, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“I don't think you're in any position to be making demands – where are your manners?”

Ysera kicks her legs in one last, futile attempt to free herself and flattens her tail dejectedly.

“Oh, you're terrible, ” she whines. “Go back and send Halsin instead, he's much nicer than you. Taller. Stronger. Not nearly as handsome, but I'll make due.”

Ysera's teasing backfires when she hears Astarion turn, his steps purposely noisy as he begins to walk away. He'd never abandon her, of course, but that doesn't mean he can't have a little fun in the meantime.

“A wonderful idea,” he says with a wave of his hand. “And in the meantime, I can tell everyone exactly how our esteemed leader ended up in such a sorry state.”

She can't see him, but she knows him well enough to know he's grinning ear to ear. The thought of anyone else finding out about this – and especially from Astarion – is mortifying.

“H-hold on,” she stammers, “there's no need for that! I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

Astarion slows to a halt and pretends to consider her offer. 

“Not to worry, my dear,” he assures her, “It would be my pleasure.”

She's quite certain it would be. The bastard.

“All right, you win!” she concedes, pleading with him not to leave her. “Just get me out of here. I think something just crawled on my face.”

Finally, Astarion takes pity on Ysera and steps behind her, placing his hands on either side of her waist. The instant he makes contact with her, a surge of pleasure blooms between her legs and ripples through her body, wiping her mind clear of all coherent thought. Astarion glides his hands over her robes to get a better grip and through the haze inside her brain she thinks she hears him say something to her, but she can't quite make out the words, drowned out and seemingly too distant for her to hear. 

The way he holds her evokes the sudden memory of a night not so long ago, when he had her bent over in a similar fashion, driving into her from behind as she bit into her pillow to stifle her mewls and whimpers. Her mind lurches towards the memory as it comes into focus, tries to seize it, but Astarion's voice cuts through her recollection like a knife through silk.

“Are you still with me, darling?”

“Huh?” She blinks and the memory is gone, but when his fingers inadvertently brush against her stomach she grits her teeth and bites back another noise she's certain he hears anyway.

“Oh… yeah,” she manages with a shaky laugh “I'm – I'm good.”

Astarion's hands tighten and he gives her a good tug, and after a moment it feels like everything is spinning as she tumbles out of the crevice and nearly loses her footing before Astarion steadies her. She quickly separates from him even as it makes her body ache for his touch like a wilting flower reaching for the sun. Astarion arches a puzzled brow but before he can question her odd behavior, she's thanking him profusely for helping her.

“You’re a lifesaver. Gale would have been awfully disappointed if I came back empty handed. Anyways…” 

Ysera holds out Gale's book to inspect it for damage; there's nothing she can see with the exception of the blanket of neon orange spores that cling to the cover and the edge of the crisp white pages. She blows them free, watching as they scatter in the air like a thousand tiny fireworks. Astarion sputters and coughs as they drift close, waving them away with his hand.

Ysera offers him a sheepish grin and makes an apologetic face. “Oops. Sorry about that.” She calls on her Dancing Lights with a flick of her wrist and directs them towards the direction she had been heading previously. They cast the rocks in a soft glow as they hover in midair, and Ysera spots something promising tucked into the back of the cave, the familiar stocky mushrooms from Gale's book bathed in blue.

“I think the mushrooms Gale needed are back here,” she says, motioning with her thumb over her shoulder. “Give me a hand, will you?”

Upon closer inspection, Ysera confirms that they are indeed the mushrooms Gale had tasked her to bring him, and she sets the book aside before digging in her bag for the dagger Astarion had pocketed for her off of one of the dozens of goblins they'd killed while infiltrating the Selûnite temple several weeks prior.

The razor-sharp edge of the blade slices cleanly through the woody mushroom stalks, and Ysera deposits a handful of them into the pouch on her hip. Astarion fills the space beside her, the gleam of his own dagger reflecting the magicked light that circles overhead. He makes quick work of them with his nimble hands, carving through them as cleanly as he does his enemies.

Once he's gathered half a dozen mushrooms, he holds out his hand to pass them into Ysera's open palm. Their fingers brush when Astarion withdraws his hand, and a flash of heat ignites inside her again at the point where they make contact. This time, without the barrier of her clothes to interfere, it spreads through her body like a ravenous blaze, as if she is nothing more than dry kindling waiting to be devoured by the flames.

Ysera's eyes snap up to his face, and her mouth falls open when she finds that same heat reflected back at her, Astarion's eyes narrowed with clear intent and trained only on her. Her mouth is dry when she swallows and clears her throat, turning away the moment he starts to say something. 

Another barrage of impure thoughts assault her fraying mind, flashes of all the ways he could take her here. Against the wall, on her knees; hells, she'd even risk the unforgiving surface of the cave floor if he wanted it. Her pulse quickens and she shakes her head to temper herself, loosing a long breath.

Although she busies herself with gathering more mushrooms, Ysera feels compelled to look sidelong at him from time to time, as if tethered to him by a taut thread. She steals quick little glances out of the corner of her eye with every handful of mushrooms she drops into her pouch, focusing on a different part of his face each time. His hair, perfectly styled in those elegant curls. The rich, carmine reds of his eyes, so alluring in the low light. His skin is almost impossibly smooth, pale except for the tips of his ears, which are still rouged from feeding on her the night before. 

If she thinks about it too much, she's going to go insane. Gods, has he always been this handsome? He's always cut a fine figure, but if he looks at her again with that predatory gleam in his eye she doesn't think she'll be able to contain herself.

Ysera neglects to realize her hands are still working along as she openly stares at him now, and when the tip of her blade unexpectedly bites into her thumb she hisses through her teeth and cries out in pain.

“Ah–!”

She twists her hand to inspect the wound, but the scent of her blood draws Astarion's attention like a moth to a flame and he snatches her wrist without thinking and pulls her hand towards him. He wets his lips before pulling her injured thumb into his mouth, and despite the coldness of his body, the only thing she can feel is heat, heat, heat. The flames lick at her from within, pooling low in her belly. 

“Astarion…”

Their eyes meet again, hers wide and wild and his, sharp and hungry. He says nothing and instead chooses to sweep his tongue over the pad of her thumb, groaning when he gathers a bead of her blood and swallows audibly. He sucks gently to coax more of it to the surface, his own hunger roaring like a caged beast.

Ysera's stammering heart is set free beneath her ribs, and she turns to face him.

“Astarion,” she says again, surprised by the blatant want that twists her words into a desperate plea. The heat building within her is stifling, and she shudders as a bead of sweat rolls down her spine. Her mind reels, and she's certain the only thing keeping her upright is the firm grasp Astarion still has on her wrist. His touch sears her like an icy brand, but instead of recoiling from it, she leans towards him, seeking more.

“I need you to kiss m–mmph!”

She hasn't even finished before Astarion has tugged her forward, crashing their lips together with enough force that it knocks the breath from her lungs. And oh, if their mouths don't slot together just right, as if this was the only logical course of action for the both of them.

And when Astarion growls into her mouth and fists a hand possessively in her hair, everything but the taste of him, the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot that infiltrates her senses, and the feel of his body as he presses her into the wall and grinds his hips against her fades into oblivion. 

The cave wall is rough and wet when her back collides with the porous rock, but his hand cushions her head with a gentleness she doesn't expect. But she wants him to be rough. She wants his hands on her, digging into her skin, his fangs in her throat, consuming her until there is nothing left. 

More than anything, she wants to be his, in every possible meaning of the word.

One by one, the Dancing Lights are extinguished as Ysera loses her concentration on the spell. The cold stone tames some of the roaring flames inside her, but it's not nearly enough to quench the tendrils of heat that electrify her when Astarion roughly yanks her robes open and pushes them over her shoulders. A pleasant warmth rolls off her skin as his hands rove over her body, and she gets her wish when he pulls her shirt over her head and roughly palms her bare breasts. Her nipples stiffen under his thumbs as they brush across the sensitive peaks, and when Ysera throws back her head and lets out a pathetic whine, Astarion takes the invitation to bury his face against her throat.

He's still so hungry, and his mind is addled with a feeling he can't quite name that compels him to continue. He doesn't think, just feels, moving against her with mindless purpose. The pull of her blood is a sharp cry against his senses as it pounds through her veins like the sweetest succor. His lips are as soft as gossamer as he mouths at the marks on her neck, silently asking for permission to take what he needs from her. 

Please, his lips say. I want you. I need you.

With her palms braced against the wall, Ysera struggles to remain upright, pressing her thighs together to grant herself some relief from the aching need that grows stronger by the second. Sparks surge from her hands and electrify the crisp, damp air, and Astarion jerks away from her neck when a jolt of lightning arcs between his lips and her throat.

Fear colors her expression, her eyes frantic as she begins to apologize for losing control of herself. Usually Astarion's presence alone is enough to corral her magic, but her thoughts have become too erratic and untethered for her to maintain her focus.

“Are you hurt?” she asks. She worries her lip between her teeth, casting her glance down at the ground. The lack of contact between them is agony.

“No,” Astarion answers, voice heavy with want. He clasps her chin between his fingers and calmly guides her attention back towards him. The sharp smile he wears barely conceals the points of his fangs as he smirks deviously at her.

He knows exactly what it does to her, lifting his brows playfully as she squirms impatiently beneath him and arches her back into the hand still hovering over her chest.

“And besides,” he drawls, “where's the fun if there isn't at least a little danger involved? You know how that gets me going, sweet girl.”

Before he nuzzles against her throat once more, she rolls her eyes and huffs emphatically. She does her best to force the strained cadence from her voice and deadpans, “Is it too late to ask you to get Halsin again?”

Even as she asks, she rolls her hips against him, breath catching in her throat when his fangs graze her skin.

“Please,” Astarion scoffs. “As if he could satisfy you even half as well as I do. You must set your standards a little higher, darling.”

Tell me you need me too.

His tongue laves against the raised punctures he's left on her neck from at least a dozen feedings, and despite herself she keens with a desperation that surprises even Astarion. The sound of it makes his cock throb in his pants.

“Well right now, I'm feeling quite unsatisfied,” she grumbles, panting as Astarion nips her throat and resumes kneading her breasts. He rolls her nipples between each of his thumbs and index fingers, pinching and pulling hard enough to draw another sob from her trembling lips. He can smell the arousal gathering between her legs, knows that if he were to dip his hand beneath the waistband of her pants that he would find her absolutely soaking.

“Are you not enjoying yourself, my dear?” he asks with perfect, feigned innocence. “Allow me to remedy that.”

He has just enough self control remaining to tear himself away from her throat, instead crouching just low enough to pull one of her nipples between his teeth and bite down on that instead. Ysera cries out as a wave of pleasurable pain erupts inside her, her entire body going rigid from the shock of it before she falls slack against the wall. 

“Astarion…!”

Astarion soothes the mark he's left on her with a series of tortuously slow passes of his tongue, and just when her breathing calms he bites down again, eliciting the same response. Her cries rouse his cock even further, and the front of his trousers grows damp with precome.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?”

His voice cracks as he struggles to maintain his composure, but Ysera is too far gone to notice, focused solely on the feel of his hands and his mouth as they pleasure her ceaselessly. If he keeps touching her like this, she's certain she'll combust. It always feels good when he teases her like this, but there's something about this time that amplifies everything tenfold. Vaguely she remembers the mushrooms, but before her mind can coalesce on the topic at hand Astarion nips her skin again, hard enough to draw a trickle of her blood to the surface. He laps at it eagerly, impatiently waiting for her response.

“Y…yes,” she finally croaks, hands scrambling for purchase on the stone behind her. Her nails dig into the wall, muscles straining with the effort it takes to steady her shaky limbs.

“And to think you doubted me.”

Astarion can no longer resist the urge to fill her sweet cunt with his fingers, eager to wring as many desperate little cries as he can from her before she resorts to begging for his cock.

It's not a matter of if, but when. Of that much he is certain. Astarion can't recall a time when she's been so delightfully plaint beneath his hands. Nor can he remember feeling so warm, imbued with this strong a desire to have her screaming his name as he lays claim to her until his strength is completely spent. It dominates his every thought, guides his every action.

He's barely managed to tug Ysera's pants down to her knees and slip his hand between her legs before she's coming for him, the first press of his finger against her clit enough to send her spiraling. Her hands slip from the cave wall as she throws her arms around him, riding the fingers he shoves greedily into her spasming cunt to savor the way her walls flutter around them. His hand comes away slick with her arousal, and he makes a point of staring directly into her half-lidded eyes as he enjoys the taste of her.

“Again,” she groans. “Make me come again, Astarion. I need more.”

Astarion swallows thickly and sinks to his knees before her with little flourish. Ysera watches his pupils dilate as his throat bobs, eyes trained on the spot between her legs. He tugs her pants the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere in the darkness behind them.

She parts her legs to bare her slick center to him. Her cunt clenches in anticipation, the promise of his tongue bringing her the relief she needs making her mouth fall open as her breathing grows ragged.

They exchange a heated glance. Astarion's eyes darken and his lips twist into a smirk before he descends upon her, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs and tugging her hips closer to his face.

He feasts on her like a starving man, groaning the moment he tastes her arousal on his tongue. His lips wrap around her clit as he suckles at the tender bundle of nerves, tongue flicking in quick, teasing strokes. 

Ysera cries out as her body shudders violently. She tries to buck her hips but Astarion's hands hold her firmly in place, pressed against his eager mouth. His eyes flick up to look at her along the length of her body, pinning her when she meets his intense gaze. They are the color of vibrant rubies, simmering like the embers of a fire that's waiting to be coaxed back into a conflagration.

“Astarion!” She whimpers his name like a litany, again and again, thrusting her hands into his hair. They weave through his curls and she holds him tight, throwing her head back as another wave of ecstasy rips through her. His tongue laps at her center, parting her slick folds as he tastes and tastes and tastes her.

“So good… you're so good, Astarion…”

The sound of Ysera's praise is music to his ears, and his cock throbs almost painfully between his legs. When an undignified groan slips from his own lips, Astarion shoves a clumsy hand inside his pants and tugs his cock free of its confines, fingers wrapped tightly around the base. The next moan he releases between her legs as he pumps himself is downright obscene.

Ysera cants her hips upwards to entice Astarion's attention to where she needs him most, and he willingly complies. He inhales sharply before pressing his nose against her clit, face angled so he can thrust his tongue inside her cunt. With his face buried against her, she writhes and trembles like a leaf in the wind, reduced to a whimpering mess within seconds. Her hands grope blindly at him, alternating between carding appreciatively through his hair and tugging on his roots. 

A whirlwind of sensation overtakes her. The cave echoes with her pleasure, choked sobs that taper into high-pitched whines. Thinking feels like wading through deep water. Her mind feels sluggish and hazy, delirious with pleasure as she grits out the syllables of his name.

“Ahh…star… gonna, I'm gonna… oh, gods…”

Astarion lets her grind her hips against his face, curling his tongue inside her as he swiftly brings her to completion for the second time. He prides himself on how quickly she shatters on his tongue with a strangled moan, thighs clamped tightly around his head as she rides him with every wild jerk of her hips. He jerks his cock with rapid corkscrew motions, rocking his hips into his hand and chasing the blinding pleasure that rises up to meet his eager thrusts.

Before he can stop himself, he spills himself over his hand and down the front of his pants, grunting as he works himself through the cresting wave of his orgasm. His cock pulses and still hangs heavy and full when he releases it, just as hard as he'd been when they started.

When Ysera is satisfied, her entire body goes slack and her knees buckle so she's supported only by the wall at her back and the hand Astarion still has clamped around her hips.

He pulls away, lips and chin glistening with her slick, and his skin almost seems to shine in the dim blue light from the bioluminescent mushrooms that grow around them. Ysera's chest heaves as she pants for breath, eyes falling between his legs as she finally sees the mess he's made of himself, both of his and her own making. She feels a tinge of dismay that he didn't finish inside her, but when he gets to his feet, the way his cock still bobs between his legs and presses into her stomach when he leans in to kiss her reignites something feral inside of her.

“You're not done, are you?” she asks shyly. Astarion huffs a laugh and they share another kiss, Ysera releasing a soft moan when she recognizes the taste of her on his tongue. She lets him kiss her for what feels like an eternity, slow and sensual, until the strength returns to her weary limbs. He pulls away only when she needs to breathe, pressing his mouth against the shell of her ear.

“Not even close, my sweet. Now be a good girl and turn around for me, won't you?”

Ysera obeys without further encouragement, pressing her breasts against the wall and hissing as the heat from her body leeches into the slick stone. The texture of it is rough against her nipples, and she bites her lip and waits impatiently as Astarion finishes undressing behind her. She chances a glance over her shoulder, blatantly ogling his naked form as he slides up close behind her. He nestles his cock in the curve of her ass, leaning in to nip playfully at her ear.

“What do you think?” he purrs. “Can you give me another one, darling?” His breath fans out over her spine and she shudders, nodding. “Uh-huh,” she says softly. “Gods, I don't even know if that will be enough. But the others –”

“Can wait,” Astarion finishes for her with a snarl. “Forget them.” He flattens his hand against the space between her shoulder blades and shoves her forward, pinning her flush against the wall. Coaxing her legs open with his other hand, he lines his cock up with her entrance, brushing just the tip against her. Ysera wriggles beneath him, tail circling his leg and holding fast as she begs him to fuck her.

Astarion clicks his tongue and weaves his fingers into her hair, wrapping the strands around his wrist to give him leverage.

“What did I say before about manners, Ysera?” he says sternly. The harsh, guttural tone of his voice nearly brings her to her knees again, and she stammers a breathy, “P-please.”

“Very good.”

Astarion yanks her head back at the same time he plunges into her waiting cunt, bowing her back as he buries himself to the hilt with a single, brutal thrust. She cries out so prettily for him, walls clamping down around his cock like a vise. 

With her neck at this angle, she finds herself staring upside down at him, transfixed by the way his fangs peek out from behind his lips as he lets out a satisfied groan. There is nothing gentle about the way he immediately begins to pound into her, brows knit tightly as he gazes hungrily at her upturned face. Astarion bends to kiss her again, caging her against the wall as he ravages her body with every sharp snap of his hips. Ysera moans wantonly into his open mouth, blinded by the newfound pleasure that courses through her body like an untamed wildfire.

She doesn't have the time to lament the absence of his lips when he pulls away for the briefest moment to slot his mouth against her neck once more, free hand roaming to the base of her tail. He strokes the ridges there with practiced precision, fingers curling around to press against the underside at the small of her back. Another bolt of white-hot lightning surges through her and she thrashes wildly, stilling only when she feels the press of his fangs on her neck.

“Yes,” she tells him in a broken, murmured plea. “Yes!”

When his fangs tear into her throat, it's heaven. They both release a languid moan, and Astarion tightens the hand in her hair as he swallows the blood pouring from the place he's bitten her with long, greedy pulls. He never stops fucking her, reinvigorated by the rich crimson that stains his mouth and spills over her shoulders in rivers of red. Lightheaded and more aroused than she's ever been, Ysera's moans grow unintelligible, nothing more than a series of syllables strung together between her gasping breaths.

Her hand works its way between her legs, and her hips buck the moment her fingers graze her oversensitive clit. It almost hurts when she circles the taut bud, but she wants to come for him again, to please him by doing what he asked of her. Each time he surges forward his cock slams home, brushing against her most sensitive parts. She swears her blood has somehow made him even harder; he's certainly drunk enough to do so, if such a thing is possible. 

When Astarion unlatches from her throat, his face mouth is tinged with red, a few lingering drops of blood dripping onto her back as he anchors his hands on her hips, tight enough to bruise. And she wants it, hopes she'll see the marks he's left on her come morning. The evidence of their coupling that she currently has no qualms about displaying publicly. Perhaps she'll think better of it when she comes to her senses, but for now, all she needs to know is how hopelessly, irrecoverably wonderful he feels inside her, filling her to the brim with every delicious inch of his cock.

“Darling,” Astarion moans, and the strain in his voice tells her he's close. His thrusts are growing more staggered by the second, and she can hear the obscene sounds of their bodies joining each time his hips collide with hers. “You are perfect. Every time.”

It's all she can do to moan her reply, squeezing her eyes shut to drown out everything that isn't him. Inside her. On her. Thrusting, biting, praising every last bit of her.

“You want it, don't you?” he murmurs. “You want me to come inside that tight little cunt of yours, isn't that right?”

“I…”

She can't think straight, unable to form even the most basic thought. But Astarion is relentless.

“Say it,” he commands, brushing her hand aside to tease her clit with his own expert fingers. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

“I want you to come inside me,” she parrots back, voice dying in her throat when he lets go of her hip to tug her hair again. After a moment, she cries out, “I need you to come! Please, Astarion!”

Satisfied, Astarion rolls the soft pads of his fingers against her aching clit, and when she screams his name and comes for the third time the rhythmic pulsing of her walls is finally enough to bring him over the edge with her. With one last thrust he feels his cock erupt, filling her exactly as he promised he would. It spills down her thighs when he pulls out of her, both their limbs sore and heavy with exhaustion as they both come down from their high. Ysera slumps against the wall, and Astarion catches her before her knees collide with the ground.

“Gods,” she murmurs, vision swimming when she opens her eyes. She chooses instead to keep them closed, keeping most of her dizziness at bay. It does nothing to keep her from easing herself to the ground, unwilling to bother with the effort it would take to stay standing.

“What the fuck was that?” she asks, leaning back against the cave wall. Now that the heat in her body has started to subside, she welcomes the cool, rough texture of the stone. “We've never – I mean it's never … felt like that before.

“Those spores,” Astarion hypothesizes. “You breathed them in too, didn't you?”

“Ahh… and here I thought it was just your natural charm,” she teases.

“You certainly seemed charmed all the other times,” he counters, reaching for his shirt and pulling it back over his head. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the distant sound of another voice cuts him off.

“Astarion? Ysera?”

Gale.

“Shit,” Astarion curses wryly, fumbling with his pants as he tugs them back on. “Meddling old wizard.” He extends a hand to Ysera. “Can you stand, darling?”

“Nope,” she says apologetically, smiling weakly up at him. “I'm pretty sure you broke me.”

“Then I guess it can't be helped. Come on, then.” 

Astarion helps her back to her feet. Her pants are only halfway on and her shirt is on backwards when Astarion tugs it back over her head, but when she pulls her robes back on it's hard to notice anything is amiss. What's more difficult to conceal, however, are the marks on her neck and the blood on Astarion's face, though they do their best to cover the evidence as best they can. 

Ysera hesitates for a moment when Astarion motions for her to hop onto his back, crouching low so it's easier for her to manage. She looks at him incredulously, but as Gale's voice draws nearer, they're quickly running out of options.

“Fine,” she concedes, stumbling forward and holding onto him as tightly as she can, just in time for Gale to round the corner, trailed by his own set of Dancing Lights. 

“Ah! There you are,” Gale says, relief evident in his easy smile. “Everyone was quite worried about the two of you. Is everything all right?” He scans them in the dim light, but thankfully even with his cantrip his human eyes can only see so much.

“Yes, obviously,” Astarion answers for the both of them, gesturing to Gale's book and the bag of mushrooms still sitting on the ground near where they'd left them however long ago.

“That's what you wanted, right?”

Gale ignores the mushrooms, and Ysera feels his eyes rove over her while wondering what he must be thinking.

“I picked soooo many mushrooms,” she says, hoping he'll take the bait. “I was so exhausted by the time Astarion found me, and he was nice enough to offer to carry me back to camp. Isn't that right, Astarion?”

“Hmm?” Astarion says. “Oh, yes. That's right.”

Gale furrows his brow, clearly unconvinced. “Are you certain that –”

“Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to have answered, wizard,” Astarion interjects. He hoists Ysera higher onto his shoulders and walks towards the mouth of the cave, leaving Gale behind to retrieve his book and Ysera's bag.

During the entire walk to camp, they can feel Gale's discerning gaze on them, and it's likely that he suspects what really delayed them from returning to camp, although he's tactful enough not to say anything about it.

By the time they make it back, Ysera has fallen asleep on Astarion's back, nothing but dead weight that he's struggling to carry after expending so much of his own energy. Shadowheart and the others immediately look his way, but he returns their nosy stares with a venomous look of his own, slipping wordlessly into Ysera's tent to put her to bed.

After he makes certain she's snugly tucked away, he leans back against the crate she uses as a nightstand, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slumbers peacefully. He drifts off after some time, roused only when he feels something tugging at his sleeve.

“Astarion?” Ysera's voice is small and sleepy. “You could stay the night, you know,” she says, scooting over to offer him a place beside her beneath the blankets.

Panic grips him suddenly and he shakes his head. “A lovely thought, but I should get going. I wouldn't want to disturb your rest, after all.”

“It's no trouble at all,” she says insistently. “Don't be a stranger. Not after… all that. My tent is much better anyway.”

“I…” A fierce battle of conflicting emotions seems to war within him, and Ysera is about to tell him it's okay if he'd rather leave before he nods silently, laying beside her in the soft nest of bed rolls and blankets she's made into a makeshift bed. It smells of her, and some of the tension in his body fades away as he rolls onto his side and closes her eyes. Behind him, Ysera beams with delight, barely unable to contain the excited swishing of her tail as she snuggles happily into her blankets.

“Good night, Astarion,” she murmurs behind her smile.

Astarion is quiet for a moment, and she thinks he might have already slipped into his trance before the sound of his voice drifts across the tent.

“Good night, darling. Sweet dreams.”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

sweet ivy! happy 2k! how exciting dear, congratulations!! 🫶🏼

𓂃༯ 🧸 teddy dust - character: mattheo riddle & prompt: back hugs and everything in between — i'm talking the chin resting on the shoulder. trailing kisses from said shoulder allll the way to the back of their neck.

😍😍😍

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ back hug kisses

synopsis: ever since mattheo realized how perfectly you fit in his arms, he’s made it his life’s mission to keep you there—chin on your shoulder, arms snug around your waist, trailing soft kisses up your neck like it’s his favorite thing to do. and really, it is content warnings: extreme fluff, clingy!mattheo, reader might combust from too much affection, mattheo being absolutely obsessed with you author's note: hi vee!! ୨ৎ thank you so much for requesting, my love ♡ hope you love it, doll—mwah!! ‹𝟹 nav. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀2k celebration. ⠀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 516

It started with his arms wrapping around you from behind.

You had barely made it past the doorway of his dorm before Mattheo pulled you against him, his chest warm and solid as it pressed into your back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he’d been waiting all day just to hold you.

"Missed you, angel," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.

You smiled softly, letting your hands rest over his, fingers brushing against the rough skin of his knuckles. His grip tightened, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away.

"You’re clingy today," you teased, though you made no effort to move.

Mattheo only hummed, his lips finding your shoulder. "Mmm. Just tired," he admitted, his voice quieter now, slower. "Just wanna hold you."

Your heart melted.

And then his lips brushed against your shoulder.

It was barely there at first, just a whisper of warmth against your skin, but then—again. And again. Slow, lingering kisses, pressed softly into the curve of your shoulder, trailing higher, higher, like he had all the time in the world.

You shivered, gripping his wrist without thinking.

He smirked against your skin. "Ticklish, baby?"

You swallowed, feeling your entire body warm under his touch. "No," you lied, voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo chuckled, deep and quiet, his lips brushing over the nape of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. "Mm. Thought so."

Your face was burning now.

"You—" You exhaled, tilting your head slightly, giving him more space, more of you. "You’re such a tease."

Mattheo grinned, his arms tightening, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Nah," he whispered. "Just loving on my girl."

Your breath hitched.

You turned in his arms without thinking, and suddenly, you were nose to nose, his sleepy brown eyes gazing at you, something soft, something endless swirling in them. His curls were messy, his lips curved into a lazy, satisfied smile, and he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world keeping him grounded.

"You okay there, angel?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You couldn’t even answer. Just stared at him, warm and flustered and completely wrapped in him.

He chuckled, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Thought so," he whispered against your skin.

And then he pulled you down with him, tangling his limbs with yours, holding you close, pressing one last kiss to your temple before sighing in pure contentment.

"You need to rest," you told him, smoothing your fingers through his hair.

Mattheo only shook his head, dipping down until his forehead rested against yours. "Later," he whispered. "Just wanna stay like this a little longer."

Your heart ached in the best way.

So you let him hold you, let him sway you both gently, let the world outside disappear for a little while. And when he finally pulled you onto the bed with him, tangling your legs together beneath the covers, his arms still firm around you, you didn’t protest.

Because you knew.

He was never letting go.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[chaaistained]

☕︎ my better cr; intro •°

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🗝️ you’ve now unlocked the recipe to my better cr ≈

name : ℳ

age (when i shift) : 17/18 — i’m planning to either shift to dec 2021 or aug 2022 , wtv my subconscious chooses

occupation : university student — double degree in law and arts, majoring in media law and craft of writing & literature, respectively

+ part time tutor for english and maths, at the same private tutoring company i went to in high school

+ (eventually) part time stock acquisition and youth advertiser at a telecommunications company near my campus which is technically a nepo hire bcs my aunt works there

+ (eventually) paid internship at the australian taxation office for the study of torts and contracts and even tho i got in genuinely bcs of my marks and my interview it also feels a little nepo bcs another aunt (a family friend) also works here.. anyway

side hobbies/hustles : blogger (tumblrina in every reality if i can help it) , tiktok + youtube cover channel with two of my high school friends , fic author (ao3 curse does NOT exist here come at me) , occasional columnist for my uni’s student newsletter

my s/o : childhood family friend — lost contact and reunited ten years later — not revealing his name apart from the first letter bcs . he’s real .. anyway it’s 𝒜

౨ৎ meet ℳ

a sun kissed cinnamon bun personified — she is the smile that blossoms between warm cheeks during the burn of a sunrise ≈

in this dr i don’t change my name, and for that reason i’ll stick to the first letter (just like my pinned post) which is ℳ.

i’m nothing more than a normal girl, waking up each day already tired but willing myself to either go to uni or work, staying up late to catch up on the hours i spend doing other things, i have a closet full of clothes and yet i have nothing to wear, i have three of the same shades of lip gloss but they’re all from different brands so ofcs they’re not the same, i just bought a new journal but i’m yet to finish the one i got four years ago, i have ink stains on the tips of my fingers and chai stains on the pages edge of the novel i’m currently reading.

i just take every day like a new pot of tea leaves, waiting to be steeped to perfection.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ the metamorphosis

with frayed edges and tear stained cheeks, she undid the binds of a life once lived, a life once loved, finding the holes to be too much to bear in the everlasting winter of the cold reality that was thrust upon her, opting to take the needle and thread between her own fingers and stitch up the seams, to reinforce the realm of her existence into one that can hold her hand rather than hold her down

quite often i approach the concept of reinvention with a quivering hand, unable to part ways from the comfort — or perhaps the codependency — of that familiarity.

but eventually i took a step back and realised, there is no shame in finding freedom in what already feels right . after all, our souls are not dependant on this realm or this body, our consciousness is an ever expanding universe on its own, and our power to wield it is something that we have grown to understand and control in a way that allows us to live the lives we truly desire.. that’s all that this dr represents for me.

a life that i truly desire.

i’m not that different here, i have the same name, the same birthday, the same family. but it would be a lie to say everything stays the same.

i do admit to changing my appearance a bit, i’m nothing if not a perfectionist and whilst i do think my features have potential, i actually reach said potential in this reality. my upbringing has been revitalised to be something that enriched me rather than keeping me sheltered. my parental unit is less overbearing and more understanding, my brother is less of a jerk and more of a friend, my family relationships are less immature and more genuine.

i revise my failures in education, i revise my anxieties around success and the fear of that success being unreachable, i revise my health, my athleticism, my willpower and the general energy i have throughout the day to achieve everything that i wish to accomplish, everything that i could not bring myself to take a step towards in my previous reality.

my passions aren’t shamed here, they are encouraged. not just with the wary caution of a simple hobby but rather as an actual proper lifestyle, a feasible choice to make for a career, a skill that is supported as something from which i can make a name for myself.

and in this growth, in this metamorphosis, i find stability and comfort in not just my family but also my friends — people that i lost contact with, people that i drifted away from, people that i couldn’t bring myself to keep close because of the shame in my own progression or lack thereof — i’m not an aspect of shame, i never was, i know what i deserve and what i’m capable of and in this reality, i am all those things.

that’s why this is home, even after i break out of the cocoon and open my eyes in a world that’s familiar, it will also be different, because i’ll be different — no longer experiencing the slow sluggish state of what once was, for i now have a marvellous symmetry of splendour that holds me high, the equilibrium of my reality, where the scales finally tipped in my favour, levelling out to be amiably sound, with every flap of a butterfly’s wing.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ sugar heart cookies

it’s an inexplicable pull, an intangible tug on the heartstrings, a firm grip, a gentle ache, a deep longing. you can’t help but feel that there is something more out there for you, that there is someone more. someone that feels less like a piece and more like a whole person. someone who won’t complete you, but will help you complete yourself. two halves of a heart leaves you vulnerable when you’re apart, but when it’s two hearts beating alongside each other, the only thing left is to hold onto you

he sat beside me in his mother’s car. we were six (me) and eight (him). he sat in the drivers seat while his mother went inside the house to pick up a few things before taking the three of us (his little sister sat in the back) to a gathering of family friends.

his mother had bought us britannia little hearts. i can still remember the minuscule sugar crystals stuck to the tips of my small fingers while i dove inside the aluminium cover every few seconds to reach for the next tiny biscuit.

he asked me where i was that day — i’d stayed home from school because i felt unwell — when i told him, his first reaction was to nag me : “you know, if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating these. this is pure sugar.”

“yeah but i don’t want to listen to you!” — i was .. never really good at listening to people, especially not cute boys who were a little older than me.

he always seemed a bit uptight, but i guess i forgot how much he cared. because i can’t remember what happened two years later, during my last day in my old school. i remember crying, and i remember being comforted by people. but i guess i forgot that one of those people was him. i guess i forgot that he told me “it’ll be alright. i’m sure we’ll see each other again someday.”

it took us ten years but we got there.

this time, he was upstairs, in the house that was hosting a dinner among friends. i was distracted by my brother’s antics, one foot inside the threshold past the door and one foot on the pavement outside. with a flick of my head, my gaze turned up, up past the stairs in front of the door, up to the railing on the second level, a lookout point for the entrance.

he was leaning against the railing, blue button up shirt tucked into his black jeans, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, taking a quick glance to his side before doing a double take.

the silence felt like the calm before a pattering evening of rainfall, where you can feel the change in your future from the way the air seems electrified, from the way the clouds seems to churn around each other, like they’re brewing together, ready to erupt and explode into thunder, like the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

he seemed familiar, he seemed important, he seemed to be everything i could ever ask for and i didn’t know why the sirens were singing in my skull but i knew in my gut he was meant to be important to me. i knew he was meant to be somebody.

it took me a second to look away, but that entire night, and every night that followed, and every day that came along with it, i can’t ever forget the sugar crystal glimmers of light in his eyes. and for every moment to come, i’ll hold the little heart biscuits of our love in the palm of my hands, because i’m not someone who listens to people very well, i don’t care if i’m not allowed, i want them . i want him.

don’t swallow the tea leaves ! for they leave you a message 🍂

this dr is very near and dear to my heart and i can’t even begin to put everything i wanna say about it into one post so .. there will be more abt this dr

it’s literally home. it’s my life.

i’m so grateful for it xx

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[tinalbion]

'𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, fem!Reader, mutant!Reader, unprotected p in v, choking, biting, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), jealousy, canon typical language, no use of y/n,

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 10k (got a LITTLE carried away, oops)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: After a successful mission, you return to the mansion to an annoyed Wolverine, who isn't happy with the time you've been spending with Scott Summers. You offer to hang out with him since you two are incredibly close, and that leads to a game of pool, and your eyes begin to wander while you're both flirting like crazy. You're afraid to make the first move, so maybe Logan will do it for you.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

You had just gotten back from a mission that Professor Xavier had asked you to attend, and naturally, he had paired you up with someone who could challenge your growing capabilities, so he had you escort Scott Summers, who had a completely different skill set than you. He figured that if you could figure out how to work together, it would be useful to you in the future, and you thought he had a point when he put it in that context. The truth was, you and Scott didn't get along, more so you were over the top for his calm demeanor. You had a mouth on you, said what you thought, and your fighting was a bit too sloppy for his taste. He had constantly compared you to Logan Howlett, your ‘other half’, as he referred to him behind your backs. 

You and Logan had become thick as thieves after you’d initially joined the X-Men, many people speculated that you two were ‘an item’, but as much as you would have wanted that, there would be no way Logan would agree. You and Logan constantly bickered, joked around, and enjoyed each other's company to the point that it was hard for others to be around you when you were in a room together. Your personalities melded well enough that you worked well with one another. 

After the initial headache of having to deal with your loud comments of distaste for the company during this mission, Scott seemed to notice your distraction as you looked around and surveyed the area, and he felt that maybe he'd have some peace and quiet as you acquainted yourself with the area. You and Scott went head-on into the mission, learning to depend on one another, and you learned quite a bit now that your attention was solely focused on saving another like you; a mutant, a child. 

With Scott's help, you were able to easily maneuver through the others who were keeping the small girl hostage, using your powers to easily dispose of the threats with Scott alongside you, giving you tips and ideas to use as he fought alongside you. Just this once, you thought, he wasn’t all that bad. 

 Logan scowled as Scott patted you on your back once you entered the mansion, the man walked up behind you as he kept his shielded eyes glued to you. You helped save a mutant kid on a mission and Scott just couldn’t stop singing your praises since you arrived back, and Logan wasn’t too fond of the way Scott was lingering around you. In Logan’s mind, he should be the one singing your praises, not Scott. He should be the one doting on you and soaking up all of your time, only if he wasn't so stubborn and allowed himself to break that barrier down once in a while.

He waited until you had walked away from the small group that greeted you, all gathered to see how your mission had gone, and the little girl had followed Scott to go and meet the Professor, which left you smiling and talking to the group that soon began to disperse. 

“You ‘n Slim been getting real familiar lately,” Logan said, not even attempting to hide his bitterness as he walked up to you, having finished his own mission not even twenty minutes ago. 

You smiled over at Scott as he led the little girl away and nodded as he praised you once more, wanting to show genuine thanks, but as soon as you saw Logan, your smile grew wide. Without hesitation, you ran up to him to greet him and waved. "Hey, Logan!" His comment about Scott made you laugh. "Ah, well, Charles has been making him teach me some stuff out in the field.”

Logan’s sour mood was instantly lifted as you ran up to him. He smiled back at you, the annoyance he felt from earlier gone now that you were in front of him, looking adorable as usual. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, trying to remain stoic.

“What kinda stuff he been teaching ya?” he replied, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

You looked over at Logan and smiled warmly, always enjoying when he was near you. "Well, mostly combat, but I don't have his mutation so I have to do more up close combat than what he does.” You sighed with frustration at the entire situation, but you remained as positive as you could, thankful for the opportunities.

Logan nodded his head as he listened intently, but he couldn’t deny that that answer displeased him a little; the thought of Cyclops showing you how to fight hand-to-hand combat made his blood boil, and he hated to think about him so close to you like that. He’d seen the way Scott looked at you, he knew his thoughts, or what any guy would do to be near a woman in such a situation. Wasn't having Jean enough to satisfy him?

“Yeah? He show ya all the right moves yet, darlin’?” He asked, trying to remain casual.

"Well, no," you confessed and leaned in closer. "He's kinda bad at it," you said in a dramatic whisper, rolling your eyes for even more dramatic effect. 

Logan let out a sharp bark of laughter. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was always looking for a reason to tear into Scott. "Yeah? Well, maybe you oughtta be spendin’ a little more time trainin’ with ol’ Wolvie here. He’ll show ya some much better moves than Cyclops ever could," he replied, leaning in closer to keep his voice down.

"Well that's the funny thing, I did request you on field missions and the Professor said no, that I needed to focus…”

Logan’s smile immediately dropped. He frowned deeply at the mention of Charles. Of course, the Professor would say something like that… "Yeah? What’d he say, exactly?" He asked, his tone growing serious as his irritation returned thinking of you with Scott.

"Well, he said I'd only be paying attention to you, and not actually working, goofing off." You huffed and crossed your arms. "He says we mess around too much, don't take anything seriously when we're together.”

Logan felt his face heat up at your words. Well, at least it wasn’t because you were paying too much attention to Scott. He huffed in slight annoyance. “So, what? He sayin’ you’d be too distracted around me to focus on a mission or somethin’? Pfft. Sounds like a load a’ bullshit to me.” He looked away, avoiding your gaze as he crossed his arm over his chest, mimicking you.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying! You're better at hand-to-hand and I wanted you to teach me," you huffed in irritation. “I take missions seriously, the Professor should know that.”

Logan’s frown morphed into a grin upon hearing that. It felt good to hear you say that and he had the perfect response for your anger. “Well, I’m sure the Professor won’t mind if we sparred sometimes, huh?” He said, his grin growing wider. “We could prove it to him when we kick some ass together.”

"Well, no, I don't think he'd mind that. We could do that in the danger room whenever you'd want. I bet you could teach me to throw a real punch," you said with a smirk.  "Still can't believe the Professor said no though…" 

“Yeah? You wanna learn how to throw a real punch, huh?” He chuckled to himself. He loved it when you got like this: feisty and ready for a fight. The thought of you taking swings at him? That was… exciting.

“Y’know, I bet I could teach ya a bunch of stuff he don’t want ya to know. Maybe he’s scared of how good of a fighter I’ll make you,” he teased, leaning in closer to you.

You couldn't help but giggle as you looked over at Logan. "Mhm maybe, but he also said–" You puffed up your chest, trying to imitate the Professor as best as you could. "You should never just hone your gifts, but learn to work well with others' gifts, then you won't have a weakness when you have each other." 

Logan couldn’t help but burst with laughter at hearing your impression of Charles. “Eh that’s a buncha bullshit,” he barked, rolling his eyes. He always preferred to work alone. The thought of relying on your own strength, your own fighting ability, seemed more practical to him. “So, what, he expects you to get all buddy-buddy with Slim?” He asked, a hint of jealousy lingering in his voice.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, not aware of the underlying irritation Logan felt. "Apparently. He said our mutations are opposite and his is far-ranged while mine is more close-ranged. I need to learn to compliment others in battle if we want to thrive." 

You groaned again, just wanting to hang out with your friend, Logan. The friend you had intense feelings for. Maybe Charles knew about that and intended to keep you distant so you wouldn't do anything stupid. 

Logan couldn’t help the eye roll at that comment. Opposites, huh? That seemed to bother him even more. He just KNEW Scott wanted to get his hands on you.

“Yeah? Well, he sure don’t mind gettin’ his hands on you, huh?” He grumbled, under his breath. He was really trying to hold back his jealousy, but the thought of you learning how to fight with Cyclops… just didn’t seem fair.

You took his comment as a little odd, but maybe he was just looking out for you. "Well, I think he was just being nice, I wouldn't take it that far, Logan," you scoffed, looking away from him with a smirk. “Besides, he's got Jean,” you said as if her name left a sour taste in your mouth. 

Logan’s frown deepened, his jealousy rising with every word you spoke, not to mention the slightly uncomfortable feeling that stung him when you mentioned Jean. He grumbled, his irritation growing rapidly as you dismissed his worries.

“Oh yeah?” He said through clenched teeth. “How is it that you don’t see the way he looks at you? He’s always got his eye on you. ‘Nice’, my ass.”

"I never see it because I don't look at him," you pointed out to him. “And again, he's got Jean.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as you responded, his hands clenching into tight fists. He knew you were oblivious to the way Scott was acting around you, even if it seemed so obvious to him, even if he had Jean. What was stopping him from acting that way with you when he once acted that way with Jean?

“Yeah, and you’re also not seein’ that it ain’t just him,” he retorted, leaning back against the sofa. “He ain’t the only one who’s got his eye on you.”

This took you slightly off guard, but you just chalked it up to Logan really disliking Scott. "What you seem to not understand is I'm not looking at Scott because I'm looking at you," you confessed with a softened gaze. 

Logan froze as the words came out of your mouth. His face heated up, his irritation and jealousy replaced with surprise and a hint of hope. He wasn’t sure if he heard you right. Did you really just say you were looking at… him?  He was stunned. He didn’t know what to say, so you had rendered him speechless for once.

You scoffed at his reaction and waved your hand in front of his face. "Earth to Howlett," you giggled. "What, honey badger got your tongue?”

Logan snapped out of his daze, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red. He grumbled under his breath, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, ducking his head to avoid your gaze. His heart was practically leaping out of his chest and you were just laughing at him.

"Mhm you're cute when you get flustered," you said softly leaning closer to him, resting your shoulder against his as you nudged him gently. 

Logan was sure his cheeks were a full-blown shade of red at this point. He was not used to being called “cute”, and he definitely wasn’t used to people getting so close to him, let alone someone he secretly adored. 

He cleared his throat and tried to maintain a casual demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Yeah? You, uh… think I’m cute?” He questioned, his voice wavering a bit.

"Oh absolutely, and ruggedly handsome, and stunning… I could go on." You said, listing them off as you tapped your fingers, that large shit-eating grin on your face, knowing very well it got under his skin. 

Now that did it. Logan’s face was on fire. Never, in his entire life, had someone ever lay on the compliments so thick, certainly not one as sweet and gorgeous as you. He swallowed hard and tried to play it off as his usual careless demeanor. He was used to messing around with you, so why was it really getting to him today? “Aw, shut up,” he grumbled, shifting awkwardly against the wall.

You couldn't help but laugh at his cool demeanor, so you shrugged as you pushed yourself away from the wall, smiling wide as you looked back at him. "Oops, sorry," you said playfully. "I'll meet you back in the living area. I gotta go and check in with the Professor." 

Logan didn’t want you to leave just yet, not when you were making his heart race like that. He let out a sigh and nodded his head, trying to act as stoic as possible. “Yeah, alright. You go on ‘n do that,” he mumbled.

"I'll see you in like, ten minutes then! Maybe we could have a beer," you offered and waved sweetly at him as you turned around to start to walk off, smiling wide. 

Truthfully, you loved being around Logan, but you had no idea if you could ever admit that to anyone, they wouldn't understand the charm he had that you adored so much. With how quickly you two got on, it was a wonder that you were able to keep your thoughts as pure as they had been for so long, but lately, something about Logan getting all hot and bothered by you hanging around Scott made you realize just how much Logan truly meant to you.

Logan watched you walk away, his eyes lingering a moment too long on your figure. He mentally scolded himself for being so damn affected by you. It was so uncharacteristic of him, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. He was downright swooning. When you offered to have a beer with him, he leaped at the opportunity, it was the perfect moment to spend some time together. Away from Scott and the others, the way Logan preferred it. 

“Yeah,” he replied, managing a smirk. “Sounds good, darlin’.”

So you went to talk to the professor and debrief him on the job you and Scott had done, and you did voice your ideas about working with others on the team to ‘spice things up’, as you worded it, and the Professor knew what you were getting at. He stopped you mid-sentence and looked at you with a soft stare. 

"I know you want to work with Logan,” he began. “When you're ready, you'll be able to handle it," the professor explained. “I know it may seem frustrating, but Logan does have his disadvantages when it comes to missions, he's still getting used to working as a team, and sometimes he makes a decision that isn't the best for everyone involved.” 

You grumbled in annoyance but nodded to the professor, so you thanked him and made your way to the living area to meet back with Logan. 

Logan was already sitting on the couch in the living quarters, leaning back with a beer in hand, when you finally walked in. His heart immediately thumped as he laid eyes on you, and he felt his cheeks heat up. He mentally cursed himself again, he needed to keep it together. He didn’t want you to think you had this much of an effect on him, but he'd be lying if he said you didn't. 

Logan patted the cushion next to him and gestured for you to join him. “C’mere, darlin’,” he said, his voice rough.

With a smile, you followed his instructions and plopped right down next to him, grabbing a beer from the table. "Ugh, the professor denied my request again," you complained to him. 

Logan grunted in irritation as you sat down beside him, so he took a sip of his beer, his other hand tapping on the bottle. “He did, huh? I’m not surprised.” He rolled his eyes, taking another swig. “What’d he say this time?”

“He said you don't ‘play nice’ working in team environments, so until there's a chance that people get hurt when you make a wrong decision, it's dangerous. But you're not like that!” You huffed, popping the bottle open and sipping it fast. "I don't get it, I feel like I'm ready and you wouldn't do anything stupid to get someone hurt, I don't understand.”

Logan sighed and shook his head in agreement. He was frustrated, too. He didn’t understand why the Professor was so adamant on denying your request. He leaned back on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “I feel the same. You definitely got potential if things go south, you’re a quick learner. Way quicker than the others, that’s for damn sure.” He stole a glance at you, watching you from the corner of his eye, all he wanted was to spend more time with you. “And as for me, we'll, he ain't wrong, exactly… teamwork ain't my strong suit.” 

“Well, still, you wouldn't get anyone hurt on purpose, I know you well enough to vouch for you there.” You grumbled again and took a long sip of your beer, hating the taste of it, but you stuck it out. When you looked back over at Logan, you offered a small smile. "How was your mission, at least?”

Logan chuckled and shook his head. You were feisty, he liked that about you. It was endearing to see how determined you were to get what you wanted. He shrugged his shoulders in response to your question. 

“Fine, I suppose. We weren’t there for long, took out the bots, and got out. Nothin’ too major. Nothin’ I needed Cyclops to help me with,” he replied with a scoff. He took another drink of his beer and glanced over at you. “How ‘bout you? Missions have seemed to be goin’ smoothly for you recently, huh?”

You couldn't help but scoff at his comment and looked over at the window, sighing. "Yeah, so far, it's been fun being out in the field, though, I like being more hands-on." 

Yeah, that was one thing he adored about you. Your need for combat and to prove yourself as a capable fighter, it wasn’t for everyone, but you were determined to get your hands dirty. Logan couldn’t help the smirk spreading across his face. “Damn right, that's where all the fun is, out in the field. And you’ll get your chance, just gotta wait until the Professor pulls his head out of his ass and lets you,” he snickered.

You giggled at his comment and shook your head. "Yeah, we'll see, but I do hope we can work together one day, oh I bet going on a mission with you would be so fun!”

The fact you wanted to work with him on a mission was intriguing, to say the very least, but he almost felt a sense of pride seeing you want to work with him. “You’re full of surprises, ain’t ya, kid?” He asked with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Just call me a fun house I guess," You joked. "So, how does Wolverine spend his downtime after missions?" You asked. 

Logan scratched the stubble on his chin and chuckled. “Well, I usually like to keep it low-key. Some drinks, maybe head to the bar or a game of pool. Nothin’ too crazy.” He eyed you with a sly smirk.

"Oh, you play pool?" You asked with a glint of excitement in your eyes. 

Logan chuckled and nodded, taking note of the sudden excitement in your eyes. “Yeah, I’m damn good at it, too,” he boasted, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He leaned in a little closer to you. “You play?”

"I play for fun, so I'm not great. I'd be down to get some pointers from you if you're not busy," you offered with a smile. 

Logan could barely contain his excitement. You wanted him to teach you how to play pool? He’d be spending even more time with you, and it would give him the perfect opportunity to have you all to himself.

“Of course, I’ve got time, darlin’, I’ll give you all the pointers you need. I’ll make a pool shark outta you in no time,” he said, his voice low and suggestive.

You adored his charm, truly, you couldn’t help but giggle and nudge him with your arm. "Oh, Logan, you're something else," you laughed and patted his knee as you stood up in one swift motion. "C'mon! Wanna do it now?”

Logan chuckled at your comment and felt his heart leap as you patted his knee. He absolutely loved when you touched him. He stood up and smirked at you, his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. “Hell yes, let’s go. I can’t wait to show you all my techniques,” he said, his voice thick with innuendo.

"Hell YES, let's go! I got the beers," You said with excitement and yanked the six-pack from the table. You didn't take offense or think it weird when Logan flirted, he was usually like that with you, but every time he'd done so, it made you feel warm and fuzzy.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm. Your excitement was contagious, and it only fueled his own desire to spend time with you even more. He gestured for you to lead the way, his eyes scanning your figure. “Lead the way, doll. I’m right behind ya,” he said with a smirk, following behind you with a cocky gait.

You couldn't hide the wide smile as you walked along with the beer in tow, weaving through the halls towards the rec room. You'd look back to make sure Logan was still following, feeling excitement take over your entire body, also feeling the fluttery feeling in your stomach. 

Logan followed you through the halls, his heart racing with every step, and he watched as you looked back at him, your smile making his stomach flutter. He kept his gaze fixated on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your hips as you walked ahead of him. He found himself wondering what it would be like to push you up against a wall and kiss you senseless… ‘What the hell is wrong with you? She won't see you that way, you're never gonna have a shot’. He quickly shook the thought from his head, reminding himself to keep it together.

You had found the room and pushed the doors open, turning on the lights as you waited for Logan. You let out a satisfied hum when you spotted the pool table and walked up to it, placing the beers off to the side as you started shifting through the pool cues. 

Logan followed you into the rec room, his eyes scanning over the pool table with a cocky grin. He sauntered over to you, his gaze fixated on your movements as you rummaged around the table for pool cues. He came up behind you, his body mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your neck as he spoke. “I hope you’re ready to get schooled, doll,” he teased, his voice low and hoarse.

As you found the pool chalk after you found a cue stick that worked to your liking, you then turned to Logan, shooting him a raised eyebrow. You weren't surprised by his cockiness but also felt rather playful, so you figured you'd play back. 

"You're not supposed to school me yet, Howlett, you gotta teach me!" You huffed, shooting him a faux frown.

Logan chuckled, his eyes roaming over your playful expression. He loved it when you got feisty with him. It only made him want you even more. He smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, trust me, doll, I plan to teach you. But first, I gotta show you some of my moves. Consider it a demonstration of just how good I really am.” He moved closer, his body practically pressed against yours as he reached around you to grab his cue stick.

When he did things like this, you couldn't help but blush a little, but when he reached over you to grab his pool cue, his body was so close to yours and you couldn't find the sass to give him right then, he was so close. He did this to get you flustered, but he wasn’t actually flirting with you to see where it led, was he?

Logan smirked as he noticed the blush growing on your face. He loved seeing how flustered he made you, how simple close proximity had you acting so shy. He couldn’t help but lean in even closer, his body pressing against yours. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. “You alright, doll? Suddenly losing your spunk?” he teased.

"Well you're the one distracting me on purpose, Wolvie," you huffed and slipped away from him, smiling wickedly as you walked around the table with your cue. 

Logan chuckled, his smirk growing wider as you slipped away from him. You were always so determined and feisty. He watched as you walked around the table. “Mmm, maybe I am. But I’m just teachin’ you how to focus under distractions.”He casually leaned against the side of the pool table, his gaze never leaving you.

"Oh is that it?" You laughed and watched him as he got ready to strike the formation. "Very good first lesson, truly.” 

Logan chuckled, his eyes locked onto yours. He loved your sassy comebacks. It only fueled his desire to prove himself to you. He smirked, his hand poised to strike. “Oh, doll, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m just gettin’ started. Let’s see how well you deal under more distractions.” He leaned closer to you, his voice dipped low. “Because there’s a lot more where that came from.”

"Mhm, I already know that, but I think you're the one who's gonna have to pay attention to the table, bub," you teased as you watched from the side of the table. 

Logan chuckled, his ego a little bruised by your comment. He had to admit, he loved your boldness, you weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest. In fact, it seemed like you loved challenging him, which only made him want to try even harder to get under your skin. 

He smirked, his eyes darkened with a hint of arrogance. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, doll. I can focus just fine, even with a distraction as beautiful as you.”

You chuckled awkwardly, looking away as you reveled in the compliments he showered you with. You knew Logan flirted a lot, you loved it when he did, and you just figured he only flirted to tease you. He didn't know you had developed feelings for him, but you flirted in return, it was a fun back-and-forth you both seemed to enjoy.

"Pfft okay, bub, prove it. Get a ball in a pocket.”

Logan's heart thudded in his chest as he watched you react to his compliment. He loved seeing the way your cheeks flushed just slightly, how your eyes darted away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. He knew you were used to his flirting, but every time he did it, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd begin to see how serious he really was behind it all.

The sight of you leaning against your cue, your eyebrows raised in challenge, sent a wave of desire through his body. You were so damn feisty, so damn beautiful. He had a hard time being as cool as he was when you were around, you just knew how to push all the right buttons. He chuckled and focused his gaze back on the table, took a step forward, his body moving gracefully as he lined up his shot.

You watched his body language as he leaned across the table the way he took aim with his cue, you made sure to watch, take note, see how he made it work. What you didn't expect was to really, really enjoy the sight of him over the pool table. 

Logan could feel your eyes on him as he leaned over the pool table, and could sense your gaze tracing every movement of his body. He felt a thrill run through him, loving the attention you were giving him. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn’t ignore the way your eyes were burning into him. The way you were watching him so intently. It made it extremely hard to concentrate. He steadied himself, lining up the shot, but he couldn’t help but smirk at your obvious admiration.

You watched as he hesitated, and you couldn't hide the wide smile on your face. "What's wrong, Howlett? Distracted?" You teased as you leaned over to look at him with a wide smile. 

Logan couldn't help but chuckle as you leaned forward to tease him. Your proximity was driving him wild. He could practically feel your breath on his face. He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Distracted? Me? Never. Just makin' sure you're  enjoyin’ the view, doll.”

"Mhm, sure, sure," you laughed, loving his banter. "Take the shot before I push you out of the way and go," you warned playfully.

Logan chuckled, his heart racing as you taunted him. You were really testing his limits, but he loved every second of it. 

He shook his head, his smirk widening. “Oh no ya don’t. You ain’t touchin’ this table till I’m done with it.” He steadied himself again, determined to prove himself. He aimed and took the shot, sinking the ball into the corner pocket with ease.

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him sink a ball into the pocket, you then hummed with a satisfied tone. "Wow, that's impressive, Logan, so, any tips I should know?" 

Logan couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you praised his shot. Your words fueled his ego, and he loved showing off for you. He leaned on his cue, a smug smile on his face. “Mmm, tips? Sure, lemme see.” 

He walked over to you, his body close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He placed a hand on your hip, positioning you in front of him.

Your face blushed immediately,  you bit your lip as he positioned you at the table, and you tried to focus on the table, but his body radiated so much warmth, and he was so close, that you had a tough time concentrating. 

"O-Okay, so like this?" 

Logan noticed the flush of color on your cheeks as he moved you into position, and he couldn't help but wear a cocky smile. He loved the way you reacted to his touch, so visibly flustered by his mere presence. He leaned in closer so his chest brushed against your back. “Yeah, doll, that's good. Keep your eye on the target.” His hand remained on your hip, his touch light yet firm as he guided you.

"Okay, so you sank a solid color, I got striped, sooooo," you drew out, "I'll try for the blue," you said and aimed your cue. You tried not to focus too much on Logan's hand on your hip, wondering just how good his hand would feel somewhere else.

Logan watched intently as you lined up your cue, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to other places. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, the way your breath hitched as he pressed closer to you. 

He leaned in, his chin hovering above your shoulder as he spoke, his voice low. “Yeah, try for the blue, doll. Keep it simple for now.” He tried to ignore the way your body felt against his, how badly he wanted to take you right on the pool table.

You nodded and took a deep breath in, then released the breath as soon as the cue hit the white ball, it glided across the table and into a fray of balls, hitting the blue-striped one against the side of the table, and sure enough, it fell into the corner pocket. 

"YES!” You shouted as you raised a fist into the air. 

Logan chuckled, a smile spreading across his face as he watched the blue ball fall into the corner pocket. He couldn't help but feel proud of you, watching your excitement as you celebrated your accomplishment.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above the shell of your ear. “Mmm, good job, doll. That was a solid shot.” His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer to him, his chest pressed against your back.

"Wolvie, you can... let me go if you want... or not... your choice," you hummed softly, your face turning slightly to look at him over your shoulder. You felt so flustered, he’d never been this bold before, being so close to you like this, his hands pressed against you in such a way…

Logan's heart thumped in his chest as he heard your soft voice, his body practically humming with want. His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer against him. He let out a soft chuckle, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you want me to let go?” His voice was low, dripping with desire. He knew he was walking a fine line, but he couldn't bring himself to pull back.

"I... not really," you confessed softly.

Logan’s breath hitched in his chest as he heard your confession, your voice barely above a whisper. It was all he needed to hear, and all he could do was let out a low groan, his hand on your hip pulling you closer. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

"I haven't done anything," you said with a small chuckle. "How do I drive you crazy?” you asked, knowing very well what you did, and how you would flirt relentlessly with him, wanting to get a reaction. 

Logan chuckled at your response, his hand tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Oh, doll, believe me, you don’t have to do anything. Just your presence, your scent, the sound of your voice…” He leaned in, his lips hovering just above the skin of your neck, his voice dark and rough. “It’s all enough to drive a man mad.”

"If I knew any better, Wolvie, I'd say you have a thing for me..." You said with a gentle tone, your face close to his as you stared over at him, your expression filled with hesitance and desire. 

Logan let out a soft laugh, his hand on your hip gripping you tighter. “And what if I do? What if I’ve been wanting you, desiring you, practically since we met?” His gaze darkened, his eyes locked onto yours. There was no denying the desire he felt for you, he had been fighting it for ages now. But having you this close, hearing your words, it made it damn near impossible to resist.

"Then I'd say you're a fool for not letting me know sooner," you huffed, almost glaring at him. "Here I thought I was dumb to flirt with you, and you never made a move, so I thought you weren't interested.”

Logan shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I have been interested, more than interested. I just didn’t think you’d be interested in a damaged, pissed-off man like me. But trust me, I haven’t been able to get you outta my head since I laid eyes on you.”

"Hey, you're not all of that," you replied sternly. "You're more than that, Logan. Why’d you think that's all there is to you?”

Logan looked down at you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and hesitation. He knew you saw more in him than just his flaws and baggage, but it was hard for him to see past it all himself. 

“I’ve done a lot of bad things, things I’m not proud of. I just thought someone like you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. I thought it was better to just admire you from afar than risk ruining something by being my usual, broken self.”

"You aren't ruining a damn thing, Logan, come on," you said and fully turned to face him, looking into his deep eyes. "Why do you think I always wanna be near you? Play pool, and drink beer, I like you, Logan. You're a damn angry man, but I like it, there's more under all that.”

Logan's heart thudded in his chest as you faced him, your words piercing straight to his soul. He couldn’t believe that you truly wanted him, despite all the bad he thought he was. His hand on your hip moved up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. 

“Damn it,  you really think there’s more to me, don’t you?”

"Hell yeah I do," you chuckled with a large smile, closing your eyes once his hand cupped your cheek. "You think I'd prefer to be around you if I didn't? Everyone told me how much of a hot head you were, but I don't care what others say, I found out for myself that there's more to you than that. I’m never wrong.”

He couldn’t resist your sweet temptations any longer, he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, not with you being so close to him, scrambling his senses. He pulled your face close to his and captured your lips in a desperate kiss, one that conveyed the desire he had for you, wanting to taste you. 

You accepted your fate and gasped against his lips, melted against his touch, incredibly happy that this was finally happening. Your hand was placed against his cheek and you kissed him back, the passion and intensity sparking between you both. 

The feel of your lips against his was everything he had dreamed of. He let out a low moan as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to taste you, his hand on your hip pulling you impossibly closer to his body. He broke the kiss only long enough to gasp out, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. Wanted you.”

You couldn’t hide the moan against his mouth once his tongue glided across your lips, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach. When he pulled away, he left you breathless and smiling like an idiot.  "I... me too, Logan," you whispered. 

Seeing you breathless and smiling up at him, it filled Logan with a primal sense of satisfaction. Knowing that he was the one making you feel this way felt so damn good. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "You don't know how many times I've fantasized about this, doll. To have you this close to me, in my arms. It feels like a damn dream.”

"Mhm yeah? You fantasized about me?" you asked curiously, a flirtatious tone in your voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, smiling up at him sweetly. 

The sound of your flirtatious tone sent a shiver down Logan's spine. He could feel his body responding to your touch, to the way you were looking up at him. He let out a deep chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Oh, you have no idea. I've fantasized about you in ways you can't even imagine." He leaned in, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck. "And I plan on making every one of them come true.”

You looked at him in surprise, your eyes wide and your cheeks beet red. "O-Oh, really? Logan, I had no idea you were such a dirty dog," you teased, trying to lighten the mood. You got nervous whenever someone spoke in such a flirtatious way, but NO ONE had ever spoken to you like Logan had. 

Logan chuckled at your surprise, loving the way your cheeks flushed at his words. He loved the way he could make you blush, and how easily he could get a reaction out of you. “Oh, I’m a damn dirty dog, alright,” he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. He pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours. “And I plan on proving it to you damn soon, if you’re up for it, that is.”

Here you were, pressed against the pool table and Logan’s broad frame, staring into his eyes, not believing a word coming from his mouth was real. You had to have been dreaming… He was asking for your permission to prove himself, your thighs pressed together as if you could hide the desire growing between them. 

He took a slight step back to give you some space, a feral look in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. "No," he said, his voice dripping with need. "Don’t hide that from me, I can…smell just how wet you are, princess. Your room, now.”

You made the snap decision right then and there, your entire resolve snapping, being taken over. “Yes, sir…” you replied and grabbed his hand, pulling him quickly to your room. 

When you both reached your room, Logan pushed the door closed behind him as he pulled you back into his grasp, pushing you against the door while almost lifting you from the floor. His lips devoured you, biting and licking at your lips, trailing down to your jaw. All you could do was be at his mercy, he was so strong, and you could feel that primal urge taking over. He couldn’t think straight. The sight of you, your flirting all day, your smell, everything about you set him off and pushed him to the edge. His hands moved up your body, gripped your shirt, and roughly yanked it off of you. He was like a different person now that it was just you two, and you allowed yourself to be the receiving end of his demands because all you wanted right now was him.

His hands slid across your skin as he kept you pushed against the wall, one hand slowly reached down to grab your leg and lift it to his waist. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing his hips against yours, prodding you with the obvious erection in his jeans. Logan couldn’t stop himself from sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you against him as he rubbed against your clothed sex, releasing a guttural sound from his lips.

All while you were helpless beneath him, feeling how this incredibly strong man could hoist you up, move you, pin you as if you weighed nothing. You were at his mercy and you were loving every moment of it. “Logan, please, need you, no teasing,” you whined, feeling his mouth trail down to your neck, kissing and biting you there, slowly making his way back up to your jaw.

“Yeah? You don’t want me to take my time with you?” He laughed, nuzzling your throat with his nose before he brought down his mouth to you again. 

You gasped and moaned his name over and over, trying to get him to stop being such a tease, but he wasn’t letting up, not until he wanted to. Logan hummed against your throat, tasting your skin, smelling your scent all over him, the feeling vibrated against your throat which only sent a jolt of need through you. 

He adjusted and held you up with one arm, cradling you against him and the wall as he slipped his other hand between you both, feeling just how soaked you were through your shorts. “Damn, princess, my nose never lies, you are soaked.” He laughed at the amount that was already on his fingers, so he decided it was high time to feel you. He moved through the shorts and pushed aside the underwear, plunging two fingers deep within you, curling into your cunt. 

Your body tensed as your nails dug deep into his shoulder, finally feeling a sliver of what he could offer to you, and you were already at his mercy. “Holy shit, Logan,” you whined, your voice cracking as your hips instinctively rolled against his hand. 

“Mhm, that’s right, darlin’, ride my fingers and show me how much you want it,” he said gruffly beside your ear, smiling that cocky-ass smile. He managed to press his thumb against your clit and rub, causing your body to jerk beneath him, and it only fueled him to continue. 

You did as he asked, riding his fingers as best as you could from this angle as he assisted you, pumping them in and out, curling deep to reach the spot you desired. Logan watched your face contorted with pleasure, your juices coating his hand as you needily moved against him. He watched with intensity, feeling his own excitement staining the front of his jeans as he added a third finger into the mix, stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck, Logan, feels so good…” You moaned out, and your head fell forward, resting on his shoulder as he continued to hold you in place. Your body felt heavy as he held you there, but you wanted to feel him properly, you needed him. “Logan, bed, please...”

Logan growled as you begged, he loved hearing your voice, but saying his name like this was too much to handle right now. He slid his fingers out of you, your body reacted as expected and you cried out, wanting the emptiness to be filled again, but you had no time to argue. His hands picked you up with ease and walked you to your bed, then he set you down as your body bounced from the drop, his eyes drinking you in while his hands worked quickly at your shorts. 

As he leaned over your body, he couldn’t help but place such gentle kisses down your body, his hands immediately discarding your shirt from over your head as he kissed you over and over again, but you eagerly helped yourself out of the bra you had on. His tongue was tracing the dips and curves of your skin as he kissed lower, then he reached your breasts and began to suck on one of your nipples, his hands kneading into your soft flesh as his teeth and tongue gently played with your sensitive bud.

When you responded so well to his touch, he couldn’t hide the growl that pulsated against your skin, pleased with your responses beneath him. After paying some attention to your other breast, Logan began to trail more kisses down your body, his lips coasting against the dips toward your belly and then stopped just above your center. Your breathing picked up, your chest rising and falling faster as you watched him with wide eyes. He slowly swiped his tongue through your wet folds and then teased you a little with his tongue against your clit. 

He pulled back a little to stare up at you, smiling. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against you, his voice hoarse with desire.

Your body responded so well to his tongue between your legs that you had to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs against his head, but his large hands were spreading them in an instant, keeping you still. “Fuck, Logan, that feels so good-” You gasped as he sucked a little stronger than you expected, and the moan that came from your lips sounded so divine.

Logan continued to eat you out, his tongue pressing into you with relentless enthusiasm. He curled his long tongue within you, two of his fingers dipping inside to add to the pleasure.

“Keep doing that and I’m not lasting long,” you warned, your tone sounding whiney and pitiful.

He stopped eating you out for a moment and stood up, his eyes burning with desire as he quickly did away with his jeans. You could see the obvious tent forming in front, his hard on straining against the fabric before he slid them down quickly. “Fuck, I need to be inside you now,” he growled, allowing his hard cock to pop out from his boxers.

As you looked down to see his length finally free from its restrictive confines, your eyes were glued to it, and your mouth watered. You wanted to have him in your mouth more than you cared to admit. “Logan, please, I need you inside of me…” you said, almost in a whisper. 

He crawled back onto the bed, his eyes locked with yours as he positioned himself between your legs. Logan slowly entered you, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

“You're so fucking tight,” he groaned, then started to move his hips in slow, deep thrusts.

"Damn, you're so thick," you groaned, feeling the intense pleasure roll over you as you smiled and leaned your head back. "Oh fuck, Logan.”

He smirked at your praise, his throbbing cock filling you completely with each thrust. He reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling you into him even deeper. “You like that, don't you? You fucking love it.” He started thrusting harder, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face as you took him. 

"Ahhh –fuck, yes I do!" You whined, clenching your teeth together as you melted into his touch, your moans were too loud now, there was no way you could control yourself anymore. "Feels so good.”

He growled, something he did fairly often around you, his hips slammed into yours now. “You want more? You want me to make you scream my name? Fine.” His thrusts became wilder, more erratic as his fingers dug into your skin and he took you roughly, mercilessly. “Say it, baby girl.”

"Yes! Logan, oh my god, Logan!" You cried out, moaning with each hard thrust he pushed against your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

His grunts of pleasure echoed in the room as he fucked you harder, his cock reaching deeper into your core. Hearing his name on your lips only made him want to lose himself within you. He groaned louder, feeling your walls tighten around him, so he gripped your hips even tighter, his fingers leaving marks on your skin. “Say it again…”

"Logan!" You moaned out again, wanting him to know you only wanted to scream his name ever again. "Oh god," you cried out, holding onto him as you wrapped your arms around his neck to anchor yourself to him. 

His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of primal lust and the slightest hint of a deeper emotion. "I like hearing you say my name," he hummed before his lips crashed onto yours. His tongue dominated your mouth, demanding submission as his thrusts became more desperate and needy.

You can't help but stare up at him, slack-jawed from the pleasure, moans, cries, and whimpers stumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to talk. "Y-Yes," you said simply as your eyes rolled back slightly. "You're fucking me so good, Logan.”

His adrenaline spiked at the sound of his name coming from your lips while he fucked you. "Damn right, I am." He grinned down at you, feral and satisfied. “You like it when I make sure to remind you who you belong to?” He asked roughly. 

Logan's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself in the sensation of being inside you. He pounded into you relentlessly, the bed creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. His claws extended and dug into the mattress on either side of your head as he held himself above you, he'd take care of that later, all he could focus on was how good you felt around him. He increased his pace, his hips snapped forward as he buried himself inside you over and over. His breathing grew heavier and his face contorted with pleasure. He leaned down and bit down on your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your flesh.

You flinched slightly when his claws came out, but you still clung to him, not afraid of the animal that threatened to release. He continued to keep going, but you looked up at him in a haze and bit your lip before speaking. "Logan, can you....”

Logan slowed down, retracted his claws, and looked down at you, his expression filled with concern as he leaned down and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "What is it? Did I hurt you?”

"No, you didn't hurt me, I was actually going to ask if... you'd put your hand around my throat as you fucked me?” What kind of request was that for your first time with him?! You felt crazy for even asking, but it was something you thought about for a while now, though you wouldn’t confess that right away.

Logan's pupils dilated with desire at your words. He reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, his thumb resting lightly against your pulse. He began to move inside you again, his pace slow and measured, his eyes locked onto yours. "Like that?”

"Y-yes, like that," you smiled shyly and closed your eyes as his thrust pushed deeper into you. "Just like that.”

Logan tightened his hand around your throat as he increased his pace, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself inside you over and over, his breathing grew heavier, and his face contorted with pleasure. He leaned down and bit down on your collarbone, his teeth sinking into your flesh. He suddenly growled possessively against your skin as he felt you tensing beneath him. He could sense that you were close, and he wanted to push you over the edge right along with him. He tightened his hand around your throat further and increased his pace, his hips slamming into yours with brutal force.

"Yes! Like that! Just like that, oh my god!" You cried out and held onto his arms, your nails digging further into his skin as they caused the flesh beneath them to tear open. 

He let out a deep, guttural growl as you cut him open, his skin repairing the second you caused any damage.  Logan's response to your cries was a feral snarl as he felt his control slipping. He released your throat and sat up, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He pounded into you with reckless abandon, his fingers digging into the mattress as he chased his release. "Fuck, I'm so close…”

“L-Logan, please,” you begged, “come inside of me, need you to fill me up!” you cried out, the sound coming from your throat was broken, strangled, your voice taken as he pounded into you.

Logan’s muscles strained as he continued to thrust into you, his movements became erratic and desperate as he felt himself reaching the edge, and his breaths were ragged as he could feel the pressure building within him. Suddenly, he let out a deafening growl as he finally succumbed to the pressure, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he came hard, his hot seed inside of you as he continued to thrust through his own release. His body convulsed, and his breathing was hot and heavy against your skin as you finally let your body go, the crash of pleasure hitting your body hard as your back was arched, your body and hips snapped up against him, his thrusts working you through your own orgasm.

As you clung to his body, your arms wrapped around his neck as your thighs squeezed him, pulling him deeper inside of you as Logan sighed, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment just to bask in the afterglow. Logan remained buried inside you, his arms wrapped around your legs as he tried to catch his breath. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling completely sated for the first time in a long while. "Fuck, that was intense.”

You couldn't speak, you lay there with Logan's heavy body on top of you as you panted in short breaths, hoping to lay here as long as you could while you stared up at him with a thin sheen of sweat coating your face. He was a natural heater for you, his body pressed over yours as he brought a gentle kiss to your temple while you gently rubbed his arm, then you brought your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb against his cheek. 

Logan nuzzled into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. He then looked up at you, his expression tender. "You should stay the night here in my room.” His hands squeezed your thigh gently as he reached down. "Unless you have somewhere else to be, of course. Unless...you don't want to.” He hesitated, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly. "I mean, if you have other plans, I get it.”

That confidence and cockiness he had earlier was gone, it was as if he had changed into another person, one that was much more vulnerable now that you two were alone in your own world. “Logan, I'd love to stay the night with you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to cup his face gently. “I always wished you woulda asked me.” You had a playful tone as you spoke, lightening the mood a little.

He pulled out of you slowly, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your belly, then he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him as he settled beside you. “Mhm good, I don't want you to leave yet.”

You lay in his grasp, your half-lidded eyes staring into his as you reached a hand to brush your fingers through his hair, finally able to feel the closeness you’d wanted for so long. Your eyes closed, breathing in your mixed scents as you let out a small, satisfied hum. “You know, Charles is right about one thing, I do get distracted by you,” you muttered softly. 

The way you whispered this, the way you looked into his eyes as you spoke, your expression filled with such adoration, it pulled at him more than he would ever care to admit. His gaze softened as he placed his hand on your chin, his thumb gently sliding across your bottom lip as his eyes darted to your lips. “Guess Charles ain’t too daft after all,” he teased. Logan let out a long exhale, his arms tightened around you as you nuzzled further against him.

You let out a small chuckle as you looked up at him, your eyes glued to him as you got to really look at his face so close, seeing his features in a different light. “You know, I kinda like soft Logan, and not in a degrading way, mind you, just nice to see you let your guard down, showing me how you feel.”

His chest tightened at your words, but not in an uncomfortable way, he understood exactly what you meant, but he wouldn’t deny the sense of comfort it gave him to know that he could be vulnerable around you. 

“Mhm, I ain’t used to showin’ that side of me, but here, baby girl, let me show you how I really feel,” he hummed, pulling you into a deep kiss, his need for you consuming him. 

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Sylus

Is it still kidnapping if you’re in love with him? Yes. It is. Welcome to the N109 Zone get comfortable baby pt. 1 here

Self-Aware!Sylus who can call anywhere home, but is becoming less and less interested in the N109 zone because you’re not there “Well you can’t come here” “Why not?” “You’re not real Sylus how would you come here?” he turns tapping his chin as if he's actually trying to figure out a way to access your world “You could come here”

Sylus wouldn’t out right say it, but he was desperate to have you in his arms it just never seemed possible. There was nothing either of you could do so you settled for a love that would end tragically because you just couldn’t let him go. You found yourself daydreaming constantly about spending your days with him. What it would be like to hold his hand instead of your phone. To caress his cheek and feel his warmth in the palm of your hand. You gave yourself butterflies just imagining him melting into your touch.

Just him.

“You’re spacing out Princess” You slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. You glanced down at the celery you were mindlessly chopping. “Shit I didn’t mean to dice it” You huffed and scraped it onto the pan anyway; there was no way you were going back to the store right now. You looked back at Sylus who was casually sitting on his couch watching a musical. Sometimes it really made you feel crazy seeing him like this. Not the in-game repeated movements that he was programmed to do, but fluid movement and everyday life activities. It really felt like you were talking to a person and not just code in a game. “What are you watching?”

Sylus hummed off key as he answered “Heathers” You giggled at the fact that the big bad Onychinus leader watches musicals in his living room during his free time. “You should join me” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and smiled to himself like there was some inside joke you didn’t catch. “Only in our dreams” You smiled at him, but it was somber the reality of your relationship always made you a little sad yet here you were doing nothing to end it. You turned back to stir the vegetables you had sautéing because the last thing you need is for them to overcook.

That's when you heard the clearest voice in your ear “Just dreams?” You spun around rapidly flinging food in the process. Your heart pounded against your chest as you scanned the empty kitchen looking for any other sign of life. You immediately swapped out the spoon for the knife you had just minutes earlier. “Sylus please tell me you heard that”

Silence.

You glanced at your phone and saw that the screen was off. “Is there a fucking demon in my house right now?” You snatched your phone ready to call a friend to come over, but your efforts were thwarted when a band of silky red and black mist wrapped around your wrist wrenching you backwards. “I’ve been called worse”

You breath hitched causing you to choke on your own spit as you came face to face with Sylus. Are you going crazy? You struggled against his evol that felt like what you could only describe as smoke with density. “I must be hallucinating” You’ve imagined having this man in front of you for months, but you had no idea he would be this terrifying in person. It felt like you were standing before a hungry wolf that wouldn’t second guess snapping your neck. Why was his demeanor so damn scary? Before you could even process what was happening Sylus grabbed you buy the waist and pulled you close to him. “I’m sorry Princess but this is probably going to hurt”

“Wha-” Pain seared through you in an instant like lightning and fire at once. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as it felt like your vocal cords were singed to a crisp. The pain was unbearable it changed from searing to pins and needles almost like little pieces of you were splitting apart. You couldn’t handle it and your vision went dark as you passed out.

You came too slowly, groaning as you stretched your limbs on a stiff mattress. You sat up slowly realizing you were fine. Rolling your shoulders and rubbing your legs you were sure whatever that was must have just been a terrible dream. Maybe? “I knew I was dreaming” you couldn’t explain the amount of pain you felt though. You turned and noticed instead of your usual view of your room you were looking out amongst a vast dark city. “Where-”

“What do you think?” a voice said in your ear causing your fight or flight to kick in. You pulled your legs under yourself and swung your fist as hard as you could in the direction of the voice. The person groaned at the contact and you reached for the nearest object you could find which was a lamp and swung it, but your wrist was caught mid air and you were disarmed with ease. Within seconds you were pinned down on the mattress.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realized who was holding you down “Sylus?” He was just as intimidating as he was in your dream. Or was it a dream? “You’re not dreaming” Sylus squeezed your wrist tightly “Ow stop stop it hurts” he raised an eyebrow as his lip quirked up “See?” You rolled your eyes he was way too amused with your reaction for your liking. “We need to work on that right hook of yours it's a little weak” He can’t be serious right now you just punched him in his jaw and tried to beat him over the head with a lamp and the first thing he thinks of is training your punches to get better? Typical.

Sylus couldn’t help but, chuckle at your expression with your brows furrowed and your lips curled in frustration. “I wish you could see yourself right now” You pushed his face away with your free hand irritated with him for causing you that much pain.

“I wish you would get a new mattress why is this bitch so stiff my fucking back hurts” You squirmed underneath him. He inhaled a sharp breath making you freeze realizing the position you were in; he was nestled perfectly between your legs with one hand pinned above your head. Suddenly there was a knock at the door “Boss we heard some commotion are you okay?” Sylus rolled his eyes “I’m fine. Leave.”

“Yes boss” The sound of footsteps retreated until there was silence again. Sylus looked down at you furrowing his brows, this time is was your turn to smirk. “Don’t say it” He warned. Your lips quivered as you tried to stop your smile from forming “Are those my boys?” Sylus gave you a bored look before rolling his eyes at you as well. “Do you know how hard it was to bring you here Princess? You’re more excited for Luke and Kieran than me” Sylus expression seemed irritated, but the look in his eyes was pouty. You had Sylus jealous of his own men now that was an ego boost. You squirmed in his hold again trying to free yourself. “This is a lot for me Sylus you have some explaining to do" You kicked your legs like a toddler trying to sit up once again "And let me get up your mattress is not comfortable!”

Sylus huffed at your commands, but of course he listened getting up and pulling you with him. He had you straddle his lap with his hands gently placed on your waist. “Is this more comfortable?” He leaned back against the headboard his eyes traveling up and down your body. Based on the look in his eyes it was almost as if even he couldn’t believe you were not only in front of him, but on top of him at the moment.

“No! w-well y-yea but-” You cut yourself off to save face. This man really had you stuttering like porky the pig. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you could. “How the actual fuck am I here right now Sylus”

“Energy manipulation is stronger than you think” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“If you turn something into pure energy it can travel wherever you want it to even into as you call it a game world” His words bounced around in your head as you tried to make sense of them. What does he mean energy can travel anywhere. Then it hit you. The searing pain, pins and needles, the black out. “You turned me into pure energy to bring me here?!” You screamed in his face.

“Something like that” He replied in a bored tone “The shopkeeper said it should only hurt the first time” You rubbed your temples just trying to stay calm, how were you supposed to be okay with the fact that you were seemingly ripped apart and put back together inside of a damn game. You felt Sylus shifting underneath you and his hands running up your sides. “Tell me” he tilted your chin down so he could look you in the eye. “Are you not happy to have me like this?” he wrapped his arms around your waist while he rested his chin on your chest. “I can hear your heart beating fast”

“Of course I'm happy to see you” You cradled his face in your hands and he immediately melted into your touch. It was even better than you imagined it would be. His eyes closed and you could feel the satisfying hum that rumbled in his chest. You stared in awe at the sight before you; he was really melting because of you. He opened his eyes and dropped his gaze to your lips causing them to part “Prove it.”

You didn’t need to be a genius to know he wanted a kiss. You two spend many nights talking about it. He made you promise that if you ever actually met him the first thing you would do is kiss him. That promise was clearly broken since the first thing you did was punch him in the face. His lips looked so soft and full you didn’t hesitate to lean in and Sylus met you half way. It lasted no longer than three seconds before you pulled away. “What's wrong?" You shook your head and looked away “Nothing you’re just making me nervous”

You had no time to prepare yourself as Sylus slammed you back on your back and pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Your eyes bugged out of your head before slightly rolling back as you gave into him. He nipped at your bottom lip and shoved his tongue in when you opened up for him. You thought he would be more rough, but he was actually so gentle. He kissed you like he was trying to perfectly mold your mouth to only fit his. No more like it was already made to fit only him. You wrapped you arms around his neck and snaked one hand up the back of his head tugging the hair at the nape. He smiled against your lips “Do that again” he whispered, hooking your leg over his hip. You tugged even harder this time relishing in the satisfied groan he let out.

You could do this for hours, but you had too many questions. You pulled his head away trying to catch your breath. “We’re not done talking Sylus” He sucked his teeth and sighed heavily as he sat up. This time he didn’t pull you onto his lap he helped you sit up and fixed your shirt that was riding up from him almost removing it. “Ask your questions” He leaned back against the headboard with his arms crossed. You couldn’t help, but giggle at the slight pout he was failing to hide. "For starters where can we buy a softer mattress?"

[uhohdad]

Stalker!König leaving you tokens from the people he’s killed for you.

A silver, plain wedding ring, far too big for any of your fingers, once belonged to the superior who dared raise his voice at you.

The air freshener that used to hang from a rearview mirror, a token from the man that honked and whistled at you from his car while you were walking home.

A wristwatch still stained with dried, crusted blood from the man who didn’t respect your undeservingly-polite rejection to the crude request that you get on your knees for him.

König just wants to make sure you know someone is looking out for you. Even if you don’t know who he is yet, his dedication to protecting you is unwavering.

It’s also a warning. If there are men out there you care about, it might be best for you to not let them get too close to you.

You know how jealous your Bärchen gets ♡

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡