#domestic-averse

[revenant-coining]

Domestic Ambivalent, Averse, and Desired

[pt: Domestic Ambivalent, Averse, and Desired /end pt]

[ID: a rectangular flag with 4 equally-sized horizontal lines with a thicker one in the middle. colors in this order from top to bottom: blue, dullish blue, light yellow, dullish blue, blue. in the center of the flag is a light yellow circle outlined in orange. inside the circle is an orange symbol of a question mark. End ID]

[ID: a rectangular flag with 4 equally-sized horizontal lines with a thicker one in the middle. colors in this order from top to bottom: blue, dullish blue, light yellow, dullish blue, blue. in the center of the flag is a light yellow circle outlined in orange. inside the circle is an orange symbol of a tilda. End ID]

[ID: a rectangular flag with 4 equally-sized horizontal lines with a thicker one in the middle. colors in this order from top to bottom: blue, dullish blue, light yellow, dullish blue, blue. in the center of the flag is a light yellow circle outlined in orange. inside the circle is an orange symbol of an upright tilda. End ID]

Domestic-Ambivalent: one has mixed or complicated feelings regarding domestic interaction.

Domestic-Averse: one feels repulsed by the idea of personally engaging in domestic interaction.

Domestic-Desired: one actively seeks out domestic interactions and feels incredibly happy when they receive it.

@radiomogai

[ID: a red line divider outlined in yellow. in the center is a red feather outlined in yellow. End ID]

[darkwood-sleddog]

Can the balanced dog trainers please stop fucking talking about positive reinforcement as if those dogs are not “obedience trained”? A majority of competition obedience dogs I know were trained with R+. Letting your dog wander on the end of a line because you want to do so does not = untrained. It is simply…a choice.

[oginkbloodedwitch]

BCRB 2022

Title: By Invitation Only (aka: Tackling Mt. PDA.)

Artist: Blusxa

Author: Inkblooded Witch.

Rating: Explicit.

Wordcount: 15,820

Tags/Warnings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Eileen, Top! Dean, Himbo! Dean, Personal Trainer/Dietician! Dean, Bottom! Castiel, Auditor! Castiel, Touch Averse! Castiel, Anxiety over PDA, Domestic Fluff, Smut, BCRB 2022. 

Summary:

The only way Castiel has managed to keep himself together and functioning is by applying order to the chaos around him. He has yet to meet a problem that can’t be sequenced or boxed or logged on a spreadsheet, there is a place for everything and everything better be in its place. The exception to this is his boyfriend, whom he loves dearly, chaos and all. Dean is the exception to a number of rules, for better or worse. But if the man would stop trying to touch him in public, that would be swell. 

Art Link: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/102278854

Fic Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42683964/chapters/107224020

[splendidissimus]

2003 - Break

((Content warning: beating / domestic violence (dream), implied noncon (dream), loss of power control, accidental injuring loved one, hospital, loss of reality, mind invasion (minor) ))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 17: Touch aversion / "Leave me alone." ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: some

Angst level: 4/5

Draco's headspace: fear / guilt / irrational

((words: ~3100))

------------------------------------

Draco felt like he had barely fallen asleep when he was jerked awake by hands on his robes. He recognized Theo's face in the darkness and tried to get his brain together to figure out what was going on. "What's wr-"

"Shut the fuck up." Theo slammed him back. His head hit the headboard so hard it slammed into the wall and there was a cracking sound; he made a cut-off noise and felt light-headed, with pain shooting down his spine. "I am so fucking tired of your whining…"

"Get off…" He tried to be commanding, but his voice felt as faint as his head.

"What a surprise, more orders." Theo grabbed him under the chin, thumb and finger digging in behind his jaw, and forced his head back. The pain redoubled and his vision went blurry. Draco grabbing at his wrist did absolutely nothing to pull him off. 

"I try," Theo said. Draco realised he was drunk — drunk and completely honest, for once. "I am patient, and tolerant. But you just can't help being a piece of shit. You know I can't get away from you because of your fucking love potion," he slammed him back into the wall again with all the frustration in his voice, making Draco choke on a cry as pain shot all the way down his spine and clamped his skull, "so of course you're just going to exploit that as much as you can, because why would you do anything else? Order me around like one of your lackeys because you know I'll take it. Whine to me incessantly like a child because you know I'll put up with you when even your own parents won't. I'm tired—" he slammed him back into the wall again, making him choke on a cry and his vision pulse red, "—of listening to you!" 

"Stop…" It felt like a whimper. He weakly pulled at his arm, struggling to breathe, vision blurred by slow blooms of colour, except that he could still horribly clearly see Theo's face and the dark anger controlling it. "I'm sorry — please — I'll stop —" 

"Oh, right, you'll stop being yourself? Guess what, even if you somehow managed it, it wouldn't matter! It won't fix this! I'm trapped! I could have had a good wife! I could have sweet girlfriend who actually cares about me! I could just be picking up skanks in a pub! But no — I'm stuck with you!" 

His hand clenched around Draco's throat, hard crushing pain that made Draco claw desperately at his arm. Then he forced himself to let go and his hand seized into a fist and he punched him in the side of the head, and Draco cowered behind his arms.

"And you fucking know it. You fucking revel in it." He grabbed his arm and ripped it down so his shoulder wrenched. "You know I can't leave, so you fucking tease. A kiss every now and then as a reward? A fuck or two a year on special occasions? Just enough to keep me mollified, right? Just enough to keep me hanging on? And I should be happy with this? I should be honoured you let me have anything?" 

"I can't—" 

"You can." Theo shoved him down into the bed, gripping his throat. "And you will." 

--

Draco came to with a jerk, choking and gasping, scrambling up in the bed. "Nott!" he croaked, voice hitching in a sob. "Theo!" 

The connecting door between their rooms burst open, and Theo rushed in, face twisted up in concern. "It's all r—"

No no no— Draco slashed his hand out to cut off his words, and a shallow but bloody cut bloomed across Theo's chest after it with a deep gasp. "How could you?" Words tumbled out in a half-sobbed scream. "You can't just… Even if I…" 

"Draco." Theo froze where he was, holding his chest, making an effort to keep his voice calm. "What is it? What did I do?"

"What did—? You just—!" He clutched at his throat where there was a phantom echo of Theo's seizing fingers. 

"It was a dream," Theo assured him in a calm, reasonable voice. He cautiously crept closer while holding his bloody hand out as though to hold him back. "I couldn't hurt you. I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to, because you can do this, right? So I didn't — it was just a dream." 

"It couldn't be a dream… I was…" He grabbed his hair… his head didn't really hurt. He had such clear memories of the pain of having his skull cracked, how it ran all the way down his body and hurt to move, and now it was just gone… like it had never really been there. How could that be right? It was so real, it couldn't be a dream—

He gripped his head tightly and screamed into his knees. Something had to be real!

Theo reached the bed and touched his hands. A half-formed thought bloomed — he was coming to hold him down again — and he reflexively thought a blasting curse that threw him into the wall with a small explosion and a crash of breaking shelves. 

Theo—! He didn't mean to do that! He reached out for a second before he stopped himself; he scrambled off the bed and caught a single glimpse of him lying there. He didn't dare check if he was okay, he'd probably hurt him again. He had to get away. He ran into his mother in the doorway and spun them around and pushed her toward Theo, backing away into the hall to put space between them. "Stay away from me!" He only had an impression of her startled face as he fled down the stairs. 

With a formless surge of fear, he saw his father still up, in the parlour, coming toward the noise, and he threw a binding jinx at him to keep him away. He heard breaking glass. Then he was outside in the fresh air and swiftly Disapparated. 

--

Lucius recovered his composure quickly and repaired the wineglass he'd dropped when he ducked Draco's spell. The front doors were standing open, but Draco was gone; he closed them with a flick of his wand and took the stairs up. "What is going on?" 

"Did you stop him?" Narcissa asked from down the hall. He found her in Draco's room, with some annoyance. What was the point of Nott if he couldn't handle Draco's outbursts? But the room was a mess, and Nott was bleeding, while she worked to stop it. 

"No, he left. What happened?" he repeated. 

"He had a dream he thought was real," Nott said faintly, holding his chest. Lucius looked at the damage to the room again, how it was all centred around Nott, and the injuries to him, and saw instantly how this would be the perfect opportunity to pass off an actual attack as Draco's erratic behaviour. He looked at Nott swiftly and met his eyes, catching his mind unawares… and for once, he found no sign of a lie there.

Nott didn't realise he'd been read, and tried to take a deep breath. "He didn't snap—" He had to stop and cough, trying to breathe, again. Blasted in the chest, probably. "—snap until he realised it was a dream." 

Then it wasn't the content of the dream that was the problem, it was that he had mistaken a dream for reality in the first place. He thought he understood. "I'll get him," he said, and followed Draco.

--

When Lucius Apparated to St. Mungo's, he could immediately hear Draco yelling. "You need to do something about it!" He was out of sight around the corner from the Apparition zone, yelling at someone in intake. 

"Sir, calm down—"

"Get away from me!" There was a crash and Lucius came to the door — a Healer was on the floor and the receptionist backing away from the desk, and the only other person there was a patient waiting with a squash for a nose, looking over the top of a Prophet. 

He threw a silent stunning spell at Draco while his back was turned — hardly honourable, but  just to get this situation under control before he did serious damage. 

But Draco threw up a shield spell to intercept it somehow in the instant he shouldn't have even known it was coming, and spun around, fluidly grabbing a half dozen of the floating candles with a gesture and flinging them at him. They bounced off the wall when he stepped back behind the doorway. 

"Draco, stop," he commanded. 

"Get away!"

"Drop your wand!" he heard called from the other side of the room, security coming from the street entrance or from a higher floor, perhaps. And of course that didn't work for a variety of reasons, and he heard Draco engage them while telling them to leave him alone. He came back around the door and found two guards trying to Stun him. He joined them; one of them would be able to take him down before he hurt someone.

In theory. In practise…

Whose brilliant idea was it to teach Draco to duel wandlessly? Oh right, Severus kindly taught him not to use a wand, and he started duelling when Narcissa cut him off from their vaults. Well, they had created a monster. He could cast magic so quickly and seamlessly that he hardly even seemed like a wizard using spells. He easily held off the three of them, performing not just simple defensive magic, but also complex calculations like transfiguring the wall to wrap around one of the guards and hold her. 

When he raised his wand to bind Draco while he was distracted, Draco gestured at him with a sudden glance and his arm fell instantly limp and literally boneless, flopping like a glove filled with water. His wand flew back into the entry room somewhere. Draco's attention was already turned on another threat, flinging the desk into the air between him and a flurry of spells that were no longer merely intended to Stun and bind, as they realised the level of threat he posed.

"Draco!" he snapped in his most commanding voice, because he knew Draco would respond to the sound of authority the way he needed — he looked. Lucius met his eyes and applied Legilimency with all the force instead of finesse possible, to really make him repel the invasion. 

It was extremely unpleasant; it took no effort whatsoever to get into Draco's mind, and it was sheer chaos. He had always been overly emotional, but he had been taught from a young age to control that and compartmentalise it properly. Now that had broken down into a howling maelstrom of impressions and feelings that conveyed almost nothing but layers and layers of different kinds of fear. 

He couldn't withstand that assault for long, but it worked. While they both flinched away from the contact, Draco was too distracted to block the guards' spells. Two stunning spells hit Draco almost at once, and he crumpled. He hoped Draco's heart was strong enough to take it. 

"Master's wand," a small voice behind him said, and he looked down. Sometime in the chaos, Tolly had Apparated in with Nott, whose injuries were apparently beyond home remedy, and who was now leaning heavily on the wall where he could see through the doorway, holding his chest and breathing laboriously. The elf was holding up his wand with deferentially drooping ears. 

A surge of revulsion at the sight of an elf with a wand showed on his face, and he snatched it up without acknowledging it. "Inform Narcissa," he instructed. She cringed a bow and vanished. 

--

After getting his arm tended to, Lucius waited around in the café on the top floor until morning when he was allowed to visit. The delay gave him an unfortunate amount of time to consider what broken impressions he had taken from Draco's mind, and he didn't like what he saw there.

When it was time, he found Draco in ward 49: long-term patients whose minds had been affected by magic. It was grim. The ward itself tried to be cheerful enough, in clean neutral colours and littered with the residents' personal belongings, but it was still a half dozen helpless people stored in a locked room without an ounce of privacy or dignity. And it was seeming ever more likely that it would eventually be Draco's permanent fate.

They wouldn't leave him here, of course. Even if he needed permanent care, they would bring him home and bring someone in to provide it. But the haunting spirit was the same.

The witch watching the ward was occupied with one of the Longbottoms having a fit, and he went on to find Draco's bed without announcing himself. He sat beside the bed with his arms crossed, staring at him. He wasn't sure if Draco was asleep or unconscious, either sedated or Stunned, but he looked like he was where he belonged, and that itself was unpleasant.

Not long after the beginning of visiting hours, someone else entered the ward. Lucius listened without moving as he approached the ward matron and asked after Draco.

"Is everything all right, Auror? He was brought in unconscious and hasn't woken yet."

"Just following up." 

He finally got up and stepped out to meet them just before they arrived at Draco's bed, pulling the curtains closed to hide him. The matron showed surprise that he was there and greeted him pleasantly, but he focused on the Auror, a portly older man with a grey moustache and a bowler named Janssen. "He's still asleep. I take it this is about the incident last night."

"It is." 

"My son had an… episode. I think you'll find that no one was seriously hurt." 

"Spells were exchanged in the hospital. We obviously have to check on that." He flipped his notebook open. "I see here that you, a Healer, and two responding guards required treatment after this 'episode', as well as a Theodore Nott." 

"That's a private matter." 

"When it sends people to the hospital, domestic matters become our business." 

"I didn't say 'domestic'," he snapped. "Nott is his assistant." 

"Who he injured?" 

That was a question. He was fishing. Just like an Auror, barging in where he didn't belong, when he didn't know anything… He took hold of his anger and pushed it away. "What do you want?"

The Auror looked back at him and saw he wasn't going to play along. "To hear his side of the story. Can you wake him up?" He nodded to the matron. 

Pulling back the curtains to expose the sleeping Draco, she stepped up beside his bed and uncapped what looked like a potion, but instead let out a strong scent of flowers. Lilies, daffodils, grass, and water - it smelled just like their gardens in the summer. Had he really been here so often that they had these tricks on hand to keep him calm?

"All right, Draco, honey," she was saying in a soothing voice as she roused him with a spell. He opened his eyes calmly, and she smiled. "That's it, welcome back…"

Lucius could not have said what he saw that told him everything was about to go horribly wrong, but he trusted his instincts and stepped backward. In the next instant, Draco cast a shield spell so powerful it flashed in a visible violet orb around him, and shoved everything — nurse, Auror, table, curtain dividers, the bed on the other side it — ten feet away from him in every direction. Someone screamed. 

"Stay away!" 

Janssen was thrown to the floor, and he pulled his wand before even getting his feet back under him. Lucius whipped his out and disarmed him before he could use it. 

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" The Auror scrambled back to his feet and snatched his wand off the floor without taking his eyes off him. 

Lucius held up his wand in two fingers, overtly unthreatening. "He is not fighting." 

And it was true. Draco had grabbed his hair and pressed back against the head of the bed, one hand outstretched and shaking, hiding his face. He hadn't cast another spell and wasn't even watching them.

"You attacked an Auror — you'll go back t—"

"I stopped you escalating a volatile situation," he interrupted. Threatening him with Azkaban in range of Draco's hearing and magic was a dangerous idea, he had a feeling. "He is not fighting," he reiterated, and dropped into a low, controlled voice. "He is terrified." 

"Stop this!" the ward matron commanded. If she minded being thrown about by Draco's spell, she didn't show it at all. "The both of you need to leave, you're upsetting them. It's all right, honey." She rubbed Frank Longbottom's shoulder to relax him. Somewhere in his broken mind, he must have remembered being an Auror, because he was standing in front of his wife and a cowering Lockhart with his arm outstretched as though he had a wand, glaring at him and Janssen. 

Lucius took a step back to defuse the situation. For the moment, he would cooperate. "Stay away from Draco," he warned her. "He's not trying to hurt anyone; he's lashing out in panic when people try getting close enough to touch him." 

"That won't be a problem," she said, her tone of voice incongruously soothing and attention still on Longbottom, getting him to lower his arm. Perhaps they responded to tone rather than words. "No one wants to scare anyone, do we?" 

"I'll be relieving him of his wand first," Janssen said firmly, making no move to leave.

"He isn't using a wand," Lucius told him flatly. 

The Auror glanced at Draco swiftly and then looked hard at him. "Accidental magic?" 

He clenched his jaw rather than admit to it. That would have been an embarrassment ten years ago. Even fifteen years ago he'd basically had control of his magic before he even had a wand. Now to admit that the family harboured a full-grown adult guilty of such emotional and magical… incontinence… 

"Out, gentlemen," the matron commanded, sweeping them with a steely stare. 

Lucius put his wand away and pointedly waited for the Auror to precede him out into the corridor. The door audibly locked behind them.

"This is a dangerous situation," Janssen was saying, scribbling himself some notes. "Uncontrolled magic of this magnitude… if it is uncontrolled…"

"Do you see which ward you are in?" he demanded in a low, sharp voice, his anger barely reined in behind it. Lunatics. Every patient in this ward was a lunatic. 

Every last one. 

"Leave. Him. Alone." 

Janssen looked at the Janus Thickey ward plaque for a silent second, then left without another word.

[llycaons]

second fic ever written was xxc/xy. first fic ever written was *squints* what if wwx was an abused woman person escaping LP with his two kids (a-yuan and xue yang) because he wants a better life for them and lwj worked at...the battered persons home...

[epichnopterix]

every time I watch/read a werewolf fiction piece thats set in the UK it just makes me sad bc they inevitably say something like "but the UK doesnt have any big predators????" like yeah. fuck. we did that huh

[b4ll4d33r-06]

sick outta ny mind nd im too kazy t o open twt who wanna hear ab nick lore and my thoughts on childhood mes aversion towards feminine presentation and a struggle with financial support that has rooted a sense of shame in my body from any attempts to dress up. (i am filipino)

[straightyuri]

I've noticed I actually have an aversion to a lot of shippy stuff for some reason. I'll enjoy a ship but see art of them kissing n I go ehhhh..... it's kind of random what sets it off tho

[heartmaddie]

sakusa kiyoomi when you're sick includes fluff , kiyoomi is a cutie , you're in a relationship

sakusa doesn't know what he's doing here.

standing outside your door, tightly gripping onto the flimsy plastic of a convenience store bag which was filled with various medicines and groceries for him to cook. to him, this felt a bit too intimate. showing up to your home unannounced because your classmate told him you were out sick and he knew that your parents weren’t home, so who would look after you if it wasn’t him? 

realistically, he could turn around right now, you didn’t know he was here yet. but there was something unfamiliar which pulled him towards your front door. an unsettling sensation bloomed deep in his chest when he’d imagine you sick, all alone on your bed. 

before he knew it, his legs were pulling him towards your door, he sighs as he presses his finger against your doorbell, hoping that you weren’t sleeping. a couple moments later, the door shifts open and he sees you, bundled in his dark sweatshirt and a pair of large trousers, and his expression softens slightly.

“oh, yn” he mumbles, gently rubbing your cheek, “you look so unwell.”

“why are you here kiyoomi?” you ask, obviously congested as you looked up at him confused. you knew about his aversion to disease, and how he’d go out of his way to ensure that he wouldn’t get sick, so you weren’t exactly sure on why he was here, holding you gently like this.

kiyoomi shrugs nonchalantly and pushes past you, closing the door as he slips off his shoes and neatly places them near the door. 

“i just felt like it, why aren’t you in bed?” he questions, unpacking all the medicines and aligning them in a neat row before moving to wash the vegetables and fruits, looking over at you occasionally.

“i had a really horrible headache, and i couldn’t get to sleep.” you explained, moving to lean your head on his back, gently brushing your fingers against his arm. kiyoomi smiles to himself, looking back at you with a soft expression.

“tired?” he asks gently, curling his fingers against your soft hair. you nod in response, letting out a yawn as you rubbed your face against his back.

“so exhausted, i hate being sick like this,” you complained. he thought you were cute, with your nose red and dry as you looked up at him expectantly, “what are you cooking?”

“okayu.” he states simply, washing the rice efficiently, “you should go lie down on the couch, have you had any medicine today?” he asks pointedly, letting out a deep sigh when you shake your head no. “you should be taking better care of yourself, there’s pei ko on the island bench.”

“i know, but i’ve just been so bedridden today.” you slip away from him, and kiyoomi can't help but miss the comfort of your warmth. he watches as you pour 10 ml of the thick medicine into a plastic cup, before downing the medicine, it’s sickeningly sweet on your tongue, and he smiles when he sees you scrunch your face up. 

“go lie down on the couch while i make this for you.” he sighs, gently pulling you in for a soft kiss before walking you to the sofa, he guides you onto lying onto the couch, pushing your hair behind your ears as he adjusts the pillow behind you. 

you look up at him as he works, letting him pamper you as you feel the weight of your sickness settled in your bones. sakusa kiyoomi was infamous for being a perfectionist, but he let that go when it was just you. he’d gently lay blankets over your body, pressing kisses against your cough ridden lips between each layer.

“okay, just try to sleep while i cook for you, and i’ll wake you up when it’s done. okay?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he strokes your hair, lulling you to sleep.

he promptly moves back to the kitchen, continuing to swiftly cut shallots and occasionally check on the simmering pot as the sea-like smell of dashi powder wafts through the air of your home. sakusa would have a small smile on his face when he heard you sleeping soundly, this was oddly domestic, and he somehow didn’t mind the predicament. 

a half hour later you feel kiyoomi gently nudging you awake, the tray of okayu and a variety of different side dishes on a tray which is laid on the coffee table.

“is it ready?” you asked tiredly, rubbing your eyes as kiyoomi nodded.

“yeah, here.” he passes you a box of tissues and rubs your shoulder when you blow your nose, “ready to eat?” he asks curiously, helping you sit up.

“yeah, thank you. it looks really nice, baby.” you smile up at him, bringing the metal spoon to your mouth. the porridge was warm on your tongue, and had a satisfying light taste. he was good at this.

you sat in silence, leaning against his shoulder as the only sounds which surrounded you was the metal scraping against the wooden bowl. kiyoomi was glad that you seemed to be enjoying the meal he prepared, he would bury his nose into your hair as he held you close, circling his fingers against your waist.

he watches as you set the cutlery on the finished tray and he hums softly.

“did you enjoy it?” he asks curiously, “made your throat feel a bit better?”

“yeah, it was really soothing, thank you omi.” you reply, curling against his chest.

“okay, let’s get you to bed then.” he’d scoop you up into his arms, walking you towards your warm bedroom and tucking you in tight, “i’ll come join you in a bit, i’m gonna clean up first.” but before he could leave you clutched onto his arm tight.

“stay, just for a bit.” you ask, looking up at him with tired eyes, “just until i fall asleep.” 

who was he to say no.

sakusa nods and slips into the bed next to you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping the blankets around you securely. he lets out a deep sigh of relief, feeling his muscles relax in your comforting presence, even if he can already feel his throat tightening with the same sickness as yours. 

“feeling better?” he asks, twirling your hair against your finger as he feels your head shift up and downwards against his chest.

“yeah, a lot better since you got here.” you admit, “it was miserable being home all alone today.” making kiyoomi nod in response.

“sounds boring, i’m glad i came since you weren’t eating your proper nutrients, hm?” he scolds, smiling against your scalp, “it’s how you’re supposed to get better, silly girl,” you nod lazily in response.

“i know, but i was just so tired.” you whine,

“then rest, and be quiet now.” he shushes you, pressing a final kiss to your lips before cradling your head in his arms, signalling that he wanted to sleep too.

sakusa kiyoomi would gently pepper kisses against your temple as he felt your slow breaths rise up and down against him, he’d spend hours memorising the pattern, occasionally matching his breaths to yours. he’d shift his hold on you when you moved around in your sleep, sometimes taking the subconscious initiate to curl against him, wrapping your arms tightly as you’d nuzzle your soft head against him.

kiyoomi didn’t think he was built for this, the domesticity of somebody else in his arms. he was scared of course, it was so him to be afraid of contracting your disease, but he didn’t necessarily think about it this time. you were his priority now, so he was okay with the high chance of having the flu than watch you suffer in your lonesome. maybe the way you’d fit perfectly in his arms every time would make him rethink his innate desires, because kiyoomi had a very individualistic mindset, his whole future was planned out since the ripe age of 11, but maybe he’d want to welcome you into that too. 

! extra

a couple weeks later, you look over to your boyfriend and hear a newly familiar sound,

“a-achoo!” he sneezes, cringing as he wipes his nose, “it’s all over for me” he sighs dramatically, leaning against your shoulder as he seeks your warmth, letting you spoon feed him bits of okayu with poached chicken.

please consider liking, reblogging or following if you enjoyed! i need to nibble on him so bad

[sugoi-writes]

REQUEST TIME :333 ummm this is actually my first time requesting here but I’ve been so obsessed with Human Alastor so maybe a sexy thing where he hunts you (fem reader) down in the wooded near his cabin with his shotgun? This is so dangerous lol but he’s shooting and splitting trees as you zip pass them in your nightgown (he would never shoot you it’s for the flare) you stumble over an old stump and he is on your ass! You fight and tumble around before he’s dragging you by your ankles back to his cabin to have his way with you? (All of this was very much consensual between the two of you elaborated foreplay if you will!)

Trigger Happy - Human! Alastor x Fem!Reader

My friend in Satan, I am SO sorry for how long this took! I was honestly getting worked up over it!!! Hate the delay, but I hope the story itself will be worth it! Just as a warning, this is getting towards risky territory, but I promise nothing too bleak. A few warnings: Guns, a heated foot chase, you get distracted there for a while, some physical violence/tussling, f!reader, some f!oral and m!oral, overtsim, rope/restraints, and some REALLY filthy penetrative sex. Y'all are some absolute freaks in this one. Hope you enjoy! (ALSO THIS IS LIKE INSANELY LONG IM SORRY ITS LIKE 9K--)

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO @minkdelovely and @hazelfoureyes for helping me through this and being my scream queens/beta readers dhoduhdouhdoduhdohidoi <3 (I'm in love with both of you BLINKBLINK)

Taglist: @ieatcocoa @nocturessa @tsukikos-stuff @leviskittywh0re

@polyo-nym-y @cosmiccandydreamer @littlebluefishtail @your-excellenc-z21 and others (if you wanna be tagged I'll add you! Sorry I've never made a taglist before???)

🩸🦌🩸

Your hands fidgeted in your lap as Alastor finished the final touches of tonight's meal. You regarded him nervously as his humming filled the humble interior of his inherited cabin. He was in such a good mood, you thought... Why spoil something so tender and domestic between the two of you?

For a while now, you knew of your darling beau's aversion to many things, physical intimacy being one he struggled with most. At least, compared to most... You hardly minded, as when you were on the receiving end of such of intimacy... Well, let's just say you could usually expect to be bedridden for a few hours. You swallow the bile creeping up, nerves reflected in your voice as you spoke," Alastor, dear?"

A pair of kind, almond-colored eyes looked upon you, making your heart leap. Alastor's eyes turned a warm amber when exposed to the charming lighting provided by the fireplace.

"Yes, darling?" Alastor cooed, his tone still airy and filled with a domestic softness.

"Could we... could we talk for a moment? Before dinner?"

Your partner gave you a bemused look, as if he were asked a ridiculous question. His hands settled on his hips as he rocks his weight onto his other foot, eyebrows raising.

"Dear, why let the food grow cold? Could we not discuss it over dinner? I tell you, it's JUST like my mother's; it's hearty, filling, and--"

"Alastor," you interrupt, a stern bite cutting through your meek tone," Pl-Please... If I try to tell you while you're eating, you'd probably choke." Alastor grants you an interesting look, eyes widening with your change in demeanor. But of course, he relents, sighing like a demure housewife.

"Well then, who am I to refuse... Choking is rather unpleasant, anyhow." Quickly, Alastor fusses over your meal, dousing the fire to let it simmer.

"Now then: we have a few minutes before I need to stir it. Tell me... what's troubling you?"

You gesture for Alastor to sit with you, to take his place at the table. He silently moves towards it in confident, wide strides. You watch nervously as he sits, crossing his legs formally. You felt the sweat trickle into your brow as his simple actions felt like they took an eternity... Alastor then sets his elbows on the table, resting his chin upon his folded hands. He looked... entirely too comfortable, a stark contrast with your stiff spine and sweating palms.

Alastor watches you quietly, granting you a moment to collect your thoughts. And then, you speak:

"Alastor... you know how-- well, it's been a while since we last-- Uhhm..." The quiver of your lip tips your partner off immediately, his eyes squinting. The smile that plays on his face is telling, his teeth gleaming under the dim light.

"Oh honestly, what am I to do with you? Yes, of course we can try for a little romp tonight. But... I sense that our standard 'bedroom practices' aren't the only thing clouding your mind?"

He just didn't get it. He didn't understand the weight of what was on your mind, and how quickly it was going to hit him. You were thinking of this for weeks, terrified of his reaction... But, in the comfort of the cozy, warm cabin: it was now or never. You felt a tinge of guilt as you felt his flirty smile widen, ready to shatter his expectations.

You nod in affirmation, forcing yourself to look his way fully," Right. I have an idea. Something to... change things up. 'Make it a bit more interesting, if you'll hear me out."

Alastor hums pleasantly, one of his hands gesturing outward in an animated way. He regards you just the same, opening the floor to you. You steel your nerves, hands turning to balled up fists as you formulate your next thought bluntly," I want you to hunt me, Alastor. I wanted to be hunted."

A silence befalls the room, causing panic to rise in your chest. Your chaste, Creole partner stares back at you, eyes wide. His expression was damnably neutral, as if processing your demand. You immediately start onto a tangent, leaning forward as you make your case.

"L-Look, I know how that sounds... I don't want you to actually hurt me or kill me-- I mean-- I feel like you'd be terribly sad if I were gone, but-- No, I mean in a more..."

When you trail off, you expect Alastor to pick up on your meaning. You sigh with frustration, your hands mirroring each other as they mimed your body's curves and contours," ...sexual... way."

Alastor's expression morphs under the light of the fireplace, which burned dutifully. Alastor's black pupils dilate, his mouth falling ajar. He sits upright in his seat, leaning back as he takes everything in.

" You want me to... pursue you. Hunt you... like I would wild game? Is... Is that what you're asking?"

You nod firmly, your hands trembling," I-I know, I know... it's different. I told you it would be different--"

"Different is hardly a bad thing, mon cherie... 'just surprising, is all," Alastor drawls, his eyes softening. He could see how much you were worked up. You were scared to disappoint; scared to be rejected. He hated to see the soured look on your face, and was determined to replace it with something else," What exactly do you have in mind? This-- pursuit of ours... what are the conditions?"

It was now your turn for your face to morph, a mix of surprise and relief, a faint heat brewing in your stomach," Well... I'd like you to treat it like a legitimate chase. I could be a deer, in a sense... something to bring home for dinner. You'd chase me, and I would do my best to fight back, run away...," your eyes wander over to the shotgun by the cabin door, eyes glazed from your impure thoughts," But I don't want you empty handed. I want... I'd like for you to bring the shotgun. Use it, even... as long as you don't actually try to kill me." Alastor's expression, you swore, was now the rawest it's been since you've first met him. His heart was on his sleeve: confusion, shock, delirium, and... some sort of desire. A hunger.

Alastor smoothly rises from the table, his footsteps almost echoing in the silence. He makes his way to his nightstand, fishing out something you couldn't see. When Alastor turns towards you, you hear a familiar clink, as his revolver shines in the warm light. He opens the chamber, showing to you that it is empty, before sealing it with a resolute spin. Your fists unclench, and you let out a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Dear, as lovely and authentic as it would be... I would hate to bring the shotgun. That tool is far too accurate and far too deadly, even in an inexperienced person's hands. A round so small can tear a hole wider than your skull, given the proper range..." When Alastor returned to the table, he sets the empty revolver there, your heart thumping at the implications. He slid it towards you, as if a peace offering," I wonder what may have caused this idea to fester... But it's one I'm most certainly intrigued by," he offers simply. You tried your best not to look away, his smile exposing just how fascinated he was with your proposal. His eyes were a dead giveaway: he was more than willing to carry this act out.

Your hand ghosts over the revolver, the wood of the grip much warmer than the cool metal of the barrel. Alastor clears his throat, calling your attention back to him," If I may, dearest, I also have a request..."

You feel your heart thudding loudly in your chest, the loud pulse making you deaf to the rest of the world.

"Which is...?" you attempt to counter smoothly, but the breathiness of your tone gives you away. Alastor's eyes squint, familiar with that lilt of yours. He relished seeing you like this: embarrassed, sheepish... But most of all, you felt an overwhelming desire to have him agree; have him take charge. His ego bloomed right under your nose... He wanted to see just how badly this desire had been burning inside of you.

"Do you recall the nightgown that you wore when we first embraced, love? The white little number with lace trim?" You nodded immediately, a heat rising in your face as you recalled your first night with your partner," Y-Yes... yes, I think I have it with me, actually."

Alastor moves over to your side of the table, kneeling down to your height. He grabs your chin, gently tilting your head to meet his eyes. You couldn't help the spark of desire that shot up your spine as a wicked smile stretches across Alastor's face," Good. I'd like to see it thoroughly ruined once I'm done with you."

You swore you had a stroke, your eyes wider than the dinner saucers that set the cozy, oak dinner table. You were brought back to reality as Alastor patted your cheek, practically singing when he spoke again.

"Now: let's eat. You'll need this to have your strength, dear~ The hunt starts this evening. Once dinner is finished, you'll have until I fully load the revolver to run. And that's when I'll come for you... understood?"

You had all but forgotten how to breathe, a stupefied nod his only reply as Alastor went back to the stove," Ohhh, almost forgot! We still have some bread from last night! I hope that's alright, dear~"

You were almost numb from the overwhelming sensations and emotions that coursed through your body. You were so excited and so nervous that you couldn't even think of eating. But Alastor had worked so hard to make you a fresh, homecooked meal... who were you to let it go cold? Despite yourself, you happily devoured the entire course, and were soon given seconds. Alastor grants you a coy smile, his expression saying what he kept silent: eat up. You're gonna need it.

---

Like the dutiful partner you were, you helped Alastor clean every dish and utensil used to prepare dinner. Ever the vixen, you even smeared some of the broth across his cheek, just to lick it off. The act made Alastor shudder, but he spared you, merely squeezing your hips and giving you a kiss. As for tonight... well, you wondered just how gentle he would be... if at all.

Once you had dried the last utensil, your ears perked up at the sound of a metallic clink. Your eyes widened, head whipping around to see Alastor opening the barrel to his revolver. He glances towards you, a neutral smile on his face," Oh! Sorry to startle you, dear. Just filling the chamber. 'Thought I heard something stalking outside... I might have to investigate it. You can never be to careful, these days."

You gasped, eyes dilating as you shook with anticipation. Now, now was the time.

You sprinted over to your suitcase, throwing it on the bed as you frantically searched for your nightgown. He was eager to start too, it seemed--

Click. First bullet loaded.

"I say, what a strange time of year...," Alastor rambled as he spun the glistening chamber, pushing up his glasses with the wrist of his other hand. The second bullet was clutched in his fingers, the rest scattered on the counter. You nearly shrieked as you frantically tear off your loungewear, exchanging it for the gown that Alastor requested. He would have thought the action was adorable and meek, if it weren't for his desire to fuck you stupid.

A bemused chuckle fills the air, dark and full of promise.

"What do you think is out there right now, love? A little rabbit, perhaps? With a fluffy white tail?"

Click. Second round.

You made your way hastily to the door as Alastor watched you, wiping the barrel of his revolver with the edge of his flannel. He was taking his time and making this spectacle: that you knew for sure. He seemed aloof, unbothered by your accelerated heartrate... but it agonized him to no end. This zesty little suggestion already had his mind reeling, possibilities of how he would claim you crossing over him every time he blinked.

"No, perhaps it's a deer? A doe, even? I hear it's about that time of year... mating season, that is." Your face grew hot at the notion, cursing yourself for not better preparing for this. You made sure to pull on your hiking shoes, tying the laces tightly. You prayed that they'd stay on to protect your feet.

Alastor hums with curiosity, blinking. Another image of you, trembling and moaning under his body, making his nethers pulse with interest.

"Ohh, maybe a bobcat! Something feisty... I wonder how it would taste?"

Click number three. Halfway through...

You turn around, chest already heaving as you made eye contact with Alastor. He saw you for the deranged, desperate animal that you were. His eyes matched your energy, an uncanny smile on his face. Alastor's pupils were mere pinpricks, the overwhelming expanse of amber and caramel brown nearly glowing.

"I don't know, baby... But whatever it is, I hope it runs fast," you grin to Alastor as he mirrors your expression, his tongue running across his pristine teeth.

"I'd hate to think of what would happen if you caught up to it."

With that, you were out of the door, unable to hear the rapid succession of bullets four, five, and six. Teasing be damned, he was making himself impatient. Alastor made a show of closing the weapon with a hard snap and spin, a satisfying weight settling into his hand. With the gun fully loaded, it just felt so... right. A fascination he gained from his father, unfortunately. Though he did appreciate the skills he learned from the sick bastard, that was the extent of his affection.

He'd have a good number of things to thank him for before the end of the night, as he slipped on his own pair of outdoor boots. When he stepped out onto the deck, he had caught a glimpse of you. That delicate little nightgown was fluttering and fleeting, catching the moonlight. It had to have been around 9 or 10 o'clock at night... A perfect time for your little chase to commence. Not to mention, the cool, crisp Fall air had made everything entirely better; not too hot, and not too cold. For all the weather that permeated in this southern state, Fall in Louisiana had been one of Alastor's favorites. It was his favorite namely for Open Season... and how convenient for him that you were added to the list of eligible, wild game...

He inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of evergreen and pine tickling his senses. He held his breath like this for a while, feeling his chest expand and burn from the denial of oxygen. Once he'd had enough, he exhaled heavily, a shudder running through his entire body. He let you have a decent head start. Now the chase could begin.

---

Your lungs burned from how swiftly you ran, feet carrying you further than you had ever pushed yourself. In that moment, you almost felt liberated, free… as if something had rolled off your chest. You aren't quite sure where this sense of euphoria came from, but you embraced it all the same, laughing breathlessly as your dress caught in stray branches and debris, your boots splashing into the wet, almost marshy forest floor. You breathed in through your nose, feeling a similar pull as Alastor to just take everything in… You were greeted with smells of wood and earth, though, in this part of the forest, you caught whiff of a water source nearby. As if a tether were around your waist, you felt called to it. Your running came to a steady, calm trot, your eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of the night.

You stop just by a clearing, a familiar bayou greeting you. You marveled at the scenery before you, scarcely lit up by the moonlight. You had almost forgotten about your little game with Alastor, brushing stray Spanish Moss aside as you stepped fully out into the open. You smile fondly, a memory crossing your mind:

You, frantically shaking Alastor's shoulders as you try to point out a doe and her darling, new fawn. But, in your desperation, the deer were scared away, frightened by your presence. You had been heartbroken, though your partner swore up and down that he saw them, and that even so: your enthusiasm was a much more charming sight.

You walked a few yards from the water's edge, not wanting to chance it; meeting a creature of the night face-to-face was not your idea of "fun"... unless it was Alastor. You were grateful, then, for your hiking boots, as they made navigating the wet earth beneath your feet much easier. However, your foot catches on your next step, causing you to stumble into a nearby tree. When catching yourself, you spy a delicately carved pattern: yours and Alastor's first initials. (You, later on, had added the heart that surrounded them). Initially, you hadn't wanted to deface a tree like this, but Alastor, ever the charmer, insisted that it would become a landmark for you; a way to tell where you were if you were ever lost...

Your hands traced the familiar carvings, the rivets scratching against your fingertips gently. You just felt your heart swell more, the thoughts of your softer moments making your mind fog. Even with someone hot on your tail, your focus waning. You began humming to yourself as you continued your restful stroll, running through moments in your memory that made you feel particularly cozy; safe.

Just when you had felt your safest, a loud SNAP of a tree twig sounded to your rear left. You froze in your tracks, turning feverishly towards the sound. Your once still, content heart was racing wildly, eyes as wide as the moon looming above you. You slowly turned your entire body to face the noise, making sure to keep your eyes focused on the direction you heard the snap. You start to walk backwards, making your way stealthily towards the tree line.

Most animals will attack you with your back turned… facing them will deter an assault, even if for a few moments, you thought… Just before you could disappear, having half a mind to sprint-- a sudden, deafening CRACK rang out, followed by the splintering of wood. You looked to your left again, as you witness the tree next to you receive a battle scar: a bullet wound.

RUN.

You bolted into the thick underbrush, doing your best to stay low to the ground as a set of steady, patient steps pursued you. Had you not had a good distance on him, your hunter's pace would have been undiscernible from your own. It thrilled you; it horrified you. You knew that Alastor had a knack for hunting, and had you known he was THIS committed, you would have asked for a better head start.

A startling thought plagued your mind as you had a moment of clarity, your face paling. You ASSUMED this was Alastor… what if it wasn't? What if this was a wild animal, who had its sights on you? What if it was another marksman, and you were trespassing on their property? The thought made your throat run dry, the instinct to become small and hide winning over your other senses.

You nearly shrieked as a second bullet wizzes past you, less than a yard away, before it strikes the tree to your right. To your horror: it was at eye level. Had this been a stranger… they were going for the kill.

You crouch all the way down to the forest floor, searching frantically until you spy an hollowed-out tree log. You slink your way over, searching for any residents or critters, before diving headfirst into the tree husk. You laid on your back, bringing your legs in as far as they could go. You winced as your knees scrapped against the dead wood. Unable to calm down, you hastily cover your mouth with both hands. You were doing your absolute best to calm your breathing. Think, now, think… you had to think your way out of this mess.

The steady beat of the hunter's footsteps slowed, until they stop entirely. You resisted the urge to sigh in relief, still unsure if you were safe or not. Eventually, you couldn't hear a thing over the deafening stillness, the normal noises of the woods silenced by your escapade. Much like you, other creatures seemed to wait with bated breath. Maybe they were terrified of the hunter… maybe they were terrified of you.

You twitch as you hear the familiar clink of metal, a revolver's spinning wheelhouse catching your ear. You weren't out of the woods yet… this could still be another person. This could very well be a real hunt… A sharp inhale sounds just a few yards away. You nearly jumped out of your skin, eyes slamming shut. When did that hunter get closer!? Had you misjudged how far away you were from him?!

"Only 4 more bullets, Little Cottontail… let's see if you can evade them all~"

Relief and terror washed over you simultaneously: Alastor. Your body was paralyzed with conflicting emotions, breath picking up as you hear footsteps stirring closer. You could feel the panic rising in your face, blood pressure raging; but you can also feel the traitorous, hazy heat that engulfed your core. Either way, Alastor had you completely on edge, your fragile mind was on the verge of caving in either way. Should you run away, or run to him? That was your conflict…

Knock knock

Your eyes fly open as you dare to look between your bent legs, spying a pair of steely, hungry brown eyes. Pupils mere pinpricks, the whites of his eyes were nearly glowing under the light of the moon.

"There's that sweet, little rabbit!"

You shrieked as you were pulled out of the log, knees and back scrapping against the wood of your shelter. When you met solid earth, you kicked and fought, eyes wide and animalistic. Your body still fell into conflict; you wanted this to be a real chase: FIGHT BACK. Alastor was quick to avoid your kicks, straddling your hips as he tried to restrain your flailing arms. Never did you make contact, but Alastor was cautious to avoid any accidental hits, all the same.

"Oh dear, was I wrong after all? Am I really still chasing a scared, feral little rabbit~? Or something bigger…" Alastor teased, managing to seize one of your hands. It was immediately pinned above your head as you thrashed, grunting and groaning in your efforts to escape. Alastor pressed further into you, eliciting a tight -lipped moan as you felt an unmistakable hardness rub against your core. He was enjoying this much more than his face allowed him to show…

"Be a good little pet, won't you? Won't you let me take you back to my cabin? I promise I'll make this quick and painless~"

You thrashed your head back and forth. You didn't want this to be quick. You didn't WANT it to be painless. You wanted more. MORE of this.

In a daring fit of heightened hormones and rushed decision making, a loud SLAP filled the air. You panted as your hand stung, Alastor's face now jerked to the left, looking away. A flushed, red print was painted across his handsome face, his eyes wide with disbelief. He sat there like this for a few moments, his grip on your hand all but gone. You took this opportunity to slink out from under him, using his dumbfounded expression as a gauge. Truly, how long did you have until he was grounded?

Sadly, it wasn't long, a slender hand cupping the offending, fading mark. You looked down as you saw something move, your mouth watering: his cock was even harder than before, twitching from the sudden outburst. A shaky, broken sigh left Alastor's trembling lips as he slowly looked back towards you. A deep dusty rose flooded his cheeks as he chuckled, his voice full of a wicked venom. His free hand fished for his revolver, the barrel now pointing straight at you.

"Alright, then… no more playing nice."

You immediately vaulted out of the way as a third shot rang out, impacting the earth you had just been sprawled upon. Alastor elegantly got to his feet, like a regal vampire exiting his coffin. He pressed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, pupils wide with desire as he watched you bob and weave into the trees.

"Three more to go," he growled, his grin widening madly as he broke out into a frenzied sprint.

The panic was steadily rising, as did your burning desire. You realized, with horror, that Alastor's pace nearly went in double time, and he was steadily gaining on you. And so, you figured if you were truly to get caught, it might as well be a trap for him too--

BANG

Shot number four rang out, a terror-filled scream igniting the night; this shot was less than a foot from your trembling, straining right leg. You muscles were scorched from the effort you put yourself in, core fully engaged as you tried to focus on breathing. You were unsuccessful, already far too overworked and overheated. You came to the harsh realization that you couldn't run much longer.

You started charting your course carefully, taking dips and turns in hopes to throw Alastor off of your trail… but ever the clever man, he never lost sight of you. And, despite your best efforts, he was nearly on top of your imaginary cottontail. You dared to look behind you, searching for the madman coming for you, only to see he was no where in sight. Your pace slowed down, confused as his footsteps cease. You came to a dead stop, spinning around wildly to find any sign of your darling partner. Your mouth ran dry as you panted, legs nearly giving out from under you. As you took in your surroundings, you feared that you may be lost… truly, genuinely lost.

"A-Al… Alastor? Baby...?" you rasp between pants, a hand coming up to your heaving chest. You take a few, cautious steps back towards the direction you came from, squinting harshly. Your eyes still had not adjusted to the low visibility of the dank, dark forest.

"A-Al… AL?!" you call desperately, scared that you may have lost him, or worse: maybe he was injured... You go to take off again, before a hand snakes around your throat. You couldn't scream as the hand squeezes your pulse, a cold, metallic object pressed into your lower back. Your fear transformed into relief, which transformed into desire, all within a span of few seconds. Familiar, heated lips brushed against the shell of your ear. Alastor's breath was heavy on your skin.

"I guess I didn't need all of my rounds, after all." Alastor nearly purred, despite his labored breathing. His warm breath followed his lips as they came to the junction of your jaw and neck, three fingers unfurling from your pulse. This left him just enough room to litter the bared skin of your neck with short, open mouthed kisses, your eyes fluttering closed. Even with only two fingers squeezing your throat, you still felt lightheaded, unable to escape. You shuddered under his grasp, your body instantly surrendering to his desire. It was official: the chase was officially over. Alastor knew that the moment you sighed into his touch.

"Good girl~"

In a rapid succession, you were grabbed and hauled over Alastor's wide shoulder, his free hand tucking his revolver away. Your hands flew down to grope and run over Alastor's body, your lungs still exhausted from the strife of running away. Alastor allowed your hands to explore, appearing unphased as he carried you out of the woods. He resisted every fiber in his being to not bend you over and fuck you into the damp earth; a filthy act for a filthy-minded girl like you. But, he had at least some modicum of class… he needed to make this last; he would ensure this was something you wouldn't soon forget.

-- You felt embarrassed by how rapidly your heart beat, how frantically you were tugging at Alastor's flannel, but when your eyes looked up to a different building, your heart nearly stopped. You were walking toward 'the shack', Alastor called it… THIS was where he took all of his wild game after hunting them down. Seeing your unease, he slapped you on the ass, hoping to chase away your nerves," Don't worry, darling… I told you I would be gentle~"

His words contradicted his actions as you were practically thrown into the shed, sprawled out onto the floor. Your eyes tried taking in your surroundings, but it was far too dark to see. You yelped as both of your hands were seized and tied with a coarse jute rope, the fibers pricking your wrists. When you felt Alastor leave you, your legs came together, heat still pooling in your lower abdomen," S-Sooo, Mr. Huntsman~ You've caught me~ What do you plan to d--" Your questioning was cut short as you were suddenly jerked onto your knees, your hands now taunt over your head. A few more tugs on your rope, and you were standing upright, struggling to balance on the balls of your feet. You wobbled as you heard shuffling behind you, rope being fastened, and the clink of Alastor's revolver laying on a flat surface.

Alastor left you in suspense like this for a few moments, as he brought his hands together with a satisfied hum. The crisp sound made you jump as if it were gunfire, your cunt nearly drooling as you strained to look for Alastor in the pitch.

"Now then… 'can't see very well like this, can we?"

A lantern was lit just in front of your face, startling you. You realized that Alastor had all but held his breath to get closer to you, those same, silent footsteps deceiving you again. You couldn't find the words to speak, eyes wide with disbelief and desire as you stared back at Alastor's shit eating grin.

"Ahhh, yes… Finally managed to capture you, you tricky thing~," he mused as he flicked the tip of your nose. He chuckled when you wiggled it back and forth and recoiled, almost mimicking the animal he claimed you to be. "No, I don't think you're privy to know what I plan to do to you, with words… But, I can certainly show you." He seized your cheeks roughly with one hand, puckering your lips as he closed the distance between your bodies," But you might enjoy that too, wouldn't you?" Alastor's other hand ran dangerously up your trembling thigh, his face cool and collected as you were practically panting under his touch.

"P-Please…"

Alastor sends you a questioning look, before grinning maliciously," I didn't realize animals could speak, let alone have permission to." A harsh grip on your thigh anchored you to Alastor's pelvis, and you felt the familiar, hardened length on your core. You whined, obeying in silence as Alastor ground against you. His mouth fell open as he pressed his hips again, eager to seek some friction.

"You'd like me to use you, wouldn't you…? Breed this body like a deranged rabbit while you're helpless, defenseless under my touch…" Your mouth watered at the idea, your eyes fluttering as his hand shifted to palm your ass. His smirk was very telling, both hands moving to spread and palm your backside properly. His touch was slow and sensual on your trembling, supple body.

"Or maybe I should lay my claim here… Uncharted wilderness is quite thrilling to explore, don't you think?" His breath was so low it rattled his own ribcage. Without warning, a groan was torn from both of your throats as you bucked into Alastor's hips. Your eagerness was not unwelcomed...

Alastor was rewarded with another broken, wanton moan for his scandalous ideas and his wandering hands. He realized, in that moment, he was telling you exactly what he wanted to do to you. And, in that same moment, he decided that he didn't fucking care.

"Or maybe… maybe I can't wait--" Alastor starts to drag his lips down your form, kissing down your neck, then the valley of your breasts, then your abdominals… before landing at the hem of your still-concealed underwear. "I'm quite parched, love… Surely you won't mind if I quench my thirst, first?" Alastor's hands snake up your thighs as your nightgown is pushed up, revealing his current target: your clothed loins. His pupils shrink as he inhales, almost nuzzling into your inviting cunt. You whine weakly when he gazes up to you with mesmerized eyes; he was as bent out of shape as you were, and he was struggling to keep it concealed… Was he really going to enjoy himself, or sink his teeth in? Your heart stuttered at either possibility.

You nodded down to Alastor, wobbling as you spread your legs as far as you could. Your wrists were reminded of their predicament as you tried to move, thrashing in your restraints. You didn't speak, a firm nod your answer and consent. As Alastor kissed your awaiting heat, he shifted your legs onto his shoulders, alleviating the pressure on your feet. Had you not been so aroused, you would be heavily flustered by this gesture: a kindness yet something so brazen, even for your sweet beau.

He squeezed the meat of your thighs, humming as he licked a warm, wet stripe between your covered lips, the fabric of your panties already drenched with your arousal. You swore you saw his eyelids flutter as he sighed against you, diving in more earnestly. You wailed with frustration, unable to feel the full effect of his tongue just yet. You cared very little, however, as some attention was better than none. Your struggled against your restraints once more, warning hands digging into your thighs. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it simmered into a moan with each wave of pleasure. You wanted to scream as Alastor continued to tease you, unable to regulate your breathing or your moans.

He wasn't kidding; he wanted to eat you out like a man starved, his tongue dancing along your drenched panties wildly. He left no surface unmarked by his sinful, silver tongue. Alastor practically moaned around your sensitive bud, your mind reeling at the sensation as your hips bucked subconsciously. Whether it was because he was enjoying himself, or strictly to stimulate your clit, you weren't sure… but that little noise sent jolts of electricity right to your core.

Despite this: you were rewarded with a nip to your pearl, a whiney, breathy moan your weak rebuttal. You secretly hoped he would tear you apart, just to put you back together and break you again.

Your mind refocused as you felt your underwear being moved to the side, a bold, eager tongue now attending to your bare, puffy folds. You shrieked his name, whimpering from the stimulation. His tongue worked dexterously, licking and coddling every curve, dip, and crevice. Alastor's movements were now raw and unfiltered, MUCH to your delight.

Your legs caged his head, squeezing him closer to you as you felt your orgasm forming at an alarming rate. You couldn't help but mewl, head falling forward and limp as Alastor buried his face into your mound. His straight, rigid nose prodded your clit as he drove his tongue into your aching entrance, your taste and scent engulfing his thoughts. You let out a long, satisfied moan as he began to pump his long tongue in and out of you, working both his spit and your arousal in and out. The slick skin-on-skin squelching did nothing to calm the fire behind your eyes, toes popping with how violently they curled. Alastor continued his brutal pace, unable to get enough of your taste, scent, and special, little cries that were made just for him.

"F-fuhhh~ F-Fahhh--! Ahh! A-Al!" you cried, wanting desperately to use your words; you tried to give him a warning. You were near your climax, tears pricking your half-lidded eyes. You heard Alastor grunt into you, hands rubbing and kneading your thighs, as if asking you to crush his head more. You obliged, bucking into his mouth as your release started to approach. He had his mouth full, no doubt! Even so: you swore you heard Alastor moan and whisper into your folds hastily, suckling and swirling your clit to make you cum.

"F-Fuck-- Oh fuck, cum for me, then--"

Your body spasmed, head tossing back sharply,"F-Fuck, Al-- Al!!! Fuck, cumming--"

The dizzying affect swam over you swiftly, a scream that could be mistaken for pain filling the tiny shack you were in. The force and sudden rise in pleasure was overwhelming, almost maddening as Alastor wound you back down. You were gently set back onto your feet, legs shaking... All the while, his tongue never stopped, making you whine from overstimulation.

"A-Al… please, that's-- G-God! You can stop now-- Ahh~" You would have doubled over if your hands weren't restrained, your tongue lolling out from between your lips. The delightful slurping from below didn't cease, and seemed to become even more feverish. Alastor smiled up at you, parting for just a moment before licking his slick-covered lips.

" Am I not allowed to have seconds, dear?"

Your face seemed to catch on fire as you try to formulate a reply. However, Alastor's mouth knocked it out of you, head vacant as he continues to ravage you. He suckled on your abused clit, hands holding your hips in place as you tried to squirm away from his devious touch.

"F-Fuck! F-Fuck, Al, please--!!! T-Too much-- Ahhn-- T-Too much!!" you cried, your wrists chaffed against the rope that bound you.

Alastor did not relent, instead pressing you further into his face as he feasted upon you. His slurping and gulping nearly doubled with a grotesque volume, his eyes wide and watching you. You trembled under his intense gaze, rushing towards a very intense, unnecessary second orgasm.

"F-Fuck-- Alastor!! A-Al! Fuck, don't--" you whined, tears streaming down your face as the searing heat of the new orgasm washed over you," Pl-Please-- FUCK--"

Another shriek bounced off the walls as a hasty, overwhelming feeling flooded your loins. You winced with embarrassment as you felt a sudden gush of warmth coat your sex and thighs. Of course, Alastor was on the receiving end, but didn't seem to mind, his tongue only slowing when you were practically sobbing into the afterglow. Your legs completely gave out on you, wincing as your arms held your entire body aloft," F-Fuck… Fuuuuckkk…" you whined as your head spun, your eyes blurry from the pleased, hot tears that stained your face. A sweet, warm hand cupped your cheek, forcing you to look Alastor's way.

"An absolutely breathtaking meal, darling…," Alastor panted, his eyes warm but still full of a lusty haze," Please… if you'll have me, I simply can't stop there."

When you gave him a weak but sure nod, Alastor nearly bolted to the secured rope, allowing you to descend to your knees. The warm wooden floor dug into your legs as you waited. Alastor was quick to resecure the rope before looping back to you. " If I were to ravage your pussy now, I'm afraid this little show might end early… So for both our sakes…" Alastor swiftly freed his aching cock, a hand lazily pumping his flushed member. Despite his aversion to touching himself, he sighed into the relief his hand provided.

"Won't you please… allow me to use your sweet lips instead, pet?"

How could you say no, with his words tumbling out sweetly?

With a speed that made Alastor dizzy, you beckoned him to you, tongue first. He allowed you to kiss the head of his flushed cock, eyes drinking in your expressions and your body. He had half a mind to cut the rope holding you hostage, but decided against it when you took him into your warm mouth. Alastor hastily covered his lips, stifling a groan as his other hand fisted your hair. You didn't mind, hollowing your cheeks as you took as much of him in as you could. His public hair tickled the very tip of your nose, his musk invading your senses. Had his mind been clearer, Alastor would've worried about your ability to breathe... but he had to focus on not throat fucking you first.

"Shit-- so warm--," Alastor groaned, his voice still muffled. Despite this, his words reached your perked ears, and causing your wet entrance to flutter around nothing. Alastor flinched, his hips spasming as you took him down to his base. He was jammed far into your throat, your eyes rolling back as you tried to relax around his engorged member. A choked noise and a sputter erupted around his cock, a pleased moan eagerly following. As much as Alastor was enjoying himself, you would be lying if you said choking on Alastor's cock wasn't fun for you.

"Fuck, don't hurt yourself, darling-- I don't need-- FUCK--" The moment you started to bob your head, all words and worries flew out the window, the hand in your hair beginning to guide your descent. Alastor felt like he was being incinerated, his body electrified by your wriggling tongue and tight mouth. His restraint was beginning to wane, hair fanning across his sweat-slicked forehead," Fuck, you take this so well-- Take ME so well--"

Alastor panted, hardly able to keep his eyes open as you whined around him. His grip in your hair grew harsher, his hips beginning to stir.

"So malleable, so eager-- Good God--" Alastor's head fell forward as you created a delicious, tight suction around his dick. The sensation nearly drove him to bellowing, your name tumbling clumsily from his parched lips. He stared at the point where his cock disappeared into your mouth, then up to your teary eyes. Fresh tears spilled over your flushed cheeks, his words causing a shiver to run up your spine. Alastor, completely enthralled, felt his cock throb at the sight of your desperation, gritting his teeth," FUCK-- Damn it all--!"

Straining to reach out of sight, his hand ends up landing on a carving knife. Once he could grip it properly, he hastily swings above you. You flinch for a moment, before your arms relax and fall to your sides. You realized he cut you loose, but you had no time to dabble on the thought. Alastor's cock slid out of your mouth, your jaw setting into a neutral, open shape. Alastor started to stroke himself hastily, using his other hand to gesture in a circle," Turn around-- on all fours. NOW."

You didn't hesitate when that dark, brisk command was thrown your way, clambering like a newborn deer. You turn to look back at him, wagging your hind in a teasing way," Don't want to waste a drop, huh?" you teased, a coy smile on your face. Alastor laughed, breathy and high, as he fell to his knees. He easily towered over you as he aligned himself to your dribbling, plush entrance," You know me too well, love."

The plunge of his cock nearly knocked you onto your stomach, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. To your pleasant surprise, Alastor had bottomed out inside of you. There was a slight discomfort from the sudden intrusion (one that wasn't unwelcome) as a strong arm wrapped around your torso.

" B-Bear with me. I'll fill you up soon, dear--"

You nearly cried as Alastor began to move, hips already hammering into your most intimate place at an animalistic rate. You were truly fucking like rabbits, unable to do anything but chase your own desires. Alastor buried his face into your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his grunts. You were unable to stifle your own, the sounds of your ecstasy bouncing around the room. The steady, rhythmic squelching of your privates were almost drowned out by the steady plap, plap, plap against your ass with every brutish press. You were getting close... And as Alastor's voice rose with yours, you realized he couldn't be fa behind. You allowed yourself to fall forward, cheek smashed against the grain of the floorboards as you arched your back," F-Fuck… fuck me, Alastor-- Hah-- Oh god, please--" Your eyes slammed shut as Alastor's pace only increased, his hips angling in a way that stroked your g-shot with every press.

"Yes, love-- fuck yes, you want this? Harder? Faster? Fuck--" He accented your mental demands with more energy, a hand cupping your bouncing, right breast as the other caressed your stuffed pussy. He sought your puffy pearl at the apex of your cunt, and drew quick, deliberate circles into it.

" Fuck, fuck! I need you to cum-- Want you to cum--," Alastor begged, his breath hot and heavy in your ear," O-One more time, please-- then I'll make sure to fuck my-- Oh fuck! I'll fuck you full of my cum--"

Your mouth hung open, drool pooling under your cheek as you felt your orgasm building for the third time that night, your hands clawing into the wooden floor," F-Fahh-- ahh! Yes!!! Fuck me, shit-- fuck me stupid, Al!!!" you wailed, eyes flying open as he pinched your clit. You clamped resolutely around his cock, your body locking up-- Yes, yes, just a few more thrusts--

"FUCK!!!"

You came with a wail and a tremor, your lungs screaming for air as it was fucked right out of you. Alastor, watching and feeling your body unravel under him, was unable to last any longer. He pressed his forehead into your shoulder, humping once, twice, thrice until he delivered a deep, devastating thrust. Your name became a debauched mantra as you milked his cock, spurts of hot, white seed painting your core. You trembled as you felt it being fucked into you, Alastor sighing into your shoulder.

"Sh-Shit… Shit, I love you. God, I fucking love you--" Alastor cursed into your shoulder, his hips stirring again," I-I can't stop-- fuck, you keep sucking me back in--"

You whined as Alastor started to rut into you again, his hardened length not wavering in the slightest. Like an animal in heat, he proceeded to fuck you through his own climax, eager to fill you up again," F-Fuck, I'm sorry-- You feel too good. Fuck, this is--"

You did your best to look behind you, lips clumsily kissing his temple, his forehead-- whatever you could reach," H-Hahn… hah, it's okay! Pl-Please, use me… F-Fuck, you can use me again! I wanna feel you cum in me again, Al!"

Alastor needed little convincing, his overstimulation outweighed by his desire. The cries that dripped from your mouth were sweeter than the honey and slick between your legs," G-God-- God, mon amour-- FUCK!"

You were smiling deliriously as Alastor used your sensitive cunt to chase another high, head foggy and vision blurry. You could do nothing but whine and shake as you were not only fucked through your orgasm, but felt your loins boil with an impending, new release. You couldn't say a word as each thrust pushed a scream from your diaphragm, Alastor's own throes of pleasure mirroring yours. The both of you made eye contact, and for the first time in a long time you saw… Alastor wasn't smiling?

Alastor's brow was knit together, face hard and yet so flushed as his mouth hung open in a wide, desperate "O". You felt your walls flutter around Alastor, the sight almost as beautiful as his trademark smile. Hastily, Alastor pulled you up by your throat, squeezing as you were forced to face away… The growl that was rumbled into your ear did little to slow down your peak.

The smile that danced across your face was unmatched; you had gotten Alastor to completely melt into you, unable to keep his 'armor' on. He was drunk off of your body, and he was unable to hide just how much he wanted both of you to cum. You mentally cheered, unable to shake the feeling of victory as that tension in your belly snapped. You unleash a broken, primal scream as Alastor fills your womb with another load, his semen spilling out from your writhing cunt. Completely out of breath, both of your collapse to the floor. You were left gasping and wheezing as Alastor sunk into you deeper, fully sheathed and pressing into your cervix. The sensation just made you whimper into your afterglow, lips twitching as you both wound back down…

You both lay on the floor like this for a few moments-- hell, maybe for an hour-- trying to regain your bearings. Trembling hands caressed your body, while your own reached up to pet and stroke at soft, chestnut brown hair. A tired chuckle fills your ears as Alastor closes his eyes, a content sigh rolling off his chest.

"You never fail to amaze me. And, of course… you never fail to make me cum either," Alastor admits, a sheepish blush creeping across his face. You nod, your laughter just as meek," Y-Yeah… fuck, you… you did all the work," you quipped, feeling Alastor shake his head. He kissed at your shoulders, trailing them up your neck and to your heated cheeks.

"Darling, if anything deserves the praise, it would be your nethers… She put on quite a show." You lightly elbowed him in the ribs, the both of you laughing like teenagers," Or maybe your brain… for coming up with a delicious roleplaying scenario?"

You hum for a moment to contemplate, before sighing," Fair enough… I'll take that," you profess, looking up and back towards your exhausted partner," Alastor?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Thank you again, for all of this... and-- sorry about slapping you earlier," you chuckle, your face burning under Alastor's sweet gaze. He seemed entirely unbothered, shrugging," Ahh, nothing but a passionate act in the heat of the moment. Think nothing of it-- as long as you don't mind me slapping this again~" You squeaked as your ass received a playful tap, like a friendly, sportsman’s slap of approval.

"Good job~"

You rolled underneath Alastor, his cock finally freed when you sprawled out onto your back. You invited him to lay his head on your chest, which he gladly accepted. You could feel the tension in his body dissipate the moment he laid down, his eyes fluttering closed. You brushed the hair away from his face, giggling at the adorable sight of your dopey, sleepy lover.

"Alastor... don't fall asleep on me, now. We still need to get back to the cabin." Alastor groaned, brow furrowing. Stubborn as a bull, he nuzzled into your chest face-first, sighing as your heartbeat lulled him," Just a few more minutes, dear… I don't believe either of us could stand, even if we wanted to."

You hummed, patting Alastor on the head as you conceded," Touché… But I blame you for that."

"And not our heated chase, dearest?"

You snort as you try not to laugh, belly aching from holding back," Fuck, that's fair... Maybe we can play a little closer to home next time?" You smile down at your partner as he adjusts himself. Finally, he came up for air as his chin settled between your breasts, his eyelids still heavy from exhaustion. 

"Oh sweetheart, where would the fun be in that? You know I love a good chase~" 

He moved further up, caging your body with his as he gave you a tender, quick kiss," You can run, hide, do whatever you like... as long as we both have fun, that's all that matters– our legs be damned..." You can't help but nod and laugh, pushing Alastor back into your bosom. Your sleepy beau can't help but hum in approval, your chest a warm, welcoming pillow. 

"You're right... that's all that matters. But really, I-- I love you, Alastor. I can’t help but thank you again. For all of this…" Your partner stills for a moment, a dark, intense flush coming across his face and neck. You can't help but laugh as he hides his face into your chest again, sighing dramatically," I love you too, mon ange... For now, I'll settle for saying it, as I'm far too tired to show you again right now..."

You chuckle as you crane your neck down, kissing his crown before letting your head thunk against the floor," You already show me more than enough, baby... More than you know." 

The silence is calming, even comfortable as the two of you find yourselves drifting off to sleep. Thankfully, the autumn heat and the union of your bodies was more than enough to keep you warm. Both of you allowed yourselves just one, brief nap while the crickets and cicadas harmonized outside the window... A perfect, peaceful conclusion to a passionate, relentless hunt. 

[hellishjoel]

a visu videre (a sight to see)

4k / pairing: general marcus acacius x lucilla acacius x f!personal attendant

main masterlist | notifications blog

summary: Before Marcus leaves to lead his army to a distant province, he teaches you how to please his wife, Lucilla, while he’s away - and sees what you’ve learned upon his return. 

warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), porn without plot, threesome (fmf), swearing, size kink, free use, spanking, rough sex, praise & degradation kink with accompanied dirty talk, pet names (marcus uses sweet girl, lucilla uses darling girl), oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstim (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, spitting in the mouth is romantic, inexperienced/virgin!reader, unprotected p in v, reader is described having hair and wears a stola, but otherwise (I believe) no physical description, no use of y/n

A/N:  I'm very thankful to @pedgito and her writing of Marcus in little dove! I'm usually a bit hesitant to write new characters whose lore I know literally nothing about, but we all saw those vanity fair exclusives, how could I not! thank you Ali for the encouragement and honoring "fuck it we ball" - graphics made by @saradika-graphics!

You have never lived as a free woman, not until beginning your servitude to General Marcus Acacius and his wife, Lucilla.

Averse to owning slaves, they filled their home with paid servants. From domestics to weapons and armorers, the high-profile family required additional hands.

Their home in the city, a magnificent testament to the General’s success and high status, was a reflection of the family’s opulent wealth and esteemed social standing. Their domus in the city of Rome was a sight to behold, and as a personal attendant, you were entrusted with knowing every nook and cranny. 

From the preference of their foods to their nightly desires, it was your duty to fulfill.

After serving their every need, you could not help but fall in love with the pair who had gifted you a life of freedom and happiness. 

The attraction was immediate despite it feeling forbidden. It was gentle gestures at first. 

After serving a meal to the General in his study, his rough hand felt over the material of your stola, a simple dress in his family’s colors - gold to symbolize his wealth and power, lined with purple to show the high status of his military success. 

“Beautiful,” he muttered in his stolen raspy voice, his eyes gleaming as he took in your figure the belt around your waist provided. 

You felt the warmth of his hand further into the night, allowing you to sit upon his desk as his fingers and mouth worked you to a flourishing orgasm. His fingers were thick, leaving a painful turned pleasure-inducing ache that you didn’t even know was possible. 

“Your cunt is perfect,” he hummed out as he aided you onto his lap in the afterglow, allowing you to curl into his broad chest and strong shoulders. 

The guilt sat deep in your stomach, using you for his pleasure while his wife was just down the hall. 

“Dominus, what of your wife? Will she not be upset?”

Marcus ran his fingers across the sweet skin of your cheek, staring into your innocent eyes. “You will keep my wife company while I lead our army to a distant province. I trust you to pleasure her as I have taught you.” 

You didn’t believe him, not until you were helping Lady Lucilla undress after a long day. She was missing her husband. The long days without him were torturous. Her eyes began to lust over as you bathed her, running a natural sponge and Egyptian cucumber along her skin. 

“Your hands, they are so soft,” she praised, gently clasping her hand in yours. 

Your smile was shy, and your lips slowly parted as she dragged your hand below the bath water, feeling over her bosoms. “Thank you, Matrona,” you whispered breathlessly as she squeezed your hand around her breasts, watching in awe as the simple gesture caused her eyes to fall closed in euphoria. 

You cannot deny you haven’t thought of her beauty. The General and his wife are both undeniably attractive, allure dancing over their skin like little stars. 

After her invitation to join her in the bath, you used what the General taught you with his fingers. It was a little clumsy at first, but she was patient and guided you to where she needed you to be. You gasped as you felt her cunt spasm around your fingers as her body slipped deeper into yours, her head falling onto your shoulder as she gave sweet kisses to your pulse point. 

She insisted she return you the favor the very next night. You laid in their silky sheets and melted in her hold under the candlelight. 

They were perfect opposites; Marcus was strong and rough, whereas Lucilla was gentle and tender. 

You were a guest in her chamber nearly every night the General was gone and stayed until the early morning light. Lucilla would spoon your body against hers, your interlocked fingers resting over your naked body. 

Soon, there was no guilt, only mutual pining. Love swarmed all three of you into a buzz, despite the General away on duty. 

He sends letters to you both, dirty promises he intended to keep upon his return. You made love together in Marcus’ name, while Lucilla affirmed that you had a place in their relationship and nothing would change. 

You both ached in wait for him, an ache that was only soothed by your nights together. And if you were truthful, you liked being used by them. Filling the void of the other on long, lonely nights. 

Day and night, you were hers to use as she pleased.

One night as you cooked her dinner, Lucilla entered the culina and pushed your stola over the curve of your ass. She kneeled and made out with your cunt as you shook in her hold, still attempting to finish her soup. 

“M-My Lady, here?” You squeaked, feeling her palms knead into your ass, feeling the sting of her nails as she took what she needed from you. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you, of your taste,” she whispered before continuing. 

Marcus' arrival was due any day now, only amping up your and Lucilla’s wild imaginations. 

“He’ll be ravenous,” she whispers, fingers intertwined in your hair as you explicitly slurp up her arousal. “Lords,” she gasps, jaw dropping as her head shoots up to watch you eat her pussy in their bed, “please, do that again,” she begs. 

You mimic the small ministration again, curling your fingers deep inside her cunt, feeling her walls pulse with need. 

“My Lady, he will not be able to take his eyes off you.”

“Or you.” She cooes, moaning out your name with little regard to volume. 

The amount of times you’ve prayed to feel Marcus in the intimate ways that Lucilla has is unimaginable. You’ve never felt the feeling of his cock, but Lucilla has described it to you in a way of preparation. 

“We’ll make sure you’re amply wet. It will hurt, but only for a moment, my darling girl.” 

You moan against her cunt, feeling your arousal begin to soak the sheets. 

Heavy boots thud down the hallway, but the both of you are too lost in the pleasure of one another to notice - not even when the door opens. 

“A sight to see.” 

It’s the return of Marcus, both of you gasping - Lucilla’s of excitement and yours of feeling caught. 

Despite Marcus assuring your match, you were still nervous to see him. And you certainly weren’t expecting him to return tonight with your tongue on his wife’s pussy. 

“Meus amor,” Lucilla moaned to Marcus, stroking your hair as you both sat up.  Marcus was still in his armor, a brilliant metal chest plate with Medusa coursing through the front with long hair of slithering snakes sprialing out across the extent of it. 

Lucilla moves to his side, bare naked, her body curving around his own as she holds him in her arms. 

“Lords, have we missed you,” she praises as Marcus’ hand fell low to cup her ass in his large palm. 

“My beautiful wife.” He whispers, kissing her slowly. 

They both turn to you, and you feel the burning sensation that you should leave and allow them to resume their love in peace. Instead, Marcus opens his other arm to you. 

“Let me see you, pretty girl. Come here,” he commands. You fill into the space of his side, all three of you hugging as his hands take claim of both Lucilla and your ass. 

“You’ve taken care of her like I asked?” You’re shocked to see his question is to Lucilla who proudly smiles. 

“She’s been nothing but an angel. She should be nice and ready for you, my love.” Lucilla whispers as she leans up and slowly kisses her husband. Your eyes soften as you watch, laying your head against his shoulder, your warm cheek against his cold armor. It’s a nice contrast compared to the warmth in the room. 

Marcus hums as he deepens the kiss with his wife, watching his tongue slip into her mouth as his fingers slip between her ass and move downward to the slick of her pussy. 

A moment passes and he breaks the kiss, turning to you now and leaning in. 

You’ve never shared a kiss with him, but it’s like you imagined. He’s rougher than Lucilla, needier. Away at war and away from his lovers, his lust for you both pumps through his veins. The course hair of his mustache gristles against your lip, his arm locking you tighter against his hold as you allow him to lead. 

Lords, how can you miss something you’ve never even experienced? 

A gasp enters his mouth as he feels over your pussy, how gloriously wet you are for the both of them. 

“Get on the bed. Now.” 

Lucilla smirks at you and takes your hand in hers, guiding you to the bed. 

He begins to take off his armor, hearing the loud metal clatter to the floor as Lucilla kisses you with reimagined heat. Now that her husband has returned, she showers you with even more affection and praise. 

“How do you want us, Marcus?” Lucilla asks before she begins to kiss down your neck and to your breasts, leaving wet kisses on your nipples before beginning to circle your peaks with her tongue. 

Marcus watches with authority, his dark hair cast with speckles of silver as more and more of his body is shown to you for the first time. Lucilla seems to take notice, moving behind your body and adjusting your position on your knees to face Marcus at the edge of the bed. 

“He’s handsome, wouldn’t you agree?” She whispers into your ear as her hand slips down the front of your body, slowly beginning to make circles around your already twitching clit. You whine weakly, to which Marcus smirks. 

He sheds his undergarments, seeing his tan skin and body littered with old battle scars. 

“You are unscathed? You are not hurt?” You whisper out of care, Marcus cooing softly as he comes closer and cups your cheek in his large hand. You allow the weight of your head into his protective hand, large eyes watching as he coddles you. 

“I’m unhurt, sweet girl. Do you like how Lucilla touches you?” He asks as he strips out of his last garment, your eyes landing on his hard cock that angrily knocks against his lower stomach. The hair around his cock is dark, and all you wish to do is make it sopping wet. 

At the sound of her own name, Lucilla speeds up her touches. You whimper out, your body shuddering into hers as she holds you tight and upright. 

“The General has asked you a question, my dear,” Lucilla encourages. This only probes a faster speed of her fingers and the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

“I-I love it, I love it,” you whisper as your head falls back onto her shoulder, Lucilla moaning softly into your ear as she grinds herself against your bare ass for any bit of friction she can get. 

“I think we should allow Marcus to have his way with us. Would you agree, my love?” She whispers to you, her other hand beginning to tweak and pinch at your nipples, only causing you to grow wetter. 

“Fuck,” Marcus admires, “she’s so prone to your touch, Lucilla. You’ve done good.” He praises his wife, only causing her body to shudder against yours. 

“Take us,” you gasp out, desperate eyes meeting his own, “please.” 

Marcus positions you as he pleases, laying you on top of Lucilla and hiking both of you to the edge of the mattress. Your ass lies over hers, your pussies perfectly lined up as Lucilla is pitched up onto her knees and resting her forearms against the bed. 

“First touch for my wife,” Marcus says as he begins to line his tip to her entrance. 

Lucilla twitches at the touch but ultimately shakes her head. 

“Allow it to her, my love. She’s never felt the touch of a man before, and I want her to feel you for the very first time. She’s waited for so long. I want to feel her cum slide down onto my cunt.” 

The couple is so giving, allowing only for a most powerful match in the bedroom where everyone wins. 

“As you wish.” Marcus manhandles your ass above Lucilla, stroking a hand down your lower back and playing with your hair. That is until he fists the ends and cocks your head upright. You hold a breath as your breasts stick to Lucilla’s warm back, feeling his tip prod against your entrance. 

And you’re reminded that Marcus is to take what he wants. 

In one swift thrust, he fills you to the brim. A cry is strangled from the depths of your throat, feeling Marcus pull your hair tighter in his hold. 

“Oh, Gods, holy hell,” you whimper as he groans. Your entire body feels like it is on pins and needles, Lucilla moaning with you as Marcus massages your ass in his greedy hands. 

“Been too fuckin’ long without my girls,” he grunts as he grinds himself into your ass, feeling both you and Lucilla shuffle with his movements. The coarse hair around his cock tickles your clit, Lucilla feeling you jerk at the sensitivity. 

“How do you feel, darling?” Lucilla whispers, turning her head and capturing your distracted lips. 

It’s impossible to string words together, the coursing thump of your walls against his protruding cock was enough to leave you mute in pleasure. 

Your gasp enters the room as Marcus strikes his hand down onto your ass, quick to massage the plush flesh under his hold. He was so different from his wife, but this pleasure of rough desperation sprouted a new flood of arousal to gush around his member. 

“My wife asked you a question,” he pants, keeping himself stationary inside you until you answer. 

“Give her a moment, my love, she’s never felt a cock before.” Lucilla coos as she reaches back around both of your hips, her hand a soothing one compared to the burning print on your other cheek. 

“I-I feel,” you gulp, panting weakly into Lucilla’s ear, “I fear I like it when he n-needs me,” you whisper, to which they both smirk wider. 

“Did you hear that Marcus? She likes being a little whore to your cock.”

Marcus hums appreciatively, the rough hand stroking your ass going to squeeze what was his once more. 

“Knew she’d be a good girl for us.” Marcus reels back his hips, your jaw dropping at the feeling that damn near burns - but you now see what Lucilla was speaking of on your nights together. 

His cock is thick and large, swollen inside of you that allows you to feel every inch of him as he claims your cunt to be his. The ache of being gaping open for him begins to glimmer into pleasure, sweat beginning to coat your body as he quickens his hips over and over again. 

It rocks you deeper into Lucilla, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She moans with you in unison; your pleasure hers, her pleasure yours, and both of your pleasures are Marcus’. 

He begins to groan obscenities to you both as he pushes you to the edge, your fists clenching the bed sheets as pleasure overcomes you. 

“Gods, this cunt is so goddamn tight, breaking this pussy in, makin’ it the shape of my cock,” he grunts as he begins to pound into you at a relentless pace, causing your screams and cries of pleasure to echo through his chamber. 

“This pussy is all ours, right sweet girl?” He hums as he stuffs you full once more, your shaky breaths against Lucilla’s shoulder leaving you breathless. 

“Y-Yes, sir, thank you, thank you,” you pant, all of a sudden falling a bit limp over Lucilla as he eventually slips his cock from your pussy, down to his wife. 

It’s as if life is shot through her body, holding you up with ease as all of her muscles are alerted as his cock spears through her entrance. 

“Christ,” She moans, smirking as her eyes fall close. 

Marcus hums approvingly, beginning to hump into her and watching in delight as your ass slaps against his abdomen with each thrust. 

“Feels so good to be back inside my home, my temple,” he worships her endlessly, holding her hips below yours and keeping her spread and steady. 

“Holy hell,” Lucilla cries out, feeling every single nerve in her body twitch at the feeling of her husband being inside of her once more. 

You bravely turn your head and look over your shoulder, in awe of the sight before you. Marcus’ muscles are all outlined and strong, his arms bulging as you marvel at the thick veins coursing up his forearm. The lewd smacks of your asses against his front are damn near enough to get you off. 

He smirks as he stares at you, only fucking his wife harder and faster. Almost in a look of permission, you bring your fingers up to your mouth and slip them in, suckling around each of your fingers until they are nice and wet. 

With his nod, you reach around Lucilla and begin to circle her clit. She lets out a shocked moan, her eyes widening as you and Marcus work in unison to get her off. Your lips messily meet, your kisses rocked by his thrusts as you begin to circle her faster and faster. 

“That’s it, please, yes!” She cries out, shaking and crumbling before you as she comes down Marcus' length. 

“Don’t stop touchin’ her,” He barks. 

Though he halts his thrusts, your fingers continue over her spasming pearl. She cries out your name and continues to twitch below you, shaking weakly as she comes a second time. You feel the stickiness against your fingers, and you greedily take them in your mouth, moaning softly at the sweet taste. 

“Fuck,” Lucilla whispers as Marcus releases his hold on her and slips out, his cock still hard as a rock and resting against his stomach. 

You both tumble onto the bed, your smile wide as you watch her come down from her euphoric orgasm. 

“She… she hasn’t come yet, Marcus.” Lucilla weakly whispers, crawling up the bed as both you and Marcus share a look. 

“You want me to finish her, my love?” 

Lucilla hums and nods, crawling up to the pillows as she lounges casually, eyes lust over as she watches. 

“You owe her for the many nights she served me. Make her feel as good as you make me feel.” 

Lucilla notes the uncertainty in your face, cooing softly as she strokes her fingers over your face reassuringly. “I want you to have him. It would make me the happiest. Believe me, darling girl.”

Lucilla lays you back in front of the towering Marcus, his eyes raking over your body in a way that makes you nervous. Then he begins to stroke over his messy cock, slick in both of your arousal and his wife’s come. 

“Lie with me?” You ask her weakly. Lucilla and Marcus share a look, to which he shakes his head. 

Lucilla smiles tiredly and kisses your lips softly, one of love and care. “Let him take you fully for the first time. I want to watch him have his way with you.” 

With her encouragement, you face Marcus who steps between your spread legs. Now that it’s just you two, it’s intimidating the way he stares down at you. Stern eyes cast over with desperation, his cock hard and ready to come. 

But he’s more intimate this time, his body caging you in as he leans over you and hovers his face over yours. You nip at your lower lip as his tip nudges against your entrance, nodding softly as your eyes meet his.

He’s slower this time, groaning as your pussy surrounds him. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he rocks his hips, feeling them maliciously snap the entirety of his length into you. “Been fantasizing about this, bein’ the first to feel this pussy.”

You nod again and gently cup his cheeks, watching as his eyes soften and stare down at you. Something primal seems to take over; taking you has made him protective, maybe even in a way that claims you. 

You’re his, hers, theirs. 

He takes in each cry you let out as he begins to pound into you repeatedly, your chest swelling as he trails kisses down your neck, suckling each of your nipples into his mouth. Fisting the sheets grounds you, but you note the loss of his focus. You return your hands to his face and he’s there again, fucking you like he owns you, like he loves you. 

And maybe he does. Maybe he loves you like Lucilla does. But it would take more time to chip away at this soldier’s heart. But to be given the chance is something notable. 

His aquiline nose nudges against yours, damn near growling as you lean up and pepper kisses down his jawline and along the coarse hair of his beard. 

“Lucilla wrote how good you feel- fuck, she was right,” he forces out, hearing his voice strangle around his words. He’s close. 

His thumb moves to your clit, ensuring you both finish together. You whimper at the electric contact, gasping as your lips brush against his own. He circles your clit faster, and his hips become more erratic with desperation. 

“Finish inside her, meus amor,” Lucilla encourages, but you’re not sure how that feels. 

Heat slips down your spine as Marcus seems to find a special spot that makes your stomach drop, moaning out for him to please you. 

“I want to feel you, p-please, this feels too good,” you whisper to him, your whines on repeat with each thrust he gives you. 

“Fuck,” he groans out, “you first,” he insists, circling your clit faster faster faster and finally, you come around his cock. Your walls pulse around him, feeling your white cream coat his throbbing cock. 

You fall limp in his hold, your pearl twitching as you feel the aftershocks of your orgasm. It feels so much different with a man; you’re not sure if you love one more than the other, or maybe you love them equally. 

Marcus, in the high of chasing his own orgasm after yours, moves his arms under your body, his hands bracing the top of your shoulders. With this hold, he locks you into place, and it allows him to plow into you unrelentingly. 

“Fuck,” You cry out, feeling every inch of him over and over and over again. You reach blindly up the bed, your fingers extended as Lucilla takes your hand. 

Marcus feverishly kisses you, deep and with need as his tongue slips into your mouth and lines his own with yours. He pulls away but only for a second, spitting into your open mouth before chasing your lips once more. 

In one, two, three more thrusts, he stalls inside of you. A groan enters your mouth as his warmth paints your walls and you feel each spurt as he finishes deep inside your cunt. He groans your name, watching as his face contorts in pleasure.  

All three of you fall into bed together, panting with all energy drained, eyes closed, basking in your shared pleasure. 

That feeling comes over you again as Marcus moves up the bed, lazily kissing his wife and feeling over her skin. 

“Missed you.” He whispers to her. 

You move to stand, your shaky legs nearly giving out beneath you as you collect your clothes scattered on the floor. 

“Where are you going?” They ask in unison, concern lacing over their features. 

“I,” you start weakly, looking between them. “I thought I should return your marital bed. I haven’t slept in mine in ages.” You whisper with a smile. “Really, I insist.”

“Get back in this bed.” Marcus commands, wrapping his arm around his wife who is curled into his side. 

“Please.” Lucilla insists, reaching her hand across Marcus’ chest and keeping it open for you. 

You graciously smile and pad over to the open space on Marcus’ other side, slowly filling in and relaxing in their embrace. 

Lucilla shares a kiss with you as Marcus cradles the back of both of your heads, smiling tiredly as you sigh into her mouth. 

“My girls.” He praises, both you and Lucilla leaning in and sharing a kiss between all three of you. 

main masterlist | notifications blog

[lendeah]

Happy Memories

Also on AO3

Summary: Based on this line from the epilogue- One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags:  Fluff and Smut, 6 months post-finale, Lovemaking, Domestic Fluff, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Love Confessions, it's so soft really, Soft Astarion, they have just been through so much, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

WARNING: +18, minors DNI

The past few months had been a trying time, both of you struggling to come to terms with the events that had transpired. The weight of it all hung heavy in the air, leaving you to navigate through nightmares and Astarion's bouts of dissociation. Yet, somehow, you were making progress. Together.

You had taken it upon yourself to find a cure for Astarion's condition, a challenging task made even more difficult by his returned aversion to sunlight. But it gave you both a purpose, something to look forward to - a brighter tomorrow. The greatest source of joy in your present life was the simple act of lying down next to him every night, enveloped in each other's arms with the comforting knowledge that tomorrow you would once again wake up without the constant fear of losing him.

Together, you had found solace in a serene cottage by Riverbend, settling into a comfortable routine. You delighted in gardening and cooking, while he took care of household chores and lovingly mended and sewed your clothes. On lazy afternoons, you would paint alongside him as he engrossed himself in endless books. It was pure bliss, and you were content with your perfectly imperfect life together.

As the two of you prepared for bed, Astarion wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. In the past, such an intimate gesture would have caught you off guard, but he has since learned to let his guard down and embrace moments of tenderness. Though he still struggles at times, he relishes in this display of affection.

"Everything alright, my love?" you asked, resting your head against his.

Astarion's arms tightened around you as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "Alright would be an understatement," he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. "I am absolutely enchanted, my dear."

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm glad to hear that, because I am enchanted too," you said softly.

Astarion leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. You hummed against his mouth, savoring the familiar feeling of his soft lips moving against yours. He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "I have something I want to show you."

Curiosity sparked within you, but you simply nodded and followed him as he led you outside. The moon was high in the sky, casting its soft glow over everything. Astarion took your hand and led you toward the nearby meadow. And that's when you see it: he has prepared the scenery around to look like the one from the first night you shared together, back at the Grove.

"What is this?" You say, with a huge grin decorating your face.

Astarion's crimson eyes shone with excitement as he turned to you. "This, my love, is a recreation of the night we first shared at the Grove," he said proudly.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you. The soft grass beneath your feet, the gentle rustling of trees in the distance, and a small basket filled with wine and various snacks, right next to a small blanket.

"I thought we could relive that enchanted evening, but this time we'll make it truly unforgettable." His fingers caressed your cheek, gently wiping away a stray tear, as he added with a cheeky smile, "Because let's be honest, the first time was... underwhelming."

You smiled at him, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, my love, this is incredible," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion's smile widened and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Anything for you," he whispered into your ear.

You stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a while, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Eventually, Astarion led you over to the basket and poured some wine for both of you. As the night went on, the two of you talked and laughed, reminiscing about your early days together and all the adventures you had been on since then. And with each passing moment, it felt as if the world had paused just for the two of you, as if all the events of the previous months were leading up to this one perfect moment.

As midnight approached, Astarion stood and held out his hand. "Shall we dance under the moonlight?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised a teasing eyebrow, "Has the spirit of Wyll possessed you?"

Astarion chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, my dear, you wound me! I assure you, this idea is entirely my own. Besides, who needs Wyll's spirit when I have enough charisma to ignite the heavens themselves?" He flourished a grand gesture, pretending to adjust an imaginary top hat atop his head.

You couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics. "How could I resist such an offer from the ever-enchanting Astarion?" you teased, accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back as he led you in a slow and graceful waltz beneath the soft glow of the moon. The world around you seemed to fade away as you slowly swayed in each other's arms.

"I don't remember this happening on our first night," you murmured against his ear, remembering how different that moment had been compared to this one.

A low, seductive chuckle escaped Astarion's lips as they brushed against your skin. "And pray tell, darling, what do you recall?"

"I remember you trying to seduce me and then almost draining me dry," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Astarion let out a dramatic gasp. "Such slander! I would never do such a thing!" He pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

You both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet night. It was a stark contrast to the fake seducing words and lack of feelings of that first night. Now, he was completely at ease, his true self shining through without any pretense or hunger clouding his mind.

"But it was still special," Astarion whispered, stopping the dance to pull you closer to him. "It's what brought us to be here now, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering at his words, as you leaned in to kiss him. It was a gentle and sweet kiss at first but soon turned more passionate as Astarion deepened it. His hands grabbed your thighs and picked you up to press you up against a nearby tree, lips trailing down your neck.

"This is bringing back memories," You say breathlessly.

You could feel him smirk against your skin "Do you really think so? Perhaps I should refresh them even more."

His declaration sent a wave of warmth through your body and you leaned in to kiss him again, eager to lose yourself in the moment. His hands were now unbuttoning your shirt and you gasped as they reached your bare skin. You looked at his hooded eyes, and with a playful smile, offered your neck to him.

However, Astarion pulled away slightly and looked into your eyes, with something like doubt swimming in them. "I want this to be real," he said earnestly. "Not like last time."

You nodded in understanding and smiled softly at him. "It already is," you reassured him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it was slow and tender – an exchange of affection rather than something laced with hunger or deception. Astarion picked you up again and gently set you down on the soft blanket that he had laid out earlier. He leaned in to kiss you once more, his body hovering over yours.

As you entwined your fingers in his soft, white locks, you pulled him towards you, deepening the kiss. His hands explored every curve and dip of your body, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine with each touch.

As his lips trailed from yours, they left a tingling sensation in their wake. Your hands eagerly reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Astarion's hungry gaze followed every movement as you unbuttoned your jeans and let them fall to the ground. With a grin, he helped you out of your remaining clothes before stepping back to fully appreciate your naked form glistening under the moonlight. His eyes traced every curve and dip of your body before meeting your gaze once again, a hunger evident in his expression.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, and then pulled you into another passionate kiss. Your fingers traced the lines of his bare chest, feeling the softness of his skin. You tugged at his shirt, silently urging him to remove it, and he obliged with a sly smile. His pants soon followed, revealing the chiseled contours of his body. Your hands traced over every ridge and dip of his body, feeling the coolness of his skin against your fingertips.

"I want you to bite me," you whispered urgently.

Astarion leaned down to press his lips against the nape of your neck, making you gasp and arch into him as he traced his fangs along your pulse point. Your skin tingled with excitement as his hands eagerly explored your body before gripping your hips, sending shivers of desire through you.

"Tell me if it becomes too much," he whispered against your skin before sinking his teeth into your neck gently.

You gasped at the sensation – a mix of pleasure and pain that sent sparks flying through your body. Astarion's grip on your hips tightened as he drank from you, his other hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts. You moaned as he continued to drink from you, feeling the pleasure building up inside of you.

After a few minutes, Astarion pulled away and licked the wound on your neck before kissing it gently. His red eyes met yours and they were glowing with a mix of emotions – desire, love, and something else that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I'll never grow weary of that," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss. Astarion's lips trailed down your neck and onto your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way towards your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. Every touch of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure through your body and you arched your back in response.

"Astarion..." you panted.

The sound of his name on your lips only spurred him on, and he began to suckle harder, moving to tease the other nipple with his fingers. His hand moved from your breast to between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He slipped his fingers between your soaking folds, skillfully rubbing and circling your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through you, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer.

Astarion smirked against your skin before moving down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you with hunger in his eyes before diving in with his tongue, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

His tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on as he continued to please you.

"Astarion...oh gods..." you cried out, your voice thick with need. His fingers thrusted into you relentlessly, syncing perfectly with the skilled movements of his tongue on your swollen clit. Your body arched and trembled with each wave of pleasure, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

"Inside...now..." you begged, unable to find the words to express the ache for him to fill you completely.

Astarion looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes filled with lust and desire, "Whatever you wish, dearest."

With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your slick entrance and aligned himself at your dripping core. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tightness and heat engulfing him. A moan escaped your lips as you were filled to the hilt, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your bodies melted together, panting and trembling with pleasure. He then leaned in close, and gently rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you held each other.

"I never envisioned discovering someone like you," Astarion said softly, "You have made these six months of happy memories counterweight two hundred years of misery."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes at his words. The weight of his words, the realization that you have brought true joy to someone who has known nothing but misery, crushes you in the most beautiful way.

"I...I love you," you managed to choke out, your heart overflowing with emotion as you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbone with trembling fingers. "More than anything."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all of his emotions into it. You both stayed like that for a few moments, just lost in each other.

"I love you more than my own existence," he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "You are my everything."

Without hesitation, he leaned down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss, and you savored the feeling of his lips against yours. Eventually, he starts slowly moving inside of you, each thrust calculated and precise as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, still lazily kissing him. Astarion continued to move inside of you with slow, deliberate strokes, making love to you in the most intimate way. Every movement is filled with intense desire and tenderness, eliciting uncontrollable moans of pleasure from your lips.

"You feel so good," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with adoration.

Your legs wrapped around his toned waist, your fingers tightly gripping his as he moved inside you. Each thrust was met with a moan from your lips, the heat and friction between your bodies igniting a passionate fire within you. He held you close, his lips eagerly finding yours in between each deepening thrust. The intensity and intimacy of the moment had you lost in a sea of pleasure, feeling every inch of him as he poured his love into every movement. Your body trembled as you neared your climax, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation any longer. Sensing this, he shifted his hand between your bodies, his fingers finding their way to your clit once again.

"Oh gods," you cried out as the pleasure intensified. Your body trembled and your breath quickened as Astarion's fingers moved expertly over your skin. You dug your nails into his back, desperately trying to hold on as he brought you closer to the edge.

"I'm close," Astarion grunted, his own body trembling with need.

"I am too," you whimpered.

Astarion's movements became faster and more urgent, his own moans mixing with yours in the stillness of the night.

"Look at me when you come," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, the intensity of his gaze sending chills down your spine. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled and your walls pulsed around him. You couldn't hold back any longer and cried out his name, drowning in waves of pure ecstasy, and Astarion followed suit with a guttural moan. As you both lay there, breathless and entwined, every cell in your body buzzed with contentment and fulfillment.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

"I love you too," Astarion replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off of you and pulling you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and complete in his arms.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, until eventually, Astarion spoke up.

"Even if we don't find the cure, being here with you is enough," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. He paused for a moment, his eyes on yours, searching for the right words. "This is all I ever wanted," he says softly, placing his hand on your cheek.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips as you traced your fingers along his chest.

"I feel the same way," you replied, resting your head back on his chest. "But we can't give up hope just yet."

Astarion nodded, his arms tightening around you. "We won't" Astarion replies. He pulls you in close to him, squeezing you tightly. "We'll find the cure. I know we will." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you."

[bcyhoods]

could I please request steve and shy!reader and her first time staying the night at his place? lots of timid cuddling and just overall sweetness? I loved your first steeb drabble!

ohemgee yay i’m so glad you liked it!! thank u for for such a cute req, i hope i did it justice🫡 | 1k fluff, gn!reader

You were going crazy, without a doubt. You’ve already finished showering, but you’ve been locked away in his bathroom for 15 minutes. The pep talk you’re giving yourself in the foggy mirror does nothing to calm flutter in your stomach.

“Everything okay, honey?” You hear Steve call from down the corridor.

“Yes—Yeah, I’m okay!” The words are rushed and clumsy as the nickname runs through your head on repeat. And while you’re about to sleep in his room for the first time, it’s too domestic for your racing heart. You hope he doesn’t notice.

Giving yourself one final nod of scarce confidence, you pull open the door and softly let it close behind you. You’re practically walking on the balls of your feet so as not to make any noise.

When you peek into his room, you see the plain of Steve’s back facing toward you. You let your gaze shamelessly trace through the freckles and moles that grace his skin, then to the muscles that tense in his biceps as he fluffs one of his pillows. He’s mumbling to himself as he punches and pulls at the cushion.

Once you push past the door, he turns like he’s a child caught stealing the last cookie from the jar. He’s doe eyed with flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“Hey, there you are,” he sings with a gentle smile.

“Hi.” You timidly wave with a smile just as sweet.

“I was getting worried,” he starts as he meets you by the door, “Started to think you fell in or something.” Steve laughs it off, but there’s a small twitch in his eyebrows that threatens to expose his nerves.

Because while you were in the bathroom, Steve had been giving himself his own encouraging speech. One which also fell quite short, but he was better at concealing it. At least he thinks he is.

Your clammy hand reaches for his, a reassuring effort to soothe both your worries. “No search party necessary. I’m still standing,” you reply softly. He releases a hefty exhale — a mixture of a shaky laugh and a sigh of relief — and gives your hand a small squeeze.

“I’ll be right back. You can sleep on either side, I don’t mind.”

He’s quick to jog out, leaving you to roam every inch of his bedroom.

You’ve been in Steve’s room countless times before, you probably have every trinket and frame committed to memory. But every detail has somehow become more intimate since the last time you’ve visited. Every knick knack is a window into Steve Harrington’s being and by tomorrow morning, you’d become even more familiar. The thought only further warms your chest once your eyes land on an old love note you’d given him, preserved in a framed picture of you right on his bedside table.

By the time he returns, you’re already under the covers with a cheesy smile and patting the empty space next to you.

He uses some sort of excuse so that he can keep a dim nightlight on: Just so you can see everything in case you need to get up in the middle of the night. And Steve Harrington doesn’t have a secret aversion to the dark.

No, Steve Harrington is a romantic, and he just really wants to see your pretty face.

“Are you okay?” He whispers as he settles beside you. He moves to bring the blanket up to your chin and traces the underside of your jaw with his knuckle.

“Yes, I’m okay, Stevie.” You giggle at his concerned expression and reach up to smooth out the wrinkle in his brow before you convince yourself not to.

“Good. Good…just checking.”

And though you’re both laying face to face, sharing the same sheets, he’s entirely too far away for your liking. All you would have to do is extend your arms just a few inches until they reach his shoulders. But really, it’s a few inches too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again lowly, noting the pensive expression on your face.

Your stomach flips and your hand flies to pick at the skin of your lips. Now, you would just need to ask. But it’s so difficult when he’s staring right at you, practically oozing adoration. Now there’s a knot in your mouth where your tongue should be.

“Steve?”

He hums. The knot tightens.

“You don’t have to, but…can you, um—would you want to…” you trail off as the rest of your question dissipates.

“Do you…do you want me to hold you?” He finishes for you. He’s already moving to sit up before you can say ‘please,’ eager to wrap you up in his embrace.

You sit up the slightest bit so that he’s able to slither his arm underneath your head. He’s laying on his back while you’re curled into his side. You rest on his bicep, legs tangled with his own and an arm around his middle as you play with the fingers of his other hand.

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” You turn slightly so that you’re peering up at his face, chin resting on his shoulder. It’s an awkward angle and you know it’s going to result in a dull ache in your neck, but you can’t be bothered to care with his lips so close.

“No, no,” he’s quick to rush out, “This feels nice. I like this.”

It’s not until you see his wide smile that you notice the ache in your cheeks thanks to your matching expression. Without giving it a second thought, you push yourself up to kiss him, eliciting a sigh from the boy. It’s lazy, and it doesn’t last for more than a few seconds before you’re drawing back to hide your burning face in his chest.

He pauses to gather his bearings and gives you a kiss to the top of your head. “If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just asked.”

“Shut up, please.”

[sadesluvr]

The Bride — PART ONE.

A routine assassination for turns into a domestic drama when the Twins meet you, a housewife looking to seek revenge on her cheating husband. 

A/N: It's been a while, but here's a new Tangerine fic! It's planned to be 3 parts, and is a slow burn. The title is a reference to Uma Thurman's character in Kill Bill, and the fic has the same vibes. Read the tags, and I hope you enjoy :)

Word count: 1.9K

Tags:  Dysfunctional + abusive relationships (non-physical) / ONE instance of abuse / Eventual romance / Canon-typical violence + language / Reader and The Twins are sociopaths / Dark humour / Murder + revenge / Allusions to mental illness / Jealousy / Eventual smut / Women's wrongs / Friendship

The mission had been poised as one of The Twins’ easiest. There were no guns, no swords, no car chases - just a bit of deception and a drink laced with arsenic handed to some socialite in a golden chalice. Lemon, posing as a bartender, had made the drink, and Tangerine was tasked with delivering it as part of room service. An easy death paired with a quick getaway meant even easier money, which, in their specific case, was to the tune of $10K split between them. 

The Hotel Saratoga was one of the most gorgeous in Havana. It was small, but glamorous, boasting an airy lobby with high cieilings; accented with rich whites, brown furniture and blues and greens, and sky-high views of the surrounding city. As assassins, they’d travelled extensively across the globe, and even though the job sometimes felt oddly glamorous, it was always a haven to be in a place with fresh linens and a working shower. Interacting with some of the biggest scum of the earth, it was far too often they weren’t afforded such a luxury. 

“Mate, I’m gonna need you to be quick with that, yeah?” Lemon whispered, a strained look in his eye as he handed the drink to his brother. “People keep asking me for weird stuff, like an ‘Old Fashioned’ or a ‘Cosmopolitan’…I’ve just be lying ‘n saying that we’re out, but I’m gettin’ through this bottle real quick.” He finished, shaking a half-empty bottle of champagne in the man’s face.  

Tangerine deadpanned, rubbing his chin before looking around cautiously. 

“I’ll deal with it, alright? Just clock off or somethin’ - pass it to the geezer over there.” He said, nodding at an elderly, somewhat ditzy looking gentleman and placing the glass onto a tray. Given Lemon’s affinity for children’s shows and aversion to alcohol, he probably should’ve taken the bartending role, but selfishly wanted to roam the halls of a hotel such as this. They reminded him of all the classic novels he’d read. 

“I can’t,” Lemon said sincerely, and the man furrowed his brows in disbelief. There’s an old woman here…I think she’s taken a fancy for me. Can’t disappoint her, she promised me a tip…” 

There was a silence as the two men stared at each-other, with Lemon’s face wholly genuine and Tangerine’s in utter shock, as if the man were a complete loon. 

“Yeah, well, call me when you’re done, innit?” He said cooly, fixing himself before picking up the tray. “And don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do.” He chided. 

“That’s not exactly saying a lot…” 

“Don’t piss me off, Lemon,” he sighed, giving his brother a once over. “I’d rather not act like a madman in a place like this.” 

“We’re assassins, mate. It’s a bit too late for that.” 

Tangerine rolled his eyes, tutting as he left the bar in the direction of the stairs, skilfully navigating himself through the long, seemingly endless corridors, trying desperately not to trip on the patterned antique carpets that lined the floors.  

The ever-changing lights of the building illuminated his face as he strode in search of room 237; bright white, to soft orange to wine red, streaking in the background as if he were going through a tunnel. Considering the nature of his work, it was likely a tunnel to hell. 

The room was second to the end on the top floor. Placing the tray on a small hallway table, he knocked twice, calling out to the individual inside the building. The briefing hadn’t told them much, only that the target was a female, aged 28 but could pass between 26 and 30. Sure enough, someone who fit the description answered. 

Tangerine gave you a once over. You seemed to be a perfect fit; dressed in an elegant white sundress, with shiny jewellery dangling off your ears, wrist and neck. Barefooted, he watched as your feet wriggled, perhaps uncomfortable with the fact that a strange man was at your door bearing a single drink.  

Objectively, you were attractive. But that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t responsible for caring about you alive, and certainly not when you were dead. He was simply here to do his job, collect his money, and leave. 

“I didn’t order room service…” you spoke, your voice soft as you cocked your head. 

“It was on the house,” he quickly replied. “Some geezer at the bar was handin’ them out. Thought you were a right looker or somethin’…” 

“How did he know where I was staying?” 

“Slid the receptionist some pesos.” 

You didn’t respond, merely humming as he watched you try to figure him out, eventually stepping to the side to let him in. He followed you in with a small nod, giving the room a quick once over as he did.  

Bed, adjoining bathroom, a small kitchen and a balcony...no signs of any intruders. As he looked more carefully, he took note of the items on the various surfaces; half opened make up - the usual - alongside some questionable items, like pair of rubber kitchen gloves and a wad of cash, sticking out from an envelope. 

The whole ordeal was somewhat unnerving, even to a man like Tangerine, simply because you didn’t speak; instead watched him like a hawk from the corner of the room, wringing your hands together as your eyes roamed his body. Unlike what he was used to, it certainly wasn’t lustful; no, yours were impenetrable, wide and somewhat glossy, almost as if you knew you were about to die. 

Cutting the tension, he cleared his throat before he spoke.  

“Enjoy your evening, darlin’.” He said before turning to leave, stopping in his tracks as you called out to him. 

“Wait --” you said, rushing over to pick up the glass and downing it in the sink before handing it back to him pointedly. “Take this with you!” 

The man winced at the sound of liquid seeping down the drain – 250mg of arsenic nonetheless – but kept his composure, shaking his head at you in disbelief. 

“Fucking ungrateful twat, you are,” he snarled. “Some geezer spends money on you, and this is how you repay him? It’s a shocker ‘yer married.” He finished, gesturing his head towards your left ring finger where a diamond wedding band sat. As if the curtain had been lifted, you rolled your eyes and shovelled the glass into his arms, excess liquid spilling onto his suit. 

“I could have you fired and on the streets in no time,” you spat. “Luckily for you, I know you don’t actually work here.” 

Tangerine scoffed, pacing in a small circle before he placed his hands on his hips, ready to sweep out his gun from the holster attached to his waist. Somehow, you knew something was up, and it was clear that as the poisoning plan had been compromised, he was left with two options – a gunshot to the head, or strangulation. 

“If you think I’d fucking waste my time goin’ around and serving drinks to brats like you for fun, you must be daft --” 

“I’ll have you know I stay here three times a year,” you interjected. “I’ve been sleeping with the conciergerie for two years...I would’ve recognised such a face...” you said, fearless as you walked up to him, arms folded across your chest with a snarl wiped across your coloured lips.  

“Who you spread your legs for is not my business, sweetheart,” Tangerine said, voice gravelly as he rolled his eyes, whipping his gun out in the process, the barrel aimed right between your eyes. “Why did ‘yer have to make things so hard?” 

“...I guess my husband didn’t know that then, huh?” you chuckled. “Sorry to ruin your little plan. How much did he offer you?” 

Tangerine paused, gnawing down on the insides of his mouth as he pursed his lips. This just happened to be the type of situation every assassin feared; which was why the general code was to always get in and out as soon as possible. He wasn’t always the best at thinking straight when it came to the thrill of a kill, which was why he ended up lowering the gun, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process.  

It wasn’t all over - he still had the upper hand and could shoot you if he wanted – but that could compromise the mission entirely. The client – your husband, apparently – had requested that it was to be as clean as possible, with your death to look like a bad case of food poisoning rather than a home invasion. 

The man paced again. 

“Alright,” he sniffed. “Humour me, then. How’d you know I was here to off ya?” 

You sucked in your cheeks and shrugged. 

“Let’s just say this isn’t my first time,” you began, walking over the kitchen table as you lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. “He’s a conniving son of a bitch, you know? I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since I said, ‘I do’.” 

Tangerine shook his head in disbelief. “I ain’t got the foggiest idea what you’re on about love, and if you don’t start talking soon, you’re really gonna piss me off.” 

You huffed, and he watched you drop your cig into an ashtray, putting on the rubber gloves and slamming a wad of cash in-front of him. 

“How much did he offer?” 

“Ten grand,” he replied, hesitantly walking over to you. “Split between me and my brother.” 

“Fucking bastard, am I only worth 5K?” you scoffed, bringing the stick back to your lips and puffing it frustratedly, your narcissism earning an eye roll from the man himself. “Where’s your brother?” 

“Don’t worry,” Tangerine said protectively. He wasn’t about to bring Lemon into a situation that he wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t compromised. Something about you was twisted, devilish, and certainly endearing hiding under a layer of pretty summer dresses, jewellery and a soft voice that could change at an instant. “What’re you saying?” 

“I can double his offer. Ten grand each if you kill him for me...but I need to have a say in what goes.” 

He glanced down at the stack of money before him. Ten grand was a far more enticing offer, but he knew better than to make a deal with the devil – in this case someone he’d just met. How could he be so sure you’d deliver your promise, only to turn him in at the last minute? Even worse, what if you were some kind of spy trying to see how far men like him would go?  

The risks seemed to outweigh the benefits, but he wouldn't completely write you off without talking to Lemon first – for as annoying as his Thomas talk could be, he was undeniably one of the best at reading people. 

Rasping his knuckles on the table, he squared his shoulders. 

“— Alright. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but clearly there’s some trouble in paradise, and I ain’t sure if I want a part of it, quite frankly. I’m gonna make a call, and when my brother gets here you’re gonna tell us everything you know, got it?” 

You nodded. 

“On mute, are we?” he spat. “This ain’t a bloody game. If we think – or find – that you’re lying, we won’t hesitate to whack you and ‘yer measly little husband, okay?” 

“I understand.” You nodded; eyes wide as you dabbed at the cigarette with your fingertips. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before Tangerine walked away, placing his gun back in the holster before taking out his phone. 

“Right, Lemon...There’s been a bit of a change of plan. I’m gonna need you to come up here, like right the fuck now. There’s a new offer on the table.” 

PART TWO

Comment if you’d like to be tagged in future parts! 🫶🏽

[darsynia]

New (Nomad Steve/Nurse!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he met you.

Word Count/Warnings: 2,400 | None

As 1/7 of my Birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, NEw is a first kiss hurt/comfort fic about writing your own happy endings. It's a hugely busy week for you and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

Excerpt:

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

NEW

It takes Steve a painful amount of time to adjust to hiding.

It isn’t just that he’s recognizable, it’s that he’s always stood out, always. As a small baby he’d been gasped over by strangers, as a sickly child he’d see concern and aversion in their eyes, and once he’d grown into a scrawny adult, those reactions had just intensified. 

Some accused him of making himself sick to avoid the war, as though he could have secretly known it was coming and starved himself into stunted growth just in case. For some, it didn’t matter what he looked like-- any man who wasn’t at war was fair game for ridicule. Even those who didn’t care either way found his presence unnerving simply because men his age were scarce. He reminded them of the people they missed, the people who didn’t have the ‘protection’ of being physically unable to join up. 

If his life was a narrative, he’d be the best protagonist he could be.

Even so, there was a special kind of hell in wanting so desperately to fight for justice and be told how lucky you were to be disallowed. Back then, it had been important to him not to hide. There were certainly others in the same boat as he was, men who needed groceries, to watch the news in the theater, to have a walk in the fresh air. So he went out anyway. He was the example, the target, the archetype.

Once he had the serum, hiding meant all the hard work by Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark would be for nothing, so he didn’t. Even in tights.

The symbolism was even stronger when he came out of the ice. Now, people look to him as a lodestar meant to bring them all back to decency and safety, and he wants to, but with action, not iconography, no matter how potent. 

That hadn’t been enough, and now they’re here.

“You’ve been tying your shoes for five minutes, man. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sam.” Steve finishes up quickly and straightens. “Daydreaming, I guess.”

Sam leans over and looks out through the thin rectangle of night sky visible through the thick curtains. “At this point I think you can just call it dreaming. Stay safe out there.”

Steve watches Sam head off into the kitchen before he slips out of the apartment door and locks it behind him. He and Sam keep nocturnal schedules, but Natasha’s expert-level camouflage skills have netted her a day job that keeps them all afloat. Their plan of moving from community to community taking seasonal jobs has worked well so far. 

This is the most ‘domestic’ of their locations to date; they’re spending the lead-up to Christmas in a small city in the midwest full of people who know how to keep their heads down and get things done. No one’s expecting a trio of superheroes to settle in a satellite town whose main attraction is a vintage bowling alley, but there are other calculations to consider. People make eye contact here. They bring their real selves to the conversation, and Steve’s been struggling with some real guilt about that. 

As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he’d met you.

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

As it has for the past week, your heart starts racing when you get close to the track. The problem is, you were run ragged today, and you feel just like the mermaid from the original fairy tale. Every single step is like knives stabbing the balls of your feet, and your arches are singing ‘fuck you’ so loudly you expect Ursula to show up any minute.

You stop on the bench right inside the gate to let the burning pain subside a bit. The last thing you want is for your burly new crush to think you’re a lightweight, not now that the months of forcing yourself to run after work have paid off so nicely with… well, him.  

Besides Frank, the school’s night security officer and all-around nicest tough-guy in town, there isn’t anyone else visible on the brightly-lit track. You take the opportunity to cross your ankle over your knee and reach for your shoe in preparation to swap it with the sneakers in your bag. These are a new pair, and you’d planned on wearing them every few days to break them in. As soon as you get your heel off you understand just how much you screwed up by not bringing  the others in to swap into once you realized how go-go-go your day would be. The swelling is bad, and the beginnings of blisters sting in various places. There’s no way in hell you can jog today, and walking home is going to be excruciating. It’s a god-damned miracle you have the day off tomorrow.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mutter under your breath. The John F. Kennedy High School campus is the same distance from the bus stop as your apartment is, but in the opposite direction. Your feet had already been screaming, why hadn’t you gone home instead?”

“Thought you weren’t coming!”

Your crush’s voice cuts through the late November chill, warming your heart. You look up and see him crossing from under the bleachers, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s far enough away that you let yourself sigh, half in addlepated pleasure in seeing him, half in utter frustration at yourself. He’s the reason you came, of course. You’d walk across fire to spend time with this guy, and by the time you head home, that’s definitely what it’ll feel like.

“Sorry, long day,” you tell him once he’s close enough. 

Hurrying, you yank off your second shoe and nearly swallow your tongue from the pain. Tears stand in your eyes, exacerbated by the surprise when you look up and your new friend is right there, almost like he'd teleported over. He’s crouched in front of you, and there’s nowhere to hide from his concerned scrutiny.

He confirms your assessment of ex-military by the professional once-over he’s doing, even more so when he takes your shoe out of your weary hand and tests the bend of its sole with a practiced hand.

“Don’t say it--”

“These are not very good shoes,” he pronounces. With a move as graceful as a ballet dancer, he shifts onto the bench beside you, still examining the shoe. You snag it from his hand and tuck it into your backpack with its mate, pulling out your tennis shoes before zipping back up.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to put them on, but, one thing at a time.

“You’re right. I didn’t expect to be the runner on the ward today, but we were shorthanded.” You wince at your feet, both of which are looking decidedly puffy. Shit, will either pair of shoes fit, at this point? “There’s a ‘best foot forward’ joke I could be making about hoping you’d be here running tonight, but honestly, I’m too wiped out to make it.” You look over as you finish speaking and catch his pleased reaction. It’s understated, but it’s there, enough to make you brave. “I have the day off tomorrow, maybe I can give you a twelve hour rain check? I bet you’re even more handsome in sunlight.”

To your dismay, his face falls and he looks down. You turn your head away, unwilling to see the evidence of just how badly you’d gauged this. He’s very clearly not interested.

“Or not! ‘Not’ is also okay, sorry about that, I--”

The words dissolve on your tongue at the gentle touch of his knuckle on your chin, turning your face back toward his in the time-honored tradition of romantic male leads.

“Please don’t-- Running with you has been-- Believe me, during the day-- I would like to, I just can’t.” Disappointment is etched across his handsome features, but more than that, you can see the way his mind is racing just like yours had just seconds ago. The man looks like he’s desperate to rewind to a moment that doesn’t feel like this.

There’s a remedy to that, and after a day of doing your best to fix everything and everyone around you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to surge up and touch your lips to his. 

You meant to pull back right away, mirroring that thing where a couple knows each other so well that gentle brush is all that’s needed-- but your midnight warrior is still in the middle of the book. His large hand shifts to cup your cheek, holding you still for his head tip where he deepens the kiss and scrambles your brain. It’s impulsive, desperate, and honest. You grab at his clothing, needing to believe this is real, even as the two of you follow kisses with more kisses like you’re saying goodbye in an airport.

“Doesn’t look much like you’re runnin’!” the security guard calls out, his words so distant they almost don’t register at first.

That ends things abruptly, but the two of you don’t move much farther apart than a few inches, his hand still on your face, yours with a handful of his sweatshirt, right over his heart.

“Textbook,” you whisper, flattening your hand out to smooth over his chest. It’s solid muscle under there.

“Oh?” he asks, pulling his hand away swiftly like he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman in his eagerness to touch you. It’s charming as hell.

“This whole operation, it’s right out of the romance novel guidebook,” you praise. “I ought to look for cameras.” A shadow crosses his face, and you suddenly put the pieces together. “Shit, you’re hiding from something, aren’t you? That’s why you freaked out about coming here in the daytime.”

He’s already standing, but instead of stalking away from you, he’s looking around the track, turning in a circle of deep concentration. He’s looking for cameras, but not in a joking way, not as part of a bit.

“The school district would rather spend the money on Frank than cameras, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you murmur, pushing your voice into steadiness out of sheer determination. “The city contributes. It’s been so much safer when everyone who wants a night walk comes here, but there are fewer of us out in the winter months.” The fall chill is actually helping with the pain in your feet, so that's something.

Your mysterious crush is facing you again, apparently satisfied that the two of you aren't being watched by anything more permanent than good old Frank. “I’m sorry,” he says. The words have a horrid finality to them, but you’re focused on his eyebrows. They’re not on board with the rest of his body language. They’re beseeching, rather than resolute, hopeful rather than harsh.

You have one chance to get this right.

“There are some things I love about my coworkers, and let’s be real, a lot of things I don’t-- but do you want to know the thing I like least about working in a hospital?”

Your whole body is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and you realize this is your opportunity to shove on your shoes. As you do that, you refuse to look up at him. The goal is to bring his critical thinking skills back from ‘fight or flight’ mode. Then maybe you can get the two of you on the same page again.

It takes over a minute, but he lets out a long breath and sits down beside you. “Tell me."

“They’re terrible gossips,” you say, looking right at him. He’s not allowed to make the obvious (ruinous, new-relationship-wrecking) conclusion about what you’re saying, not without having to look you in the eye while he does it. “I can’t stand that shit. That’s why they send me on the errands. I’ve got everyone trained to stop talking when I walk by, at this point.”

His relief is visible. “I can respect that.”

“Good.” You set both feet on the ground and decide to test things out by standing. If you’re wobbly, you feel certain he’ll reach out and catch you. “Tomorrow night?”

“Wait,” he says, the picture of confusion. “You’re not-- You think I’m hiding from something and you’re not going to ask about it?” Even in the dim glow of the nearby track light, you can see the clench and release of his jaw.

“For all I know, you’re hiding from your last girlfriend. I know I’d find it hard to give you up, and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks?” Your feet are screaming at you about as loudly as the critical voice in your head, but happiness has made both just distant enough to achieve your goals. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets, which you take to be a good sign. “Would that still be ‘textbook?’ This is all new to me.”

All of the cheeky, sarcastic, and cheesy thoughts that cross your mind would ruin the moment, so you go off script. It’s not the best, but it’s not awful, either.

“New is terrible for work shoes, but it’s lovely when it’s you. See you tomorrow night!”

Stay tuned for more stories in the Ro Roll! Would you like more of these two? Let me know 💚

[garden-of-joy]

Simon "Ghost" Riley SFW alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first, Simon is anything but affectionate. He's distant, cold, and vaguely rude, but that isn't permanent. He'll slowly start to unravel, peeling layer after layer of professional hostility. Then, he'll begin with small things. Little compliments here and there, maybe he'll do something for you if you ask him, start to talk to you between missions and deployments, invite you to drink together. It'll start small due to the ridiculously high walls he has, but he'll come around eventually, it's just that he'll be subtle with his affection.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Having Simon as your best friend is kind of weird. For him to even let you be his normal friend first he has to get really comfortable around you, but once he quietly makes you his best friend? Oh, he feels safe. The kind of safe and understood he's never really felt before. This means he's a really dedicated and consistent friend. He's never cancelling going out unless it's an emergency, and he's not going to just ditch the friendship for no reason. If there's issues, he'll talk them out with you. He's practically glued to your hip and he's not letting go. He'll listen to everything you say and be an overall great friend to be with, despite what might seem at first. The only issue is that unless you're in the 141 yourself, you'll have to deal with him suddenly dissapearing due to his job. He's just so happy to finally have someone very close to him, even he doesn't directly state it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Simon isn't really big on cuddling for long. Small hugs here and there are fine, but long cuddling makes him feel trapped. That said, every once in a while, he'll be in the mood for cuddles, and there's no escape. Be prepared to snuggle a big and muscled teddy bear, because he sure feels like one. For some reason, he's so good to hug, it's just that he's rarely in the mood for big and long hugs.

Another thing is that he's not happy with PDA. He just doesn't like it, being watched by everyone. In fact, a small fear of his is someone wrong seeing his affection and then using you as leverage against him. He wants to keep you out of harm's way as much as possible.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

At first, Simon thought that he is unfit for life in the civilian society. He thinks that he's nothing more than a weapon- an asset. In his eyes, he doesn't know who even would be insane enough to want a future with him. In the end, he does want to finally have a somebody to call a home with, but that's a distant yearning to him. Simply a farfetched dream. Or, until he meets you.

As for cooking and cleaning, he's impeccable at cleaning, but mediocre at cooking. Everything is in perfect order, spotless and in line. Simon hates chaos and filth, so he cleans every corner. Cooking though, is a different story. It's not that he'll give anyone food poisoning, but he's so used to surviving off of military rations and processed food, he doesn't know how to cook beyond boiling eggs.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It will be hard for him. He'll definitely be heartbroken if he realised the relationship he has is toxic and not good for him or you. At the start, he'll probably start making excuses to try and convince himself it's good to still be in a relationship, but given enough time, he'll realise it. He's just so averse to the idea of splitting up with the only person who got actually close to him, to the point he'll try his hardest to not break off the relationship. As for how he'd break up, he probably wouldn't have the courage to confront you. He'll be so hurt and sad that he'll probably just... Dissapear. He'll leave off the face of the Earth. He won't respond to texts, he'll not call you back, won't meet with you, nothing. He'll just leave. If you're in the 141 with him, then he'll return to his original behaviour. He'll be cold, standoffish, and refuse to talk to you unless it's strictly related to work.

F = Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, long-term commitment is like a distant dream to him, but once you want to become his s/o (after a lot of persistence mind you) he'll feel good about it. Then again, he'll probably feel like a placeholder. A boyfriend, just so you aren't single while you search for someone better. That's why you need to sit him down and talk to him, explain why he matters to you, and that you genuinely love him. He'll break down in tears, showing genuine emotion and vulnerability like he hasn't done in God knows how long. But after you comfort him? You've got the most commited boyfriend under the sun.

As for marriage, he's still hesitant to think about it, almost scared that he'll turn out like his father. But now that he's sure in your connection, he'll be far more inclined to accept marriage after you've been together for some time.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Again, he's not veey gentle, but with time he'll be very much so. He thinks he has the mentality and hands of a killing machine, not a human. He'll just need time to realise he's wrong. Simon is generally really caring and careful with things he values, but before a genuine connection is established, he'll not be very careful.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Same as cuddles. Long and drawn out hugs make him feel trapped, but occasional hugs here and there are perfect for him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He's painfully slow when it comes to a confession. Even if he's fully sure you like him back and want to enter a relationship, he'll still not confess for a long, long time. You'll have to make the first move.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Sadly, Simon gets very jealous, very easily. He manages to not let it get in the way of course- he's not going to carry you out of a situation just because he's jealous.

That said, he still will make sure to show you're his. He'll come up to you, put his hands on your shoulders and coo out "Hey love." then kiss you lovingly om the head. He'll show who's whose, but he won't straight up yank you out of anything, unless it's a threat.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Simon is slow, methodical and through. When he wraps around you and wants to kiss you, he'll kiss every part of your face, his tongue will feel every part of your mouth. He'll work you slow and good- nothing good comes out of rushing after all.

He he loves getting kissed on the neck. It's a little sensitive, so every kiss there is sublime to him. He'll never, ever admit it, but loves it when you gently nibble his neck or trace his teeth along it. You probably found out after you started trailing a kiss all throughout his face accidentally slipped to the underside of his chin. He'll deny anything about this, but it's obvious just how much he's enjoying it.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Honestly, children are not his speed. It'll take a few years of dedicated marriage for him to even consider the idea. Even then, he still isn't sure, because he's military and that calls for him abruptly needing to leave at random times. And the last thing he wants to be is a bad or absent father, like his was.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Simon would like to laze around all morning with you. It makes heim feel safe for once. Watching you sleep or gently taking your hand while you sleep and dozing off like that? Perfect. He's not completely against the idea of cuddling in the morning, but he's not the biggest fan either. Once in a while is good by him though.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It depends, really. Some nights, he sleeps slike a baby and doesn't move an inch. Some nights, he gets plagued constantly by nighmares and can't sleep for more than an hour before waking up, drenched in cold sweat. If it's one of those nights, even if he can't sleep, he's perfectly content with watching you sleep. Watching over you, somehow... Guarding you, makes him feel much more at ease.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He starts sharing small tidbits here and there even before you two get together. For example, if you ask him for his tattoo, what it means, etc. he'll tell you, even if somewhat laconically. Just don't poke and prod too much, he might get iffy if you do so.

However, he'll need much more time to share the more sensitive things, to open up about all the emotional baggage he has. Even then, it will be bit by bit, slowly and only if he's sure you'll listen.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Simon can get ticked off and annoyed fairly easily, but downright angry is hard to achieve with him. He knows how to handle his emotions, and some small inconvenience isn't going to get him enraged.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Simon makes sure to remember everything, from needle to thread. He just... Remembers it. And even when you tell him something that's more obscure and niche, he'll make sure to keep it mind. This doesn't happen only when you're in a relationship with him, he'll do that even before you're together. Partly out of habit, partly because he just subconsciously makes a profile of everyone he meets, then keeps it in his head.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It's definitely the fact that there's somebody out there that loves him. Wants him. He never thought he'd have any friends, but then he became a part of the 141. He never thought he'll have a special someone, but he met you. You gave him hope, and no matter how much he tries not to let it show beneath his exterior, he loves and cherishes you for that.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Simon is VERY protective, but he's not being overbearing either. He'll keep you under a watchful eye, and remain close when he thinks there's danger, but he won't be insufferably protective. He'll point out anything he deems fishy in anyone and tell you what to do, just in case.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

At first, he'll not put much effort into anything, because as I said, he doesn't think it'll last. But with time, when he sees that the attraction is mutual? He'll begin to try his hardest to have a good time with you, he'll treat you to a nice restaurant, he'll remember every little moment worth celebrating, just for you.

He'll do everyday tasks regardless of his commitment though.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's very aloof and dismissive, and doesn't even realise it. He'll try to remember everything you tell him, but it's not like he hasn't just completely ignored you on accident for no reason. Not to mention that he'll try to undermine any concerns you have for him, saying he's "fine".

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not really. He already wears the balaclava most of the time, and he doesn't really put much thought into it. Unless it poses a threat, he doesn't take any special care of his appearance, just showers and washes, that's all.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. When he bonds with you more throughly, he'll definitely miss you a lot, especially if he's alone on a mission.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Simon is obsessed with knives. He has a wide collection of different knives. Throwing, regular, special... You name it, he's probably got it.

But if you ask him to tell you more, by God be ready to get your ears bled out, especially if you're close to him. That's the one thing you can see his enthusiasm for.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

If his partner is really loud and boisterous, if he can easily identify them in a croud of people by sound only? Gives him the ick. Another thing is someone who takes things too quickly and is too energetic. He needs time and space to adjust, to plan everything out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

On nights with nightmares, it's not like he completely can't sleep. When he wakes up, he just needs to try and fall asleep again for a bit, and it usually works. This process isn't fulfilling sleep though, so he's extra grumpy the next day.