#finish harsh light/gentle dark

[rainyorca]

You know I love you girl 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, hurt, comfort, established relationship, smut, pnv, cunnilings.

Words: 2,029

Notes: Probably my last short one until I finish my long form one. Anyways, I am all about soft kenji so pls enjoy <33.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Sometimes, not so often, you and Kenji will get into these little disagreements, simple fights in other words. And sometimes, neither of you will apologize, you’ll both go to sleep angry, backs facing each other rather than holding each other. You both need your space after fights, a little time to really sit and think, and then you’ll apologize or he’ll apologize and things will be back to normal. 

But recently, you got upset about something that started this whole problem. You can put up with Kenji’s life as a celebrity, him taking pictures with fans and doing the whole sports celebrity thing but him being gone all the time bothers you a bit. You were fine with it before but something about it just really grinds your gears now. You don't say anything about it at first, that is until he tells you a specific time he's coming home, and then he comes home hours later without saying a word. The first time it happened you brushed it off, he apologized, explained what happened and that was that. 

However, around the fourth time, you explained to him why it was making you upset, and asked him why he kept forgetting to let you know. Kenji isn't a cheater, you know that very well, he would never do anything like that to you but you just can't help but wonder what he's up to.

“I don't understand why it's so hard to at least send me a text,” you say, your tone firm but voice rather soft. You never yell, rarely ever raise your voice, Kenji is the same way except sometimes he can get a little carried away. “I just dont see the problem, you have my location,” he points out, the tone of his voice makes you nearly lose it. You two had been going at it for thirty minutes now and you were about fed up, tired of his excuses. “It doesn't matter that I have your location,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s still important that you tell me you're gonna be a little late, if you just sent me a text, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.” Some harsh words were said from the both of you, the argument about his absence turning into a fight about a plethora of other things. Eventually you gave up, frustrated and upset, eyes stinging with tears, you decided to go to bed a little earlier that night. 

About an hour later, you're still awake, staring at the dark ceiling. You left the curtains open to let some cool light from the city and moon pour in. The familiar click of the door opening could be heard throughout the silent room, you turn around, back facing the door to avoid any contact. Kenji stands in the doorway, shirtless, the scent of his body wash rushes into the room, sea salt and cedar. He stares at your backside covered by the silk blankets, a pang of guilt stabs him in the heart. You hear the door close softly, squeezing your eyes shut to pretend you're asleep as he gets in bed with you. His eyes linger on your face for a while.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, sitting up right in the bed, “I’ve seen you asleep thousands of times and I know your face doesn't look anything like that.” His words make you sigh, opening your tired eyes slowly, glaring at him. He feels bad, you can tell just by the way he's staring down at you. “Look, I'm sorry,” he finally says, “I know I should text you when I'm gonna be longer, and honestly I get a little tired of being out all the time.” 

“I wish I could be here with you every moment of the day and night,” he continues, reaching under the blanket and grabbing one of your hands, “and I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean any of it.” He places a gentle kiss on your palm, his lips soft against your skin. You think for a moment, appreciating the fact that he's apologizing even if it's an hour later. “I'm sorry too,” you say softly, voice muffled, “I just wish I could spend more time with you.” 

“I know,” he hums, “I do too.” You stare at each other for a minute in silence before Kenji suddenly pulls the blanket down lower on your body. A smile graces his face when he sees you wearing one of his shirts, he toys with the fabric momentarily before gently pushing you onto your back. Before you can say anything he crawls on top of you, pressing his lips onto your forehead before grabbing your waist and scooting you up further on your pillow a bit. Kenji was rather skilled with his hands, and his silence. He was practically fluent in touches, enough to make you forget the events of what happened earlier. His lips travel to your neck as his hands explore your somewhat exposed body, running them up through the shirt and then down to your bare thighs. His breath gentle against your supple neck, nipping and kissing at your wonderful skin. He pulls away, trailing kisses down to where the shirt starts and then he sits up, nestling himself between your legs and placing gentle, mellow kisses on your legs. It's not long before he reaches your thighs, giving them the same treatment he had the rest of your body. He places his hands on your thighs, holding your legs open and rubbing your skin with his thumbs. 

His lithe fingers curl under your panties suddenly, moving them to the side. It catches you off guard, so naturally you flinch, looking down at him with glossed over eyes. “Relax,” he breathes, his breath fanning over your already soaked cunt, “I just wanna make it up to you.” You watch him open his mouth slowly, sticking his tongue out and pressing it against your clit. The feeling makes you twitch and you lay your head on the pillow with a quiet whimper. You feel him wrap his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking softly. He was without a doubt, so excellently skilled at this, you would mark it as another language he was fluent in. Surrounded by your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin and leaving red marks with his short nails, his mouth working at your core. Everything about this moment had you on edge. His tongue eventually slips into your cunt, keeping a reasonable pace as he watches you writhe simply because of his mouth. 

He gasps into your cunt, pulling away briefly before burying his head between your legs again. His eyes closed, determined expression written all over his slicked face. At this point, hungrily, rolling your hips into his mouth, his nose bumping your clit ever so often. He reaches up, pressing a hand on your stomach. “Stop moving, love,” he breathes, pulling away from your weeping cunt, “let me take care of you.” Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling on his black locks when his mouth meets your cunt again. 

“Kenji,” you breathe, your head moving side to side on the satin pillow. The familiar heat pools in your stomach, threatening to release in an intense orgasm, but the feeling is pulled away from you along with Kenji’s mouth. “I know, I know,” he says softly when you let out a noise of protest, “I’ll let you feel it in a minute.” You watch him tug his sweats off, along with his boxers. He grabs his cock with a large hand, angling so his flushed tip rubs against your dripping entrance. He leans down, his lips graze over your neck. You tilt your head up, sucking in a breath when you feel him slide into you. “Fuck,” he sighs, a grin appearing on his sculpted face, “it’s been so long.” His breathing is shaky as he slides deeper into you, filling you to the brim until his tip nuzzles just perfectly against your sweet spot. He stretches you out pleasantly, your plush walls already tightening around him. You see his adam's apple bob with a swallow, his eyes trained on your face, focused on your contorted expression of pleasure. A whimper slips off your tongue as he pulls out slowly before pressing back in. Your eyes close as he continues to thrust into you, mouth open in a silent moan. 

With every slow, deep thrust of his hips, stars blur your vision, eyes watering as he fucks the tears out of you. “Ken–” you whine, breathless and quiet, each stroke practically taking your breath away. “I wanna hear you, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse but gentle. Another deep thrust, hitting your sweet spot perfectly makes you cry out, reaching up and digging your nails into his back. The feeling of your nails makes goosebumps rise on his skin, knowing that you're gonna leave marks for him to see in the morning. He smiles, completely drunk on the feeling of your warm cunt, a quiet chuckle, barely audible, heard from his filthy lips. 

“Even when im gone,” he groans, fucking into you with a bit of a quicker pace now, but not too fast, “when im busy, you know I still think about you. You’re always on my mind.” The sound of his groans fills the room, mixed with your soft moans. “You feel so good,” he grunts, his hips connecting to yours before pulling back slowly, “seriously, all I think about is you and this perfect cunt that I’ve missed so much.” 

His soft, wet lips graze yours, making you open your lidded eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, firmly, “please, hm?” His little hum makes you lose your mind, you love it when he does that. You cup his face, pulling him down just a bit until your lips finally connect. He moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside by force almost. Your back arches, thighs tighten as he continues to repeatedly hit that sweet spot in you. 

The heat pools inside you again, your moans and ragged breathing picking up in volume, his thrusts still continuing at the same, even pace. “Kenji—ah—fuck, Kenji—!” You mewl, throwing your head back, parting from the heated kiss with him. “Gonna cum for me?” He says, dirty but still in that same gentle tone, “hm?” 

“Y-Yes,” you gasp out, “ah, yes.” He smiles again, your whiny pleads sending shivers down his spine as the pleasure climbs up yours. Your plush walls tighten around him like a vice as your climax builds up in you. “Good girl, cum for me” he whispers, his lips trailing up the line of your jaw. It’s almost as if those simple words were the signal for you, because seconds later your peak crests and you cum all over his cock. You cry out for him, desperately arching your back and scratching lines into his with your nails. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your orgasm as your tears fall just as they had before. At this point, you're too blinded by your orgasm and his cock to even tell if he’s cumming himself.  

Your whole body shudders as you come to rest back on the bed, the silk sheets sticking to your sweaty skin. He sits up, staring at your fucked out state. Your chest rises slowly as you attempt to chase your breath, your eyes shut tightly, mouth open and brows furrowed. Both your arms sprawled out about your head, twitching as you came down from your release. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, still watching your face for any change. He gets up, leaving the room momentarily before returning with a towel, carefully and gently, he removes your panties and cleans you up before cleaning himself up. He gets you a new pair of panties before snuggling back into bed with you, pulling you into his arms tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling him in even tighter.  

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[fieldofdaisiies]

A Bargain

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: angst | words: 2,2k | warnings: this story explores a little darker themes like the loss of eyesight due to fire. thank you so much for beta reading @moonlightazriel me helping me get back into x reader writing💛

Fire. Nothing but unbearable heat and blinding light, like icy spikes piercing your skin. The brightness was overwhelming until everything went dark. Blank. Plain. No colour. No shape. No figure. Only darkness. And deafening silence.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Your fingers start to tremble around the book the moment a soft breeze brushes your legs and tells you that somewhere in the Library a door was opened. Your senses, touch, hearing and scent, have sharpened once you‘ve lost your eyesight and you are immediately alerted that someone is here. In your personal space, in your sanctuary, at this time. During the night!

You draw in a deep inhale, move your feet apart so you stand in stance. Your fingers curl into a fist  and then–

“Who is there?” you find yourself asking despite the unease brewing inside of you. You know that no one who could cause harm could technically enter this place, but still you always want to know who is close. Who is coming, so you can prepare yourself. Brace yourself.

Fear is rising within you because whoever is nearing you has loud footsteps — it is a male most definitely and if there is one thing in this world you almost fear as much as fire it is men. You try to steady yourself, listening closer, trying to make out if the steps sound familiar (if they belong to the general of the Illyrian armies) but they don’t. He walks slower, and his boots have a different sound when they pad over the library floor. It must be someone else and you—

Someone nears you and the words to ask again who it is die in your throat that suddenly seems so dry. You turn your front to the shelf, hoping to maybe go unnoticed, but the Mother doesn’t hear your prayers. A person halts next to you and you flinch, sucking in a sharp breath of air. Your body is trembling as you press against the shelf, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw starts to ache.

Your throat works on a swallow and some more silent prayers leave you that whoever is close just walks by and—

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” a gentle male voice says, interrupting the tense silence. The air whooshes out of your lungs, your blood chilling because you know there is no escaping now that he has seen you. But somehow, all worry and fear seems to dissipate when he speaks up again. He has no brutal voice, there is nothing harsh or hard in it – it sounds melodic. Almost like the voice of a singer. “I apologise, I really didn’t mean to scare you. I had no idea someone was still around at this time.”

You hesitate before you turn around or give the stranger an answer, but something soft, almost like a feather, brushes your lower arm. It is nothing more than a breath, like a cloud, it may be—

A shadow. And it is soothing and gives you a feeling of comfort. You have felt it before, shadows, like a cat's tail brushing your legs.

“You are the Shadowsinger, right?” Slowly, you turn to him, remembering Gwyn’s stories about the male with the dancing shadows around him who is training her now and who has sometimes come down here to collect books. You should have remembered his footsteps!

“I am a shadowsinger, yes,” the male says, “but you can call me—” His voice cuts off momentarily. And you know what he has realised. His eyes have probably landed on yours and he realised that you can‘t see. That you are blind. And that since the fateful day almost a decade ago.

“Azriel,” he eventually finishes, finally having found his words to continue.

You inhale a deep breath, and say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Azriel. I am Y/N.” A smile appears on your lips. “How can I help you?”

"I am here to pick up some books Gwyn suggested to me." The shadowsinger keeps his polite distance, you can feel that, his stance broad but not intimidating and you are thankful for that. Despite his kind aura, he is still a male, a stranger, and you always have to be careful. You can’t ever risk anything again. Never again.

“Gwyn said I would find them somewhere around here, but I truly have no idea where I should start to look.”

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips at the mention of her name. Gwyn is your closest friend down here and you love her like a little sister. "She is very fond of you, Shadowsinger,” you say, voice tinged with admiration.

You can’t see the smile appearing on Azriel’s face but you can feel it, how his heart is filled with relief and joy at your revelation.

"She is quite talented," Azriel comments.

"And beautiful…" Your voice almost gains a dreamy touch, and you place the book you have been holding the entire time back on the shelf. Azriel doesn’t say anything, and you know where his thoughts have gone to.

"My eyes may no longer be able to see, Shadowsinger, but my heart can. And that’s how I know that the priestess is beautiful - she has a soul of pure gold."

"I think she isn’t the only one down here who this applies to." This time he takes a small step forward, only a little, while trying to calm his vividly swirling shadows. You can feel them brush against you and his scent fills your nostrils - cedar and night-chilled mist.

They try to stretch out while he tries as hard as he can to hold them close.

"Are you talking about Merrill?" A little mischievous giggle leaves you right after you say her name and it even draws a chuckle from Azriel. The sound is wonderful, rich and deep, beautiful.

"I think you know exactly who I am talking about." 

You feel how a blush warms your cheeks and quickly avert your gaze. "Which books do you need?"

He tells you which ones he is looking for, speaking slowly, and in his wonderful, deep voice. You know immediately where to find them all, having memorised every small detail of the Library,

“Follow me.” You set out with a smile, waving at him to come and follow you. You have ventured through the corridors filled with hundreds of bookshelves and thousands of books many times and know exactly where and when you have to turn.

You can’t see it but you feel his curiosity, his slight astonishment about you and it makes you giggle. You walk swiftly, your robes swishing over the floor when you turn one corner after the other and finally arrive at your first destination. Your fingers trail over the backs of the books, touching and feeling the binding until you grab two books and hand them to him.

The next ones are on a lower floor and the last one even lower. 

“Why are you here at this time of the day?” you find yourself asking him, walking down a narrow corridor. You have come to like narrower space because they make you feel more secure than wide, open spaces. “Or rather night, Shadowsinger.” 

“I could ask you the same - why are you awake at this time?” You can hear the amusement in his voice about your little bantering, and a smile appears on your face, but fades when you start to answer. “It is calmer at night - no rustling pages, no shuffling feet, no hushed conversation. I can focus easier during this time of the day.”

“That’s understandable,” Azriel hums, “that’s partly why I prefer night over day. No rushing, loud people, no bright lights, no— I am so sorry. I didn‘t mean to—”

“Don’t apologise. You can see and you are allowed to be affected by light. It can be too much, I know this, I used to be able to see it once too.”

“I still should be more careful with my words.”

“I don’t want you to be. I want you to be yourself. You are a polite male and I am not made of glass. I don’t break so easily, so please, speak your mind.” You hand him a book from a shelf, after letting your fingers trail over the spine to make sure it is the right one. “I have always preferred night over day. The people are more relaxed, nothing is rushing them and they are not so loud.”

“I understand. I prefer it when it is calm too.”

“Unless there is music. Have you heard Gwyn sing?”

“I have,” he says with fondness.

“And do you sing too? You are a shadowsinger.”

There is a pause and you worry he won’t answer at all, but—

“I do. Sometimes. Only when I am alone.”

You hum in answer, not wanting to push him to sing for you although you are dying to hear it. It must be wonderful with his deep tenor and his velvety voice.

“Is there a chance one can hear one day?” Your lips quirk into a bright grin.

“No, but maybe one day in the far far future.” He blows out a long breath. “Now I have a question for you.” 

You brace yourself, lifting your chin to face his face, making out nothing but blurry surroundings. You would love to reach out to trace his face, his shoulders, to feel what he looks like and try to picture him in your mind.

“Would you like to join the other priestesses, Cassian and me for training one day?”

Your heart slams to a halt, pondering. Somehow you would love it — leave this pöace for once, but training? You hesitate, the word yes burning on your tongue, but you swallow it down. It would be useless. There would be nothing you could do and you would only make a fool out of you. So instead of agreeing, you curtly shake your head and take a step back. “A kind offer, but I must decline.”

“Because of—”

“Yes, Azriel. Because of my eyes. I can’t see, which means I can’t train.”

“That’s not true. Yes, you can’t see, but for training you don’t only need your eyes. Let me put together some exercises and in return you join us for the next training. I can prove to you that you are just as capable at training and fighting as the others are.”

“Is this a promise?”

“We can make a bargain if you like.” There is a hint of amusement in his voice that makes a silly, little grin appear on your lips and erase the former worry etched upon your features. You reach out your hand. 

“A bargain it is - I‘ll join you for training, and in return you will sing for me.”

There is a pause and for a moment you worry that he won’t agree. That it was a silly idea and he will be offended and just leave it. You don’t want whatever has started between you here not to end already. You want to—

“I accept.” Azriel also extends his hand and the moment your palms touch, lightning zips between your hands. It runs throughout your entire body, but it is not the only thing you can feel. There are scars. Scars that adorn his palms, most definitely his whole hands and your heart cracks. What has been down to him? How did he get them?

Your thoughts are swiftly cut off when lightning zips between your palms and then you feel it, like a warm and thin strap something curls around your upper arm and you know it, the legends are true — when you make a bargain you‘ll receive a tattoo as a testament of it.

Azriel has fallen silent the moment your hands part and you wonder if he is examining the tattoo. You wish you could see it, know what it looks like, and admire it.

“Let me describe it to you,” Azriel starts, and then you feel how he gently takes your arm, lifting it slightly. “It‘s a thin silver band around your upper arm, almost invisible, and where the two ends meet there are three small stars. The first is slightly larger than the second and the third one is the biggest.” He strokes his thumb over your arm, a natural action he probably doesn’t even notice but your hair starts to stand on end.

“Mine is almost identical to yours. It is in the same place. Only that the band looks slightly broader.”

“I think I would love it if I could see it.”

“I am sure you would.” You can hear the smile in his voice and return the gesture. “I love it.”

So can hear him shift, moving a step away from you. “I think we should both sleep now, Y/N, but I‘ll see you tomorrow for training. I‘m sure Gwyn can lend you something to wear if you only have your robes.”

“I will ask her.” You pull your lower lip between your teeth when nervousness about the following day starts to trickle in.

“Perfect, until tomorrow then.” He hums. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Shadowsinger.”

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter��@bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @cadiawrites @bookishbroadwaybish @tele86 @fuckingsimp4azriel @berryzxx

[itacats]

Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: The fragile joy of connection with Simon is quickly overshadowed by the suffocating weight of home. Confronted by Tom’s cruelty, you struggle to protect yourself, both physically and emotionally, while clinging to the small glimmers of kindness Simon offers. In a world defined by shadows, hope flickers like a hesitant flame, but it’s a light you’re not ready to embrace—yet.

A/N: Ah, the emotional whiplash chapter. One moment, you’re swooning over rolled-up sleeves and car repairs, and the next, you’re wading through the muck of heartbreak and resilience. Hang tight; the rollercoaster isn’t over yet. 🎢

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 3 - Cracks in the Foundation

The moment you step through the front door, the warmth and joy from your encounter with Simon evaporate like dew under the harsh light of the morning sun. The house is quiet, but not in a comforting way—it’s the kind of silence that makes your chest tighten and your senses sharpen. The faint creak of the floor beneath your shoes feels deafening as you step into the kitchen.

Tom is there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The shadows from the dim overhead light stretch across his face, making his expression even harder, more menacing. His eyes lock onto yours immediately, sharp and unrelenting. You can feel the judgment radiating from him, an oppressive weight settling on your shoulders.

"You’re late," he growls, his voice low and heavy, each syllable dripping with accusation.

Your heart races as you glance at the clock on the wall. It’s not that late—barely past eight—but you know it doesn’t matter. Tom’s moods don’t follow logic or reason; they’re a storm that sweeps in, indifferent to your explanations or pleas.

"I... I got stuck at the store," you begin, your voice trembling slightly. You hate how small it sounds, but before you can finish, he cuts you off.

"Out with someone else, are you?" he snaps, his voice rising. His face twists, his features contorted into something unrecognizable. "Who is it?"

The questions come at you like a barrage, cold and sharp, each one landing with a sting from his fists. You try to answer, to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Your mind flashes back to Simon—his gentle smile, the warmth in his eyes—and for a split second, you imagine what it would be like to tell Tom the truth. But you know better.

"Tom, please," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was just the car—"

"Don’t lie to me!" he shouts, slamming his hand down on the counter. The sound echoes through the room, and you flinch instinctively, your body betraying the fear you try so hard to conceal.

"I’m not lying," you say, your voice breaking. "Please, just—"

"What? Do you want kindness?" Tom interrupts, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. "You know kindness never looked good on me."

His words hit like a blow, the same venomous refrain you’ve heard countless times before. The bitterness in his tone is more cutting than the words themselves, a reminder of how far you are from the kindness you once hoped for in your life.

That night, you curl up on the couch, your knees drawn tightly to your chest. Silent tears trace cold paths down your cheeks as you replay the argument in your mind, each word cutting deeper than the last, the memory of his hands staining your skin in ugly hues. The house feels colder than ever, the darkness pressing in on you from every corner.

When morning comes, you force yourself to your feet, your body moving on autopilot. You reach for the makeup on the bathroom counter, your hands trembling slightly as you smooth the heavy foundation over the forming bruises on your cheek. It feels like a mask, a way to conceal not just the physical marks but the emotional scars that run much deeper. The person in the mirror doesn’t look like you anymore.

You step into the butcher shop later that day, the bell’s cheerful chime feeling oddly out of place against the weight in your chest. You paste on a smile, the same practiced expression you’ve perfected over time, and make your way to the counter.

Simon is there, his eyes lighting up as he spots you. But the excitement in his gaze dims slightly as he takes in your stiff posture, the way you shift uncomfortably as you dig into your bag for your wallet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle and full of concern. The question is simple, but the way he asks it feels different—like he truly wants to know, like he’s ready to hear whatever you have to say.

For a moment, you hesitate. The warmth in Simon’s voice feels like a balm against the chill that’s settled deep in your bones, and you’re tempted—so tempted—to tell him the truth. To let someone else carry the weight for a little while.

But then the walls go up, as they always do. You smile, the expression tight and forced, and shake your head. "I’m fine," you say, the words hollow even to your own ears.

Simon doesn’t press, but the concern in his eyes doesn’t fade. If anything, it deepens, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might not let the matter drop. There’s something about him—his quiet determination, the steady strength you’ve seen in the way he carries himself—that makes you wonder if he could be the one to finally break through your defenses.

But you can’t let him. Not now. Not yet.

As you leave the shop, you glance back over your shoulder. Simon is still watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. In that brief moment, you allow yourself to imagine a life where kindness isn’t just a fleeting encounter but a constant presence. Where the warmth of someone like Simon could replace the cold reality of your world.

"Maybe one day," you think, the words both a hope and a prayer. For now, you carry the thought of Simon with you, a small light in the darkness that has become your reality.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

Thank you to @ghostlythots for the extra tags that I should have added!

[hellsenthero]

Kinktober Day 8: Chasing

Azriel X Fem!Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

---

Night had come, and the moon cast a silver glow over the otherwise dark forest. Your breathing came fast and heavy as you ran. You were nearly crashing through the forest, causing such a ruckus that you knew the creatures in the forest could hear you. You knew he could hear you. But you couldn't stop, couldn't slow down. You knew you wouldn't get out of here by stealth. Speed was your only option.

Run, run, run, run. Your mind chanted over and over again.

Run. He'd said.

So you did.

You ran for what felt like eternity. Your lungs burned, your legs sore, but you didn't stop.

Not until your foot caught on a twisted tree root, and you went flying into the ground with a cry. Your fingers scraped at the dirt and leaves as you moved to stand and keep going, but a voice behind you had you pausing.

"How pathetic." You spun in the dirt to face the male behind you. His frame towered over you, his leathery wings blocking out the moons light, further casting you in darkness. "I thought I told you to run?" He said with a quirk of his head.

"I-" you began before you lapsed into a coughing fit.

"You?" The male said with a predatory smile. "I'll finish that thought for you, darling." He said once you stopped coughing. "You're mine now."

You gasped in shock as the male reached out and grabbed you. "I think your legs must be tired from all that running." He said as he picked you up. He walked forward until your back met a tree. "Let me help you with that." He said as he lifted your legs up and around his waist. His croch lined up with yours, and you could feel his hard length. He ground his hips into you, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock through his pants.

"Please-" you gasped as he shoved your dress further up your thighs. With a harsh tug he pulled your underwear to the side, leaving your cunt bare and open to him.

"Please what?" He asked as his right hand got to work undoing his pants. "Please... stop? Please... fuck you?" He chuckled as he finally got his cock free. "Don't worry darling, I got you." You said before he pushed his cock into you.

You both groaned at the feeling of him filling you. "Az-"

"I know," he said. He gave you a moment to adjust to his length before he really started to fuck you.

"Oh fuck!" You cried as he found a rhythm.

"There you go." Azriel gasped. "Taking me so well. You're fucking made for my cock."

"Harder!" You ordered.

Azriel fucked you hard enough that you knew you'd have cuts on your back from the tree bark, but you didn't care. Not when his cock felt so good inside of you, filling you up, hitting that special spot inside of you.

"Fucking tight." Azriel growled before shoving his face into the crook of your neck. He nipped and kissed and sucked all over. You knew he was leaving marks, claiming you.

"I'm close!" You warned as you felt that teather inside of you pull impossibility tighter.

"Come. Come on my cock." Azriel ordered.

You obeyed instantly. With shaking legs, your orgasm rushed through you. You threw your head back with a silent moan, your eyes closed in pleasure.

"Fuck!" Azriel shouted as his own climax hit him. He pushed his cock as far as he could inside of you as he came, filling you up with each and every pump of his come he let out.

The forest was silent, save for your heavy breathing as you each came down from your climax. Azriel was slow to pull out and even slower to lower your legs back down to the ground. "You okay?" He asked tenderly. The sneaky, threatening male from before replaced with a tender, soft lover. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, Az. I'm okay." You told him with a smile.

"You back-"

"My back is okay, not too sore." Azriel leaned forward with a smile and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth before he pulled away.

"I'll run you a warm bath at the house, make sure you're not too scrapped up."

"Okay," you answered with a giggle.

Azriel wrapped his arms around you, preparing to winnow you home. "I'm glad you let slip this little fantasy of yours. It was fun." Your giggle turned into an outright laugh.

"You're just happy so long as we fuck."

Azriel nodded. "So long as you're. comfortable, yeah."

[druidwolf21]

So I have this headcanon that space wolves pack bond whit thralls and or other humans.

With that said, I have this image (and or teeth rotting Fluff fic idea) where a space wolf stubbornly insists in doing one of the thralls in their packs hair.

I mean the lil humie help braid his hair once it’s finally washed so why shouldn’t he return the favour once in a while? Besides it’s a very good pack bonding experience :))

Eeeek I love this so much!!!!

And it gives me an excuse to write more about my Ulryk!!!

His first story is here

Here's a little rough pic of him here

Some short sweet fluff with a space wolf!

CW:one sexual innuendo, other than that, just a fluffy moment

@beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @thisuserislilsilly @jaghatai-khock @yurihasurunbara @0bananadog0

You muttered to yourself as you scrubbed at the Ceremite gauntlet perched between your knees, the dried blood caking the armour stubbornly refusing to move. Groaning in frustration you rolled your aching shoulder and flipped your hair back in annoyance before rubbing the mark with renewed vigour. The bench you sat on wobbling under you as you pushed your weight behind your cleaning.

"bloody great brute making a bloody mess of his bloody armour" you hissed as you managed to swipe the gore away. Leaning back, you smiled as the steel blue colour glinted under the harsh light of the armoury. "Finally!" You rose to your feet, and gripped the gauntlet against your chest as you heaved it back onto the rack before standing back and admiring your work. The armour shone in the florescent glow, blues and silvers ethereal under the stark light, each piece painstakingly scrubbed and polished.

All that was left was the helm.

You spun back to the work bench, tutting as your hair whipped across your face. You reached behind you and yanked the loose hair upwards into a hastily tied bun. "Throne, I swear I'm going to shave this all off at this rate" you grumbled as you stepped up to a large wooden bench and picked up and oiled cloth.

The helmet was stark against the oak, pale bone crested a burnished iron jaw lined with razor teeth. Swirls of blue stained runes tapered across the brow of the skull around the dark eye sockets, blessing gear with fenrisian magic. Your frown softened into a gentle smile as you gently ran the rag across the helmet, easing dirt away with precise touches. You leant over, eyeing a persistent spot of mud you brought the washcloth up to the hinge of the jaw and

Your hair fell across your face.

"That's it! I've had enough"

you tossed the oiled cloth across the room and stormed to the toolbox balancing precariously on the bench and reached in. Pulling out a small jagged knife, you grasped your hair firmly in one hand and swiped the blade towards your locks.

A large hand clasped your wrist, twisting it away as you dropped the dagger in shock. Reeling from the sudden contact, you tripped backwards, your weight being held up only by the hard clasp on your arm. Your eyes darted to the touch, following the muscled arm up to a broad chest layered in thick furs and a scarred and handsome face, framed by a cropped beard. A long blonde braid peppered with fenrisian beads and rings hung over his shoulder and his cerulean eyes burned into yours as he scowled down at you, lifting you off your feet slightly and setting you back down before releasing you.

"Skítja, Ulryk you scared me"

The astartes towered over you, watching you silently as you rubbed at the reddening mark on your wrist, muttering under your breath. "Your armour's not finished yet, I've just got the helmet left." You flipped a finger back at your hair. "I'd be done by now if this would stay up in a ponytail" You bent over and picked up the knife, flipping its hilt into your hand. "I'm just going to chop it off, I don't have to worry about it that way"

His head cocked to the side as you spoke before he lifted a callused hand to your face, rough fingers tracing the line of your cheek before tangling in your hair. A rare smile flashed across his face, creasing the long scar that crested his cheek and you felt butterflies in your stomach. "I like your hair" he shrugged, wrapping a strand around his index finger. "Besides, mine is longer and you don't hear me complaining"

You rolled your eyes and collected your tresses up into a bundle "I don't have a thrall to keep my hair nice and neat like someone does, it's easier to just.." you made a slicing motion with the knife. The man snorted and battered it from your hand before picking you up in a swift movement and standing you in the iron bench, ignoring your squeaks of protests as he did so. "Stop complaining, woman" he growled, facing you away from him as he set you down. You turned to question him, only to find your head roughly pushed back around. "Ulryk what are you"

You paused as you felt a tug on your hair, then another, gentler this time. Back and forth his hands moved, surprisingly softly for a man of his stature. "Are you braiding my hair?" No response as the soft pulling continued. You hummed as he wove your hair, relaxing under his touch and enjoying the comfortable silence. A soft pat on your head signalled he was finished and you turned to face him with a soft blush across your face. You pulled your hair over your shoulder and ran your fingers down the plait. "Thank you, my lord"

The space wolf shrugged, thick fur rolling across his shoulders at the movement. "It's not as good as yours, but then I doubt your little hands could lift a frost blade, drengr"

His response made you smile as you looked down at his handiwork, a clean, simple braid along the length of your hair, tied with a simple thread. Tangled in the locks of the locks was a single silver ring, wrapped carefully into the hair and engraved with a single ruin.

Gmorl

Fate

Your eyes widened in shock as you looked up at him "Ulryk this is yours, I can't keep this" at your words he bent over, face level with yours as he inspected the metal work. His fist suddenly clenched around the hair and he pulled, using his grasp to bring your face to his and placing a firm kiss against your lips. He smelt of smoke and pine forests, his canines nipped into you and your heart hammered in your chest so hard you feared it would leap from your body. He released you and you wobbled, placing a hand against his broad chest to steady yourself.

"it was mine, now it is yours, keep it, so others would know you are mine"

You stared at him with your mouth agape as he lifted you off the bench.

"besides, it gives me something to grab into whilst I..

You slapped his chest. "Ulryk no!"

He laughed, deep and sonorous as he placed a soft pat on your head and turned to leave.

"don't forget to finish that armour, there's no excuse now"

"you are the worst"

He waved his hand over his shoulder as he left, flashing you a sharp toothed grin as he sealed the door behind him.

You sighed, exasperated, before returning your gaze to the iron band in your hair. Twisting the metal between your fingers you allowed yourself a quiet giddy laugh before collecting your discard rag off the floor and heading back to the helmet on the counter.

"nearly done"

[holybibly]

Im so embarrass to ask this request..

Well im kind of new😭

Honestly can u do mommy dom hwa...

Like mommy hwa is so hot and dom hwa too 🤭🤭 so why not both🤭 i have read many fics abt mommy hwa it just sooo sexy...

I hope u will accept my request!!:3

Well, well, well, I see that all my bunnies just can't get enough of mommy Hwa from Pretty Flushed, and they want more.

Well, I'll give you more, just don't blame me later for getting more than you could bite.

Dom mommy Seonghwa punishing his little naughty girl for disobedience.

"How many times do I have to tell you before you learn your lesson? Mommy doesn't like naughty girls. And you, you were very naughty today..." Seonghwa's velvety voice sounds in your ears like molten honey on your skin, burning and sweet.

Your arms are tied to the headboard with silk ribbons, and your legs are spread wide so that your wet, swollen pussy is exposed to his gaze. Seonghwa's long fingers are glistening in the dim light of the bedroom, completely covered in your juices as they slide in and out of you with a sadistic slowness. You want to cum desperately, wanting this almost painfully, wanting more, but this is how you get punished.

Seonghwa will continue this exquisite torture as long as he wants.

"I'm so sorry, mommy... I didn't mean it like that; I swear, it's just..."

A hard slap on the tender skin on the inside of your thigh made you whimper loudly and close your eyes from the searing but deliciously pleasant pain. Your mind was clouded by the amazing sensation of his skilled fingers being inside of you.

You were so close to your sweet release, but Seonghwa pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelching sound and instead slapped the palm of his hand against your leaking, slutty cunt. All you could do was sob pathetically in response, accepting everything your mommy thought you deserved.

In Seonghwa's eyes, you were so adorable—all tied up and completely submissive to him.

"Bad girls can't come, sweetheart. They don't deserve to be released in the slightest, do you understand?" God, why does he have to use that royal condescending tone with you at this moment?

You hadn't been able to bring yourself to look him in the eye. You weren't even sure what it was you had done to unleash this monster in front of you. Your mommy, who is always so sweet and gentle, is completely different from the devilish man in front of you. Usually,  Seonghwa is not so harsh with the punishment, but today, my God, something had set him off.

"Mommy...p-please let me cum...I'm so sorry, I swear I'll be obedient..."

Slap! And another one after that: your legs automatically want to close up; this kind of stimulation is too exhausting and painful for you at the moment. But you know better than to provoke Seonghwa like that. You should also learn to keep your pretty little mouth shut before you let him do it for you.

And he'll do it right now. His beautiful, hard cock, long and stringy, dripping with pre-cum, ends up right in front of your face. Seonghwa smiles arrogantly as he unties the silk from your wrists, freeing your hands, and before you can react, the sudden thrust of his hips pushes his thick cock into your mouth, causing you to choke on it.

"Ah, ah, be a good girl and take mommy's dick in your fucking mouth." He grasps you roughly by the hair and tilts your head so that you can see all of his handsome features, a dark grin spreading across his sensual lips. "Perhaps mommy will be kind enough to finish off your punishment in here and let you come on my big, fat cock. You'd like that, sweetheart. Wouldn't you?" You could only nod at his words. Your face, so swollen and red from crying, was a sight for his eyes.

His hips begin to move slowly, and you try to relax your jaw in an attempt to ease the slight pain caused by the sudden intrusion. Your watery eyes closing, thick tears streaming freely down your face, Seonghwa's face freezes into a sadistic expression as he tightens his grip on your hair, his other hand wrapped around your neck in a light and gentle stranglehold, feeling the outline of his cock beneath his palm each time he enters your mouth.

"That's it, little girl; be obedient and please your mommy."

Seonghwa's pace begins to increase fast and mercilessly, making you gasp each time his cock plunges deep into your throat; it's a satisfying sound for him. Hwa growls above you, his voice so deep and sexy that you think you could cum just from the sound of it.

His rough thrusts continue until he feels that he's about to cum, and he quickly pulls away from you with a loud pop as his cock leaves your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting the red, swollen head of his cock to your lips. He strokes your tear-stained cheek, laughing softly at the completely lost expression on your face.

"My god, you've been such a good girl for mommy. I think you've earned your reward now, have you? Hmm?" Seonghwa could see the stars shining in your eyes as you nodded furiously at him, so eager to please him and to enjoy the sweet feeling of orgasm from him. "Look how charming you are. Can't you always be as obedient as you are now? You just have to be nice, and mommy won't punish you, darling. Get down on all fours, baby, and mommy is going to give you the best orgasm of your  life." Like an obedient little kitten, you obeyed without question.

When you got down on all fours, you deliberately lifted your ass higher, shaking it too eagerly, desperate to come as soon as possible and to have Seonghwa shower you with care and love when it's all over.

“Good girls, stay put and wait patiently. You're a good girl, aren't you?"

You immediately stopped all of your movements, as you did not want to upset him again. Seonghwa's hands grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them apart. He watched as your cunt literally squeezed on nothing, the humiliation spreading through your body like a tidal wave.

Seonghwa just laughed at this, which made you whimper and push your ass towards him, which only resulted in a hard, hard slap on the cheek of your soft ass. The mark on his palm turned your skin an angry pink.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to fucking put you back where you were, and you won't be able to come until you've learned to obey me. If you keep acting like a bitch, you won't get nothing, baby. Or have you forgotten that mommy doesn't like naughty girls?" He asked. His soft tone changed so quickly, back to a cold, arrogant distance, and it scared you, so you just nodded obediently, frozen, waiting for Seonghwa to decide what to do with you next.

For a moment, you were completely lost in your thoughts. Then you felt your walls begin to stretch around the thick girth of Seonghwa's cock, causing you to moan loudly and long.

"Hmm, my love, I have prepared you so well, and you are still so tense? How many times does your mommy have to fuck your slutty little cunt for you to be able to take my dick with a single thrust?" The sudden movement of his hips made you whimper, and you buried your face in the pillow.

"Please, mommy..."

He holds you in his arms from behind, his arms wrapped around your belly, his eyes hooded with lust as he leans down to your face and whispers in your ear.

"I love you so much...baby, do you want to come on my cock, baby girl? My little girl wants to come so badly, doesn't she?"

A wave of pleasure shoots through you as he rubs his fingers quickly and persistently against your clit - it was too intense for you, your orgasm hitting you like a fast train—your knees buckle under him, and you fall limply to the bed as your pussy clench around his cock. As Seonghwa continues to fuck you mercilessly, overstimulating your entire body, your hot tears soak the pillow, leaving you looking like a complete mess.

"Mommy, no more; it's too much. Please! T-too m-much!"

Seonghwa bites the back of your neck, leaving his possessive mark, and you can feel his chest vibrate against your back as he moans into your skin with a guttural sound.

"Didn't you say that was what you wanted? A little girl can't take everything that is given to her? That's a shame, because I'm going to take that cunt as much as I want."

His thrusts are hard and fast, the stimulation too intense to resist, and you come all over his cock again. You moan loudly as the head of his cock hits the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you.

"You are so sensitive, my love. Your cunt gives me such a good squeeze." Seonghwa's fingers rub against your clit again, your loud cries muffled by the pillow as you bite down on the fabric, and you squirm under him, hoping he'll finally get off you and give you a break.

Not satisfied with what you have done, he turns you over on your back, lifts your legs up to your chest, and fucks you hard in the mating pressure position. In this position, his cock goes much deeper into you. All you can do is hold on to his hand and squeeze it hard. You were totally helpless under him. You only wanted one orgasm after hours of torturing him with your fingers. But in the end, you got more than you could bite off.

"Well, darling, don't cry... shh... I'll definitely take care of you afterwards, OK? My girl, you treat me so well; mommy will feed you so well with her cum; you will be warm and full, my darling." His breathing was ragged; he made a few more sharp thrusts, and his hips calmed down as he began to empty his cum into you, filling you to the brim. The feeling of being so filled made you cum all around him again, and you lay completely limp on the bed. Your eyelids were heavy, your body was completely boneless, and your mind was far away and unfocused from all the orgasms you had been through.

"I hope that you have learned your lesson, my darling, and that you will continue to be an obedient and good little girl. Now, let your mommy take care of you, my little one." Seonghwa said as he placed a soft kiss on your tear-stained cheek.

No matter how rude he was to you, you always knew that Hwa would treat you like royalty afterwards, as confirmation of what you already knew very well: how much he loved you.

[reveryfics]

Reunion

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male reader

Summary: Having gotten injured in the line of duty and spending weeks in the hospital, you're surprised to see Simon is the one to pick you up and bring you home.

A/n: I was heavily putting off anything COD related simply because I know somethings with be out of character, but as I've gotten back into COD I figured why not. This is 09 Ghost.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sting of the first bullet was sharp, a sudden, searing pain that shot through his shoulder and thigh. He’d barely registered it before the second, a graze across his arm, a reminder of the deadly dance he was caught in. His vision blurred, the world a chaotic swirl of gunfire and screams. Yet, a strange focus settled over him. He had to finish this.

The enemy, a shadowy figure in the distance, was his target. With a grim determination, he lifted his rifle, his injured arm trembling. The world seemed to slow as he aimed, each breath a struggle. Bullets whizzed past, some striking the ground near his feet, others tearing into the walls behind him. But he was unyielding.

A sharp pain erupted in his side, followed by another in his collarbone. His vision began to dim, his body heavy. In the fading light, he saw a familiar figure rushing towards him, Simon, his fellow sergeant. And then, darkness.

He gasped awake, the sterile hospital room a stark contrast to the battlefield. The harsh beeping of machines filled the air. A tube snaked down his throat, making breathing difficult. Panic surged through him as he struggled to sit up, his movements restrained by the tangle of wires and tubes.

A group of nurses rushed in, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to his rising fear. They quickly attended to him, adjusting the tubes and monitoring his vitals. As the panic slowly subsided, he realized he was safe.

The hospital days blurred into weeks, a monotonous cycle of pain, medication, and physical therapy. Finally, the day of discharge arrived. With his arm in a sling and his body a patchwork of scars, he slowly dressed himself, the effort a testament to his stubborn determination.

The door creaked open, and Simon stepped in, his relief palpable. "You look like shit," he joked, his British accent a comforting contrast to the sterile hospital environment. "I'm glad you're okay. I was scared."

With gentle hands, Simon helped him dress and navigate the hospital corridors. The car ride to their shared apartment was quiet, the weight of the near-death experience hanging heavy in the air.

"I thought I died," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

"You and me both," Simon replied, his voice filled with unspoken emotion.

Back at the apartment, Simon assisted him with a shower, dressing him in his own clothes. As they lay down together, Simon pulled the covers over them, a sense of gratitude washing over him.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too, Simon," he replied, his voice barely audible.

And so, they fell asleep, two souls intertwined, safe and sound.

The road to recovery was long and arduous, but Simon's unwavering support and the 141's camaraderie fueled his determination. Month after month, he battled through physical therapy, enduring grueling exercises and enduring the pain.

When he finally returned to the 141, the reaction was a mix of relief and awe. Gazes followed him as he moved through the compound, his presence a stark reminder of the dangers they faced. The once-fearless warriors, hardened by countless battles, found themselves humbled by his resilience.

"You're back," Price said, his voice gruff with emotion. "Welcome home kid."

The team gathered around him, each offering their own unique brand of support. Some joked about his new scars, others shared stories of their own near-death experiences. But beneath the banter, there was a deep respect, a recognition of the strength it took to return.

Simon stood beside him, a silent guardian. His love and unwavering support had been the catalyst for his recovery, a testament to the power of human connection. As they stood together, a symbol of their unbreakable bond, the 141 knew that they had not just regained a teammate, but a hero.

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 26

degradation - sakusa kiyoomi x reader

word count: 674

warnings: degrading language obviously, don’t read it if that offends you, fingering, swearing, nsfw content, praise towards the end

word count: 676

kinktober masterlist

The room was dark and silent, illuminated only by the streetlight that shone in through the open curtains. It fell over the bed in one long, yellow stripe, trailing over your naked, shivering legs. Sakusa took in the sight, breathing deeply and marveling at how gorgeous your writhing, bare figure looked in the restricted light. He knew your mind was already half gone, legs contracting and relaxing with every movement of his long, skilled fingers inside you. You were breathing hard, sweat building up on your hairline, hands fisted in the sheets beside your head. In the dim light, Sakusa could see the unshed tears shimmering in your eyes.

You were a vision. But he wasn’t going to tell you in those words.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “Pathetic little slut. Opening your legs for me so willingly. Have you no shame?”

You whimpered, face scrunching and lip trembling as the tears finally escaped your eyes. Sakusa’s tone was as harsh as his words, but the way you clenched so tight around him told him just how much you loved it when he got like this.

And Sakusa? He thrived in it.

His fingers curled in you, pushing and pulling until you were crying out, eyes squeezing shut. He roughly pushed in, knuckle deep, prodding at the little spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars. You reacted instantly, gasping and arching up into him, legs jerking.

“Listen to these filthy noises,” he continued. “Listen to the way you sound. Whore. That’s what you are, right? Just a convenient whore.”

“Yes!” You squeaked. “I am.”

Sakusa bit back a moan at how wrecked you already sounded, how much you got off on the distaste in his voice. He felt every last bit of his blood rush to his dick, fueling his desire to finger you into oblivion. He ran his thumb roughly over your clit, watching you keen at the feeling.

“You love this.” He groaned as he watched you weep on his fingers, eyeing the juices trailing down his hand and dripping at his wrist. “Making a mess all over me and the bed. So desperate, it’s embarrassing.”

“Please,” you managed to gasp, sounding so pornographic it almost made Sakusa cum. “Omi, please. Wanna- I….. want-”

“Wanna cum?” He finished for you, staring at the trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed. “That’s all it took to fuck you dumb? You’re so easy, you slut. Do you even deserve to cum?”

He sped up his fingers as he talked, ignoring the cramp forming in his bicep, focused solely on making sure that you fall apart on his hand.

“Can’t hold it!” You shrieked, trying to grab his wrist to try and stop him. Sakusa ignored your attempts, reveling in how panicked you looked. “Can’t- Omi, I’m cumming-”

He tsked. “You have no self control, do you? Completely useless for anything except taking cock. Come on then, whore. Cum on my hand.”

And then you arched up impossibly high, gripping his wrist tight until all Sakusa could do was curl his fingers inside you over and over, prolonging your already very intense orgasm. You choked and gasped, eyes rolling up in your head, and Sakusa wondered how you would feel clenching this hard around his cock instead. It was a feeling he intended to realize very soon.

As you breathed hard, coming down from your high, tears still swimming between your eyelids, struggling to stay conscious, Sakusa leaned close to you, lips brushing over the skin of your neck and the shell of your ear.

“Beautiful.” He whispered. “So gorgeous. So perfect for me. So, so pretty.”

He ran gentle hands down your sides, your outer thighs, soothing their trembling. He continued to pour into your skin every sweet word he thought about you, every ounce of love he felt with his closed off heart.

He had a weird way of expressing himself. He was just happy he found someone who understood him regardless.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[novaursa]

Bonsoir Madame

Can I have a fem!hightower x grayne x Criston

Where she’s Alicent younger sister, she grow up most her life in king’s landing. Ser Criston is kinda obsessed with her, he’s her knight so he had to protect her always. And one night when he’s standing behind her door, he clearly hears her make her little business. But when he try to watch he find out that she’s with her own brother Gwayne.

H eventually confronted her (that little bitch had no shame to thinks is superior and attack someone..) but Gwayne came to her rescue and with all his sarcasm make him shut up

Behind the Chamber Door

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Ser Criston was appointed to guard you by your sister, Queen Alicent herself. He overhears something that makes him confront both you and his heart’s desire.

- Paring: Gwayne Hightower/hightower!reader/Criston Cole

- Note: The reader is Gwayne's and Alicent's younger sister.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The night is heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional flicker of torchlight outside your chambers. The faint glow bathes the stone walls in a soft, wavering light, casting long shadows that dance across the floor. Criston Cole stands vigilant, a statue clad in gleaming armor. He has always been there, lingering outside your door—Alicent’s loyal shield, your appointed protector. His presence is supposed to offer comfort, but lately, his gaze feels too watchful, too piercing. You feel his eyes on you whenever you pass, but tonight it is different.

Tonight, he heard.

The muffled sounds from your chamber had not been intended for any ears beyond your own and your brother's. Gwayne, your beloved brother, had left not long ago, slipping back into the quiet corridors of the Red Keep. The door had closed behind him, but the echo of his presence still lingered—along with the heat of his touch. You knew you shouldn't feel this way about him, but you couldn't help it. You had always shared an unusual closeness, one that had grown into something far more dangerous.

The weight of that intimacy presses against your chest even now as you sit on the edge of your bed, still breathless from his visit. Your heart pounds as you think of Gwayne’s whispered words, his touch—his love. But you are startled from your reverie by a sound at your door.

A sharp knock.

You rise, instinctively pulling your robe tighter around you. The door creaks open, and there stands Ser Criston Cole. His face is tense, jaw clenched, and there’s a look in his eyes that you have never seen before. He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. The silence between you stretches taut, thick with unspoken words. His dark eyes are ablaze, and you know in that instant—he knows.

"You should be more careful," Criston says, his voice low and harsh. "The walls have ears, Y/N."

You feel your stomach drop, the fear prickling at the back of your neck. "Criston..." You start, but the words falter on your lips. His name sounds fragile in the charged air.

His gaze flicks toward the bed, then back to you. "You’ve made a mockery of your family’s name, of your own. Do you understand what you've done?"

His tone cuts like a blade, the weight of his accusation sinking deep. You swallow hard, trying to regain some sense of control. "You don’t understand."

"No," he interrupts, stepping closer, his face inches from yours now. His anger is palpable, his breathing ragged. "I understand perfectly. I heard everything." His voice drops, the words hissing through clenched teeth. "Your brother… Gwayne Hightower. You let him—"

He doesn't finish, the disgust in his voice enough to paint the image vividly in your mind.

Your heart races. You look away, unable to face the fury in his eyes. "It's not what you think," you manage, but even to you, the words sound hollow, unconvincing.

Criston’s hand comes up, grasping your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. The touch is both gentle and commanding, a contradiction of the conflict within him. "You think I haven't seen the way he looks at you? The way you look at him?" His grip tightens slightly. "Do you think this is some game? A secret you can keep forever?"

You shudder, your breath catching. "And what would you have me do, Criston? Deny the feelings I have? Deny him?" The vulnerability in your voice betrays you. You want to resist, to push him away, but there's a part of you—somewhere deep down—that craves his attention, his anger.

His jaw tightens, his hand dropping from your chin, clenched now into a fist. "You don't understand," he whispers, his voice breaking, and for the first time, you see the struggle in his eyes—more than just his disgust, his duty. His own feelings are tearing him apart.

"Why?" you ask, your voice soft. "Why do you care so much?"

His eyes darken, and for a moment, he says nothing, the words caught in his throat. But then, finally, he breathes out, "Because... I care for you." The confession spills out like a dam breaking, raw and unguarded.

You freeze. Criston Cole—your sworn protector, the man bound by oath—cares for you. More than that, the way he looks at you now... it's more than duty, more than protection. It's something deeper, something dangerous.

"Ser Criston—" you begin, but before you can finish, the door swings open with a sharp creak. Gwayne strides in, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp as ever, taking in the scene. He sees Criston’s clenched fists, the tension in the air, and the way you stand frozen between them. A smirk curls at the corner of his lips, as if he finds the whole situation amusing.

"Ser Criston," Gwayne drawls, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Is this how you treat my sister? Should I be worried?" He steps between the two of you, placing a hand on your shoulder, possessive and casual all at once.

Criston stiffens, his eyes narrowing. "You should stop what you're doing before it's too late," he warns, voice trembling with barely suppressed anger.

But Gwayne only laughs softly, shaking his head. "Ah, Ser Criston. Always the righteous knight." His gaze shifts to you, softening. "Perhaps you’re jealous. Is that it? You wish to be in my place?"

Criston's face hardens, the words cutting deep, but he says nothing. The silence stretches again, heavy and suffocating.

Gwayne's grip on your shoulder tightens. "Go, Ser Criston. You’ve done your duty for the night." His voice is commanding now, dismissive.

For a moment, Criston hesitates, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes meet yours one last time, searching, pleading, before he turns on his heel and storms out, the door slamming behind him.

Gwayne lets out a low chuckle, leaning in to kiss your temple. "He'll get over it," he whispers, his hand sliding down your arm. "He always does."

But you can't shake the feeling that nothing will be the same after tonight.

[negansfavlucille01]

INNOCENCE Pt. 1

Negan × innocent reader (female)

Warnings: Mention of erection, weird liquid tasting

Note: I'm sorry for not posting, but I didn't know how to finish this. I decided I'll make a part two and maybe three if yall want. I have. Some drafts, so I'll upload more. Also I met people who don't like Jeffrey. UNBELIEVABLE. 😒

Quiet footsteps filled the hallway. Her bare feet touched the ground as she made her way to the room she knew only she was allowed in. Negan's room. It was late at night, probably around one am. Maybe two. She couldn't sleep. She tried everything. Reading a book, hot tub to relax and help her sleep. Nothing. And if there was one thing she knew for sure, that was that only he was gonna help her. The door opened slowly. It was dark. Light soft snores were filling the room. She could almost see him. Almost. His leather jacket was on the chair next to the bed. Knowing the room like the back for her hand, she knew where to step, shaking him gently once she got to him.

"Hm?" His voice was deep, almost harsh as he hadn't realized it was her yet. He sat up. "Someone better be fucking dying..."

"I... I can't sleep..." That was all she needed to say to be pulled in his arms once again. His touch was soft, making her snuggle deeply in him. He adjusted her so her head was on his chest. Her hair fell down. So pretty.

When he found her on that road, years ago, he knew he had to take her. She was a child. And he couldn't let a child die. At least not her. It took one look to know she was innocent. He had to be gentle with her, because she was special. Every single man in the Sanctuary knew she was. And if they touched her? They met Lucille. Usually, she struggled with sleeping. She was hesitant to go to Negan the first night, but he was so understanding. He made sure she fell asleep before he did.

This time it was different.

When he went to wrap an arm around her, he felt no shirt. Her skin was soft. (He imagined laying his head on her belly and then felling asleep, but he couldn't) "What the.." He quickly slid the sheet off and turned the lamp on the nightstand. She was wearing just a bra and shorts. "Where the fuck is your shirt at?"

"It was very hot in my room..." She looked up at him, her big doe eyes shining at him. He couldn't resist it. He couldn't be mad.

"You know you can catch a cold, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry..."

"Go to sleep."

Y/N rolled on her side, but before Negan could turn off the light, she saw something. "Negan, I think you spilled some milk on your sheet.."

His eyes widened when he saw her pointing at a white stain on the black sheet. He forgot to clean it up. "Yeah, probably.." He chuckled nervously.

Reaching her hand to the thing, Y/N touched it with her finger and brought it to her mouth, tasting it. "It tastes weird.. Like salt.." She stated.

"I'll clean it up in the morning, just... go to sleep." She nodded and laid back down

It was around five am when she shook him awake. Negan sat up, looking at her with confusion once again. "What now?"

"Something is poking me, Negan.." She pointed at the now painfully hard erection he had in his boxers. "Is that normal? What is it? Did something sneak into your pants?"

"It's normal, go to sleep." He interrupted her before she comes ask more questions.

"I can't.."

"And why the fuck not?"

"I'm curious about something..." She looked into his eyes before her own traveling down to his chest hairs. "A few weeks ago, I heard some of your men talking.."

"About what?" He brushed the strand of hair behind her ear.

"But I can't.."

She stayed silent for a few minutes before looking back at his eyes and licking her lip. "What's sex?"

Part 2?

[hiskillingjar]

Kidnapping (Ren/MC)

i’ve truly been struggling to write this for like two weeks, so fuck it! changed the prompt to an idea i had, i make my own rules FUCKER

day 22: kidnapping second person.

“*sniff sniff*”

Ren's claws were sharp, even through the barrier of latex gloves, as he rubbed the hair dye into your scalp, making sure that the creamy black goo covered each blonde strand well, that there wouldn't be any gaps or light spots, any resemblance to the person you used to be after he was finished.

You continued to sniffle, your bound hands twisting in your lap, sitting at his feet with your legs crossed beneath you, just trying to stay still so he wouldn’t get mad.

Stillness didn't mean you wouldn't let yourself cry, though.

"Stop squirming and quit your whimpering," He murmured in a low, warning tone, gently forcing your head back against his knee (staining be damned) as he continued massaging the dye into your hair, fingers rubbing (trying to keep his claws as gentle as possible) soothingly into your scalp in spite of his harsh words.

For all his cruelty, it seemed he was still trying to make the process as pleasant for you as he could.

"You're being so fussy over some silly hair dye, come on, quit acting like such a baby…”

"S-Sorry..." You stammered, whimpering a little more as he squeezed another spurt of dye into your roots, the chill of it making you shiver. "I don't understand why, though..."

"Isn't it obvious? I have to change your look a little bit," He responded before tilting your head to the side a little so he could better reach the hair at the nape of your neck. "You're such a pretty and unique little thing. So, it'd be a shame if someone recognized you, right?"

"Mmf," You mumbled a non-answer.

You had figured as much, without him telling you. 

Brunette or straight black hair was probably (definitley) a lot more common than blonde hair with pink highlights. If you planned on keeping a hostage on a long term basis, it probably made sense to dramatically change their image, the way he was doing now, so that they wouldn’t be recognised if you dared take them outside..

Still, it was a sort of death knell for your hope of freedom.

"Besides, dark hair is going to suit you, trust me. It'll be a nice change!" He continued, taking an extra second to brush his fingers through the roots of your hair. “It’ll…mark the start of your new life with me!”

You didn’t say anything to that, and just kept looking down and sniffling, softly.

"There, all done," Ren pulled the gloves off of his hands with a little flourish and a snap, and tossed them away before grabbing your chin, gently urging you to stand up and face him. “Let’s just make sure I’ve gotten every part of your hair first…”

He clicked his tongue as he observed you, tilting his head a bit as if he were deep in thought, before grinning, his tail wagging behind him.

"Yep, that’s all done! Ahh, I just know it's going to look great!" He cooed in satisfaction, his hands dropping down to hold yours, kept still by the ropes. "My good little doll looks so lovely when she obeys and lets me shape her~"

You sniffled again at the idea, feeling another tear trail down your reddened face.

"Oh, don't get all crybaby on me agai- oh, come on..!" He groaned, the affectionate, excited gleam in his gaze faltering a bit as he watched the tears trail down your cheek.

He reached up to cup your face and wipe away the tears running down your cheeks, his voice a tad gentler and softer than when he'd been commanding you.

"You're gonna make me feel bad if you keep crying, you know?"

"I'm s-sorryyyy," You drawled, trying to stop yourself from breaking down completely as you hid your face in his hands. 

Why did he have to be so nice to you? 

It would have been easier if he was a brute, if he hurt you, if he made you do things you didn’t want to do.

 As it stood right now, all he had done to you was occasionally tie your ropes a little too tight and dyed your hair an ugly colour...and he only had to do that because you couldn't have been smarter about trying to signal for help.

"God, can't you just...stop being so cute, it's- it's really unfair.." His expression turned a little frustrated, his lips pursed into a thin line and his eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no actual irritation in his tone, just something akin to mild annoyance. "Why are you being such a little crybaby? There's no need to keep on bawling over a little hair dye..."

"I liked my blonde hair," You sniffled again, both wrists reaching up to your eyes as you tried to dry your own tears. "I-I worked really hard on keeping it like that...a-and now that’s all gone." 

You started to cry a little more, biting your lip in an attempt to stop it.

"Shhh, calm down.. I said you look pretty, didn't I? You’re going to look absolutely adorable with your new hair colour, I promise! Black is going to make those pretty eyes of yours really pop out~" He tried to soothe you by stroking the back of your hands while keeping a hold on you, frowning a little himself as you continued to cry.

Your lip trembled as another stream of tears ran down your cheeks.

"Why can't you let me go?” You asked, your voice a frightened whisper. “T-This can't be fun for you anymore, looking after me like this..."

His face twisted into a slight grimace as you continued crying and started to plead again. 

"Sweetheart, we've been over this.” He started tersely, an icy tone to his voice as he held your hands tighter, his expression darkened.“I'm not letting you go. I’m never going to let you go, and I won't let anyone else have you. You're staying with me, whether you want to or not." He leaned up on his toes to speak in your face. “So, I’d suggest you make peace with it, okay?”

You shut up very quickly, letting your head sink down against your chest and your fingers slacken under the ropes.

Ren watched you for a moment, watched as you sank into yourself, before he moved his hands off your wrists and pulled you close to him, with your chest against his, his face nestled against your collar bone,  and your bound arms resting comfortably between the two of you.

“I’m sorry I have to be mean,” He murmured apologetically, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I just want to keep you safe, okay? Just want to make sure you’ll stay with me…”

He kept you held there for a little bit longer (maybe a lot longer, you weren’t sure), his arms around your midsection and loosely holding you against his chest as he nuzzled against your collar, in an almost gentle, soothing manner.

His hair was incredibly soft against your neck, and the fur of his ears were warm and comforting, like you were being held by a lover or a partner. As opposed to the reality of the situation, a kidnapper trying to soothe their hostage.

You knew that he was probably just trying to comfort you, and was letting you feel bad in your own time without babying you or trying to intimidate you out of the negative feelings.

You appreciated that to a degree, letting yourself sit still and quiet for a long period of time.

Long enough for his alarm to go off, signalling him to take off the dye.

He held you close for a while longer, even after the timer on his phone went off, before he slowly let you go.

"Come on, we need to wash your hair now." He spoke quietly as he took your bound hands, leading you in the direction of his bathroom.

You let yourself be led and knelt down, obediently, resting your head over the tub (like sticking your head through the hole of a guillotine) as he started up the shower, testing the temperature and flow with his palm before guiding your head under the stream, and beginning to carefully run his fingers through your hair and rinse out the excess dye.

"You seem a lot calmer now," He commented with a hint of a teasing tone. “Cried all the bad feelings out, hm?”

"Mm," You hummed quietly, another non answer, trying to focus on the comforting drag of his hands in your hair and against your scalp and the warmth of the water, washing you clean.

Clean of the person you had been before him, clean of any sin you had endured up until then, ready to be born anew.

Ren was oddly gentle and attentive as he washed your hair (as oddly gentle and attentive as he often was, anyway), working the suds of black dye out through the strands of hair and massaging your scalp as thoroughly as he could. All the while, he stayed mostly silent, save for a few quiet, soothing noises under his breath, just low, hums or murmurs, you imagined, to settle you down and keep you feeling calm and relaxed.

You carefully adjusted your position, resting your hands over the edge of the tub, the ropes getting wet and tight, and letting your head sink lower down as the water finally ran clean, any remnant of black dye long washed away.

Ren turned off the water and grabbing a towel from nearby, patting your hair dry and using it to ruffle the new dark bulk of it playfully.

"There, all done," He spoke softly, once he was satisfied with his handiwork, before grabbing your arm and having you sit back on the tub’s edge.

Your hair covered your face, dripping water down your face, staining your t-shirt underneath.

It was what Ren wanted. 

And he always got what he wanted.

"It looks absolutely perfect," He mused, continuing to card his fingers through your hair, watching the way the water-slicked strands slid over your face and neck, before his gaze moved down to your face.

“Like you’re a brand new you…ready to be my toy~”

[colemorrison]

Cool metal against hot skin in the now stuffy room, harsh movements as he thrusted inside of you.

"This is what you wanted isn't it, to be manhandled like the whore you are?"

Your silence only fueled him more, he couldn't resist it, he was fucking you so good you couldn't speak? Oh, then he'd just have to keep going harder to see how you'd react then. The noise you made in response to Ramattra's actions made his hand move to the back of your neck holding you down onto the bed.

"Such a slut."

The omnic's movements were harsh, your body felt like it was on fire and your head felt so light, pain and pleasure mixing into a jumbled mess in your brain. His hand moved to wrap around your throat and pulled you back against him.

"Do you prefer this angle, that way you can hear my voice right in your ear?"

The pressure on your throat made it hard to breathe but he didn’t let go nor did he stop thrusting into you like an animal. He was going to use your limp body as he pleased, fuck your pretty holes raw.

When everything had gotten dark he let go just barely before you passed out, he awaited the three taps but they never came so his thrusts didn’t stop.

“Is this what you humans like? To be fucked so hard you lose your voice? Your brain? Stupid toy.”

Your hands that remained tied together sat limply against your back, he wanted to have complete control over you which is exactly what he got with this arrangement.

Ramattra’s hand moved forward, pinching and groping your body before landing at where you needed him most, his fingers were gentle at first before they turned rough, adding even more pleasure and pain to the mix.

“You’re going to cum with me, I don’t care if it hurts.”

A harsh pinch came to your nipples when you didn’t respond.

“Yes sir.”

It was small, quiet and whiny but it was an answer. When you did finally finish with him you must’ve either fallen asleep or passed out. When you awoke again your pretty omnic boyfriend sat next to you, watching you closely.

“Is that truly what you enjoy?”

“God yes.”

“How about next time I gag you as well hm?”

————

Here’s the rest of it that you wanted so bad smh.. @ya-zz Surprise!!

[5iyoomi]

3H Leaders With an Overworked S/O

characters: Dimitri, Edelgard, Claude

warnings: none! just fluff

A/N: this kinda bled into an idea I had for them with an insomniac reader so these are sort of a mix of the two things! written for them pre-timeskip and with a gn reader (with one use of dear, darling & sweetheart, but otherwise nothing pointing towards a specific gender). I haven't written for fe3h in forever hopefully they aren't too ooc

Word Count: 1,770

‎

Dimitri

Like you, he's probably overworked as well

Being a royal and a leader has its merits, yes, even though he doesn't really like all the formalities that come with it, but that doesn't mean it's always easy

He's used to pushing through it, protecting his people and doing anything if it gets pushed onto him. That's his role, after all, and if he can take the pressure off of others then he'll gladly accept it

With you, though, he understands that's not the kind of advice you need. It's not uncommon for him to find you in the Monastery's Library hours after everyone had gone to sleep for the night, hunched over one of the large, elegant tables with stacks of papers and notebooks splayed out around you

He'll sit down with you when he catches the single, dim light on in the otherwise dark room, waving off your questions of how he knew you'd be there as 'just a feeling'

He's realistic, helping you with your workload even if you insist otherwise, that you need to get it done yourself before your deadlines hit. But he'll also hold you to it if you mutter out a 'just one more', his eyes looking between you and the clock mounted on the wall

"Here should be a good stopping point for now, don't you think? You've already finished most of what you needed to get done," Dimitri says with a soft smile, setting a piece of paper into a stack that you'd deemed the 'completed' section.

You'd been there long enough that he had time to go brew the both of you some chamomile tea, hoping the fragrance and sweet notes would help lower your stress. It seemed to be working, your anxiety lessening as you took small sips and noted the fact that you'd at least gotten the bigger, more important things out of the way.

"But-" you start, tapping your pencil against your head in thought, but your words get cut off with a yawn. "There's only a few more left, wouldn't it be better to just finish them?"

Dimitri shakes his head, reaching over to hold his hand out for you. You take it after a moment, interlocking your fingers and sighing when he gives your hand a squeeze. "They aren't due for another few weeks, right? They can wait until morning, you should really get some rest, dear."

You want to protest, tell him it's not even that late, but you've already thrown out every excuse you can think of to get him to not drag you to bed. He wasn't obligated to do any of this for you, and you knew these nights were something that ate into time that he could be using to get some much-needed sleep. So you finally, albeit hesitantly, give in, your teacup long empty and shoulders drooping in defeat. "I guess so-"

The blonde brightens at that, his thumb stroking over your own with a gentleness you'd grown weak to. It was hard to fight him when ocean blue eyes gazed into yours, his love for you obvious in the simple ways he showed his care. "If it helps, you can stay in my room for tonight. I'm sure one night won't hurt."

You nod, sparing a glance at the once disorganized mess of pages and deciding that you'd take his word for it. "I'd like that."

Edelgard

Similar to Dimitri, she's always dealt with things by trooping through them. As a more private person and a leader, she rarely ever lets appearances fall, so you're one of the few people that's seen what she can be like behind closed doors

Thus, her first instinct when she sees you nodding off in class is to gently nudge you awake and tell you to get to bed earlier. It might sound a bit harsh, but she only wants the best for you, and she thinks to what might happen if you were to fall asleep like that in the middle of a battle, which doesn't exactly help either of you (dramatic much?)

But when you tell her it's because you're swamped with work, trying to keep up with everything while simultaneously doing extra for people that, in her words, couldn't take the hint that you were busy, she gets upset

Not at you, but more at herself for not noticing the signs sooner when you're her partner of all things, and for making a comment that may have come off as insensitive. She still struggles with how to deal with these things, especially when it comes to you, emotionally or otherwise, so there's a chance she'll just ask you exactly what you need from her

She's a bit more lenient when it comes down to you staying up since she tends to do the same, but she'll still suggest taking a day off at one point

She'll take you to the greenhouse if you're up to it so that you aren't cooped up in your room all night with the idea that a change of scenery might help you avoid burning out or getting too frustrated

The Monastery was so quiet at night, most of the student body and staff already long asleep or busy with their own things. You only see a few people as you step outside, fingers interlocked with Edelgard's and a small crease in your brow from looking over the same words for hours.

You'd always thought it was beautiful, but lately you had no time to appreciate it, what with assignment after assignment piling up on you, so it was nice to get out for a while, even if the only things that awaited you when you got back were unfinished documents and half-filled in pages.

Scribbled notes that you took when you could hardly keep your eyes open. A breath of fresh air was almost enough to make you forget why you've been so stressed out. Almost.

The greenhouse was no different, the place always well-kept due to the student's tireless work. It made you feel a bit better, walking side by side with Edelgard as you're greeted by greenery and the like.

Pink and purple flowers bloom in one corner, slowly but surely growing underneath the bright moon visible through the glass, while seeds you assume to be newly planted sit beneath fresh soil on the other.

"Look at this one, it's the same color as your eyes." Edelgard says, grabbing your attention. You turn towards her in time for her to slip a flower behind your ear, her thumb brushing over your skin with a thoughtful grin. "It's good to get out, isn't it? That's why we're out here, so you shouldn't worry so much, darling."

You smile, feeling your cheeks and body start to warm. She was so effortlessly sweet sometimes; you think it's going to be the death of you one of these days. "Yeah, you have a point there."

Claude

He probably notices before you even say anything or notice you're feeling off yourself lol

He's an observant character, but it does still surprise you when he asks you if something's wrong out of the blue

"Huh? No, I'm alright, just a bit tired."

He sees right through it, but he doesn't wanna push you, so he'll just keep an eye on you for a while, making sure that you aren't overdoing it or setting aside your basic needs

If he sees that you are, he'll make it a point to put extra food on his plate for you. He'll come knocking on your dorm door every now and again to check on you, sliding a snack or drink your way and staying if you let him, though he mostly distracts you

It'd be hypocritical of him to tell you to take it easy when he's the same way, so he won't exactly tell you what to do, but he'll find a way to get you away from your work if he notices it's causing you too much trouble. He'll also have a polite word with your professor, maybe tell them that you're sick and need a few days off if he thinks it's bad enough

You might huff at him and say that that wasn't necessary, but he'll insist it was

It's another one of those nights, times when Claude comes knocking with another excuse at the ready for why he's there. You know why, it's become obvious over the last few weeks that it's his backwards way of telling you that he cares. He'll never scold you for your habits, but you know exactly what he wants to say even if he doesn't say it.

"Hey, wanna dance with me?" Claude asks after a comfortable silence had grown like a veil over the both of you. He'd made himself very comfortable on your bed, but you never actually minded. It was endearing in a way, really, even if you had to turn him down when you finish writing out a sentence, looking up at him from your desk.

"I'm busy, Claude, you know that."

"Come now, you can hardly even focus. Just a few minutes, promise." He gives you his signature smile, one that's saved for you but still equally mischievous as all of his other ones. He holds out his pinkie finger, chuckling at your muttered seriously? But he doesn't see you saying no. After a few moments of hesitation, you stand up, taking his finger in yours and shaking.

"Fine, but only a few minutes. I'm serious." You say, yelping when he stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him and taking your hands in his. He kisses your knuckles oh so softly, a glint in his eyes that you realize far too late that you shouldn't trust, but he's already got you right where he wants you, and he doesn't plan on letting go.

"I know, I know. I won't take up too much of your time, sweetheart." He hums.

It isn't just a few minutes, song after song playing on the record as you danced into the night. But you can't find it in yourself to be mad. Not when he twirls you around so carefully, a hand placed on the small of your back with your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders.

And certainly not when he coaxes you to bed, not even bringing up the thesis you had to finish since all of your attention was on him now. He presses a kiss to your forehead, wishing you sweet dreams, and you fall asleep in a matter of seconds with him by your side.

[yuyuonabeat]

You Are My Content

.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.:*♪:･’.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.

.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.:*♪:･’.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.

I’m soft for Hongjoong

In the quiet hum of the studio, Hongjoong was absorbed in his work, oblivious to the outside world. His phone buzzed repeatedly, messages and calls from his girlfriend lighting up the screen.

You missed him, needed him, but his focus was unwavering. Frustrated by the lack of response, you decided to visit him. You entered the studio quietly, watching him lost in his music.

"Hey, Hongjoong," you said softly, trying not to startle him. He barely glanced up, his eyes still fixed on his work. "I've been calling and texting, but you didn't answer."

"Yeah, I've been busy," he replied curtly, turning back to his equipment.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "I know you're passionate about your music, but I feel like you're ignoring me."

He sighed, still not looking at you. "I need to focus. This is important."

"More important than us?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Hongjoong finally looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Right now, yes."

Taken aback by his abrupt dismissal, you cross your arms, disappointment taking over your features. You sigh, trying not to argue with him about such matters knowing that would only get him more angry.

You turn around and sit down on the red couch that adorns half of his cramped studio. Crossing one leg over the other and making yourself comfortable. Maybe you should just wait till he finishes his work.

You decide not to distract or bother him. Thinking you could talk about your relationship after he’s done. At least that’s what the two of you always seem to end up doing whenever you visit him over at his studio.

Hongjoong watched as Y/N turned her back to him, her disappointment clear. But he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now. Not when they were so close to finishing their album.

He turned back to his equipment, focusing on the rhythm he'd been working on. The beats echoed through the room, drowning out any potential conversation. He knew he was being harsh, but this was what had to be done. His music came first.

After a few hours of intense work, he finally stopped. Exhaustion washed over him, but he felt satisfied with what he'd achieved. He noticed his girlfriend sitting on the couch, her head resting on her hands.

She seemed asleep, which gave him some relief. He wasn't ready to face her yet. A few minutes pass and Hongjoong looks back at your sleeping state.

With a heavy sigh, Hongjoong moved towards Y/N, gently shaking her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing her tired state.

Seeing her like this tugged at something inside him, reminding him of how much she meant to him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I should have paid more attention to you."

He sat down next to her on the couch, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His touch was gentle, contrasting sharply with his earlier behavior.

"You look exhausted," he continued, studying her features closely.

You fix your posture on the red couch and stretch your arms out.

“I’m alright. You look worst. Hongjoong you have dark circles under your eyes.” You look at him before lifting up your hand to place gently on his cheek. With a finger, slowly tracing his dark circles.

“I know music is very important for you, my love but I feel you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

Your gaze falls upon his hands that rest on his lap. You grab his hand and bring it up to your lips. Placing a tender kiss on the back of his hand.

Hongjoong flinched slightly at the unexpected contact, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't expected her to be so affectionate, especially after the way he'd treated her earlier.

He let her hold his hand, allowing himself to be pulled into her warmth. He studied her face, taking note of the concern etched onto her features. He knew he'd been neglecting her, but he hoped she understood why.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "I promise I'll try harder to balance my work and our relationship."

You shake your head slightly, a chuckle resonating from you before a small smile forms at the corner of your lips. Looking up into his beautiful brown eyes, slowly coming down to his hand on yours.

“No Hongjoong, I don’t mind if we don’t speak everyday. I don’t mind if we don’t show affection to each other all the time. I don’t mind the fact we might not practice sex like most couples do,” you take a second before you continue speaking.

“I do mind that you’re not taking care of yourself. Your mental health, you’re usually the one that reminds me to wash my face and brush my teeth in the morning. I worry for you, love.”

You place his hand back down on his lap. Bringing up one of yours to caress his cheek. Your fingers slowly tracing over the soft flesh.

“I need for you to balance your work and yourself. I’m happy if you’re happy. Your happiness is my content. Every time I see you like this, tired, exhausted, sometimes even malnourished. I get sad, love.”

Hongjoong listened intently to Y/N's words, feeling a pang of guilt pierce through him. He knew he needed to change, but hearing her express her concerns made it all the more real.

He hated seeing the sadness in her eyes, and it was a stark reminder of just how much he'd been neglecting her.

"Thank you," he whispered, leaning into her touch. "For caring about me... For caring enough to tell me how you feel."

His gaze fell to their intertwined hands, the contrast between her delicate fingers and his calloused ones striking. He brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"I'll try harder," he promised, his voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on him. "To take better care of myself."

Feeling a renewed sense of determination, Hongjoong stood up from the couch. He extended his hand towards Y/N, inviting her to join him.

"Come on," he said, his tone softer now. "Let's go home, my love. Let’s get us some rest."

As they walked out of the studio together, Hongjoong felt a sense of relief washing over him. He'd managed to finish the song, and he'd also managed to mend fences with Y/N. It was a good day, all things considered.

Once they reached their apartment, he led her straight to their bedroom, eager to collapse onto the bed. He undressed quickly, not bothering to turn on the light. As he slid beneath the covers, he patted the empty space beside him, inviting his girlfriend to join him.

"I'm really tired," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But I wouldn't mind holding you until I fall asleep."

You chuckle. Joining him under the covers. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body on yours.

Hongjoong sighed in relief as Y/N joined him in bed. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close against his chest.

He could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his fingertips, a soothing lullaby that helped him relax.

"Thanks for sticking by me," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "You mean everything to me."

You nuzzle your nose against his neck. “You mean everything to me too, Kim Hongjoong.”

Offering him a warm smile, proceeding to make yourself comfortable in his embrace.

Hongjoong smiled at Y/N’s words, his heart swelling with warmth. He tightened his hold around her, savoring the feeling of her body pressed against his own.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "More than anything else."

“And I love you too,” you whispered back. “More than anything in this world. Good night my dear.”

Hongjoong nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. The sound of her voice, filled with tenderness and affection, was exactly what he needed to ease the tension coiling within him. He closed his eyes, letting out a content sigh.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replied, his voice a low rumble against her ear. "Sleep well."

.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.:*♪:･’.:♪*:･’ﾟ♭.:*･♪’ﾟ｡.*#:･’ﾟ.

A/N: well I hope you guys enjoyed this! This was stuck in my drafts for so long. Slowly, I’m getting back into writing.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Epilogue

Crickets chirp around you, the warm fire casting red and orange light across the faces of those gathered. Along the highway, Rick had made the decision to camp for the night due to the lack of gas after a long few days of travel. No one really wants to do it—being out in the open is dangerous—but exhaustion has caught up to everyone. There was no food, no gasoline. The cars were running on fumes when everyone Rick decide to stop.

Hershel's hands gently press against your ribcage, carefully assessing your injuries, but despite his gentle touch, every breath still sends a piercing pain through your torso.

“Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is let them heal on their own. It’ll take a few weeks,” Hershel says quietly, his voice barely above the crackling of the fire. You nod, wincing as you pull your shirt back down and lean against the rough bark of a tree.

Daryl appears from the dark, quick and purposeful, throwing more wood into the fire before coming to sit behind you. He places a steady hand on your shoulder, guiding you forward just long enough to slide behind you, offering his chest as a more comfortable place to lean. His arms wrap around you, his legs on either side of yours, and you let out a soft sigh as you relax into him, the familiar scent of leather and wood replacing the acrid smell of smoke. You close your eyes, feeling at ease again.

“We’re not safe with him,” Carol’s soft voice breaks through the quietm making your eyes flash open again. She’s sitting beside the two of you, her face etched with worry. “Keeping something like that from us… how can we trust him?”

You knew the group was upset about the news Rick dropped on everyone. The virus–whatever made the dead come back alive, hungry for human flesh–was inside everyone. It didn’t take a bite or a scratch. Anyone would turn once they died. Maybe it was the shock still numbing your senses, but you hadn’t been surprised by the revelation. It should’ve been devastating, knowing that everyone was doomed to become one of them, a walking corpse. And yet, that truth seemed to settle quietly in the back of your mind, waiting for the right moment to break you under its weight. One day, you’d crack from the pressure of it all. But for now, you could only push it aside, another harsh reality in a world already brimming with them.

She looks into the dark before locking eyes with Daryl. “Why do you need him? He’s just gonna pull you down.”

Daryl’s reply is simple, “No. Rick’s done all right by me.”

Carol’s eyes narrow. “You’re his henchman,” she says bitterly, her tone making you scrunch your nose, but she continues, “And I’m a burden. You deserve better.”

Daryl’s gaze sharpens, and he looks at her carefully before asking, “What do you want?”

She hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. “A man of honor,” she finally says, almost as if she’s unsure of the answer herself.

“Rick has honor,” Daryl shoots back, his voice rough but steady. He pulls you closer, rubbing his hands along your arms to fend off the chill in the night air.

Then you hear Maggie pipe up, “I think we should take our chances,” she’s looking to Glenn, Before he can respond, Hershel’s firm voice cuts in, “Don’t be foolish—there’s no food, no fuel.”

Suddenly, there’s a rustling in the darkness. Beth lets out a small yelp, her eyes wide with fear.

Daryl’s head snaps toward the sound, “Could be anything—raccoon, opossum—”

“Walker,” Glenn finishes grimly. The others are standing now, hands finding their weapons. There’s a quiet panic, people thinking we need to leave, the sound causing more chaos than relative to the situation.

“The last thing we need is people running off in the dark,” Rick says sharply, his voice full of authority. “We don’t have the vehicles. No one’s travelin’ on foot.”

Another branch snaps, and everyone holds their breath. Carol, visibly on edge, demands, “Do something.”

“I am doin’ something!” Rick snarls, his frustration boiling over, “I’m keepin’ this group together–alive,” he pauses, his weight shifting with intensity, “I’ve been doin’ that all along, no matter what. I didn’t ask for this. My best friend is dead because of me. I planned it. For you people,” his lip is curled, teeth bared as he reveals the truth to the group. Everyone looks over to you for a brief moment, taking in your reaction. You try your best not to flinch at his words, but Daryl’s grip tightens on you, protective, hackles raising. But the group is silent at Rick’s admission–scared, shocked… They didn’t know the whole story, but Rick was taking the blame. Even though the true guilt sat in your chest like a brick.

Rick continues, “You saw what he was like–how he pushed me, pushed everyone,” he pauses to look at you, “how he compromised us–how he threatened us.” 

His eyes remain on you, and you meet his gaze unflinching. 

“The Randall thing was staged, he wanted to kill him himself, we all knew that. But he went for Y/N, attacked her. Left her with no choice. It was supposed to be me, but I didn’t get there in time–so she had to act in self defense–look at her! Look at her neck, people. She has broken ribs, a cracked jaw for Christ’s sake!” His one hand holds the gun in its holster, the other points as he gestures to you, guilt lacing his voice.

Your pulse is skyrocketing, and you refuse to meet the gazes of the other’s as they take in your appearance. The bruises had fully set in on you, dark purple and blue fingerprints on your neck like a horrid necklace, and the side of your face where he punched you swollen and red. Your eyes are narrowed on Rick as he continues, “He gave us no choice,” he spits, “He was my friend, but he went after her. I was supposed to take care of him–I knew he was coming for me next.” Carl’s soft sobs carry through the air, and Lori pulls him in close, her eyes brimming with tears as she tries to comfort her son.

“My hands are clean–and so are her’s,” he growls, and pauses for a moment.

Looking to the ground with heated eyes, he says with heavy emotion, “Maybe you people are better off without me–go ahead!” he points into the darkness, “I say there’s a place for us, but maybe it’s just another pipe dream. Maybe I’m foolin’ myself again. But go ahead and find out yourself–and send me a postcard!” His voice is filled with anger, the heaviness of the last night on the farm weighing on every word, “Think you can do better? Let’s see how far you get.” Everyone stood still, breathing in deeply.

“No takers?” he quips, “Then let’s get one thing straight. You’re staying? This isn’t a democracy anymore,” he looks to Lori then, her eyes wide at the man before her. Before he walks away, he looks over at you and Daryl once more, then disappears into the dark.

You felt the air shift then–things were never going to be like they were–the farm had been a temporary refuge, but safety is an illusion now. You close your eyes, leaning into Daryl’s warmth, feeling everything you have lost and still have to fight for. Things were going to be very different going forward. Rick had changed because of that night.

But the thing was–so had you.

notes: THANK YOU! To all of you who read, commented, liked, reblogged! I haven't written fan fiction in over 10 years, let alone write anything, honestly. It means the WORLD to me to see all of you enjoy my work.

So truly truly truly: from the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Keep liking, reblogging and commenting <3

love, AR

[mashiraostail]

your gang orca praise kink stuff goes soooo crazy please give us some gentle dom praising from halsin w Fem reader PLEASE

glad u like it thank u!!

yall are crazy outing your praise kink in my ask box. Ask and u shall receive tho!!! Kind of a long one, i care for u guys so I have to feed u.

NSFW under the cut!

Aches blossomed like weeds all over your poor body. Maybe you should have brought Halsin along on this one, a healer would have done you well about 3 hours ago. He stayed back, or perhaps he went on his own way for the day. For all your not seeing eye to eye Astarion was seemingly happy to help you hobble along with an arm slung over his shoulder.

He's biting something back and Karlach all but shoves it out of him.

"Thank you. For...taking those hits for me." He rolls his eyes when he says it, but it does nothing to veil his grateful tone, "i can't imagine it was pleasant."

"It wasn't." You muse back, "but you're helping me along."

"Well-" He sputters, "I figured you could take it since you have Halsin waiting for you with baited breath every night."

He was right, you did. He tried to be subtle, to give everyone a once over after a hard day, but he always lingered on you. He liked you, perhaps more, it was obvious. At least when you stumble back to camp he has a reason to make a b-line to you first.

"What happened?" He takes you from Astarion, who snickers a bit at you.

"Nothing, just the typical day." You shrug.

"Is everyone else okay?" Bless him, he feigns interest in the other 3 trailing behind you.

"Don't worry." Wyll waves, "we'll live."

"Come with me." He doesn't even respond to Wyll, he was not as good of an actor as he hoped to be.

You go with him, not that he gave you much of a choice, guiding you away before he could even finish. He settles you down by a shallow river not too far off from camp. He brings a bowl and a rag, with a small sack of supplies to clean you off with.

"I know you're capable." He starts, as he wipes layers of blood and grime away from your skin, "i'm not underestimating you-"

"I understand." You cut him off before he can prattle off into a nervous explanation as to why he seems to favor you over the others when you're injured.

You fall back into silence as he cleans you off.

"Look up at me." Fingers on your chin crane your gaze up to him, if he's trying to be seductive it has certainly worked, and if he wasn't it was cruel. He's scanning your face, his eyes meet your gaze.

"Will I live?" There's a coyness to your voice that just about knocks him off balance.

"Yes, lucky me. Does your head hurt?"

"Not at all." You felt better, under his caring hands, there was a dull soreness now, it overtook the harsh and stinging aches.

It was already dark, nobody had bothered to call the pair of you for dinner, perhaps more knowing than they let on.

"Can I do anything else for you?" He asks, kneeling now but still tall enough to be gazing down at you. The dull light of your lantern made him glow.

"No-" Suddenly you can't play coy anymore, it's like his sucked the air out of your lungs, he takes your hand.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" when he asks he traces his fingers over the back of your knuckles.

"Of course." You nod, something flutters under your ribs. He brushes his lips over the back of your hand, and it lights you up. It's such a silly, small, innocuous gesture, but it makes your stomach warm.

"Thank you." He looks up from the back of your hand to catch your gaze.

You kiss your teeth, your mouth feels dry all of a sudden, "why thank me?"

"Because you're allowing me." Halsin murmurs it, "I'm grateful to be let so close to you." He kisses his way up your arm in a galant gesture, though it makes you feel light headed none the less. When he reaches the crook of your neck, the shallow divot where your shoulder ends he stops, and drops your arm gently onto your lap.

"You can act modest, or play coy," He continues despite the lack of contact, which makes you feel cold and even more exposed then when he's ravishing you. "But you know how I want you. You indulge me."

"Please," You're fluttering, you try to sound casual but you're fluttering like a moth and Halsin is a big, bright fire drawing you in. "it's self serving."

"Even better." He elects to sit beside you, "indulge yourself in me."

"Oh gods." You feel hot, in the back of your neck, in your chest, between your legs.

"What?" Halsin reaches for you, you let him, he wraps an arm around you, he draws you in. "don't you want to?"

"I do-" You're practically whining despite the fact he has not denied you, and probably never would. You turn your face into his neck, nosing at his collar. He makes a pleased noise at the feeling, and brings a hand up to cup your hair.

"Then tell me what you want. You can have it, you deserve it. Anything, just tell me."

You aren't sure when you make your way into his lap, when the desire to taste his skin becomes so potent that you have no choice but to glide your tongue over his collar bone. He's happy to rub up your back and thighs, to pull your closer by the back of your head.

"Is it me you want?"

You moan, gasping, you aren't sure when you started rutting against his leg, but he seems all the more happy to have you there so you cast aside the sheer embarrassment of it all.

"You can have it, you can have me. All you have to do is take it. I'll let you, I'm yours for the taking."

You practically cry at that, you aren't sure when you'd become so pent up.

"You can have me." One of his hands is holding onto the bend of your hip, guiding them against his leg in a languid rolling pace, "you already do. You deserve it, all of it, whatever you want. Tell me."

You let him take your shirt off, you're more than keen to free him of his.

"I must have been particulalry well behaved in my past life." For a breif moment his hand releases your hips and he's gliding rough palms over your chest and stomach, "you're such a lovely thing..." He ducks down, kisses at your chest, pulling you away from the perfect friction of his thigh to the warm heat of his mouth and tongue.

He's kissing, licking and nipping at the newly exposed skin while his hands trail over your ass, up your back and thighs, drawing you in impossibly closer to his mouth.

"I'd give you the world, anything you'd ask." He pushes the small of your back, guiding you back down onto his lap, "but you only want me?"

"Do you really feel that way? That I should have whatever I ask for? Whatever I want?"

The sight of your chest heaving, glistening from his mouth makes him groan, "how could I not? Tell me what you want, My hands? My mouth?"

You feel on the verge of passing out, terrible and blissful all at once.

He lifts you as he stands, but just a quickly sets you down again laying on your back.

"Are you sore?" His hands hold your waist, his nose is at your jaw, "I'd be content just to stay here, looking at you, kissing you. We would not need to anything more to sate me." He assures you, "the sight of you like this alone would be enough to satisfy me for lifetimes to come."

"No." You're breathless, you shake your head.

"No?" Despite what he's said he sounds hopeful, grateful, pleased even.

"No." All you can think to do is repeat him. You help him help you out of your pants.

"Will you let me?" He's already lowering himself between your legs, you flush.

"You hardly have to ask permission."

"Yes?" He pushes you for it anyways, of course you indulge him.

"Yes."

It's been hundreds of years, of course he was an attentive and...skilled lover, but this was almost too much.

Your back arched off the ground, his hands were there, big and warm and slightly rough, he held your waist there his fingers wrapping around to the small of your back where it arched. Where they held you his hands pulled you closer, just barely.

He didn't protest when your thighs closed around his head, when they squeezed, or when your hands pulled him impossibly closer by his hair. In fact he sounded more than pleased at all of the above. Every time he had a spare breath he was singing you praises. You were perfect, you cried out for him perfectly, and you were so easy to love.

His hands squeezed your waist where they held you, he groaned every time you called his name.

When you do reach your climax it almost blinds you for a second, but Halsin doesn't seem interested in letting you rest until you force him off with a keening sort of whine at the overstimulation.

"I'm sorry," He's kissing at your legs, your lower stomach and up your ribs ravenously, "I can't bring myself to stop with you."

It's so easy to open yourself up to him, to let him take and for you to take what you want.

"You're so lovely." He's kissing around your chest, subtly gasping for you air, "I'd mistake you for an angel if not for the things we do together." He guides your legs around him, closing the small amount of space left between you.

"If I didn't know you to be so truly good then I'd mistake you for something much more sinister than an angel, considering the spell you must have put on me." He's arching up into your hands, turning and preening at every touch and heavy breath, "do you know what you have done to me?"

Eventually you stop your head spinning enough to fumble with his pants, until there's nothing at all between you.

"I was taken by you from our first meeting," He groans as you undress him, "but all the things I dreamt have been put to shame at the feeling of the reality of it in my hands." He takes in an uneven breath as your hands run over his cock, you turn your head to open your neck to him, he's glad to muffle himself into it. The feeling of his low groans vibrates the crook of your neck. You arch your back, pressing your chest into his which seems to set him over the edge.

"You're the most lovely thing I've ever laid my hands on, please, say you'll have me." As if it wasn't obvious, as if you weren't laying naked below him, blossoming at his lips and fingertips.

He guides himself easily into you It’s hardly painful, it barely stings, it tingles up to your stomach, and it’s pleasant. A blooming sort of feeling that you often pined for once it was gone. It was fleeting and easily missed when it dissipated. He's captivated by you, your expressions, the way you cry out, the wavering in your voice.

As with all things, he's incredibly gracious with you, giving you long, deep rolls of his hips and easy praise. He enjoys watching you melt from it, it makes his chest warm with affection.

"You're divine," He doesn't mind your arms around his neck, he holds you closer with a hand between your shoulder blades, "every single time." He enjoys the feeling of your hand holding the back of his head too.

"Every time I swear you can have me, but you're always bent at my will aren't you? Beautiful, obedient, and mine for the taking. Look at me."

All you can do is obey and nod, maybe a bit dumbly. You wrap your legs tighter around him, there was no way you'd last very long in this state. He holds you by your chin, he keeps his eyes on you whenever you cum, muttering out obscene praises. Occasionally he'll use his hold on you to turn your head to the side, to observe your throat, he swears he can see your pulse beating.

When the pair of you are finished Halsin seems perfectly fine to dip into the shallow river, it hardly reaches his waist.

"Come here," He insists, "I'll hold you."

"is it cold?" You roll over to see him.

"No, barely." He waves you over, and fuck, you're still coming down from your high, still bent at his will. You go to him, you let him guide you by your hand into the river, once you're close enough he holds the crook of your elbow, then the bend of your waist.

You rest your head against his chest as he runs wet hands over your hair.

"Many people have held my favor in my life," He looks down at you, "but I don't recall ever being so enthralled by someone." He runs a wet hand down the side of your face, "some days I dread the thought of our paths diverging."

"Don't think you'll be rid of me so easily" You manage to be a bit cheeky. Despite yourself you brush gentle fingers over the side of his neck, he closes his eyes thankfully.

"Kiss me." His voice is quiet but steadfast. Of course you go to him.

When he pulls away it's just enough to speak, "you know I adore you, tell me you do."

"I know." You grin and push his damp hair back, "you're especially sentimental today."

"I suppose I...must have missed your company." He decides, "we usually travel together."

"Is that it? I'm not complaining, maybe we'll travel separately more often."

He groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up, "don't be cruel to me when you were so well behaved all night. I'm not sure what I'll do."

You laugh, bracing yourself against his chest as he prepares to drop you into the river, "no please, I swear to keep you dutifully at my side from now on, just don't drop me in this water!"

He's ravishing your neck again, your laughter made his chest burn with affection, "I truly can never deny you."

You have a feeling tonight may be a longer night than average.