#gate is for mediating

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

general notes re: downfall

too short i think, three episodes to cap this off was too ambitious? but at the same time, man what else was there to be said? idk...

just a huge sprawling cast - the npcs were so many, i honestly had a hard time keeping up which i think made it difficult to attach myself to any one dynamic

and by the nature of aeor and its lore, it did end up fairly predictable... and the ending we knew was coming but it is just as it was told - the gods smote aeor, and the divine gate was born from guilt ridden prime deities that could no longer stomach hurting the creations that they love

i think... i came into downfall thinking i would have a stronger opinion of the gods and i came out of it more or less the same... theres nothing really revelatory to me

predathos and the oblivion it poses? still bad. ludinus and his campaign to end the gods? still sus. the gods trying to stop ludinus and the destruction of aeor? still logical.

im not inclined to worship the gods more for resembling mortals and neither am i inclined to hate them more for resembling mortals.

i havent been moved. and that i feel is the greatest personal complaint that i have. i just feel rather lukewarm about it all. it was.... alright

[slusheeduck]

Fictober 2023 Day 20 - Prompt: "What if we're wrong?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 The fire was dying, and Gale had drawn the short straw that night in being the one to put it out. He fetched the nearby pail of water, then paused as something pale caught his eye. Astarion was still by the fire, working very intently on some manner of embroidery on the back of a shirt.

Gale watched him for a moment, then finally asked, “Something on your mind?”

“No.” Astarion didn’t so much as look up at him, focused instead on his stitching.

Gale shifted, then let out a breath. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the shirt. Astarion finally looked up at him, then gave a little shrug as he handed off the shirt. Gale held it up—there was no embroidery, just an ever-growing spiral of silver thread. Someone was looking for something to keep himself occupied.

Gale didn’t say anything, but the raised brow as he showed Astarion his work so far made the vampire sigh.

“Yes, all right, fine. I’m thinking. I do that sometimes, you know,” he snipped, snatching the shirt back. “I’ll put out the fire. You go to bed.”

“I think we’re past that point now,” Gale said, settling down beside Astarion. “So. What’s on your mind?”

Astarion’s thumb went up to his mouth, blunt front teeth nibbling at the nail there. Oh, dear. This was something nerve-wracking, then.

“It’s…Falerin and Halsin. They’ve gone off to…enjoy the night,” he said quietly. Gale’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do they…are they…surely they wouldn’t go behind your back?”

“No, no. No, Fal was…oddly sweet about the whole thing. Insisted he would decline if I wanted him to, assured it wasn’t anything to do with me. And I didn’t want to deny him some fun after all the shit we’ve been through. And gods know we’ve all seen him actively wipe away his drool whenever Halsin’s frankly obscene biceps are on display.” He let out a breath, shaking his head as his nail returned to his teeth. “So no, it’s not the sex that’s bothering me.”

Gale clasped his hands together. “So what is?”

Astarion was quiet for a very, very long time, gaze far-away. Finally, in a very small voice, he asked “What if we’re…wrong? For each other?”

Gale blinked. One day, he thought to himself, he was going to write a book if he survived this: How To Be A Confidant To Both Halves Of A Couple In The Face Of World-Ending Catastrophe. Well, maybe with a snappier title than that. But he shook his head, coming back to the moment and trying his best to find a good way to answer that.

“Well, I think Falerin adores you,” he finally settled on saying, hands rubbing his knees.

Astarion shook his head. “I know he does. He’s very obvious; I’d love to play poker against him some time because I know I’d bleed him dry…” He squinted at the unintentional pun, then shook his head and sighed, hands going to press against his eyes. “But that’s not the issue. I…Halsin is everything I’m not. He’s…big, he’s warm, he’s good-natured and friendly…he’s nice. And I’m none of those things.”

“Well, no, you’re…” Gale trailed off. Oh, dear. “You’re great conversation.”

Astarion lifted his head to send the wizard a flat look, then sighed as he rested his chin in his hand. “I trust Falerin. I fully believe that it’s just a fling. But…maybe, for once, I shouldn’t be so focused on just getting mine. Call things off and nudge him toward someone…better.”

“I think that’s very selfless. And also completely idiotic.”

Astarion sat up straight, bristling. “Idiotic?” He scoffed; it was a little bit of relief, having the usual Astarion back if just for a moment. “Well, you love him, too, don’t you? Wouldn’t you want him to have a good life once all the rubble clears? They can��go off into the woods and enjoy nature’s gifts and…and he won’t be tied to a liability. Which, even if I do survive this Netherbrain nonsense and I do rip Cazardor to pieces and get my freedom, I will be so long as I’ve got my condition. And that’s not even going into the two centuries of baggage I’m well-aware I have.”

Gale stayed quiet as Astarion railed off, letting him go until he ran out of steam. Once he finished, he looked back to the embers in the fire. “The heart wants what the heart wants,” he finally said. “We don’t choose who we love. And if you can look back on everything we’ve gone through so far, look at all the times Falerin could have called it off but didn’t, and you think you know better than him what he wants, that’s more selfish than keeping him, I’d say.” He looked up. “He’s an adult. He can make his own choices. And—this may be harsh—but I think you of all people should know how…cruel it is to make someone else’s choices for them.”

Astarion stared at Gale for a long moment, red eyes glinting with the dying fire. His face twitched in preparation for an argument, but ultimately he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, giving a huff as he plunked his chin back in his hand. “But I still think it’s a mistake.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gale said brightly. “You’ve got plenty going for you that Halsin doesn’t. You’re attractive—in a…pointy, mean sort of way. You’re entertaining…also in a pointy, mean sort of way. Your embroidery is beautiful. And, really, I don’t think there’s a single thing Halsin can give Falerin that you ca—”

He was cut off by what was unmistakably the sound of a bear’s roar, off in the wilds nearby. There were no bears this close to Baldur’s Gate. That meant it had to be…

“…well,” Gale finally said after clearing his throat. “Maybe there’s…one thing he can give him that you can’t.” He looked over in alarm as Astarion’s head fell into his hands, accompanied by a long, distraught groan. “Or. Or! I’m sure we can find a…a spell to imitate wild shape for non-druids. We just have to…”

“Gale, shut up,” Astarion snapped, not lifting his head. There was another roar in the distance, and Astarion let out an even more despondent groan. “Oh my gods, I’m in love with a bear-fucker.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

[beammetothemoon]

Astarion, please. This is no time to be smiling.

[heavenknowsffs]

They really named themselves oceangate like...

[whippedcloudsofcream]

Video game romances that make you get together with an awful character, but they don’t acknowledge what a sack of shit they were at the start Or Apologize. Like the lack of self esteem may work on other desperate players, but they’re not affiliated with me. Make this bitch Beg!

[plutonianeris]

【ｔｈｅ 8th ｈｏｕｓｅ】

ａｒｉｅｓ　

This reminds me of someone plunging headfirst into the unknown, like a daring adventurer who thrives on intensity. Bold moves in intimacy, raw and fearless when facing personal transformation. It’s that energy of setting fire to the old to make way for the new, like a warrior charging into the battle of self-discovery. It’s a spark in the darkness, igniting passion, power, and fierce independence.

ｔａｕｒｕｓ　

This feels like a luxurious, secret garden hidden behind a heavy iron gate. It’s earthy, sensual, and grounded in the deepest layers of intimacy. Taurus here reminds me of someone who craves stability, even in the most unpredictable moments of life. It’s slow-burning passion, deep-rooted loyalty, and transforming yourself through the appreciation of beauty and comfort. Think silk sheets, candles, and taking pleasure in life's sensual transformations.

ｇｅｍｉｎｉ　

This reminds me of someone rifling through an old box of letters in the attic, piecing together hidden mysteries. It’s a curiosity-driven quest into the unknown, where secrets are uncovered through conversation and connection. Gemini in the 8th House feels like the mind diving into the depths, transforming through ideas, words, and a constant need for mental stimulation. There’s a trickster energy here, always asking questions, always exploring.

ｃａｎｃｅｒ　

This placement feels like diving into the deep, dark waters of emotion, like someone finding comfort in the undercurrents of family and legacy. Cancer here reminds me of someone who cradles their inner transformations with tenderness, seeking emotional depth and security. It’s about healing ancestral wounds and embracing the intense emotions that come with personal evolution. Think of a nurturing presence in the storm, or the warmth of home in the darkest nights.

ｌｅｏ　

This is like a phoenix rising from the ashes, bold and radiant even through life’s most intense transformations. Leo in the 8th House reminds me of someone who faces their fears with pride, owning their power and shining light in the darkest places. It’s theatrical, dramatic, and powerful—transforming through creativity, self-expression, and the need to be seen and admired, even in moments of vulnerability. Picture a regal lion, unafraid to face the shadow side and emerge stronger.

ｖｉｒｇｏ　

Virgo here reminds me of someone carefully stitching together the pieces of their life after a major transformation. It’s about dissecting the details, analyzing the process of change, and emerging stronger through self-improvement. There’s a practical, methodical approach to the mysteries of life—like organizing the chaos of emotions, money, or intimacy. Virgo in the 8th House feels like someone transforming through healing rituals, health routines, or even the fine art of letting go—one step at a time.

ｌｉｂｒａ　

This reminds me of a ballroom dance in the shadows—graceful, elegant, yet deeply intense. Libra here seeks balance even in life’s most tumultuous transformations. It’s about merging with others, finding harmony in the deepest connections, and transforming through partnerships. Think of someone who transforms through relationships, but with an air of refinement and diplomacy. It’s someone navigating the complexities of intimacy like a skilled mediator, bringing beauty to the dark corners of life.

ｓｃｏｒｐｉｏ　

This placement is like a snake shedding its skin—raw, intense, and transformative. Scorpio naturally rules the 8th House, so this feels like someone who’s at home in the depths. It reminds me of a powerful alchemist, someone who embraces the shadow side with ease, diving into the underworld of emotions, secrets, and mysteries. It’s dark, seductive, and magnetic, with an uncanny ability to rise from the ashes stronger than before. This is the ultimate transformation, like a smoldering fire that never burns out.

ｓａｇｉｔｔａｒｉｕｓ　

This feels like a fearless explorer navigating the deepest jungles of the soul, unafraid to dive into taboo topics or push boundaries. Sagittarius in the 8th House reminds me of someone who seeks truth and freedom through life’s biggest transformations. It’s about finding meaning in the unknown and expanding your horizons through intense personal growth. There’s a philosophical flair here—transforming through travel, higher knowledge, or even spiritual quests. Picture a wild horse, running through the unknown with excitement rather than fear.

ｃａｐｒｉｃｏｒｎ　

This reminds me of a mountain climber, steadily ascending even through life’s darkest challenges. Capricorn here approaches transformation with discipline and control, determined to conquer the shadow side of life. It’s about facing the depths with a sense of responsibility, finding power through resilience, and transforming slowly but surely. This placement feels like someone building an empire from the ground up, never letting emotional turbulence derail their long-term goals. There’s power in persistence here, a slow burn to success.

ａｑｕａｒｉｕｓ　

This feels like a mad scientist, diving into the mysteries of life with a rebellious spirit and innovative approach. Aquarius here reminds me of someone who seeks freedom through transformation, always pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. It’s about changing the way we view intimacy, power, and the unknown, using unconventional methods to navigate the depths. Think of someone who approaches life’s challenges with a detached curiosity, seeing transformation as an opportunity to break the mold and reinvent themselves.

ｐｉｓｃｅｓ

This is like drifting through an ocean of emotion, where transformation happens in a dreamy, spiritual way. Pisces here reminds me of someone who finds power in surrender, embracing the unknown with a sense of faith and compassion. It’s about dissolving boundaries, merging with the mysteries of life, and transforming through spiritual or emotional release. Think of someone who feels deeply connected to the collective unconscious, navigating life’s darkest moments with an almost ethereal grace, like a poet lost in the mysteries of the soul.

[asapjens]

GOOD LOOKS

PJO: perseus jackson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: you think percy’s dad is hot

CATEGORY: fluff

WORD COUNT: 365

The sun beat down on the group as they trudged up the hill towards Olympus, the home of the gods. Percy's sword was strapped to his back, Annabeth had her trusty dagger at her side, and Grover was nervously fiddling with his reed pipes.

As for you, well, being the daughter of Hermes, you were just glad to get out of the city and stretch your legs.

"Alright, everyone," Percy said, squinting up at the golden gates of Olympus. "We need to convince them to help” Percy said. “Remember to be respectful, even if they're being difficult." Annabeth said, while looking at you.

"Difficult is their middle name," you muttered, adjusting the strap of your satchel. "Especially when they're arguing with each other."

The group made their way through the gates and into the grand hall of Olympus. The gods were gathered, some lounging on thrones, others bickering with each other.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you spotted Hermes, your father, reclining on a cloud and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Father, we need your help," you called out, trying to catch his attention.

Hermes looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ah, my dear daughter, always getting into trouble. What can I do for you?"

"We're on a quest to you know, the usual, save the world bla bla bla, and we kinda need help," you explained.

Before Hermes could respond, a loud argument broke out between Zeus and Poseidon, their booming voices echoing through the hall.

Annabeth stepped forward, trying to mediate, while Grover attempted to calm himself, because he was getting agitated by all the yelling.

You exchanged a glance with Percy, who smirked at you. "This is going to be a long day."

After what felt like an eternity of bickering, the gods finally agreed to the requests of their children. As the group made their way out of Olympus, you turned to Percy with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Your dad is kind of hot, you know," you teased, nudging him playfully.

Percy's cheeks turned a deep shade of red as he rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't be ridiculous."

“I’m not being ridiculous!” you told him holding a laugh.

You grinned, nudging him again. "Well, I guess you had to inherit your good looks from somewhere, right?”

“Now that i think about it, Mrs. Jackson is also kinda- Before you could finish your sentence Percy gave you a sharp look.

“Don't worry, you're still the best looking” You winked at Percy

Percy chuckled, shaking his head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

[frantic-fiction]

Secluded Evening 18+

(GIF: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav

Warnings: 18+ MDNI pretty much pure smut, fluff, nipple piercings, nipple play. Skinning dipping, unprotected sex, Late Act 1 Astarion

Summary: Astarion catches reader during a midnight swim. Playful flirting becomes physical. Basically, my take on reader and Astarion's first time in act 1. There is way more implication of Astarion's real attraction for reader, not just a manipulation tactic.

Word Count: 2.8k

The shadow curse land is just a few days west, and a sickly feeling has crept through the camp. The party is on edge, fighting a constant headache as you attempt to mediate the tension in a group of solid personalities during highly stressful events. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are at each other’s throats, bickering and pulling daggers when either sends a quip in the other's direction. Karlach is still burning hot despite her upgrade, and with Dammon already far along the path, all you can do is promise to get her to Baldur’s Gate as quickly as you can. Wyll is fine, but he’s Wyll, so that’s not surprising.

Gale, however, might be the one pushing your buttons the most, or at least he is testing your patience past your limit now. “Tav, I don’t believe I have to express again how important it is to acquire a magical artifact soon.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you get the sudden urge to whack him over the head with the book you held unread in your hands. “I will be glad not to have to feel my chest be ripped in two, but I will repeat: if I do not consume an artifact, I will die and level the general vicinity with me.”

You push off the log, slamming the novel down. Level-headedness has been one of your strong suits. It’s the main reason you found yourself leading these misfits across the kingdom. You can keep your cool under the most extreme sources of stress, but everyone is just annoying you today.

“Look, I get it. You need a shoe to chew on, or you’ll go boom. But guess what? I have given you every spare artifact I have to give. Our coins are down to silver and copper. So unless you are willing to chomp down on the stupid circlet you just ‘had to get,’ then you can suck it up and wait until we reach another town.” By the end, you’re yelling, and Gale looks like a kicked puppy. The rest of the camp has turned to look at your outburst. You burn with regret for everything immediately.

You reach out a tentative hand, “Gale, I didn’t—”

“No, you are absolutely right. Apologies for my inconvenience. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night, Tav.” He quickly returns to his tent and pins the flaps close.

Sighing, you rub your hands down your face. You feel terrible; Gale’s condition is excruciating, and you hate to be unable to get him something to alleviate the pain, but your supplies are down to the bone. “Fuck,” you breathe, picking the book back up and storing it away.

“I must say, my sweet, I could get used to this more dominating personality of yours. It certainly gets me excited.” Astarion practically purrs in your ear. You turn face to face and stumble back slightly at his proximity.

Brushing your hair behind your ears, you avoid his eye contact. A warmth spreads across your face. “Oh, I'm sure,” you smirked, clearing your throat and recovering quickly.

It was a game between you two, ignited on the beach with a knife to your throat. Harmless flirts, playful banter with no attention to go further. Attraction is thick, but neither dares to press in this dance.

He crowds into your space. His nose practically tickles yours. He plays with your hair, fingers tangling in the locks. His face dawns an emotion of concern. “Darling, I’ve noticed you’ve been very stressed these last few days.”

His breath fans your face. You grab the edge of his shirt. “I think it would be a good idea to release some tension. Some alone time, maybe?” His pointer finger traced the bone of your jaw.

You smirk and pull away, trailing your hand up the contours of his chest. “You're right.” His wicked grin widens like a cat playing with prey. “I think I'll call in early and have a night to myself. I hope you will be okay hunting tonight.”

When you were scouting the perimeter, you stumbled across a small alcove. It was breathtaking. Several willows enclosed a small lake, water beautifully sparkling in the sun. You love swimming and have been thinking about the lake ever since. You occupy yourself with finishing your book until the sun sets. Once the camp settles for the night, you grab your pack and sneak your way out to the forest line.

Astarion’s grin drops, and his arms go limp. You slip away, lifting the edge of your tent. “Thank you again. Do you mind telling the others as well?”

He glares knowingly, and with a wink, you drop the flap and sit on the floor. You gather your supplies: a change of clothes, your only towel, and your washing bag.

The lake isn't too far, and before you know it, you're there. It's different in the moonlight. Fireflies buzz around the cattails, the willow branches sway softly above the water, and frogs croak on lily pads. You set a blanket to place the rest of your stuff around, quickly tossing your clothes off and wading into the water.

It's not as cold as expected, but you still gasp at the initial sting. You adapt quickly and soon dive fully, submerging into the fresh water. You stay underwater; ears plugged, giving a warped vibration through your head. Once your lungs begin to burn, you surface and gulp air.

“Well, isn't this just a coincidence?” Astarion chuckles, standing at the shore with pale forearms crossed over his chest. “I was just out on my hunt when I came across such a delectable treat.”

You bite your bottom lip, pulling your hands back and forth, sucking water in and out around your form. “Well, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

You move onto your back and float, exposing your entire front half to his eyes. The water on your skin chills in the air. Your nipples pebble, and you hear a groan.

Floating in the water, you close your eyes. It's quiet momentarily before a large splash startles you and you're pulled under. You kick instinctually, and Astarion grabs your foot and drags you closer.

His strong arms circle your waist, and you resurface. You smack his chest. “You asshole.”

He laughs, and before you know it, you're laughing too. You sway in Astarion's arms as he carries you deeper into the lake. Grabbing a flower floating in the water, you begin to pick some of the limp petals. You look up and slide the flower into his hair. It's adorable.

Astarion pinches your chin and pulls your face close, staring deep into his eye. There are no words; you feel the line shatter when the reality of what's happening sinks in. There is no performance in his eyes. No formulaic flirtatious lines or sexy words. What is happening? You don't know, but when he crashes his lips to yours, you really fucking want to find out.

It's like a rubber band. The kisses open the damn, and soon your legs are wrapped around his hips. One hand threads through his pale curls, the other encircling his neck.

Astarion breaks from your lips and trails sloppy kisses down to your neck. "I have waited long enough to ravish you, my dear,"

And then you are moving; he's quickly wading through the water, not once removing his lips from your throat. You know it will bruise, and the idea of another mark of his sends heat lower down your body.

You sigh when Astarion nips your neck, pressing you down on the blanket. Wet skin slides against damp skin. Grabbing his hair, you pull him back up, capturing his lips. It is messy, sloppy, and all too much to handle.

You arch up, pressing your breast against his chest. He pauses, and you whine when he pulls away.

"What are these?" Astarion practically growls, pinching your hard nipple. You gasp his name as he twists the small metal bar through the nub. He grinds his hips against your leg. He's hard, his cock presses against his stomach.

"Jewelry," you moan, clutching his shoulder. "They make me more sensitive."

"Oh, my naughty girl," he lowers to take your neglected breast into his mouth. His skillful tongue sucks your breast, his hand paying equal attention to your other. Feeling a scrap of his fangs, you let out a cry of ecstasy, rolling your hips, seeking any source of friction.

Astarion pins your hips down and pulls away from your breast with a wet pop. "No, no, my sweet. I think you have not been fair keeping least lovely tits from me. I can't remember ever seeing such unique body modifications." He gives a sharp bite to your breast, just deep enough to pierce the skin.

Droplets of blood beaded to the surface; it was quickly lapped up with his tongue, a groan crawling its way up his chest. He slips one of his legs under yours, and his hips slide his stiff cock between sopping wet folds. You choke out his name, and his mouth moves to the other breast. "I think I'm owed a bit longer exploring such a beautiful chest."

"My, my, you're so responsive. I could spend hours pleasing you with my tongue." Astarion trails his tongue up between your breasts, eyes boring up into your flushed face. "Just imagine the delightful words I could pull from your beautiful lips as I lay between your thighs, playing your exquisite body like a bard's violin."

Your breath is uneven, panting while Astarion takes his time lavishing your breasts. Soon, your nipples are on fire, swollen from the ruthless attention Astarion has provided. Tears sting your eyes. You are desperate for anything, nothing; you are not sure, but you are moaning and pleading up into the night air. All available skin was victim to your desperate fingers.

"Starion, ugh-please, they're too sensitive." You tug at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips tug the metal bar just enough to pull another cry from your lips. He releases your breast with a wet pop.

You bite his neck (almost the same spot he uses to feed from you) and all semblance of his control dissolves—you're back on the blanket in a show of Astarion's speed. Air was knocked from your lungs. "Fuck, my dear," Astarion grinds against you coating his cock in more of your juices. "I believe we've waited enough time to enjoy each other. So, I think I fuck you, deep and slow, until you can only scream my name. And if you're lucky, spend the rest of the night pulling lovely whimpers from your over-sensitive cunt."

His husky voice purred in your ears. Your thighs clench, arousal dripping onto the blanket. "Star," you breathe out, grabbing his face and crashing your lips together. Teeth clashed, and tongues fought for dominance. Wrapping your legs fully around Astarion's slim hips, you roll up. Using his distraction as leverage, you twist your hips and maneuver the two of you.

Astarion is now on his back, curls silver in the dark, and his eyes are wide with shock. You comfortably sat on his hips, hands pressing on each of his pecs. "You have my full permission to do that, but if you don't fuck me right now, I will be taking care of myself in my tent." Lips are back on his before you chuckle in his ears. "We have teased each other for months. I think it's about time you do something about this pretty boy."

Astarion doesn't leave a moment to respond before he impales you with one deep thrust. Your nails dig into his shoulders. Astarion grabs your calf, raises your leg, and sets a brutally slow pace.

You were matching each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. Your mouth at his chest and throat, sloppily leaving kisses and spit on his pale torso. "Ug-fucking Gods, you so tight," The sounds of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of pleasure break up the quietness of the lake.

Astarion presses his forehead to yours, breathing in your whimpers of ecstasy. The force of his thrusts is jostling your breasts; your nipples rub against his cold skin.

The moans roll off your tongue; you put a hand into his hair. "A-astarion fast…faster," you choke, snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies to rub small circles over your clit. The warm tightening coils in your lower abdomen. "P-please, Star."

"Beautiful." Astarion's pace picks up, his balls slapping against your pussy. He quickly pushes your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own.

He doesn't need to be asked twice, and the cold pierce of his fangs digs into your throat. You choke on gasp, hips stuttering. Astarion is dragging, mouthfuls of your blood down his throat, his fingers picking up pace, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

The coil is tightening, and soon, you cannot form words outside of Astarion's name between pleases. "Oh, my sweet girl, so lost on my cock. I...fuck...I know it feels good."

He pinches your left nipple again and you whimper. "Your body is exquisite. I won't be able to last much longer, my love." His voice is hoarse, and he rambles between frantic ruts. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

Astarion presses kisses and licks to the hollow of your throat. He is asking for permission, and you quickly press him closer. "Yes, please," you groan. All the sensations Astarion was giving you were becoming too much. You were quickly approaching the edge.

The pain mixes with pleasure, and it's too much. Tears prick at your eyes. You ticken around hos cock and a rumble ruptures through his chest. He takes a few more gulps before pulling away. Astarion's tongue licks, ensuring no waste of your blood.

As soon as he pulls away from your neck, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth with a quick thrust—the metallic tang of your blood mixes between your mouths. "I'm close," you breathe, running your nose against his. Your panting, feeling like no breath can satisfy your burning lungs.

His thrusts are becoming sloppy, devolving into more grinds of hips. His fingers drag over your clit in tight, fast circles. "Me too," he's just as breathless, hips stuttering with pleasure. "Come for me, darling, let me hear you."

It's like your body was waiting for his honey-slick words to give you permission. Because the moment those words leave his devilish lips, you snap. You scream his name, legs pulling him close.

You didn't expect post-sex cuddles from Astarion, but gods, you could fall in love with this man if you weren't careful. But would that be too bad? To fall in love? You kiss his collarbone and pull your towel over the majority of your body.

With one, two, three more deep thrusts. Astarion comes with a breathy moan spilling deep into your core. You two lay there, tangled in each other's body. Hearts are pounding as you breathe each other's air.

Astarion pulls out and rolls to his back. You curl onto his chest, laying your ear over his silent heart. He plays with your hands and peppers kisses over your hairline.

You wish to stay the night in his arms right here, just having him hold you. But Astarion stiffens slightly when a shiver rolls through your body. It's like the bubble of serenity pops. Astarion is quick to remove himself from you.

"I don't believe cuddling wet and naked with a vampire is good for one's health." He's pulling his clothes on. And reluctantly and with shaky legs, you follow his lead. Astarion is quiet on the walk back, lost in thought. He plays with a coin mindlessly.

You don't push, knowing Astarion better than to pry. So you let him walk you to your tent. And just as you move to duck into your bed for sleep, Astarion grabs your wrist.

You turn and look up into his scarlet eyes. His expression is hard to read; his confusion, hesitancy, affection, and anger are fluidly behind his eyes. They could all fit, but nothing seemed to reflect Astarion's eyes. "I…" He pauses, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. He opens his mouth again but clicks it back close. Astarion searches your eyes as if they held the answer to his unspoken question.

Astarion doesn't seem to find what he's looking for because he shakes his hand—pressing a light kiss to the apple of your cheek. He drops your hand reluctantly. "Have a good night, my dear,"

Then he's gone, leaving you alone, the tingle of his lips still lingering on your skin. Your fingers trail across your cheek, and a small smile stretches your lips. Yeah, you could very easily fall in love with that man. Maybe you already have.

Okay let me know what you thought? I haven't written smut in forever and have never been super confident in it.

If you liked this how about checking out my other two Astarion pieces.

Happy Birthday **** Reoccurring Nightmares

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Contained Monster Family (4)

Part One • Two •Three

“Now as we begin your examination, you cannot cut, snap, outwardly threaten, vocalize aggressively to the guards present. The same actions towards me will result in a 40 hours subject to forceful neutralization. So do you agree to the terms?”

The Werewolf sends a look at the shaking operator holding the gate 

He nods, standing on the authorized mark while the guards pour in before you

“Clear!”

You enter with the scientists trained to maintain the upkeep of the werewolf

Keeping their observations to themselves, you keep the werewolf’s attention

You figure you’d like being distracted while you were being poked and prodded at (not like that would ever happen to you though)

“So how’s your morning been Rod?”

“I’m doing much better than usual.”

“That’s good. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Is your Uncle blood-related to you?”

The question has you tilt your head to the side

Rod and Villar agreed that to release their human child from this evil facility they’d have to make you question everything

That way you’ll be more inclined to help them when they decide to leave

“He is. Are you curious because he’s so different then I?”

Rod fully planned to question you further specifically about your origin but a well almost perfectly+ timed deep extraction of hair had him wincing and the test being concluded

“Thanks for your cooperation Rod? You cool with the same thing next week?”

“In exchange for the time I get to spend with Villar?”

“Yes!”

“Can you…join us next time?”

You’re about to head out of the enclosure when you stop

“What do you need a mediator for you two?”

Rod doesn’t respond to your snark, just waiting intensely for your answer

Which you fully step out of the enclosure walking around to your usual window

“Sorry Rod but I’m no counselor and I’m strictly forbidden from speaking to more than one of our…’guests’ without an immediate threat of termination...on your end.”

Rod refused to show the despair that washed over him 

While he wasn’t known for all the decades he lived to let his mind imagine what could be his husband did

And when they last were able to communicate Villar had gushed about what it’d be like if they could both look down at you together again and somehow spark the memory of your childhood with them

Alas that didn’t seem possible unless either of them wanted to possibly get sniped by the real monster that they suspect was behind them losing you all those years ago

“Don’t look so upset. If it matters that much to you, I’ll look at the video recordings.”

Now that was something they could work with

[spanktony]

“YOU TOOK A BULLET FOR ME…” - rosita espinosa

summary: you take a bullet for her.

words: 800+

warnings: gun/gunshot, near death experience, and that’s all i believe.

notes: posting this as i try my hardest to get out of writers block & answer my requests! also lost the request to this ☹️

navigation. request.

You had found yourself in Negan's group, the Saviors. You didn't exactly like what you did—taking raids on random communities—but you understood that it was necessary for your survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

Negan knew you since you were a teenager, and he saw potential in you. He believed that you had what it took to be a valuable member of his group, and he made sure to keep a close eye on your progress. Which is exactly why you joined him on a hot afternoon to seize supplies from a new community called "Alexandria."

"Remember, kid," Negan sneered, his barbed-wire-covered baseball bat, Lucille, resting on his shoulder. "We're here to take, not make friends." Negan said, exiting the truck. You quickly nod, following behind him as you both approach the gates of Alexandria.

The gates were opened quickly, and everyone began to take supplies from the community, loading them into the back of the truck. You watched the chaos unfold, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Deep down, you knew that this was not the kind of person you wanted to become, but what choice did you have?

You help one of your fellow group members load a crate of food into the truck, trying to push away your conflicting emotions. Dwight walks up to you, "See that car over there? I think they might be holding something in there, check for me."

You nod, making your way over to the car. A woman in an olive-green top stands in front of the trunk of the car. You send a slight smile, wiping your forehead of sweat as you approach her.

"Mind moving?" You ask politely, gesturing towards the trunk of the car. The woman gives you a suspicious look before reluctantly stepping aside. As you open the trunk, you can't help but wonder what you might find inside.

The trunk is filled with guns, ammunition, and various other weapons. You glance at Negan and Dwight, occupied with taking other supplies from someone else. You take a deep breath, grapping some of the weapons. The woman is watching you with an upset look on her face.

You leave a few of the weapons behind, not wanting to take everything. You turn to the woman, "Maybe next time hide in a better spot," you suggest, trying to lighten the tension.

The woman's expression softens slightly, but she remains silent.

That was the first time you met Rosita, the next couple of times you saw her, she kept that same guarded expression. It became clear that she was still wary of you, despite your attempts to ease the tension. Nonetheless, you still continued to make small talk with her, hoping to gradually build trust and establish a connection.

You shared stories of your own experiences and asked her about her interests, trying to find common ground. Slowly, Rosita began to open up, sharing snippets of her life and even cracking a smile from time to time. It was a slow process, but you were determined to break through the walls she had built around herself.

As the days turned into weeks, your conversations became more meaningful and genuine, and you could sense a growing bond between the two of you.

Just as your group was leaving, one of your members got into an argument with Rosita, and she didn't look like she was backing down anytime soon. Instead of letting the situation escalate, you walked over to the two, attempting to mediate and diffuse the tension.

But your group member acted too quickly, pulling out a weapon and pointing it at Rosita. You immediately stepped in front of the gun. A loud sound rang out as you felt a sharp and hot pain in your chest.

You fell to the ground, gasping for breath and clutching your chest in agony. Ringing and Rosita's voice calling for help filled your ears, but your vision started to blur as darkness closed in.

Days blurred together as you drifted in and out of consciousness. When you finally awoke, you found yourself in a small, makeshift infirmary. The harsh, sterile scent of antiseptics filled the air, and you realized you were no longer with the Saviors.

Rosita sat at your bedside, her eyes filled with relief as she saw you awake. "You took a bullet for me," she said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You managed a weak smile, wincing at the pain. "I guess I did." You glanced around the room, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your torso. "How long have I been out?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Rosita's expression softened as she replied, "Almost a week." Shit.

"How am I supposed to get back to my group?" You thought aloud, concern etched on your face. Rosita's eyes flickered with worry as she responded, "You can't go back to Negan after what happened. It's too dangerous."

You sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I know," you murmured, a sense of uncertainty creeping in. "But what else am I supposed to do? I doubt your group would be willing to take me in permanently."

Rosita's expression softened as she reached out to touch your arm gently. "I'll convince them. For now, relax." You nodded, grateful for Rosita's support. "Thank you," you whispered.

[thewertsearch]

[Karkat] and his future self argue, and Jade mediates between the two and becomes angry and frustrated, and ceases the correspondence.

It’s implied that in Jade’s conversation with the Karkats, she inadvertently became their temporary auspistice.

Rereading that conversation, I now understand why auspisticism is a type of black romance.

John resolves to prototype with the blue doll, missing an arm and an eye, to deliberately disable Jack. But Vriska puts him to sleep before he can.

The blue doll is missing an arm and an eye - just like Vriska, both Jacks, and Troll Captain Hook. I still don’t understand the significance of these injuries, but there's clearly something important about them.

WV watches his death on the monitor and commands him to rise up. WV sees nothing except fireflies gather around John's body, while the Quest Bed glows. After the spectacle, there is no change. John's body remains motionless, and the monitor shuts off. WV believes John has died. And he is right.

John wasn’t healed on his Quest Bed. He was beyond healing. So he was reincarnated.

[Kanaya] eventually realizes Rose is the true author of the guide when she watches her destroy the gate above her house with magic.

I love that this is the moment that convinces Kanaya that Rose’s walkthrough is legit.

It’s poetic, really. The walkthrough's authenticity was confirmed by the last action Rose ever recorded on it.

Lord English can only enter a universe upon its death, at which point he travels back in time to an earlier point in the universe's lifespan to assume leadership of his gang of mobsters called The Felt.

I love the implication that on his universe-spanning mission of conquest, English always surrounds himself with the same gang of idiots.

In the absence of evidence to the contrary, I choose to believe that they’re not even different iterations of the Felt – it’s literally the exact same chucklefucks every time.

Bec was created in a lab through ectobiology by merging the ghost slime image of grandpa's dog Harley with Rose's MEOW code. Scratch had a similar but yet unknown origin.

And I’d be shocked if one of his ingredients wasn’t a cueball.

I’m not sure what it was merged with, though. Clearly there's a humanoid in his recipe - likely a human or troll – but in lieu of facial features, there’s not a lot I can do to narrow it down.

[tugoslovenka]

Safehaven

Summary: You have felt a little insecure in your situationship with Halsin as of late. Fortunately, the druid seems to have taken notice—and takes some steps in consoling your fears and self-consciousness.

A/N: I just want to say this was something of a self-comfort fic. I don’t often see plus size/fat bodies in these fics (I’m responsible for doing the same in all of my work too) and I felt like making active efforts in remedying that. Especially when it comes to Halsin. With that said, obviously don’t take this as anything other than an exercise in writing something different. All bodies are beautiful, I just want fat ones to be more represented in fiction sometimes.

This is also my first time writing in second person and I must say, it’s very unnatural for me to do so. But I hope it at least tickled someone’s pickle.

Also available on AO3!

The tent was haphazardly made. Having lived in Baldur’s Gate for most of your life, nature was not where you felt most comfortable. Although, this entire adventure has been an exercise in understanding yourself ever since the Nautiloid crash a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes you felt utterly useless, having to trek through some of the rougher parts of this strange land. Other times, you felt strong—a leader, even, among your companions. It was an odd feeling, stepping in to mediate a confrontation, consoling others or simply having others come to you for advice.

The anonymity brought upon by the abduction slowly turned into a journey of self-discovery. Baldur’s Gate was too big a city to truly achieve the passions you wanted to. But out here, in the middle of nowhere, with strangers who are equally as confused as you, it’s different.

You’re different.

The shadow looming over you brings you back to the sound of crackling fires and whetstone against metal. In tattered leathers, Halsin stands, a hand outstretched towards you.

“Yes?” you ask, following the bulging veins on his arm until you note some of the scarring on his shoulder from today’s goblin encounter. Your eyes quickly divert to meet his—warm brown, with a speckle of ember that almost glows at night.

“Where have your thoughts leapt?” He cocks his head to one side, observing you with care. The druid had an uncanny ability to sense your discomfort from a mile away. You sometimes wondered if he had an infinite supply of Potions of Mind Reading, topping up each hour just to ensure he was inside your head at all times.

“Oh?” you quip, hugging your own body in response. “It’s been a long day, I suppose.”

He kneels down, blocking most of the light from the campfire. With elbows resting on his thighs, he continues to stare. Instinctively, you raise your knees until most of your body is covered. You wrap your arms around them, placing your chin in between. His eyes simply follow your movements.

“Is that all?” He turns his hand until his palm faces you, offering it in case you felt the need to hold it. You always did, but embarrassment or pride often had the last word in the conundrum of comfort.

Halsin never pushed you to share more than you were willing to, and so very quickly, he retracts his hand. The air is particularly chilly tonight, and even though you handle the cold better than most, the goosebumps spreading on your skin prompt you to involuntarily shake when a gust of wind passes by.

“I do not mean this to offend you, but your tent is…” he trails off, looking at the deflated fabric that could serve as a second blanket if need be. “... Not very—”

“—It’s shit, I’m aware,” you chuckle, letting out a yawn when you feel the shakes come again.

Halsin smiles. Almost immediately, you grin back at him. There is something so captivating about the wrinkles on the sides of his face showing each time he is chuffed with your comments. He would call them ‘direct’ even though you knew he probably meant rude. Not that he would allow himself to say so.

“I was going to say not very safe,” he corrects. “I can feel a storm brewing below my feet. If it encourages the bunnies to burrow, then I imagine it will not be pleasant.”

“After all this, dying from drowning by rainfall sounds rather embarrassing.” Your hands begin to rub your shoulders in an effort to raise your body temperature.

“I know we have both been rather busy as of late, but I do miss you, little one.”

Little one. Your teeth grit at the sound of it. It takes the willpower of a thousand suns to not bite off a chunk inside your cheek when he says it. The first time he did, it was following a particularly generous indulging of your cunt—when he refused to be serviced in return—and wrapped you in his arms instead. A thank you, he called it, for aiding him in the fight against his captors. The second time was after your face was painted in his seed, scorching hot like the anger he had for Kagha’s activities in the Grove. A kiss on the forehead followed. The third time was during a cuddle atop one of the particularly beautiful outlooks near the settlement—where he Wildshaped into a bear to keep you cushioned against the uncomfortable floor.

It was frustrating. Never have you felt so secure yet vulnerable with a person. At times, he made you feel like the most unique flower in a gardenia of preciousness, and yet he almost seemed frightened to touch you. You couldn’t remember the last time his touch was wanting, and it had been a month since your last indulgement.

“You certainly don’t act like it,” you murmur, scooting away until you felt your back hit the tent—or whatever was left of it.

Halsin’s eyes narrow. You have studied his expressions well enough to know this was his way of practicing his thoughts before he felt comfortable enough to speak out loud. He opens his mouth to utter a protest, but the loud cheers from Karlach interrupt him. You both turn to see the tiefling using a stick to gently pet over Scratch’s head, squealing in excitement when he drops a ball with a bark.

You take the time to disengage.

“Nevermind.” Standing, you pat away some of the dirt on your thighs and pull down your top, careful to pull at the bottom until it covers the bits you want it to. The druid is quick to follow, and you find yourself blocked by his giant frame as he looks down at you with concern.

“Come,” he instructs, limply pointing towards a direction away from the camp. “Follow me.”

“Halsin, it’s late and if this storm is—”

“Please.” 

You relent. With a groan, you lean down to pick up the giant blanket one of the tieflings knitted as a farewell present and wrap it around your front. Halsin is the first to move, occasionally looking back to check if you’re nearby. Once you’re far enough that the noise from camp turns distant is when his hand intertwines with yours, squeezing a few times to offer reassurance. 

Rolling your eyes would have been the appropriate response, were it not for the exhaustion you feel in fighting the inside voices and the man responsible for them.

The journey is spent in complete silence, though the tension in the air could be cut with a knife. It takes some time until you reach a nearby creek. Halsin lets go of your hand once you reach a spot he finds appropriate, but not before giving it a gentle kiss. He tells you he will take precaution in scoping the area for any threats. You take the time to sit on a nearby rock, curling the blanket until it covers every inch of your body save for your head.

It doesn't take long. The approaching footsteps catch your attention and you see the large druid return with a couple of branches. He kneels next to you, using some of the nearby rocks to create a campfire.

“I know you are upset with me,” he murmurs, striking two sharp stones against one another until sparks fly in the air. “But I wish to understand why.”

You sigh. “Halsin, is this the time?”

“I miss you,” he retorts, continuing to smash the pebbles more aggressively this time. “And I cannot bear this tension.”

“Tension?” you scoff. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you are not.”

Another spark.

“And how would you know?”

“Because I know you.”

More sparks.

“Do you?”

“It would help if you allowed me to discern what troubles you.”

A flame. A small one, followed by smoke that quickly blows in the wind. Halsin finally turns to you, one knee on the ground as he rests his body weight on one hand.

“Do I trouble you?” you challenge, gently rocking your knee in frustration.

His expression softens. “What?”

“It does seem practiced for you to whisk me away somewhere where no one else can see us any time you want to show me affection,” you snap. “I wonder if I’m the trouble here.”

Halsin shakes his head. The fire next to him begins growing until you feel a wave of heat in your direction.

“You are… anything but. What would make you say that?”

You shrug, pressing your lips together. Either he was rather oblivious at his actions, or just well-rehearsed in the responses he typically gave. You see him searching your eyes, darting left and right as though they would give him the sense he sought for.

“When was the last time you touched me in front of everyone?” you ask, voice lowering barely above a whisper. “When was the last time you touched me with purpose?”

“My heart, you misunderstand,” he responds, inching closer until you can smell the salt and earth his body carries. “My lack of affections have nothing to do with you, but with—with… well, me.”

Another excuse. One that you’ve heard many times before.

“Of course,” you scoff, turning your gaze to the creak nearby.

He reaches through the blanket until you can feel his hand tightening around yours. “Look at me.” 

You do so, reluctantly.

“I have lived for many years. I have taken many lovers. You are not some conquest I keep on a tab of many. I have—the shadow curse, it has been preoccupying my daydreams and nightmares. It has nothing to do with you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why come to me in the first place?”

He takes a few minutes before answering. “Passion. Attraction. Long lonely nights that needed—”

“—So that’s the reason. You needed a quick release.”

“No,” he quickly interrupts. “You are much more than a passionate night. But that’s precisely why I don’t wish to rush this. I don’t want you to have the wrong idea.”

“And what idea is that?” you arch an eyebrow.

“That somehow you are a quick solution for my frustrations. Yes, I am lonely and I have been, ever since I’ve had the Grove responsibilities thrust upon me. And yes, you have ignited a spark within me that threatens to explode into a wildfire.” Halsin’s thumb begins circling your hand. “But you are also wonderful. I can hear you speak about your love of painting until I grow old. I can watch you playing with those tiefling children until my eyes wet with tears. I can’t bear to see you fight, because my heart tears each time I see another scar on your body.” 

You search his eyes for deceit, the corners of which begin to sparkle in the dim moonlight. He curls his hand until it’s holding yours tightly, while his other reaches to touch the side of your face. You’ve always compared the rough skin on his palm to tree bark, and you would have melted into his touch were it not for the many questions you felt necessary to ask.

“It has nothing to do with the others or with you. I would happily cradle you in my arms each day, professing my adoration for you the moment the sun’s rays illuminate the skies until it dims down to the blackness of night. And I apologize that I have not done that.” His thumb rubs small circles on your cheek as he speaks, making sure to stare at you as though speaking to your soul.

“Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your hand until you allow him to pull it towards his lips. He gives a gentle kiss on your knuckles, leaning his cheek against them. “I was not aware you wished it of me.”

You shake your head. “Much more than that, Halsin. I want you to crave me,” you profess. “I sometimes feel like you’re not willing to take the extra step. It’s as though you pull back from me when I need you most.”

He nods. “I do, but that’s mostly to contain myself. I may be an old bear, but there are some parts of me that I cannot fully control. I don’t wish to cause you any harm should it come to it. I am especially prone to outbursts at this time, given the circumstances.”

You pause. Halsin has sometimes spoken of his drawbacks—the side he’s not proud of as he would say—of being a druid. His Wildshape afforded him many conveniences, though even you have seen the yellow glow of his eyes at the height of his emotions. You didn’t mind it. In fact, you often had to squeeze your legs together to suppress the gushing need that rose from there at the very thought of it.

“Alright…” you trail off, forming a fist with your free hand, letting the anxiety rest there. “I suppose I’m not used to this. I more so felt you had changed your mind—didn’t find what you were expecting.”

“What do you mean?”

You nod towards your body in gesture. It takes him a short while before he understands the meaning, and quickly reaches to rest both hands against your cheeks. He shakes his head. “No. Never. You are important to me, attractive to me, as you are. What a privilege I have been bestowed upon, having mattered to you this much.”

With some apprehension, Halsin begins tugging at the large fur that covers most of your body. It easily slips down, allowing him full view of your frame, curled against yourself. He reaches forward, touching your neck first, dragging a finger from your chin until he reaches the shirt that covers the valley between your breasts.

“All of you—your softness, your plumpness, your swell,” he mutters, leaning until you feel the surprisingly soft lips against your skin. He inhales deeply, lips hovering over your left breast. “It does not matter. I love every bit of it.” Taking a hand, he reaches in the spot between your waist and hips, squeezing delicately. Instinctively, you jump at the discomfort, but he quickly stills you.

“Halsin, you don’t have to say any of this.” The nervous chuckle betrays you when your hand grabs his in an effort to move it aside. To this, he only hums. Before you have time to react, both hands tear the front of your shirt until your upper body is exposed to the elements. The same slow instincts fail to cover it, because his hands have tightened around your wrists before you can do so.

“Besides,” he continues, easily holding you down when you try to move your hands away. “Your voluptuousness makes for a greater resting place for all the seed I’m going to spill on account of this night.” 

Immediately, you stop fidgeting. Blinking a few times, it takes a moment for your brain to understand what your ears have perceived. The druid takes the opportunity to lean forward and take one of your breasts in his mouth. The contact makes you hiss, and still, you are unable to move from his grip. Instead, you moan, not caring for the loudness. His tongue has always been exceptionally good at weakening you. You can feel him twirl it around your nipple, followed by a light teething that prompts you to buck your hips forward.

“Halsin,” you moan, attempting to release from his hold for a second time. Fluttering your eyes closed, you lean back until you feel the tree trunk against your shoulder blades. He follows, not allowing you a moment of peace as he swirls his tongue over your hard nipple. Biting down, he begins suckling at the soft skin when you attempt to close your legs together to satisfy the ache between them.

With a pop, he releases your nipple, cheek resting against the skin as he looks up at you.

“Would you like that?” he wonders, a gentle bucking of his hips making it evident he too was seeking friction. “For me to show you how much I truly crave you?”

You bite your lip in response, hard enough that the metallic taste starts swirling somewhere inside your mouth. Nodding slowly, you attempt to tug away once again, and this time the druid allows it. With newfound freedom of movement, your hands find themselves fisting his messy hair when you propel yourself forward, landing on your knees and capturing his lips in yours. He is solid as stone, unmoving when you do so, and only grunts when your tongues find each other.

Hands begin roaming—his, yours—over soft and hardened bits, frantically looking for somewhere to rest, to hold. Halsin’s are particularly active, first finding your hair, then your cheeks, then your shoulders, then your hips, before finally resting at the front of your belly. You cringe and suck in air on impulse—habit. It only makes him squeeze harder.

“This is the body I have adored since the first time you granted me permission to touch it,” he growls, pulling away from your heated kisses. “I have hungered for every inch of you. Through sleepless nights and anxiety-ridden trips, I have grown to know this is what I want.”

Responding in full sentences is not an option. Not when he dips his head, trailing kisses along your belly, on the folds that he so carefully grabs hold of with one hand—while the other pushes itself through the confines of your trousers to find your soaking nub. Delightful cries escape your lips when he begins circling his fingers, putting enough pressure until your eyes roll in the back of your head from the feeling.

“The stream of pleasures you produce, I will lap like an animal starved,” he coos, free hand pushing you to sink lower, until he has enough space to lodge himself between your legs. “Then I will fuck you until you are mute from screaming. Are you content with that, my heart?”

Gods above and below, you think. You can only nod, and you do so, rather vigorously. The chuckle that escapes his lips seems to contend him for now, and so he momentarily leaves your aching clit to help free you from the confines of fabric. Resting slanted, partway exhausted and panting could not have been a sight to behold, but Halsin’s bulge spoke differently.  

“Please…” you beg.

“No need to beg,” he comments before standing up, hands finding the belt on his pants until they release the cock that bounces lightly against his stomach. “There is nowhere I would rather be than inside you.”

The very thought of having him rut into you was an occupying thought during most evenings. And despite the bruises your throat suffered for days the last time you attempted to take him fully, the gush of wetness sounds the night at the thought of your cunt choking it.

“Spread your legs,” he instructs. “I need to see you.”

You sit up, carefully aligning your backside until you are able to find a somewhat pleasant spot to rest against. Halsin’s hand reaches for his throbbing member, where you spot a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. He uses his thumb to spread it across his head, letting out a low groan as he does so. Needing no further encouragement, you spread your legs per his command, carefully analyzing his features and how they soften when you present yourself to him.

“Praise Silvanus,” he says, almost to himself. “How beautiful you are.”

Following his line of sight, you look down to see the mess that you have become. Glistening in the fire and moonlight, there is a trail of wetness that begins at your drooling hole, leading in both directions of your thighs. The druid clears his throat, and when you gaze up, you see the faintest glimmer of yellow light leave his eyes as he shakes his head. Letting go of his member, he drops down on his knees in front of you, staring at your pulsating cunt.

The heart that threatens to escape your chest follows the same rhythm between your legs. It’s craving to be touched—to be adored—and as though listening to your thoughts, Halsin leans in to give a soft kiss to your right thigh. Then your left. You look down to meet his eyes, as he meticulously drags his tongue where his lips first kiss, with enough hunger in his eyes to make you audibly moan at the sight.

 “I thought,” you gasp when he bites at your inner thigh. “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to beg.”

“No, but I will indulge in this for as long as I can,” he responds, scattering kisses in painstakingly slow fashion at the soft flesh of your thighs. He uses both hands to hold them, and with no effort on his part, sinks you lower on the stone until you are halfway lying down on your back. With legs in the air, he takes his time to study you.

You can see his hips moving rhythmically despite the control he attempts to assert, as though urging him forward. Still, he takes one hand to glide over your stomach, moving lower until it finally meets your center. You immediately hiss, pushing your head against the rock at the gentleness he offers. With two fingertips, he begins circling your clit again, while his other hand holds your leg in the air for support. 

“How warm you are,” he says, picking up the pace once he finds you are able to squirm too much for his liking. You push your pelvis forward, needing more friction. “How much warmer you will be when I spill all of myself into you until morning comes.”

Intelligent thought leaves your senses the more he speaks, you writhe and moan like a wanton sinner. This seems to please him, and so with no real warning, he slides not one but two fingers inside you. Your head raises to look between your legs, but you are met with the druid’s intense stare as he leans in to kiss your neck.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to indulge in the explosions that are firing inside your head. His teeth find their mark at your throat and he begins sucking away while his fingers pump in and out continuously, the heel of his palm slapping against your slickness with each thrust. You don’t notice when, but his other hand has found your nipple, carefully pulling at it to elicit a scream loud enough to be heard in Baldur’s Gate.

“Halsin!” you moan, incapable of saying anything else at the intensity of his ministrations. He smiles against the nape of your neck, biting before moving to kiss your lips instead. Your tongues battle—indulge—in one another’s mouths as he continues this delicious assault on your senses.

He breaks the kiss suddenly, resting his forehead against yours. You whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, noting the considerable lack of fullness he has provided.

“I need to prepare you for me,” he sighs, hands reaching out to his throbbing member once again. He lets out a moan when his soaked hand begins pumping the tip, where you now see a considerable dollop of pre-cum mixing with your juices. “Do you think you can handle three of my fingers, little one?”

His fingers were particularly attractive to you. The way he would whittle with enough dexterity to preplex you. The grip he held his staff with each time he would cast a spell. The roughness contrasting your soft skin any time he would touch any part of you. Though, he had a particular love of stuffing you with them, as you have come to find.

The beads of sweat forming at your temples coupled with the messy hair and half-opened eyelids was enough to define you as fuckdrunk, that you were sure of. Even still, you steel your will enough to nod in his direction.

“Is that a yes?” he muses, fingertips finding your clit once again.

Proud bastard, you think. Smacking your lips, you utter a simple, ‘yes’. It’s barely a whisper and you think he doesn’t register it, but quickly find out his movements are much faster than your reflexes. Three fingers push themselves inside you, and a thumb finds your clit as he continues to stretch you to what seems like impossibility. 

“Sing for me,” he sighs. “I want the spirits in these forests to awaken to the sounds of your pleasure.”

“I need you inside of me,” you mutter, mustering up enough strength to look at him again. “I want you inside of me.”

“Soon,” he assures, quickening his pace until you feel the familiar pressure pooling at your entrance. “I need you to let go first.” As though compelled to, your body releases, all manner of reason escaping you as your screams are carried by the wind of the woods. Legs trembling, you lose control of every limb as you pant, completely encased by a coating of fulfillment you thought long gone.

Halsin only watches you, whispering something your ears do not pick up. A faint buzzing interrupts all manner of sound as you relax your body until he’s able to catch you in his arms before you land on the ground. The firmness of his chest greets your cheek, where you are able to pick up his racing heartbeat.

“Are you spent for tonight?” he asks, hand sliding up your back until it reaches the back of your head.

Quickly, you shake your head. “No. I’m just… I didn’t expect this, is all,” you confess. He hums in approval, and positions you atop his thigh while still kneeling. Your leg bumps against his hardness and he hisses, praising the Oak Father’s blessings before turning to look at you.

“You’re pooling for me,” he smirks. “Had I known you were this eager, I would have done this long ago.”

In response, you begin grinding against the flexed muscle, grabbing hold of his bicep to steady your rhythm. It didn’t take long for the need to take hold, and you soon find yourself moaning as you continue moving against his thigh. You glance down to his cock, licking your lips at the sight of the dribble going down the shaft.

As though challenging him, he swiftly grabs hold of your waist, pushing you onto the cold ground with a soft thud. You lay there, blinking up at him. His hand caresses the curve of your body until it reaches your core. There, he spreads your lips apart, sighing approvingly when he hears the squelching sound of your desire for him. Using a finger to trace your cunt, he lifts it to his lips and begins licking away without breaking eye contact. 

“So tender, so delicious…” he comments, sucking his own fingers until only his spit coats them.

You attempt to shimmy, feeling the stickiness of his cock meet your folds once you move closer to him. His head drops at the contact, a growl escaping his lips when he looks down.

“Can you take me, my heart?” he questions, grabbing his member and lining himself at your entrance.

You bite your lip, taking the moment to admire the beast of a man whose cock was prodding at your entrance—tapping with feather-light touches, enough to drive you to moan.

“Yes, please,” you beg again, searching for grace in his expression—the grace that would compel him to fuck you.

He pushes slowly, enough to give you the accommodation you know you will need. Once you feel him coating himself in you is when he finally moans—deeply—slamming a hand against the dirt to restrain himself. Halsin was thickest at the top, and his mushroom-like head felt as though it split through every fiber of your being even with caution. To say you were not expecting him to split you apart so early was an understatement, but when his hand finds your clit, your wincing turns into mewing as you attempt to swallow his every inch.

Taking the time to push and pull against his cock to the same rhythm of your breaths, you find that the druid has some trouble keeping calm.

“You are a tight little thing,” he chuckles. “Let me in. Open up for me.”

His instructions help you relax enough so he can guide his tip inside you. Once there, you let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of the sweat coating your body. The chills going up your spine are soon replaced by hot flashes once he hits a particularly delicious spot on your clit and you grab a hold of his wrist with both arms, keeping him where you most desire.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he moans. “While I rather appreciate the snugness of this predicament, I would like to bury my seed deep inside you.”

To this, you only groan. Halsin uses his free hand to wrap around your throat, keeping himself steadied as he positions himself fully on top of you. With one more look, he slides himself deeper, and you wince at the size that is piercing through your core. He growls, tightening his grip on your throat as he attempts to exert some control through sheer willpower alone.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head when a second wave of pleasure coats your body, and you open your mouth to scream. No sound comes, but you feel yourself loosen up completely, giving Halsin the chance to push past until he is buried to the hilt.

The pain that you momentarily feel turns into bliss. You ride the orgasm, clutching onto his wrist as you pulsate on his cock, which only encourages him to push deeper—as though he could. Any further and he would surely be inside your guts. Every ridge, every vein, every curve on his member jabs at your insides, teasing every spot deep inside you—stretching and filling you until you may just burst.

He doesn’t dare move, not yet. He heaves, chest rising and falling as he waits for you to settle. You reach up, touching the fuzziness on his muscles, tracing your hand until it reaches the side of his face. He’s warmer than you know him to be, and you smile at him reassuringly when he gives you a questioning look.

He doesn’t continue.

Instead, you feel yourself being lifted from the ground, yelping as Halsin grabs a hold of you with one arm, positioning you so that you straddle his waist while the other rests against the curve of your ass, keeping you impaled on his cock. You find the prickliness of the tree hit your back and he settles you there before pulling out completely.

The loss of contact causes you to whimper. You look down, finding him slap his member against your folds, slowly pushing between the sensitive nerves, but not enough to enter.

The sound that escapes your lips is part frustration, part eagerness. The arm holding you up is firm, keeping you steadied with no effort whatsoever.

“You have no idea,” he sighs once he traps his tip between your folds. “How much I wish you rut into you. To fill you.”

“So do it,” you provoke, rolling your hips until you feel your entrance beginning to consume him. “I need you to cum inside of me.”

Halsin snarls and straightens you both, hitching you higher until he finds a comfortable spot. With one push, he settles inside you, slowly bouncing you—breasts jerking in tandem with his thrusts. You note his stare and fist his hair, pulling him forward until he captures a nipple into his mouth. Sucking away, you moan at the intensity building inside you for a third time.

Your clit feels sensitive, as though a bruise being rubbed continuously. The only reason your legs are managing to hold is because of his grip, otherwise you are certain they have gone numb. But Halsin shows no mercy, reddening the flesh with his love bites, creating a line until they reach your throat. You feel his fingertips digging into your skin, but whatever pain you will feel tomorrow is nothing in comparison to the euphoria that’s electrifying you. His thrusts become sloppy, hips hitting against yours as he mutters something incomprehensible.

“Take me,” he commands.

Two strokes.

“All of me.”

Three more strokes.

“By the Oak—”

He doesn’t finish his words. A gushing of hotness overwhelms your cunt, as thick, spurts of cum cover your insides. You feel it hitting your most sensitive parts, coating you until you feel the urge to also release. He slams a hand next to you when he stills, bursting with enough seed that you feel certain would plug you entirely. Glancing where his cock meets your core, you see some of it spill out, dropping on the mud between the druid’s legs.

Halsin leans forward until your foreheads touch once again, heaving from the exhaustion that surely has taken hold by now. You push against him, encouraging him to move and allow you room to land on your feet—or at least try to. With a wobble, you balance, spreading your legs until you’re certain you won’t topple over.

The looming figure in front of you suddenly lowers, and you watch him kneel between your legs, focusing intently on your stomach. He presses a kiss there, before saying, “This is good, but not exactly what I had in mind,” he taps against the softness. “I need to fill your belly until it swells completely, full of my cum.”

A shiver runs up your spine. With a finger, he reaches for your entrance, as though examining you. He tuts. “It seems I have my work cut out for me, little one,” he laughs. “Keeping you stuffed is what I intend to do for the rest of our nights together.”

[hedgiwithapen]

Sometimes you go for an early sunday walk to mediate and you end up composing an entire somewhat sacrilegious poem about cats in heaven in your brain so here you go. Sometimes in idle moments I think about the Other Side and the small furry friends who have passed through and are not waiting--no cat knows how to wait. Walker, I can see, pawing at the Gate, trying to pull it open and acting like he did when St. Peter holds it for him. He trots, his question mark tail twitching like his ears as he passes angels holding harps and trumpets Looking and finding one with an oboe and a pile of reedshavings just right to sit on. And Lucy, crossing the Rainbow bridge one dainty paw at a time, still only half her makeup on, until she reaches The dead center and stops, looking both ways before rolling onto her back, writhing into the best possible place for the sun to warm her. Charlie-- of the Baby, I am certain. He has Found his way in five minutes to the Throne and clawed his way up the soft white of His robes. Braced like a child on His knee, he puts paws on His shoulders, tail whacking against the place a spear entered He looks into the Creator’s eyes and bites His nose, as if to say: I was told there would be Loaves and Fishes.

[khaosrealms]

MERCHANT’S TRADE. / BARAKA X OUTWORLD! READER

a/n: this is a request that is dedicated to @odditycircus-2002 ! compliments to my work mean so much to me— so the least i can is do something for y’all in exchange 💕 thank you so much again as always for supporting my work ! 🧡

- It's suicide. That's what your associates told you when you'd made the choice to begin trade with the diseased folk of the Tarkatan colony. A fool's idea, tantamount to throwing away every bit of life you might have left in you. Yet, you'd refused to be told what to do with your own choices. Perhaps it was seeing the diseased be wrangled around Sun Do, maybe it was knowing there was business opportunity there untouched--- either way, taking all your goods with you and traveling by cover of the night, you made your way towards the Tarkatan colony with your head held high. Your goods held even higher.

- You'd prepared yourself for all kinds of terrible things. Whispers from those who had spoke of bloodshed and gore and the horrid smell of death and miasma. Draped yourself in big fabrics that touch would not invade. Covered your lips and nose with a scarf to keep the bacterium away. You'd expected brutality, crudely, but what greeted you instead was--- a community. A community lead by a well-spoken man, infected with Tarkat. If the weather hadn't already made you sweat, your own egregious precaution was enough to make a bead fall down your forehead.

"You put yourself in harm's way, traveling this far, merchant." In-between his rasping words, you can sense a degree of professionalism. A man, who much like yourself, had walked the world of trade. He keeps his distance from you as you stand on the precipice of the colony's entrance; arms locked over his chest. Protective, it seems. Making his body the barrier between the community he seems leader of and yourself. It's admirable, and even though you don't vocalize it, you hope your neutral posture is enough to show that you respect it. "I'm well aware." There's a flicker of confusion in the man's eyes. Hesitation lapsing over it. Then, with a pause of silence, curiosity. Flicking over at you and the large sacks of goods that sit behind you. "Aware that Tarkat has no sentence but death?" You don't know what to call the expression he makes when you take off the scarf covering your face. You think-- it's hope. But for now, you accept it as relief. "Aware that there is always trade to be found wherever hungry mouths wait." His laugh is deep and ghastly; so rough you can almost feel it in your chest. And even though his features are marred with scars and extra incisors, you can tell he's smiling. You'd never breathed such a large sigh of relief.

- His name was Baraka, as you'd come to learn well and fast. The people there practically calling his name once every minute. To discuss, to ask for assistance, to mediate. Everywhere you'd go in the colony, it seemed he was needed; and in a slightly less measure, it seems you were needed to. The hungry mouths. Citizens who needed shelter from the elements and clothing to keep themselves warm at night. Medicine, not for Tarkat, but for all the other afflictions that danced alongside of it. The fact that there had been so many people even still alive in the colony was proof enough to you. The people here needed external aid--- and the man who'd welcomed you at the gate was holding them altogether better than anyone you'd imagined could. A man who, after seeing the goods you'd be willing to trade, and some you'd been willing to give free of cost, requested you stick around. Who were you to say no to a good business offer?

- It was nice having a consistent business partner. Outworld was a savage mistress for traders, and though you hadn't expected to continue returning to the Tarkatan colony, you did. For months, you went back and forth from your home to the colony. Spending longer each time, even given a small corner in the commune to reside on your own when you were there to trade large quantities. Then, sometimes at night, you'd get the rare opportunity to spend time with your business partner. Share a drink or, often times, more than two--- talking for hours on end on all sorts of topics. Always across from a fire; as if the flames themselves would prevent the Tarkat from diving out to you. Baraka reminiscing on his life before his disease, his time as a merchant, now as a leader-- all while you listened, and you could see the relief in his eyes to being heard. As if it's been years since he's confided in another soul. Sat beside another living being when you'd planted yourself beside him to share another drink. Not fearing his Tarkat or his teeth or his crimson red eyes, turned ruby under bonfire light.

- Baraka wouldn't risk touch. He hasn't been touched since the disease took to him. Maybe it's the liquor that makes it seem possible. Maybe it's the reason why he doesn't pull away when you nudge him with your shoulder, cackling from a raspy, dark joke he had made. That small safety the shirt over your skin gifts. The momentary warmth that he can feel against his skin as you tap your thigh against his, pointing out the wide moon smiling down at you both. Not on ounce of fear or disgust in your features. Making the wine you’d begun to pour into his cup even sweeter. The hand you leave on his shoulder as you wish him a good night even warmer on his skin. Whatever small moment had passed that night, enriched with mulled wine and liquor, stayed in Baraka’s mind— even as the next day passed, and the day after that. Remaining on that moment; and the way you’d looked at him. Something he hadn’t felt in years— not since Tarkat had taken to him. Something he feared. The thought of someone like You.

[thrashkink-coven]

“First of all, we have to be aware that the concept of “light” can be understood in many different ways. For the followers of the right-hand-path traditions, “light” is the domain of God, the superior being, the highest principle of spiritual enlightenment. The Tree of Life is the emanation of this divine force and it is permeated with God’s splendid brilliance that flows from above the whole Tree. This divine light is known as Ain Soph Aur (Ain: Without, Soph: End, Aur: Light) and believed to be the origin of all creation. Mystics and adepts of these systems seek to ascend to this infinite brilliance and unite with it, thus fulfilling the highest goal of the path. It is a process of many ordeals that requires absolute devotion and faith in the Absolute.

But the Tree of Life is imperfect and unbalanced, contaminated by the forces of the Qliphoth that continuously seek to destroy the cosmic balance. In many Qabalistic theories, the Tree of Death was not a part of the original picture at all. There was no material level of Malkuth, either. The Tree of Life consisted of ten Sephiroth with Daath as the central and balancing force behind the whole cosmic harmony. In the original Tree, Daath was the upper “sun” that cast the divine light upon the neighboring Sephiroth. While Tiphereth was the lower “sun,” casting its rays upon the lower regions, Daath illuminated the upper part of the Tree as the second, mystical “sun.” The lower sun was ruled by the archangel Michael, the upper by Lucifer: the Bringer of Light.

Residing close to the highest trinity (Binah, Chokmah, Kether), Lucifer was the mediator between the divine light and the lower spheres. There are many legends of his “fall” which is also the fall of Daath, referring to the sin of pride, the exile of angels from celestial regions, the disobedience of Lucifer against the God’s law, the forbidden union of angels with the daughters of man, etc. What is significant here, when Lucifer-Daath fell, the original cosmic harmony was lost. The divine triad was separated from the lower Sephiroth and Daath became the Abyss, the gate to the Qliphothic anti- worlds in which Lucifer established his Pandemonium.

For those who do not fear to follow Lucifer and separate themselves from the divine order, these anti-worlds are the alternative path of salvation—leading not upward, to the divine light, but downward, into the inner darkness—the very core of being. While the way to God strives to reconstruct the original cosmic order and reunite with the divine brilliance, the Initiate of the Left Hand Path seeks to deepen the fall, separate oneself from God’s emanations and ignite the spark of Godhood in the darkness of the inner Void. This inner spark of Godhood successively becomes the fiery pillar of Ascent on Lucifer’s path of Ascending Flame.

Therefore, the light of Lucifer is not the same “light” as the one recognized by the right-hand-path philosophies. It is not the “splendid brilliance” of a superior being that the Initiate seeks to unite with. This light shines from Within. It is found in the utmost darkness of the inner Void, powering up all evolution and growth on the Luciferian path of flames. It is the fire of the Dragon, the flame of self-salvation, the fiery essence of lust and fury, the driving force of self-creation. This light is represented by the torch of the Light Bearer, one of the most familiar Masks of Lucifer. On the one hand, this concept refers to Lucifer’s stellar and cosmic nature. He is the star that shines proudly as the brightest object in the sky after the sun and the moon. He is also the bringer of fire that is the origin of all things and the patron God of Illumination through knowledge and wisdom. In this sense, he is identified with Prometheus from the famous Greek myth, who brought the divine fire on earth and taught man how to use it. In other words, he endowed man with the soul, the divine fire, and taught mankind how to become equal to gods. The esoteric interpretation of the myth explains the gift of fire as the awakening of the inner spark in man, the source of spiritual power which corresponds to the Tantric concept of Kundalini. The Promethean fire is the inner potential, the spark of Divinity Within, the limitless source of individual power. As Prometheus teaches mankind how to become like gods, so Lucifer shows man the path of independence and the way to our own Godhood.

On the other hand, this is the forbidden light, knowledge denied to man. Prometheus is severely punished by the gods—they chain him to a rock and each day his liver is eaten by an eagle (or a vulture) while each night it grows back so that his pain may last forever. The first couple in the Garden of Eden is exiled and its gates become forever closed for them and their descendants. The angels who left heaven to fornicate with the daughters of man are imprisoned in the valleys of the earth until the day of their judgment, when they will be cast into the abyss of fire and confined to the end of all generations. These horrible fates of those who dared to act against the gods show that the gift of Lucifer holds great power but does not come without a price, and his path is only for those who are willing to accept all that it may bring, be it success or failure.

The Bringer of Light is the initiator of Illumination—in the intellectual and spiritual sense. To many practitioners he reveals himself as the Giver of the Flame, associated with the Egyptian God Set who endows man with the Gift of Consciousness, the potential of Godhood. It is the Flame of Self- Deification, the Light of Isolation that is different than the torch held by gods and spirits who act as guides and patrons on the path of devotion, or the “path of priesthood.” Lucifer’s Flame represents the path of isolation or the “path of sorcery.” These two concepts are connected with two antinomian ways rooted in the East and known as the way of jnana (“knowledge”) and the way of bhakti (“devotion”). In the former, the adept seeks illumination Within, following the guidance of an “internal guru,” in the latter, the adept maintains continuous devotion to an entity viewed as a being outside of the self. The Light Bearer teaches that the way of Luciferian Illumination is the way inward, the search for experience Within. Everyone may carry the Flame and everyone may become the Light Bearer in one’s own right—there is no single god, spirit, or man who can claim this title for oneself. His Light is the Flame of self-awareness, the active, solar aspect of Self-Deification.”

Light & Darkness in Luciferian Gnosis

Asenath Mason

[moonselune]

Hi!! I'm absolutely obsessed with how well you write everyone ESPECIALLY Wyll!!! We need more Wyll-loving in this fandom

Can you write Wyll with a patient, composed level headed, kind and fair gn Tav? I love my kind calm and collected characters who smile a lot but laugh rarely who laugh SO MUCH with their SO :] and Wyll deserves a grounding presence who loves dancing with him <33

Thank you!!! Have the most wonderful of days!

Aww thank you nonnie, I hope you have the most wonderful of days!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll x gn!reader | Laugh that lights my world

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll stood at the edge of the training field, watching as you gracefully performed your daily exercises. The sun cast a golden hue over everything, making your calm demeanor even more radiant. You were known among your companions for your patience and composure, always the one to mediate disputes with a kind word and a gentle smile -regardless of how annoyed your other campmates. While you smiled often, laughter was a rare sound, a precious gem that not many were privy to. But with Wyll, it was different.

You noticed Wyll approaching and your lips curved into a warm smile. "Good morning, my love," you greeted, your voice as serene as a still pond.

"Good morning, my love," he replied, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I couldn't help but watch you. Your movements are as captivating as ever."

You chuckled softly, a sound that made Wyll's heart swell. "Always the charmer," you teased lightly. "What brings you here?"

Wyll took your hand, his touch tender and filled with love. "I wanted to spend some time with you before the day gets too busy. How about a walk?"

You nodded, feeling the calmness of his presence wash over you. The two of you began walking through the camp, enjoying the quiet moments together. Then Wyll looked at you, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and mischief.

"You know, my dear, it's been a while since we danced," he said, his voice a playful challenge.You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Is that so? And whose fault is that?" you teased gently. It was true, it had been a while since the two of you had danced, but Wyll kept getting caught up in what seemed like a million side quests when you entered Baldur's gate.

He chuckled and extended his hand towards you. "Let's fix that, shall we?"

Taking his hand, you stood up, your movements graceful and fluid. Wyll pulled you close, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. As he began to hum a soft tune, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through your chest. Dancing with Wyll always felt like the world faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

You moved together in perfect harmony, your steps light and effortless. Wyll's strong yet gentle guidance made it easy for you to follow his lead. As the music in his mind grew more lively, he spun you around, and you couldn't help but laugh—a bright, genuine sound that seemed to light up the sky. Wyll's heart swelled with joy at the sound of your laughter. It was a rare but cherished gift, one that he always sought to elicit.

"There it is," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That beautiful laugh of yours."

You blushed slightly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "You always manage to bring it out of me," you admitted, your voice tender.

"That's because your happiness means everything to me," Wyll replied, his tone earnest and filled with love.

As the dance continued, you felt lighter than you had in days. Wyll's presence was a balm to your soul, his warmth and affection wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. He twirled you once more, and you laughed again, the sound like music to his ears. When the dance finally came to an end, Wyll pulled you into a tight embrace, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice a tender caress.

"I love you too, Wyll," you replied, your eyes shining with emotion.

You stood there for a moment, simply enjoying the closeness. Wyll's arms around you felt like home, a place where you could truly be yourself without any reservations. You smiled often, but with Wyll, you laughed freely, letting go of all your worries and fears.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll honestly needs more love bless him, hope you enjoyed it - Seluney xox