#glass structures on the moon...

[tainsan]

opposites attract.

↳synopsis: you are on the verge of being expelled, so your teacher helps you find a tutor, yet what you weren't expecting was much more than just tutoring sessions.

↳ word count: 14.3k

↳ a/n: i know this isnt misfits or misfits related but i wanted to give you guys something whilst you wait for the next chapter. i havent been active due to a majot burnout, but im getting into the swing of it again. I hope you enjoy this one shot whilst you wait for the next chapter <3

↳ warnings: fem bodied reader, mentions of alcohol, explicit smut, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it pls), gn pronouns but Yunho calls reader a good girl.

MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT AHEAD

"Expelled, what do you mean?" you exclaim, the words of your professor hitting you like a sudden, unwelcome storm.

Your professor leans forward, her expression grave. "If you don’t make a change," she replies, her tone weighted with concern. "Your recent academic performance has been far from ideal, and it's no secret that you'd rather be out partying and socialising than studying. I've tried to advocate for you for the past few months, but even the student council is beginning to lose faith. You need to make a change, or else they will remove you from this program."

The news leaves you feeling torn. You have always been drawn to the vibrant social scene on campus, and it was no secret that you enjoy a good party. Balancing your studies with your social life has been a constant struggle, and it has finally caught up with you in the form of this dire warning.

Taking a deep breath, you try to gather your thoughts, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. "I don't know what to do, though," you admit, your voice tinged with both desperation and uncertainty.

Professor Turner fixes her gaze on you, her expression stern yet caring. Her half-moon glasses perch on the edge of her nose lends an air of wisdom to her appearance. She had always been one of the few teachers who genuinely believed in your potential, even if you hadn't quite lived up to it yet. 

She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "You can start by addressing that persistent partying issue," she says, her tone deadpan but not without a hint of exasperation. "I've always seen your talent, but it's time for you to believe in it too. My patience for you is wearing thin, and the threat of expulsion is very real. You need to get your studies together, and fast."

Her words strike a chord, and bow your head down, tears starting to form in your eyes. The urgency of the situation finally sinks in, and you know it is time to make a change. 

Professor Turner's expression softens, and she leans back in her chair, understanding the turmoil in your eyes. "I know it can be challenging to balance both, but it's essential. Perhaps you can establish a more structured study schedule and limit your social activities during the week.”

Looking up at her, you notice the warmth and unwavering belief in her eyes, which provides a glimmer of hope amidst your uncertainty. 

She continues, "In fact, I found a tutor for you. Someone had to cancel on him at the last minute, and he's willing to take you on until your grades improve. He’s an incredibly sweet person, his grades are the best in my class."

Although you would rather avoid any study sessions or anything to do with your university academics, you reluctantly take the paper showcasing the number of the tutor your professor found for you. The paper displays the name "Jeong Yunho" along with his contact number. You have never heard of him before, which was unusual considering you considered yourself as a social butterfly who knew nearly everyone on campus. It occurred to you that there truly was a first time for everything.

As you held the paper, a sense of curiosity overcame your reluctance. You pondered the mystery behind this unknown tutor and wondered what kind of person Jeong Yunho was. 

—

Clutching your bag tightly under your arm, you reluctantly made your way towards the library on a Friday evening. With every step, you grumbled to yourself, yearning to be at a lively party instead, drowning your sorrows about the looming threat of expulsion. The future seemed bleak, and hope was a distant memory. When you left Professor Turner's office earlier, you almost crumpled the paper she had given you, fully intent on disregarding any contact with whoever the hell Yunho is.

The journey to the library is slow, partly because you have never set foot in the place before, and partly due to your resistance against the impending academic endeavour. You had never planned on being a library regular; it wasn't part of your college vision. Yet, the harsh reality of the potential consequences weigh heavily on your mind. Losing your education at this point would not only set you back years but also jeopardise all the hard work you have invested to even make it to this esteemed school in the first place.

With every reluctant step, you can’t help but reflect on the choices that have led you here. It was time to face the music, find this enigmatic Yunho, and see if, against all odds, he held the key to salvaging your academic future. 

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the university library, you're immediately greeted by the familiar scent of aged books and hushed whispers. The soft lighting casts a warm glow over the rows of shelves filled with knowledge, and you can't help but feel out of place in this quiet atmosphere. You've rarely ventured into this sanctuary of academia, and your lack of familiarity is evident as you scan the cavernous space, unsure of where to start

Stepping further into the library, your frustration and reluctance grow. You have little idea of who you're even looking for. The notion that Yunho might be some stereotypical "nerd-looking" guy briefly crosses your mind, and you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the shallow assumption.

After several minutes of wandering the labyrinthine aisles, you find yourself standing in the centre of the library, defeated and ready to give up on this wild goose chase. You can't even muster the energy to be disappointed; you're too focused on your own internal battle between academic responsibilities and your desire for the social scene.

Just as you turn to head for the exit, your hasty retreat is halted by an unexpected and rather forceful collision. You practically bump into a broad, solid chest that seemingly appears out of nowhere. Startled, you stagger back a step, nearly dropping the papers that you have clenched in your hand.

Looking up, you're met with the sight of a tall man, much taller than you. The first thing you notice is his thick black-framed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a rather studious appearance. However, his eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity, and his friendly, wide smile catches you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you stammer, feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter.

The man's voice is deep and soothing and light-hearted as he replies, "No need to apologise. Are you looking for someone, or can I help you find a book or something?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should reveal your purpose in the library. But the kindness in his eyes and the genuine desire to assist make you decide to share. "Actually, I'm trying to find someone named Yunho. I was told he could help me with my studies."

His smile widens, his eyes scrunching in the process, and he extends a hand in greeting. "Yunho, at your service. It's nice to meet you."

You shake his hand, feeling a mix of surprise and relief. Yunho is not what you had expected, and the moment you assumed he'd be a stereotypical "nerd" is now a distant memory. As you look into his friendly eyes, a sense of hope and optimism begins to replace the frustration and doubt that had plagued you earlier.

"You're Yunho?" you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice, as he begins to lead you towards where it appears he was sitting.

"Yes, is it hard to believe?" Yunho responds, a slight nervousness in his tone. "I can get my ID out if you're sceptical." He quickly reaches into his pocket, his ears turning a shade of red as he rushes to grab his ID.

Hastily, you halt him, not wanting to put him through the trouble of proving his identity. Silently, you smile to yourself, he is sweet.

You and Yunho take a seat at a quiet corner table within the library, and you find yourself fidgeting with unease in your chair. Yunho, observant of your discomfort, wisely refrains from commenting, valuing your need for privacy.

"Alright," Yunho began, adjusting his glasses with a hint of nervousness in his demeanour. He reaches into his bag, carefully pulling out two well-worn textbooks and a stack of papers, placing them on the table in front of you. 

"I wasn't entirely sure which topics you needed help with, so I brought materials for all five modules you're studying this semester."

You examine the books, their covers showing the marks of countless readers who had delved into their pages. 

"Are these your books?" you inquire, surprised by the thoughtfulness he has put into his preparation.

Yunho shakes his head, his cheeks flushing slightly as he admits, "No, I borrowed them from the library. Microbiology isn't my field of study."

Your disbelief is evident as you fix your gaze on him. The rosy hue on his cheeks deepens as he fiddles with the sleeves of his oversized sweater and adjusts his glasses nervously. "You don't study microbiology?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"No," Yunho confesses, his embarrassment now fully on display. "I just study it as a hobby."

You can’t help but be impressed by his dedication and the sheer audacity of teaching a subject purely out of passion. 

"That's impressive," you state. You were well aware that to tutor a subject officially, one typically needed to pass a test administered by the school, certifying one's proficiency. The fact that Yunho was willing to help without any formal obligation was both admirable and unexpected.

Curiosity gets the better of you, you inquire, "What else do you tutor?"

Yunho hesitates for a moment, his fingers still absently adjusting his glasses. "Um, history, algebra, and applied sciences," he finally reveals, his modesty and shyness contrasting with his evident knowledge.

As you listened to him speak, you found yourself captivated not only by his academic prowess but also by the way he wore his thick glasses and his endearing shyness. Yunho was turning out to be a surprising and impressive individual, and you couldn't help but feel a growing fascination with the person who had just entered your academic world.

“So how much do you know about Microbiology?” Yunho questions, thinning through some of the papers in front of him.

“Uh, the basics I guess.” you mumble, your knowledge not the best seeing as you have missed many lectures the past few months.

Yunho's gaze meets yours, and you sense him observing your unease as his eyes traverse your form. 

With a soft tone, he reassures you, "it’s okay, you can be honest. I'm here to help you, so you have to be honest. Then I can help you in the best way possible.” 

For a fleeting moment, his words touch your heart, a warmth spreading within. Yet, you quickly suppress the feeling, reminding yourself that there is no time for such emotions in your busy life.

“I’ve forgotten a lot, to be honest.” 

“That’s okay, we will start with the basics today, to refresh your memory.” 

Under the soft glow of the study lamps in your cosy corner of the library, Yunho begins to unravel the basics. The excitement in his eyes was unmistakable, his passion for the subject evident with every word he spoke.

"Alright," he begins, tracing his finger along the pages filled with complex diagrams and scientific jargon. "As you likely already know, microbiology is the study of tiny organisms, like bacteria, viruses, and fungi. These microorganisms are everywhere, and they play a crucial role in our lives, from the food we eat to the diseases we encounter."

Yunho's explanation is clear and concise, making sure to break down complex ideas into easily digestible pieces. 

He continues, "Uhh, the basics: the three main types of microorganisms. First, there are bacteria. They're single-celled organisms that can be both good and bad. Some bacteria help with digestion in your gut, while others can cause diseases."

You nod along, your memory starting to be refreshed. Yunho's enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself getting more and more interested in the subject.

He flips to a page with colourful illustrations of various microorganisms. "Then there are viruses, which are even smaller than bacteria. They're not considered living because they can't reproduce on their own. Instead, they need a host cell to replicate. Viruses are responsible for many illnesses, like the flu or COVID."

You absorb the information, appreciating how Yunho made the complex concept of viruses relatable. "And the third type?" you prompt.

"Ah, fungi," Yunho smiles. "Fungi are more complex microorganisms. They can be beneficial, like the yeast used in baking bread, or harmful, causing infections like athlete's foot. They're known for their unique cell structure and reproduction methods."

Whilst he explains, he encourages you to ask questions, making sure you are following along. The library's serene ambiance, coupled with Yunho's patient teaching, created a comfortable learning atmosphere. He didn't rush, taking his time to make sure you grasped each concept before moving on.

He continued to cover the basics of microbiology, including the significance of studying these microorganisms, their role in medicine, agriculture, and environmental science. Yunho's passion for the subject was evident in the way he animatedly discussed the various branches of microbiology, from medical microbiology to environmental microbiology, each with its unique focus and importance.

In the quiet of the library, during this unexpected first study session, you find yourself lost in thought. This wasn't how you had imagined it would go, and you can’t help but be impressed and thankful for Yunho's extraordinary patience and intelligence. 

You had initially expected a conventional tutoring experience, but Yunho has proven to be so much more. His explanations were crystal clear, his passion for the subject contagious, and his willingness to help you with genuine enthusiasm is striking. He isn’t just a smart individual; he is a rare combination of intelligence and empathy.

You marvel at the fact that he wasn't the stereotypical snobby, know-it-all type who might look down on your abilities. Instead, Yunho is an embodiment of understanding and non-judgment. As he continues to make the complex subject of microbiology comprehensible, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude.

The study session with Yunho nears its end and you find yourself in a much different frame of mind than when you had started. Initially apprehensive about having a tutor, you have been pleasantly surprised by the experience. Your worries have somewhat melted away, replaced by a growing sense of confidence and gratitude.

Yunho, having covered a significant portion of the microbiology basics, closes the textbook with a satisfied smile. "I think we've made some good progress today," he says. "But there is still a lot we have to cover before exams next month. I expect to see you every Wednesday and Friday until then." Yunho attempts a stern voice, jokingly pointing his finger at you.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Yes sir.” you salute him, acting back on his funny actions. 

Gathering your belongings, you prepare to leave the library, yet Yunho surprises you with a genuine offer. 

"If you ever have questions or need further assistance, don't hesitate to reach out. I'm here to help, and I enjoy teaching. We can meet on more days if you need."

You smile at the sincerity in his voice, “that’s okay, Yunho.” you say before turning towards the exit.

Walking out of the library, a lightness seems to settle upon your chest, replacing the initial apprehension with a sense of accomplishment. Glancing at your phone, you note that it is only ten in the evening. This realisation fills you with a newfound sense of freedom and opportunity.

With a contented smile, you contemplate the evening unfolding before you. The memory of the house party, just a short walk down the road, initially seemed distant due to your earlier commitment to the study session with Yunho. Despite knowing that you should be heading home to review your notes, a mischievous thought crept into your mind – what Yunho didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

A sly smirk plays on your lips as you begin to make your way toward the house party. You can’t deny the allure of a night filled with fun and perhaps a little indulgence. Yet, as you take your first steps, a fleeting moment of hesitation overcomes you. You pause, reflecting on the considerable effort Yunho had put into helping you today.

It is a big realisation. Few, if any, have ever invested so much time and effort in your growth and success. Your heart warms for a brief second at the thought, but just as quickly, you push aside those emotions. You have your reasons – a past that still haunted you, and the fear of getting your heart broken once more. You can’t afford to be vulnerable.

Despite your better judgement, you continue your journey to the house party, determined to enjoy the night to the fullest. 

Unbeknownst to you, though, Yunho's presence would linger in your thoughts throughout the night.

—

Several weeks have passed since the start of your study sessions with Yunho, and it has been quite the transformative period. Initially, you had been reluctant to engage in any additional study outside of your scheduled sessions with him. But over time, Yunho's presence had become a reassuring constant in your life, offering a sense of peace and support that you couldn't quite admit to yourself.

During the past couple of weeks, you found yourself increasingly immersed in your books and studies, even sometimes choosing academic pursuits over the lively parties that your large, party-loving friend group frequented. 

The shift in your priorities had not gone unnoticed by your friends, who seemed disheartened by your withdrawal from their activities. A residue of guilt clings to you every time you opted to hit the books rather than attend a party. Your ‘friends’ have grown vocal about it, casting you as a bore and a waste of time, berating you for supposedly losing your popularity.

Amid this turmoil, your study sessions with Yunho had become a sanctuary, a refuge from the social pressure and expectations. What you didn't fully realise was the profound positive impact these sessions were having on you, not just academically but also in terms of your personal growth.

Just a few days ago, you faced your first exam since you had started your sessions with Yunho and today you are receiving the results. You are well aware that if you do not pass this, it is not a huge deal seeing as it is not a final exam. Yet you do need to prove yourself to the student council by at least getting a D. 

The anticipation is palpable in Professor Turner's classroom, the air thick with nervous energy. She stands at the front of the room, clutching a stack of papers that hold the results of the previous week's exam. Your heart races as you sit there, your anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Whilst Professor Turner begins to distribute the grades, your palms grow clammy, and your heart races even faster. 

As Professor Turner finally reaches your desk, she hands you the paper with a warm smile that holds an underlying pride. In the corner of the sheet, a vibrant red 'C' was marked. It isn’t the highest grade in the class, but at this moment, it feels like a monumental achievement.

A sense of accomplishment washes over you like a warm wave, as you realise that all the effort, Yunho's unwavering support, and Professor Turner's belief in you is beginning to pay off. 

You cannot wait to let Yunho know about the news.

The campus courtyard was alive with activity as students milled about, enjoying the pleasant weather and the break from their studies. Among the various clusters of friends, you spot Yunho, standing with a small group of his own. His friends seem to be engaged in an animated conversation, their voices and laughter filling the air. 

You observe Yunho for a brief moment, his expression appearing neutral as he attentively listens to his friend's conversation. Your gaze then drifts down to the sight of Yunho pulling up the sleeves of his knitted sweater, revealing his unexpectedly well-defined forearms. The contrast between his baggy clothing and his toned physique momentarily catches you off guard.

But as you approach, your excitement is impossible to contain, the momentary thought of how toned Yunho is elsewhere leaves your mind. Your heart races, and you feel a surge of joy within you. The sense of accomplishment overwhelms you, and you can’t wait to share the news with Yunho, regardless of the audience.

Without hesitation, you stride purposefully toward him, determination etched across your face. The moment you reach him, you suddenly feel a little small under the eyes of his friends who seem to have noticed you approaching.

“Yunho,” you say gently, attempting to get his attention.

Yunho turns around, surprised to see you talking to him outside of your study sessions.

“Hey, what’s up?” Yunho questions, his attention fully on you as he forgets his friends existence.

“I passed the exam,” you beam, “well barely it was only a C.”

Yunho’s eyes widen as his face breaks into a bright, genuine smile. His eyes, behind his thick glasses, now sparkle with delight. 

"That's amazing! I knew you could do it!" he exclaims, his enthusiasm matching yours.

His friends can’t resist exchanging glances among themselves, finding it rather peculiar to witness your conversation with Yunho. After all, you are a highly popular figure in their school, while Yunho remains a reserved and relatively unknown individual.

The smile of pride that graces Yunho's face stirs a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, a sensation that has become increasingly common in recent times. Yet, you can't quite bring yourself to acknowledge the feeling, even to yourself.

Yunho's hand rises with a touch of hesitation before gently resting on the top of your head, playfully ruffling your hair to convey a silent 'good job.' Your entire face warms at the simple gesture, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"Now, it's time to focus on those major tests, okay?" Yunho exclaims, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he makes an effort to infuse you with the same excitement.

"Yes, sir," you respond with a playful salute, evoking a chuckle from his lips. Saluting Yunho has become somewhat of a habit, and he finds it endearing every time you do it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

You offer a nod, a warm smile gracing your face as you wave and bid farewell to Yunho and his friends.

Walking away, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for Yunho's unwavering support, not just as a tutor but as a friend who is being a great help in your journey toward success. 

His encouragement had been a driving force in your recent accomplishments, and you couldn't have been happier to share this victory with him and his friends in the vibrant courtyard, a testament to the bonds forged through your academic pursuits.

As you depart, Yunho's gaze lingers on your retreating figure, a faint smile gracing his lips as he replays the conversation in his mind. The moment you vanish from his sight, his friends swivel toward him, their faces etched with bewilderment and curiosity.

"When you mentioned you were tutoring someone, you didn't say it was them?" Wooyoung exclaims, genuine confusion stemming from the exchange they just witnessed.

Yunho, momentarily caught off guard by their reactions, inquires, "What do you mean?" He shifts his attention toward the group, ready to address their inquiries.

"Dude, she's the most popular person in this school; you don't just get to talk to them," San chimes in, his astonishment mirroring Wooyoung's.

Yunho, however, didn't buy into the notion of social hierarchies. He pokes San in the forehead, responding, "We're not in high school anymore, and there's no such thing as popular girls and guys."

Wooyoung's expression softens as he mulls over your interaction. "And they were so nice," he continues, noting Yunho's reaction. "I didn't expect someone with their status to be so nice."

Yunho's annoyance flares at the stereotype implied in Wooyoung's words, his brow furrowing. "Don't hold such stereotypes," he chastises his friend. "They... they are the sweetest person I know."

San's eyes widen as he glances at Yunho, connecting the dots. "Holy moly," he exclaims. "You like them, don't you?"

Yunho scrambles to hush him up, his cheeks flushing. "Shut up," he grumbles, though the embarrassment in his voice hints at a deeper truth.

—

“Ugh, I’m never going to pass this test,” you groan as you throw your head into your hands, frustration emitting from your every fibre.

"Come on, don't be so pessimistic. You've got this, and I believe in you," Yunho exclaims, his warm smile casting a ray of encouragement over the room. He watches as you succumb to a hissy fit, a mix of frustration and self-doubt, a smile covering his features at your actions.

"You always say that, but this time I am doomed," you groan, your voice muffled by your hands as you bury your face in them.

Gently, Yunho reaches out and takes your hands, coaxing them away from your face. The contact sends a brief tremor through your heart, and you can’t help but notice the warmth of his touch.

"You can do it; you're the smartest person I know," Yunho says softly, locking his eyes with yours. His words catch you off guard, and you look at him, a puzzled expression furrowing your brow. 

"I'm not smart; if I were, I wouldn't need a tutor," you state flatly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone, which elicits a chuckle from Yunho.

"I'd be an idiot not to see your potential. I just think you had your priorities muddled when you first came here," he remarks.

Curious, you probe further. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's no secret you enjoy a party," Yunho replies.

"No, before that."

"Oh," Yunho responds, and he continues, seemingly on a roll, "Well, I'd have to be blind not to see how smart you actually are. You're very capable of applying knowledge and solving problems. You have an excellent memory; most of the time, I only have to explain something once, and you've already processed it and applied it. It's very impressive. You're incredibly talented too. I see all the drawings you do in your book when you’re bored."

Yunho continues his praise, yet he is unaware of the emotions that well up within you. When he eventually glances in your direction, he is taken aback to find your eyes glistening with tears and a smile gracing your face.

"Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry if it wasn't my intention," he inquires quickly, a sense of concern crossing his features as he worries he may have inadvertently hurt your feelings.

You shake your head and wipe away a tear, still smiling. "No, Yunho. It's just... no one really sees me like that anymore."

Now Yunho is confused for a different reason. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, most people see me as the 'popular girl' or 'the life of the party.' I don't know. It's nice to be seen as something other than the stereotype.”

"I know what you mean," Yunho says, his hand ruffling his hair as his cheeks turn a faint shade of red.

"What do you mean?" you ask, intrigued by his response.

"Well, I'm usually seen as a nerd or a loner. People only talk to me when they need help with assignments or answers for exams. It was nice at first, feeling needed, but now it just feels like I'm being used in a way. I only have two friends, and they spend more time with each other than they do with me." Yunho admits, his gaze drifting down to his fingers, where he idly picks at a piece of dead skin on his nail.

"I know it's weird coming from me since you're literally my tutor, but I don't think your intelligence defines you," You begin, causing Yunho to look up at you with a puzzled expression, waiting for you to elaborate.

You continue, your words flowing with sincerity, "You're a sweetheart, Yunho. I see you helping people, not because you have to, but because you genuinely enjoy it. You're kind, a gentleman, and incredibly thoughtful. Your sense of humour is beyond anyone I've ever met before; it's refreshing to talk to someone whose humour isn't just 'your momma' jokes or making others look bad to get a laugh."

Yunho furrows his eyebrows, taking in your words, his expression almost studying them.

"Plus," you add, a warm smile gracing your face, "whether you like it or not, I consider you my friend."

—

The evening sun casts a warm glow over the campus as you join your friend group in the bustling cafeteria. Laughter and chatter filled the air as you settled in with them at your usual table. The topic of conversation quickly turns to the party happening later in the night, an event that has become increasingly rare for you to attend. The thought of partying when there was a crucial final exam on the horizon weighs heavily on your mind.

"Hey, you are coming to the party tonight, right?" your friend asks, a glimmer of anticipation in their eyes.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing what your priorities were. "I wish I could, but I really need to study for the final exam," you explain.

Immediately, your friends' expressions grow sour, and they exchange incredulous glances. "Again? You're always studying or making excuses. It's like you're avoiding us," one of them remarks, frustration creeping into their tone.

Their words sting, and you feel the pressure of their expectations bearing down on you. "I'm not avoiding anyone; I just have to prioritise my studies, you guys know I might get expelled." you insist, your voice wavering slightly as you try to maintain your composure.

But your friends aren’t satisfied with your explanation. 

"You never come to parties anymore. You're turning into a loser nerd, just like that loner Yunho," another friend declares with a snide tone, and the others chime in agreement, chuckles leaving their mouths.

The words strike a nerve, and you can’t hold back any longer. How dare they insult Yunho, who has been there for you during your toughest times of studying? The anger that has been building up inside you erupts.

"Yunho is not a loser," you snap, your voice filled with indignation. "He's been more of a friend to me than any of you. If you can't understand the importance of my studies and support me, then I don't need ‘friends’ like you."

At that moment, you make a decision. These friends are just immature individuals who only care about getting drunk and partying. They value popularity and shallow connections over your well-being and academic success. You have had enough of pretending to be something you weren't just to fit in.

"I don't care about popularity if it means I have to be fake and have fake-ass friends," you exclaim. With that, you push your chair back and leave the table, leaving your former friends behind, realising that true friendship means understanding and respecting your priorities, not forcing you to compromise your goals.

Walking away from the cafeteria, you feel a mix of anger, relief, and sadness. It was painful to let go of friendships that had once meant so much to you, but you knew that your academic journey is more important than trying to fit into a mould that didn't truly represent who you were.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t prevent them from spilling over as you stand just outside the school gates. You pay no mind to the curious glances of onlookers, for your emotions are too overwhelming to be hidden. You aren’t entirely certain if these tears are born of sadness, frustration, or a turbulent mix of both.

Without even thinking, you pull out your phone and dial Yunho’s number. You are not sure if you want to be alone tonight, yet you definitely do not want to go to a party. The only person you know will be available is Yunho. Maybe you can have an extra study session tonight.

It takes the phone only five seconds before Yunho picks up, his voice bright as he greets you.

"Hey, Yunho," you begin, attempting to maintain a sense of composure, but the tremor in your voice reveals your unease.

Yunho's keen ear picks up on the shakiness in your tone, and concern washes over him as he responds with a soft, soothing voice, "What's wrong?"

You sniffle, trying to brush off the emotions threatening to overcome you. "Nothing, it's nothing," you reply, your voice still carrying the traces of distress. "Are you free to study? I don't have anything to do, and I need to go over a few things."

Yunho is aware that a big party is scheduled for tonight, information he had gathered from Wooyoung, who also enjoys such gatherings. He finds it puzzling that you, too, had initially expressed an interest in attending the event, but he refrained from voicing his curiosity.

"I am free, but the library is closed today, and the school is closing soon too," Yunho explains, an idea begins to take root in his mind, and he hesitates before asking, "You could come to my place?"

The offer hangs in the air for a moment, full of unspoken implications. Yunho's excitement about the prospect of having you over is palpable, yet he tries to maintain his composure. He knows that his place will offer a quiet environment for studying.

The offer hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, you hesitate. You are well aware that accepting Yunho's invitation would signify a slight shift in your academic tutor relationship. The unspoken implications dance in the silence between you.

Yunho, on the other hand, finds his nervousness manifesting in the way he chews the inside of his cheek. His heart races as he awaits your response, unsure of how you would react to his proposition.

Despite your initial reservations, you can’t seem to bring yourself to decline his offer. The warmth and genuine concern that Yunho has consistently shown makes you feel safe and comfortable around him, and you find it difficult to resist the idea of studying in his presence, even if it means stepping slightly outside the boundaries of your tutor-student dynamic.

“What’s your address?” 

Making your way to Yunho's apartment, the anticipation of seeing him outside the usual academic setting adds an extra layer of excitement to your steps. The prospect of stepping into his personal space, even for a study session, feels like a small adventure.

You reach his apartment door and take a moment to collect yourself, your heart beating just a bit faster with each passing second. When you knock, the immediate rustling sounds from the other side of the door indicate that Yunho is indeed home.

The door opens, revealing a sight that takes your breath away. You are accustomed to seeing Yunho in smart attire, his hair always neatly styled, and he consistently looks presentable. However, the man who stands before you now is quite different.

Yunho is dressed in a loose grey T-shirt that hangs comfortably on his frame, and he wears a pair of black sweatpants that appear as cosy as they are casual. His hair is fluffy and untamed, in stark contrast to his usually well-groomed appearance. Yet, for some reason, this version of Yunho is just as captivating.

He still wears his thick glasses, but the way he looks now, so relaxed and approachable, makes your heart flutter. You can’t help but notice the subtle differences that render him all the more appealing. Your eyes linger on his toned arms, a part of him that was typically concealed beneath his attire. The sight of them, revealed in the simple T-shirt, is enough to send a rush of warmth throughout your body.

Yunho's appearance today is a stark departure from his usual academic demeanour, and it leaves you both pleasantly surprised and, admittedly, a little flustered. 

"Hey, uh, you can come in," Yunho stammers, a faint blush covering his cheeks.

You step inside, casting a brief but appreciative glance around Yunho's apartment. The space is on the smaller side, but it exudes a cosy charm that instantly puts you at ease. The apartment is immaculately clean and well-organised with a sense of tranquillity that contrasts with the bustling student life outside.

The living room is adorned with shelves, and the shelves are full of an impressive array of books, neatly arranged in rows. The sight of so many books gives you a glimpse into the depth of his knowledge and his passion for education.

As you look around, you notice a comfortable-looking sofa with a warm throw blanket tossed over it, a sign of a space that was both functional and inviting. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated a study area with a well-kept desk, hinting at countless hours of diligent work.

Yunho's apartment is not large, but it feels like a haven for anyone seeking a peaceful refuge from the outside world. It reminds you of Yunho.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?" Yunho asks, his voice tinged with a touch of nervousness as he observes your exploration of his apartment.

You take a moment to absorb the cosy ambiance of his living space before replying, "Have you had dinner?"

Yunho's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red, and a small, endearing smile graced his lips. “I haven't yet, I was going to order something later.”

“Can we eat together? I haven't eaten since this morning.”

Yunho grumbles your name, reprimanding you, "I told you, you need to eat regularly; it helps with..."

You finish his sentence with a soft chuckle, "Concentration, I know, Yu."

The use of the affectionate nickname "Yu" slips easily from your lips, and you are unaware of the profound impact it has on Yunho. His heart races at the sound of it, though he tries to hide his reaction with a smile. 

You continue, "We can eat while studying, right?" Your suggestion seems to lighten the mood, and Yunho is more than willing to accommodate your request.

“Of course.”

Yunho and you sit on the floor of his living room, your books and notes spread out on his coffee table, which also hold the remnants of an empty pizza box from your meal earlier. This makeshift study space is cosy, and the atmosphere is filled with the shared pursuit of knowledge.

Yunho is positioned in front of you, as he often is during your study sessions, carefully watching you as you diligently take notes. He couldn't help but admire your dedication and determination, and his heart swelled with pride as he saw your progress. 

As you write, a strand of hair slips from behind your ear and falls in front of your face. It is a simple, everyday occurrence, but to Yunho, it is a moment of subtle beauty. He feels a strong urge to reach out and tuck that strand of hair behind your ear, to be close to you in that small, intimate way. However, he holds back, not wanting to push any boundaries that existed between you. 

He watches with fascination as you decide to tie your hair up, using a hairband that was on your wrist. The act of gathering your hair and securing it in a ponytail seems almost magical to him. Yunho can’t deny the allure of how you look with your hair up, a sense of casual elegance that tugs at his heart.

In this moment, his thoughts stray to less innocent territories, but he quickly redirects his focus to the task at hand. He can’t afford to let his mind wander too far, not when the two of you are deep in a study session and he is fairly certain you would never harbour feelings for him in that way. 

However, the image of you with your hair tied up stays with him, etched into his memory, a reminder of the many facets of your charm that make it increasingly difficult for him to keep his feelings at bay.

You furrow your brows, attempting to decipher a particularly complex passage about pathogens. It is a subject that has always managed to baffle you, and tonight was no exception.

Glancing up, you are caught off guard by the intense gaze of Yunho. He was already intently staring at you, an indescribable emotion in his eyes. Clearing your throat, you shift your focus back to the book, feeling the weight of his attention. Yunho immediately averts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in his own book.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to take a chance and ask the question that has been bothering you about the microorganism. "Yunho, can you help me with this? I don't quite understand this."

Yunho's attention snaps back to you, his eyes focusing on the book. However, as he leans in to get a better look, the words on the page seem to blur. Determined to help you, he moves closer, sitting next to you on the floor. His arm brushing against yours, his thigh lightly touching yours, creates a subtle yet undeniable physical connection.

Yunho looks down at your bare thighs and he mentally curses you for wearing a skirt, he isn't sure how to pay attention when you are so close to him.

Yunho begins to explain the terminology and you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate on the subject. Your eyes are locked on his face, drawn to the way his lips move and the subtle changes in his expression as he explains the concepts. His proximity was both distracting and comforting, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

You cannot deny the allure of Yunho's presence. His crisp scent, a mix of a rich, woody sweetness and a hint of cologne, fills your senses and sends your mind racing. It is an intoxicating aroma that evokes a sense of freshness and warmth, creating an almost magnetic pull.

Listening to Yunho's explanations, you struggle to keep your focus on the topic at hand. Your eyes remain fixed on his face, capturing the play of emotions and the genuine care he puts into helping you understand. In this moment, the connection between you is undeniable, and the unspoken tension in the air seems to grow with each passing second. Little did you both know the profound effect you are having on each other as you lean against one another, on the verge of something unspoken. The second Yunho moves back to his seat, you suddenly feel awfully cold and empty, yet once again you push the feelings away.

The two of you continue your study session, when Yunho suddenly removes his glasses and rubs his eyes in a gesture of weariness. His actions catch your attention, and your gaze remains locked on his face, momentarily entranced by the change in his appearance.

In all the time you have spent with Yunho, you have never really taken into consideration how handsome he might be without his glasses. Now, as you observe his bare face, you are struck by his natural beauty. His features are chiselled and symmetrical, and there is a timeless quality to his face that make him incredibly appealing.

Yunho's clear eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, hold a depth that you haven't fully appreciated before. His skin was smooth and unblemished, and his lips had a natural rosy hue. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a different charm to him that you have never taken the time to notice.

For a moment, you find yourself in awe of how genuinely handsome he is, and you can’t help but appreciate the sight of him with his glasses off.

The study session is coming to a close, and as you gather your books and notes, you notice a curious look on Yunho's face. It is evident that he has something on his mind, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Is there something??" you inquire, your voice soft and inquisitive.

Yunho hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. "When you called, you seemed upset. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I was just worried."

You look at him with a touch of surprise at his perceptiveness. 

The fight with your friends wasn’t something you had planned to discuss, but you can sense the genuine concern in Yunho's expression, and you feel compelled to share.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to explain the situation, recounting the immaturity and unfair accusations that had led to the fallout. Yunho's shock and disbelief at their behaviour is palpable, and his expression reveals a mix of sympathy and frustration on your behalf.

"I can't believe they'd act like that," Yunho exclaims, his voice laced with sympathy. "It's their loss, you know. You're an incredible person, and they're the ones who are missing out."

Yunho's words are comforting, and the warmth of his understanding makes you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. It is a rare and welcome feeling to have someone truly empathise with your situation, and you find yourself grateful for his support.

Yunho watches you with a tender look when suddenly his curiosity gets the best of him, and he asks, "What does your boyfriend think of you coming to my house and spending so much time with me?"

You let out a sigh, the question touching a nerve you are not quite ready to address. "I don't have a boyfriend," you confess, and for a moment, there is a hint of vulnerability in your voice.

Yunho, genuinely surprised, raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his excitement as he peers at you. "Why not?"

You sigh again, your gaze dropping to the floor. "Most of the boys I'm around aren't ready for a relationship. They just want something casual, and I don't want to get my heart broken."

Yunho's brow furrows as he considers your response. "I didn't expect that," he admits, his voice tinged with surprise.

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious about his reaction.

Yunho sets a piece of paper he had been studying in front of him, "I mean, you have guys falling at your feet. Don't you have one person you enjoy spending time with?"

You ponder on his words, your eyes lingering on Yunho, who is now fully engaged in the paper. He isn't looking at you; instead, his gaze is focused on the words before him. 

After a moment of contemplation, you respond, "I enjoy spending time with you."

The second the  words leave your lips, Yunho looks up from his reading, and the world seems to momentarily stand still around you. His heart skips a beat, and for a fraction of a second, everything else fades into the background. Your words hang in the air, and Yunho lets them sink in.

In this suspended moment, it is as if the universe conspired to create a connection that went beyond friendship and tutoring. Yunho's heart pounds in his chest, and he can’t help but meet your gaze with a mixture of surprise and affection. 

Yunho cannot deny the impact of your confession. It is a sentiment he has quietly harboured but never dared to voice. Now, as the reality of your words settle in, he can’t help but feel a sense of joy and gratitude for the special bond that has grown between you, transcending the boundaries of tutor and student.

—

The night is alive with the promise of revelry as you arrive at a party, a whirlwind of colour and sound. It has been some time since you'd attended such an event, focusing intensely on your studies. But tonight is different. Hongjoong, an old friend who had no knowledge of falling out with your other friends, had invited you. You trusted him not to judge your academic priorities, and the prospect of enjoying yourself was too tempting to resist.

You had chosen to let loose for the evening. After an intense study session last night, you felt you deserved a break. You wear a stunning deep purple dress that hugs your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The fabric clings to you like a second skin, and its elegance draws the admiring gazes of many in attendance. Though you are well aware of the attention, you can’t help but feel indifferent to it now. Your priorities have shifted, and the superficial desires of others hold little sway over you.

Entering the party, the vibrant atmosphere envelopes you. The music throbs with an infectious beat, and the dance floor pulses with people lost in the rhythm. Laughter and conversations fill the air, and the warm glow of colourful lights creates a dazzling backdrop for the night's festivities.

Spotting Hongjoong in the kitchen, you make your way through the bustling crowd. He is deeply engrossed in a lively conversation with some of his friends, a characteristic grin lighting up his face. A sense of nostalgia and anticipation welled up within you as you drew closer.

You approach Hongjoong, who is mingling near the drinks table, a welcoming smile on his face as he spots you. 

“Do you want a drink?” He offers, but you decline, stating that you have an early lecture the next morning. 

Hongjoong nods understandingly, knowing you are dedicated to your studies. You are grateful for his response, as he does not press the issue but simply smiles and continues with the conversation.

“So you’ve gone back to your nerd roots,” Hongjoong jokes as he hands you a cup of cola.

You laugh as you take the cup, “it’s been a while since I've studied this hard,”

“You were always stuck in a book in highschool,” 

“It’s nice to feel like my brain isn't rotting anymore,” you exclaim laughing.

“I’ll cheers to that,”

As you chat with Hongjoong, you enjoy catching up and the lively atmosphere of the party. When all of a sudden you see a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. At first, you thought your mind might be playing tricks on you, but as you turn your head, you realise it was indeed who you thought it was.

Quickly, you bid a quick goodbye to Hongjoong and make your way through the crowd, heading straight for the person, who seems to be stumbling around slightly. 

Concern etched on your face, you approach him and ask, "Yunho, what on earth are you doing here?"

Yunho's expression is a mix of surprise and embarrassment as he struggles to regain his composure. "Uh… I’m not really sure," he admits, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You can’t help but feel a combination of amusement and warmth at his unexpected presence. Yunho, who usually exudes an air of composed intelligence, seems to be a bit out of his element in the party scene. Nonetheless, you appreciated the effort he made to be there. 

"Are you okay?" You question, his anxious eyes dart around the crowded room, taking in the chaotic atmosphere of the party.

Yunho hesitates for a moment before admitting, "Would it be weird if I said I don't like it here?"

A warm smile graces your face, understanding his unease in this unfamiliar setting. Without hesitation, you reach out and gently grab his hand, your fingers interlocking boldly. Yunho is taken aback by the physical contact, feeling the warmth of your hand in his, and his heart flutters in response.

You lead him to a more secluded area of the house where the music is not as deafening, and the crowd is much thinner. The change of scenery provides a welcome respite from the overwhelming chaos of the main party area. Yunho can’t ignore the way your small hands feel in his large ones, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. It is a simple gesture, but it makes him feel closer to you, dispelling some of his unease.

In the quieter, more secluded area of the house, you and Yunho find a temporary refuge from the bustling party. 

"What are you really doing here?" you ask, curiosity in your eyes.

Yunho's expression shifts, and he admits, "Wooyoung dragged me here. I didn't really want to come, and I already don't like it." His eyes scan the room, taking in the scene around him.

For a moment, Yunho's gaze settles on you, and he notices your choice of attire, a short, form-fitting dress that accentuates your curves. It is a striking sight that leaves an indelible impression on him. His mind wanders to non-innocent places, etching the image of you in this dress into his memory. He can’t deny that you look stunning, and his thoughts momentarily venture into uncharted territory.

Although his initial discomfort at the party has faded, the sight of you in that dress stirs something within him, something he has only thought of late at night. It is an unexpected sight that leaves Yunho in a state of internal turmoil, struggling to keep his thoughts in check as he tries to focus on the conversation at hand.

The pulsating music and the chaotic atmosphere of the party seems to close in around you. Suddenly a thought crosses your mind, and you turn to Yunho, considering your options.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the party noise.

Your question snaps Yunho out of his thoughts, and he looks back up at you as if he had been caught taking in your form. His gaze meets yours, and for a brief moment, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. It is a rare sight, and it makes you feel even more connected to him.

It takes less than a second for Yunho to answer, "Yes."

Without further hesitation, he intertwines your fingers with his, and you both rush towards the exit of the house. Yunho's larger frame shields you from the reckless partiers who are going strong, ensuring you don't get caught in the chaos of the crowd. The touch of his hand is both reassuring and electrifying, and it feels like an unspoken agreement between the two of you; an escape from the madness into a more tranquil and intimate setting.

You are not sure how you ended up at Yunho’s apartment, yet you cannot quite complain. Since the study session at his house you have desired to be back at his, it was so comforting and peaceful in his house and you love it there. 

"You can make yourself at home, I'm going to grab us some food," Yunho explains as he opens the door to his cosy apartment. He moves to grab his wallet from the coffee table, ready to head out to pick up the food. 

However, as he attempts to pass you and make his way to the door, you stand in front of him, blocking his path. The look on your face reveals your disappointment, and it is clear that you don’t want him to leave so soon.

"Can we order it?" you ask, your voice filled with a longing for his company.

Yunho hesitates for a moment, weighing the options, but he ultimately replies, "It'll be quicker for me to get it now."

Despite his practical reasoning, you insisted, "Please stay with me Yunho."

Yunho can’t help but be touched by your plea. The vulnerability in your voice causes a flutter in his chest, and he is acutely aware of the genuine connection that has developed between you. He smiles and relents, realising that he doesn’t want to leave you either.

"Okay," he speaks softly, "I'll order it."

Your gratitude was evident in your eyes, and you knew you had made the right decision. Yunho's presence is something you cherished, and you are both beginning to understand just how much the other means to you.

You settle onto his couch, and soon enough the Chinese takeout that you had ordered arrives, the delightful aroma filling the room. It is a welcomed comfort that you both enjoy as you unwrap the containers and share the delicious meal. 

You watch as Yunho picks a movie that he recommends, and you were intrigued to see his choice.

As you and Yunho start to watch the movie, you can’t help but feel a chill in the room. The soft glow from the TV illuminated your silhouette, the short dress you are wearing now seems impractical in the cosy setting.

Yunho, ever attentive, notices your discomfort and decides to speak up. "Are you cold?" he inquires, a hint of concern in his voice.

You hesitate for a moment but soon admit, "Yeah, a little."

Without further ado, Yunho offers a solution. "I have some warmer clothes you can borrow if you want. I could grab them for you."

His thoughtful gesture leaves you flustered, but you manage to stammer out a grateful "Yes, please." Your heart warms at the consideration he shows, and you appreciate his willingness to make you more comfortable.

Yunho quickly gets up and disappears into his bedroom. He returns with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, both of which were his own. His choice of clothing was deliberate, as he handed you his favourite hoodie. He has often wondered what you would look like wearing it, and now he has the perfect excuse to find out. The hoodie is warm and smells like him, making you feel closer to him in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Yunho can’t help but watch you with a warm smile as you accept the clothes. However, the smile quickly fades as he realises his mistake, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"Oh, sorry," he quickly stutters out, chuckling nervously as he ruffles the back of his hair, "You can change in my bedroom."

You laugh gently at him, he is so cute.

“Thank you,” you smile before walking into his bedroom.

Entering Yunho's bedroom, you can’t help but take in the clean and organised space. His room is a testament to his meticulous nature, and you appreciate the attention to detail. But what truly catches your eye are the posters of various games adorning the walls. You admired the artwork and can’t help but think that they add a personal touch to the room.

Shaking off the distraction, you proceed to change into Yunho's clothes. The hoodie he has given you is larger than you expected, enveloping you in warmth and reaching down to your mid-thigh. The realisation of just how big Yunho begins to dawn on you.

His hoodie seems to swallow you in its comfort, and you can’t help but feel a little bit smaller. His physical presence is undeniable; he is taller than you, his shoulders are broad, and his hands are significantly larger than yours. The contrast is alluring, and you can’t deny that the thought of him towering over you, his sheer size and strength, stirs something within you.

You feel arousal pooling in between your legs, but you push aside the feeling, not sure if Yunho would feel the same way.

The hoodie is so long, you make a bold choice to not wear the sweatpants, seeing as the hoodie covers everything. Plus, there's no harm in seeing Yunho’s reaction.

You step out of the room, and Yunho is skimming between channels, trying to find a different movie to watch.

When Yunho hears your footsteps approaching the living room, he turns around to look at you, expecting to see you in his clothes. However, what he sees leaves his heart nearly stopping. There you stand, wearing nothing but his hoodie, your legs exposed and on full display. 

Yunho's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows deeply, trying to suppress the flood of sensations and indecent thoughts that surge through his mind. His cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he is unable to tear his eyes away from you, his gaze inadvertently lingering on your enticing figure.

In this moment, he finds himself captivated by your beauty and the unexpected intimacy of the situation, struggling to maintain his composure. The sight of you in his hoodie was something he had never expected, and it sends his heart and mind into a whirlwind of emotions and desires.

"What's wrong?" you inquire, noticing the wide-eyed and bright red expression on Yunho's face as he gazes at you with an intensity you haven't seen before.

It is as if a switch has flipped in Yunho's mind, and suddenly, confidence takes over his being. You watch in amazement as he stands up from the couch and moves with a determined purpose towards you. 

With each step, it is evident that he is almost out of breath, his chest heaving with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He stops in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. For a moment, you feel like you are the only person in the world for him, and the possessiveness in his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed.

Yunho's large hands land gently on your shoulders, and they slowly trail down to clasp yours. His touch is electrifying, and as he guides you backward, you soon find yourself pressed against the wall, pinned there by his presence. The air seems charged with an unspoken desire, and you can’t help but be captivated by this new side of Yunho.

Yunho murmurs your name, his voice thick with desire and uncertainty. He continues, "You can tell me to stop if you want..."

You don’t hesitate for a moment. In a hushed, eager tone, you reply, "Yunho, just kiss me for fuck's sake."

Yunho gently cups your cheek, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Leaning closer, his lips press against your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they venture down toward your mouth. He pauses for a moment, watching you closely, his breath brushing across your face, sending shivers down your spine.

With careful consideration, he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, testing the waters, and eliciting a soft gasp from you. Feeling the tightening grip of your hand on his shirt, he gains the reassurance he needs to continue. Slowly, he deepens the kiss, his lips melding with yours, the softness and warmth sending a wave of astonishment through your body. His lips move against yours and all the feelings of the past few months pour into the kiss.

Yunho delicately probes his tongue into your mouth, you can’t help but respond. Your fingers tighten their hold on his shirt, and a surge of electric sensations course through your body, leaving you breathless and eager for more. 

Yunho's kiss tastes like pure indulgence, a blend of desire and longing that leaves you yearning for more. The feeling is exquisite, and you can’t help but moan softly in response to the intensity of the moment. 

His lips leave yours, trailing down your neck from the curve of your jaw. Soft gasps escape your lips as he explores the sensitive skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he presses you harder against the wall, the heat of the kiss overcoming the two of you. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you instinctively threw your head back, granting him better access to your neck. 

Yunho breaks away from the kiss, a hint of frustration in his eyes as he tosses his glasses aside, irritated by their intrusion. His dark and intense gaze is now fully revealed, making you realise the depth of his desire. Without delay, he reconnects your lips with a hungry passion that leaves you breathless.

His hands begin a journey down your waist, their touch igniting sparks of pleasure. With astonishing ease, he lifts you off your feet, his strength both surprising and exciting. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, and that is when you feel his hardness prodding you through your underwear. You suddenly feel extremely thankful for not wearing the sweatpants as he now has easier access to where you want him most.

Yunho carries you toward his bedroom with an air of urgency, his strides confident and determined. With a swift, well-placed kick, he sends the bedroom door wide open.

He gently sits on the edge of the mattress, you find yourself in his lap, the warmth of his body enveloping you. The world outside fades into insignificance, and you are left with a sense of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. The connection between you and Yunho grew stronger, and the intensity of the moment only heightened your desire for one another.

Yunho’s hands travel to your hips, where he kneads the flesh appreciatively. With a calculated move, he pushes you down onto himself, grinding you against his hardness. This causes the both of you to moan into the kiss, the both of you addicted to the sound.

“Yunho, please,” you mutter into the kiss, needing relief that you know Yunho will provide.

“What do you want, beautiful?” Yunho groans back against your lips when he feels you grinding yourself onto him.

“You.” you say with confidence, “always been you.” you declare and it has Yunho’s heart racing even faster in his chest.

Yunho realises the fun he can have in this situation, and he feels addicted to the control he has over you. You bury your face into Yunho’s neck, your embarrassment becoming apparent.

“How badly?” Yunho teases as he places long hot kisses on the side of your neck.

“Please Yunho, please.” usually you would feel humiliated, yet you have no time to feel any form of embarrassment, your desire is too strong. With a swift yet tender movement, Yunho deftly flips the two of you over, your back now resting on the plush comfort of his bed. He settles between your open legs, the space between you filled with electrifying anticipation as the world around you blurred into obscurity. 

“Since you’re such a good girl, I have to take care of you, don’t I?”

Yunho's transformation is nothing short of mesmerising. The once innocent aura that surrounded him has gone, replaced by a commanding presence that leaves your head spinning. It is as if he has unlocked a hidden side of himself, and the intensity of his actions and words leave you completely captivated and yearning for more.

With a gentle motion, Yunho pulls the hoodie off, revealing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. He takes in the sight of your naked top half and your panties and it is better than all the times he has imagined it. Your nipples immediately harden in the chilly air and you hastily rush to cover yourself.

“Do not,” Yunho's gentle yet commanding voice holds you in its sway, preventing you from covering yourself. He takes hold of your wrists, his words alone enough to convey his desire, and you obediently nod in agreement, unable to resist his irresistible influence.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers as he scans over your body.

Yunho begins to leave soft kisses across your collar bones, reaching your shoulders and neck as he simultaneously massages the flesh of your breast. He leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin, suckling and biting marks into your skin that only he gets to see.

Slowly, he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it, and biting the sensitive nub, an action that has you arching and moaning into his touch.

“You sound so beautiful moaning for me.” Yunho growls before moving to your other nipple and giving it the same attention, making sure to watch your every reaction.

In an agonising pace, Yunho trails his kisses down and you can almost feel yourself shaking from excitement as he nears where you need him the most.

You almost explode the second you feel Yunho’s mouth trailing along your thighs, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh.

Yunho chuckles darkly when he hears your excited gasps and moans, the sounds are like a beautiful melody to him, causing him to want more.

Yunho's sudden act of sitting up to remove his jumper catches your attention, and your eyes remain fixated on him. What you see beneath his clothes surprises you. His toned, well-defined upper body, his waist is slender, his shoulders are broad, giving him a somewhat hourglass-like figure. While he isn’t overly muscular, his physique was indeed a captivating sight. Chiselled abs adorn his stomach, and an irresistible desire wells up within you, compelling you to kiss every inch of his flawless skin.

Yunho's chest swells with pride as he observes your intense gaze on his body. He can hardly believe the turn of events and the desire he sees in your eyes.

Yunho smirks as your hands fumble towards his belt, desperately wanting his pants off. 

"Patience, doll," Yunho asserts, his voice exuding confidence as he helps you remove his belt.

Left in only his boxers, you can see his length outlined through his black boxers and your breath is momentarily taken away. He is big, very big. You cannot help but let out a whimper of desperation as you look back up Yunho, who has a cocky grin on his features.

Leaning down, he starts placing light kisses on your stomach and thighs, getting close, but not quite close enough for your liking.

Instinctively, you run your fingers through his locks, trying to push him closer to where you need him. You hear Yunho chuckle at your eagerness, his heart racing knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

You watch Yunho’s every move, wanting to imprint every moment deep into your memory.

Yunho presses a gentle kiss against your clothed core, eliciting a soft mewl from your lips and Yunho hums in appreciation. You feel your whole body heat up in embarrassment as Yunho pulls your panties down, tossing them to the side of the room. You attempt to close your legs, feeling extremely exposed. Yunho feels himself losing self control as he looks at your soaking core, yet he tells himself to control his urges, wanting to make this last for much longer.

Yunho isn’t pleased with this and he lets out a growl as he speaks, “open those legs and let me see that pretty pussy.”

He grips your thighs, forcing them open and you can't help feel another rush of arousal course through you from his strength. It annoys you how slow he is, taking his time to get where you need him, he is too busy enjoying every small reaction, your desperation and eye fucking you, gauging every one of your gasps and twitches.

Yet the second his lips are on your core, the loud moan you let out is close to a scream and you feel him raviging you. His mouth works expertly against you, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit to lapping at your soaking hole has you seeing stars. 

Your body squirms with pleasure under Yunho's skilled touch, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair as he eats you like you are his last meal.

“Yunho, please…” your voice is hoarse as you look down at him.

Yunho gazes up at you, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, making your thoughts hazy.

“Please what, pretty?” Yunho questions, yet as you are about to answer, he slips in one of his long fingers into your core. The second he feels your warm walls around him, he feels himself fighting the urge to destroy you right there and then. You jolt at the sensation, tears lining your eyes because of how desperate you are to be filled by him.

“Want you…need you…” you say, your voice shaky as you throw your head back against the pillow.

“Oh baby,” Yunho tuts, his voice almost condescending as he stares up at your fucked out state, “your pussy is so tight, I need to prep you before, don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Yunho's words send another wave of desire coursing through your veins. The contrast between his stern tone and his evident care for your well-being leaves you feeling both dizzy and achingly needy.

“You don't want to get hurt, do you now?” Yunho questions, gently slapping your thigh to get your attention back on him.

“No, I don’t,” you exclaim, doing anything to please the man in front of you. 

“Good girl,” 

He's ruthless, entering another finger into your wet hole, his tongue alternating sucks and nips on your clit. With ease, he manages to find the spot inside you that sets fireworks through you and you feel the coil in your belly starting to tighten in pleasure. 

"So fucking good, doll." He groans, his face pressed against your core has your cunt throbbing. “Can you even take my dick? I don’t want to hurt you when you’re being so good for me.”

You feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm, desperate to topple over the edge. All you need is a little encouragement, and you're extremely glad Yunho is so good at reading you.

“Let loose, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.” 

You let out a loud moan, almost a scream as your orgasm hits you and Yunho holds your shaking body down, licking your clit softly as you finish.

Before you can finish riding through your high, Yunho continues to kiss your pussy gently while adding a finger, the sudden stretch in your hole has you whining and writhing around from the sensitivity, his rough movements from his long fingers has you shaking even more. You beg for him to slow down and, thankfully he leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you twitch beneath him.

Before you can comment on anything, Yunho leans down and captures you in another heated kiss, and you moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, a new rush of arousal flooding through your body.

“Do you want to keep going? We can stop if you want to.” Yunho's voice, filled with concern, warms your heart, but you can't help the groan that escapes your lips. 

"I’d love to continue," you rush on your words, your enthusiasm unabated. Chuckling at your eagerness, Yunho moves back slightly, running a hand through his hair as he gazes down at you, a mix of pride and desire evident in his eyes as he looks at your fucked out state.

“Wait shit, I don't know if i have a condom,” Yunho says, worried as he ruffles through his bedside table, not able to find any.

“Wait really?” you question, not even the slightest bit worried about him not having a condom, in fact you almost try to hide your excitement, “it’s okay.” 

“What?” 

“We don't need it, I'm on the pill.” You exclaim, pulling him by his hand closer to you, so he sits on the bed next to you.

Yunho is taken aback by your boldness, yet he finds it extremely hard to hide his excitement. The low groan that escapes his lips doesn't go unnoticed by you, further fueling the growing intensity of the moment. Yunho looks up at you, his eyes dark as he studies your face for any form of discomfort. When he doesn't see any, he almost moans at the thought of finishing inside of you. “Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me.”

The second Yunho removes his boxers, your mouth is almost watering at the sight of his length. Not only is he long, but he is girthy, standing tall. Your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sight. You can feel your pussy throbbing at the thought of how well he is going to stretch you out.

“Like what you see?” Just like that, the caring Yunho is once again replaced with the cocky Yunho that you just love.

Instead of firing the bratty comment that is on the tip of your tongue, you simply nod your head, too overcome with the need for him to just destroy you.

Yunho leans over you again, spreading your legs wide to fit right between them, he takes his time rubbing up and down your slit, gathering your arousal to lube himself up. Your whines and whimpers are like music to his ears, and he doesn't know if he can ever get enough of you like this.

Lining up with your entrance, he takes his time to gently slide just the tip in, causing you to gasp lightly. Yunho buries his head into your neck, biting his lip as he attempts to maintain his composure. He knows he needs to take it slow in order to not hurt you, but the way you are clenching around him has his mind spinning with arousal.

He gets back up, his intense gaze watching your every expression as he eases himself in, going at a steady pace. The sting is definitely present and you squint at the light pain.

“Deep breaths, beautiful. You’re doing so well.” 

You grab his toned arms as he pushes himself further in, his own breaths getting shallow as he feels your warm walls envelop his length.

‘Stay focused, Yunho,’ he thinks to himself, over and over, desperately trying to keep his composure, yet it proves more difficult by every passing second that your tight pussy sucks him in.

Pleasure surges through you but the only thing you are able to focus on is how full you feel. Your breath catches in your throat and you tense up as he gradually bottoms out, groaning, "So big."

“Yeah, does it feel good?” Yunho’s voice is raspy as he cages you in his arms, his eyes scanning your face.

“So good… please move.” is all you manage to say.

Yunho starts with some slow, teasing thrusts dragging his cock out before pushing it back in and it has you mewling out in pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Yunho chokes out, his sanity practically gone as he feels your tight walls hugging his cock so nicely.

The beautiful sight of him on top of you, sweaty and lust ridden has you moaning and clenching around his cock. Wrapping your arms tightly around his strong back, your nails dig into his skin as he increases his pace. 

"Does this feel good, pretty?"

You are only able to manage out a moan of approval, letting him know, yes, he is doing good. Yunho chuckles against your skin as you let out noises of pleasure, every one spurring him on and making him desperate to make you finish again. In a purposeful movement, Yunho leans his hips back slightly, so his cock is angled in a way where it hits your g spot perfectly with every thrust. Yunho knows he has found it the second your words and moan become a mixed blabbing mess, with this he smirks. He almost doesn't want to stop, he is having too much fun with you.

Yunho grunts as he starts thrusting even faster, his hand coming down to flick your clit, needing you to come on his cock. He needs you to finish before him.

You feel your orgasm approaching fast, and Yunho can tell by the way you clench and claw at his arms, pulling him down to lock him in a heated kiss, he swallows your moans and whimpers happily.

Yunho pulls away from your swollen lips to bury his face in your neck, whispering praise into your ear. 

“Who is making you feel this good, doll?” he whispers in his deep voice, “do you want to cumm, pretty girl? Be a good girl and cum on my big dick, I know you want to.”  

The coil in your belly tightens even more, your legs starting to shake around him as you moan out his name pathetically. 

“That’s it, beautiful, milk my cock dry.” 

“Need to cum,”

Yunho’s chest tightens at the desperate tone in your voice and for a moment, he knows he is definitely able to get used to your desperate whines.

“Go ahead, baby cum for me, let the whole neighbourhood know how good I’m making you feel.”

That's all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap, and your orgasm hits you hard. Intense pleasure ripples through you like tsunami waves, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his arms. The sensation overwhelms you as your world narrows down to the electrifying connection you share with Yunho.

Yunho follows in suit, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside of you, his choked swears and moans in your ear as he wraps his strong arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace as the two of you ride out your orgasms.

After a few moments of silence, the only sounds to be heard in the room are the deep inhales and exhales of you and Yunho, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The intimacy lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a warm, comfortable blanket.

Yunho gently sits up, his arms shaky as he tries to regain his composure. A layer of sweat covers his face, and even in the low light of his room, you think he looks absolutely handsome. His dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks only add to his charm, and you can't help but admire him as he catches his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out, his seed spilling out of your swollen hole, a sight which has Yunho getting hard once again, yet he pushes the thoughts to the side and quickly rushes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth for you.

You can't help but feel a wave of insecurity and vulnerability as Yunho steps away to fetch the washcloth. The moment he disappears from your sight, a rush of unease washes over you, and tears begin to pool in your eyes. You never expected this level of intimacy, and now, seeing him leave even briefly, you fear he might be having second thoughts.

When he returns with the washcloth, he immediately notices the glistening tears in your eyes. Panic sets in, and he rushes to your side, cradling you in his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Did I do something to upset you?"

You sniffle and shake your head. "I'm sorry. I thought you disappeared for good, and I got scared."

Yunho's expression softens as he caresses your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. "Oh, baby, I would never do that. I promise you, I'm here for you. I'm so sorry for putting that thought in your mind."

He holds you close, offering the warmth and comfort you desperately need, reassuring you that he's not going anywhere.

“Yunho?” You look towards Yunho, whose gaze is already set on you with an affectionate gaze. Tenderly, he pushes a stray hair behind your ear, and a sense of comfort washes over you.

Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring, "Yes, baby?"

Your heart flutters at the endearment as you continue, "What are we?"

Yunho raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a warm smile. He knew this question was coming, and he's more than prepared to answer. "Well, if you'll have me, I'd love to be your nerdy boyfriend."

A surge of happiness fills you, and you can't hold back your grin. "Only if you'll have me as your 'not so nerdy' girlfriend?"

Yunho chuckles and cups your face with his hands, sealing the moment with a sweet kiss. "Deal," he whispers against your lips, his arms wrapping even harder around you, securing you in a warm embrace.

“Let’s clean you up, pretty.”

—

“Sitting in Professor Turner's office, you're feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Yunho is right beside you, his presence giving you comfort and assurance. Professor Turner, the mentor you deeply respect, and her opinion matters greatly to you. You've been working tirelessly to improve your grades, and this is the moment of reckoning. To tell whether you are going to be expelled or not.

Professor Turner reviews your recent exam results, and you can't help but glance at Yunho. He's been your constant support, helping you study, explaining complex concepts, and motivating you to push your limits. There's a fond smile on his face, his warm eyes reflecting his pride in your accomplishments.

Finally, Professor Turner finishes her review and looks up at you with an encouraging smile. "I don't know how you did it, but your grades have not only improved, they have excelled. You are somehow one of the best in my class right now."

Your heart swells with pride as you realise the significance of her words. Tears fill your eyes and you feel the heavy weight that has been on your heart for months finally lift.

Yunho's proud smile widens, and the love in his eyes grows even more apparent. You feel a deep sense of accomplishment and happiness, knowing that with his help and your dedication, you've managed to exceed your own expectations and impress one of your most respected professors.

You look over at Yunho, gratitude shining in your eyes, and say,

"Well, I had an amazing tutor."

{i didnt proof read this, so if you see mistakes i apologise, im very tired}

[the-tarot-witch22]

Physical Appearance of your future spouse! - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1 :

(Knight of pentacles, the moon, 3 of wands and 5 of pentacles)

Okay so the very first thing i felt from this card you future spouse seems very masculine like their features and overall vibe of their look seems so manly, or it can be you who prefers very masculine man, this pile's energy seems so mysterious and private, your future seems like someone who is quite private or mysterious when it comes to their personal relationships or affairs they are not very open with every people they meet, their gaze seems so sharp like if he looks at you for more than few seconds you will just look away, the dressing sense could be like comfortable wear or formal wear, like oversized hoodie or sweater or under a shirt, trousers below, i see lots of brown and colors that are quiet darker in shade, with contrasting white or off white, their eye colors could be (blue/green/brown), eyes could be foxy or smaller in shape, there could also be a dimple and it could be you guys too, he might like to wear rings, their hands seems veiny and bigger in size , long fingers, height is above than 5'10, they might also keep a beard, skin color could dark tan to fair/ pale, they seems foreign than you or could unusual type, as might their eyes are intense it also seems that there is some vulnerability inside them. Their build seems toned or athletic but not many abs, they could also have muscles, his biceps would be big, lol they seems to tell me just to say that, for some of you i see lean physique for your future spouse, they might also like to go to gym. Or keep their health in check. They might also exclude that rich vibe, their perfume could also be very unique! Their hairs could be black/brownish shade but wavy! Their lips seems fuller.

Okay that was all for pile 1! Your fs seems to be very attractive honestly, good for you guys!

Pile 2 :

(The hierophant, page of pentacles, ace of swords and the magician)

Okay so the very first thing i feel for you guys that your future spouse seems like a nerd hehe, like with glasses and who seems to have knowledge of everything and definitely do, they might wear glasses too, they could also be a gamer or like to play games in their free time, their face is structured not that defined jawline but definitely there, their hair seems thick and luscious, and big almond eyes, with long eye lashes, their could be thin or medium pouty, heart shaped lips ifykwim, their eye color could be hazel, brown, black, or bluish/green, they might like blue color a lot because i see lots of blue color, prominent chin and nose, long nose, but won't look weird, it matches with their face structure, the hair length could be long and they might wear it in bun or medium length, their build seems big i am channeling the song "big boy by sza", they seems to like a smarty pants, they might even be in touch with their feminine side, for some of you, your fs seems soft, their is something soft about them , like baby features could look younger then they are, their teeth are definitely very white, their voice seems to be deep or very unique, for some of you it seems like a high pitched voice too, or it could be you, they seem to be quiet spiritual or religious, i also feel they might like to go to church or believe in god or upper power? but anyways, height is average to tall 5'9"-5'12". They seem to have a unique charm about their appearance. Their face could be oval or square too. For some of you your fs could have a athletic or sleeper build. They or you might have had self image issues in past, or some of you still feel that, but i feel you and your fs is working on that part. I feel there might have been someone in your life that has made them feel like that or you. (this may or may not resonate with you) , this message wasn't for everybody but i wrote what i channeled. Their skin could be brown/white/dark. They are attractive in their own way.

Okay that's all for pile 2! They seems quite cute yet smart~ love that for you guys! and remember you guys are beauiful!

Pile 3:

(king of wands, the lovers, 8 of wands, 8 of cups, and the devil)

Okay so the very first thing i hear for you guys is your future spouse is very sexually appealing and attractive, and they know they are sexy, when they walk in a room you can feel their presence, the aura is very confident, they seem to be very confident in themselves, very good looking honestly, their eyes are intense and beautiful, like someone could lose themselves in their eyes, they even might seem intimidating to you because of their physical appearance, their dressing sense is also very good, they seem very fashionable or has unique taste, they also seems to turn heads while they walk in a certain room, or people talk about their good looks, their masculine and feminine energy is very balanced, they are tall possibly 5'11"-6'0" or could also be above, if not i feel 5'8 or 5'9 their height that is, they might also seem like a Greek god or that type of attractiveness, their jaw is structured or has and defined jawline, they keep their hairs short and styled in a slick style for some of them they might also use gel, their face is very proportionate, very sharp nose or straight nose, could wear glasses or watches, for some of you your future spouse could have curly hairs, skin could be pale/dark/tan possibly olive. They workout a lot, could have a dad bod with muscles too, but nevertheless very attractive, they also seem quite dominating, their eyes color seems to be blue/black and brown or unique color of sort, they might take care of their self quite good. They might like to wear sport shoes a lot. They really look like a model honestly.

That's all pile 3! Your fs is very attractive inside and out, love that for you guys~

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[black-lake]

astro observations 11

your astro granny is back, I've been doing this for so long omg. some of it is venting, like always, so ignore that, but maybe don't you may find words of wisdom there. anyway, enjoy. also warning, it escalates to heavier subjects fast 🪐 🔭

 ——

🕰️ Virgo and gemini risings can pull off any type of glasses, sunglasses, bug-eye glasses, cat-eye, mirrored ray-bans, you name it. They even look cute with goggles no joke. They also make the smart and academia aesthetics look so cool and elegant in a chaotic way, not in a taurus capricorn way but in a- 'I spilled coffee on my boss's laptop this morning and I'm still talking about it way- because omfg- did you see the way they looked at me? it's like I've done it on purpose or smth but I didn't, not sure if they have a crush on me or they fucking hate me, what do you think? I'm pretty sure they don't hate me tho, but I can't tell, do you think I should quit?' 🎙️🎬

🕰️ I recently looked up George Clooney's chart and omggg, it all makes sense. The moon conj saturn in capricorn, giving him that nostalgic wise aura along his taurus sun, uranus and pluto opp ascendant kind of indicating finding his perfect partner later on in life, venus in aries and mars in leo, he's fiery but that fire so damn well contained with all the earth. His asc and jupiter in aquarius, yeah only an aquarius women with so much air and intelligence can maintain his attention and lock him in lmao. His synastry with Amal Clooney reminds of that of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively. Manifesting a relationship like this for everyone reading 🧘🏼‍♂️✨

🕰️ Personal planets in scorpio 10° or 22° is a sexy mf combo, esp moon, venus, mars and asc, it gives bedroom eyes and seductive domineer, also godmade bone structures. 🗿

🕰️ Pluto opposite or square ascendant, a very classic aspect for friends/coworkers/admirers/people in general turning enemies and talking shit behind your back. This aspect can easily make people speculate, overanalyze your actions, assume things, spread rumors and lies about you out of jealousy and intimidation. 

🕰️ Any planet conjunct the desc can bring the physical manifestation to that planet's shadow side, up to 10°. It can conceal traits of that planet in the sign it’s in, as it’s descending and escaping the sun’s light. Pluto on the desc brings a few shadow traits out of people and conceals their true intentions from the native. So the native has to face those traits, learn to see them from miles away, to discern what people’s intentions are and whether it's that or their own perception and fears. In other words, they start from naive to paranoid to bs detectors, and it takes a long painful journey to get there.

🕰️ Even tho personal planets on the desc are much easier to see and handle, venus on the descendant can bring shallow traits and empty promises out of people, mars on the descendant, not as easy, can bring out anger, toxic masculinity and aggression. Saturn on the desc can bring immaturity, irresponsibility, immoral and disloyal behaviors out of people, stagnation, delays in connection and loneliness, pushing the native to learn patience and endurance. The native will meet people with such traits over and over again until they learn to spot and discern them faster and take the right action. ☔️

🕰️ I’ll keep talking about it in this blog cuz it’s always been one of my biggest challenges. What I learned with pluto on the desc is that you will keep attracting the same kind of enemies to challenge you if you don’t own your power and stop diluting yourself for someone else's fragile power hungry ego, because people will have a problem with you anyway. Also don’t hold too tight to anyone, never be afraid to lose people, because trust me you will. Almost no one is meant to stay in your life, they’re meant to transform you and leave. The only thing you’re meant to rely on is your power and independence. The moment you see it the easier cutting ppl off becomes. 

🕰️ I have venus in aries and I find myself always having a girl crush on celebs with this placement, Rihanna, Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Jennifer Aniston. They all seem to share that fiery independence mixed with a childlike but fierce demeanor which I admire, plus they never age. 🐈‍⬛

🕰️ I have mercury in aries and mars in scorpio, but for some reason I’m fascinated by people with mercury in aquarius and mars in sagittarius, with mercury in aqua I always expect something fascinating about their minds but I can't guess it cuz it's always different, but females with mars in sag omggg the sass is hilarious, I can’t help but laugh when they get blunt, loud and shady out of nowhere lmfao.

🕰️ Speaking of placements I’m fascinated by, what’s the deal with moon in taurus? I keep thinking it must be… nice.. to have? people that have it are so grounded and serene it makes me think it’s the best moon sign. If you have it please share the emotional difficulties you experience, because I can speak of every moon sign emotional traumas in detail but for some reason I be romanticizing this one. ☕️

🕰️ Another placement I really admire is moon conjunct saturn, there’s just something unspeakable, that isn’t tangible (even tho they have timeless mesmerizing eyes) but on a soul level I can sense their wisdom and nostalgic aura. It’s like there’s a balance of feminine and masculine qualities which come out in their mannerisms. People that have it, Timothée Chalamet, George Clooney, River Phoenix, and every hot man ever. 

🕰️ Have you ever asked yourself why Morgan Freeman has such deep unique and easily recognizable voice? It's his mercury conj uranus in taurus. Who else has an easily recognizable voice, Kim Kardashian, mercury conj uranus in scorpio. 

🕰️ Having the axis of virgo-pisces over your sun-moon, like virgo sun opposite pisces moon, or mercury-moon can give someone a soft voice, their voice can even be therapeutic and healing. Think of Michael Jackson's speaking voice.

🕰️ The hardest aspect in any chart for me are oppositions or squares to pluto, saturn and chiron. These are easily the most challenging aspects you can find in a chart.

🕰️ Those that have lilith/pluto in the 1st, 6th, 7th, 10th, 11th tend to have haters in their workplace, in groups or wherever they go often. It’s saddening but I’ve seen it a lot. Can also make ppl copy your style or attitude then hate on it, and never admit they got inspired by you.

-- potential triggers in the following one, pls skip if necessary.

🕰️ Difficult planets on the angles, saturn, pluto and chiron mainly can truly mess with someone's mental health to the point of them wanting to- yeah that. The most drastic effect is when they sit on the descendant and MC, since it deals with connections, groups of people and the public, a lot of it is outside of the native's control, and at times more than what they can handle. Their usually painful past experiences and memories has shaped their perception of the world to a dark and despairing one where they don't see a better future for themselves. A few examples, Kurt Cobain (chiron and saturn conj desc and pluto conj asc all tightly opposing), Mac Miller (chiron conj desc, saturn conj asc and pluto conj MC). Marilyn Monroe (chiron conj MC and saturn close to the IC, pluto conj nn). 

🕰️ I see every major astrological transit as a collective test, lesson and preparation for the next transit. It made sense that corona happened when pluto was in capricorn, a pandemic that restricted our freedom and made us prisoners in our own homes. There was a stellium of mars, jupiter, saturn and pluto all in cap the moment quarantine started in march. It was all about teaching us to respect societal rules and structures that keep us safe, whether it had to do with the government or the medical system, whether it was real or fake or real fake. Yes you have to give up some freedom for safety, that’s how surveillance and security cameras everywhere you go work, for your safety. 

🕰️ It taught us to care for the health of humanity, to live responsibly and respectfully when in crisis, even if that means compromising our freedom and limiting our movement. Trusting that the structure built over the past decades is somewhat reliable and helpful. We saw how some people put their own freedom above anything and anyone out of superiority, that's the selfishness we collectively needed to face before pluto moves to aquarius and we are given freedom we didn't learn how to appreciate or use responsibly. We had to learn the value of personal freedom vs discipline and structure.

🕰️ There are two planets I’ve seen repeatedly in people that manifest like magic, saturn and neptune. To add a third it would be uranus. Conjunctions and oppositions to these planets are like superpowers in manifesting your desired reality. All work in different ways. 

🕰️ For example people that have personal planets conjunct saturn (esp sun and moon) are easily attuned with the physical world and have some sort of control over time, turning it backwards or forwards, making themselves look younger and older at the same time, knowing the actions to take to bring anything into the three-dimensional world.

🕰️ Now this leads me to an astrology book I recently came across, the Alien Constructs the work of Edwin Steinbrecher and Stephanie Jourdan, discovering aspects that constitute an alien chart. The alien construct occurs when one of the outer planets, that is saturn, uranus, neptune or pluto, is conjunct or opposite the sun, moon, ascendant or the chart��ruler. An individual that has one or few of these is different from other humans, they possess supernatural abilities, and typically have rough childhoods and adolescence.

🕰️ Every aspect with each of the outer planets has a unique ability, for example when the sun conjoins an outer planet it's called Power Alien Construct, the moon conjoining an outer planet is a Vessel Alien Construct, an outer planet conjoining the ascendant is an Instrument Alien Construct, an outer planet conjoining the descendant is a Shadow Alien Construct. Saturnian aliens are able to manifest things in the physical realm, plutonian aliens are masters of metamorphosis and irreversible change, uranian aliens are able to see the future and raise energetic frequencies. 

🕰️ Sun conjunct pluto is Plutonian Power, aliens are able to destroy that which is not built upon truth, understand the true nature of birth, sex, death and power, generate energy and power,  integrate polarities, perform psychic surgery, see beneath solid surfaces, shape-shift into animals, minerals or plants, heal utilizing sex, magnets or lasers.. etc. Moon conjunct uranus is a Uranian Vessel, aliens are able to comprehend the cycles and trends of the futures, safely corral erratic energy or electricity, channel high-frequency beings, telepath to imprisoned or trapped individuals or animals, sense the formation of inventions and innovations. Look it up, it's fun and tell me what alien construct are you and how you relate to it. oh it reminds me of a post I did a while back of aspects as superpowers.

Happy pluto in aquarius 🛰️✨ (will come back in years and see how this aged)

[diana-thyme]

The Ultimate Grimoire Guide

So! I have been seeing a ton of grimoire ideas and thought I’d stuff them all together. A lot of ideas are from @manifestationsofasort, @banebite, and @pigeonflavouredcake. Check them out! They have a ton of cool stuff there.

What Do I Use For My Grimoire?

You can use anything for a grimoire! For a physical one, journals, binders, and notebooks are good. For digital ones, Notion, Tumblr, Docs, and even just your file folder are great.

Introduction

A Book Blessing

Table of Contents

About Me

Your Current Path

Your Personal Beliefs

Your Spiritual Journey

Superstitions

Past lives

Favorite Herbs/Crystals/Animals/Etc.

Natal Chart

Craft Name

How You Entered The Craft

Astrology Signs

Birthday Correspondences (birth tarot card, birth stone, etc.)

Goals

Safety

Fire Safety

What Not to Burn

Toxic Plants & Oils (to humans, plants, animals)

Crystals That Shouldn’t Be Put… (in sun, in water, etc.)

Things That Shouldn’t Be In Nature (glass, salt, etc.)

Potion Safety

How to Incorporate Blood in Spells

Smoke Safety

Wound Care

Biohazards

Core Concepts

Intention & How It Works

Directing Energy

Protection

Banishing

Cleansing

Binding

Charging

Shielding

Grounding

Centering

Visualization

Consecration/Blessing

Warding

Enchanting

Manifestation

Meditation

What Makes A Spell Work

Basic Spell Structure

What Not To Do In Spells

Disposing Spell Ingredients

Revitalizing Long Term Spells

How To Cast Spells

What To Put In Spells

Spell Mediums (jars, spoken, candle, sigils)

Spell Timing

Potion Bases

Differentiating Between Magick and Mundane

Common Terms

Common Symbols

Intuition

Elements

Basic Alchemy and Symbols

Ways To Break Spells

Laws and Philosophies

Correspondences

Herbs & Spices

Crystals & Rocks

Colors

Liquids & Drinks

Metals

Numbers

Tarot Cards

Elements

Trees & Woods

Flowers

Days

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Seasons

Moon Phases

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Incense

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Animals

Symbology

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Different Types of Water

Common Plants

Entities

Deities You Worship

Pantheons

Pantheons & Deities Closed to You

Common Offerings

Epithets

Mythos

Family

Worship vs Work

Prayers & Prayer Template

Altars

Deity Comms

Devotional Acts

Angels

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Ancestors

Spirit Guides

Fae

Familiars

House, Animal, Plant, Etc. Spirits

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Spirit Etiquette

Graveyard Etiquette

Boundaries

Communication Guide & Etiquette

Spirit Work Safety Guide

How Entities Appear To You

Circle Casting

Common Offerings

Altars

Servitors

Mythological Creatures (dragons, gorgons, etc.)

Utility Pages

Gazing Pages

Sigil Charging Station

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Intent Pages

Getaway Pages

Vision Boards

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Binding Page

Pendulum Board

Crystal Grid

Throwing Bones Page

Divination Pages

Mirror Gazing Page

Invocation Pages

Affirmation/Manifestation Pages

Spirit Board Page

Other Practices

Practices That Are Closed to You (Voodoo, Hoodoo, Santeria, Brujeria, Shamanism, Native Practices)

Wicca and Wiccan Paths

Satanism, Both Theistic and Non-Theistic

Deity Work

Religious Paths (Hellenism, Christianity, Kemeticism, etc.)

Animism

Types of Magic/Spells

Pop Culture Paganism/Magic

Tech Magic

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Green Magic

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Glamours

Hexes

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Astral Magic

Shadow Work

Energy Work

Sigils

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Affirmations

Divination

Tarot Cards

Oracle Cards

Playing Cards

Card Spreads

Pendulum

Numerology

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Palmistry

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Dice

Bibliomancy

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Psychic Abilities

Astrology

Auras

Lenormand

Sacred Geometry

Angel Numbers

Ornithomancy

Aeromancy

Aleuromancy

Axinomancy

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Oomancy

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Tools

Crystal grid

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Broom

Athame

Boline

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Stang

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Witches Ladder

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Yule

Imbolc

Ostara

Beltane

Litha

Lammas

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Esbats

Deity Specific Holidays

Religious Holidays (Christmas, Easter, Dionysia, etc.)

Celestial Events

Altars

Basics of Altars

Travel Altars

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Self-Care

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Theories & History

Witchcraft history

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KJV

Witches in History

Cats in History

Transphobia in Witchcraft Circles

Queerness in Witchcraft Circles

Other

Recipes

How to Get Herbs

Foraging

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Chakras

Reiki

Witches Alphabet

Runic Alphabet

Guide to Gardening

Your Witch Tips

Resources

Other Tips

List of Spells

Cryptids and Their Lore

What is a Liminal Space?

[manifestationsofasort]

Things to put in your book of shadows

Of course, only put in your book of shadows/grimoire what you want. If you don't want to put certain subjects in your book then that's fine. It's your book, utilize it how you want. This is just a masterlist of ideas that I've put together. Feel free to add anything else to the list that I may have missed, because there's absolutely no way I included everything.

And for the love of all the gods, if you come across a closed entity or practice, don't try to work with the entity or practice if you're not already part of that group or tradition. You can research it but don't practice it.

+ A blessing and/or protection

+ A table of contents

+ About you:

Your current path

Your personal beliefs

Your spiritual journey

Favorite crystals/herbs/animals

Natal chart

Craft name

How you got into the craft

Astrology signs

Birthday correspondences (birth tarot card, birth stone, etc)

Goals (if you have any)

Anything other relating to your personal practice

+ Safety

Fire safety

What NOT to burn

Plants and oils that can be toxic to your pets

What crystals shouldn't be in water, sunlight, etc

Things that shouldn't be put out in nature (salt, glass, etc)

Potion safety

How to incorporate blood safely

+ Core concepts:

Intention and how it works

Directing energy

Protection

Banishing

Cleansing

Charging

Shielding

Grounding and centering

Visualization

Consencration/Blessing

Warding

Enchanting

Manifestation

+ Correspondence

Personal correspondence

Crystals and rocks

Herbs and spices

Food and drink

Colors

Metals

Number

Tarot card

Elemental (fire, water, air, earth)

Trees and woods

Flowers

Days

Months

Moon phases

Zodiac

Planets

Incense

Teas

Essential oils

Directions (north, south, east, west)

Animals

Local plants, animals, etc

Dream symbology

+ Different practices

Practices that are closed to you (some examples below)

Voodoo and Hoodoo **Closed**

Santeria and Brujeria **Closed**

Shamanism and native american practices **Closed**

Wicca and wiccan paths

Satanism, both theistic and non-theistic paths

+ Different types/practices of magick

Pop culture magick

Technology magick

Chaos magick

Green witchcraft

Lunar magick

Sea witchcraft

Kitchen magick

Ceremonial magick

Hedge witchcraft

Death witchcraft

Grey witchcraft

Eclectic witchcraft

Norse witchcraft

Hellenic witchcraft

Animism

+ Deities

The deity/deities you worship

Different pantheons (the main five are Celtic, Roman, Greek, Egyptian and Norse, all open)

Deities and pantheons that are closed to you

Common offerings

Their epithets

Their mythology

Their family

Deity worship vs deity work

Prayers and how to make your own

Deity communication guide

Devotional acts

Ways to get closer to them

+ Other spiritual entities

Angels

Ancestor work

Spirit guides

The fae

Demons

Familiars

House spirits, animal spirits and plant spirits

Other various folklore entities

Spirit etiquette

Cemetery etiquette

Setting boundaries with the spirits

Communication guide and etiquette

Grounding, banishing, protection and cleansing, aka: "Spirit work safety guide"

How they appear to you

Common offerings

Circle casting

+ Divination

Tarot cards

Oracle cards

Tarot and oracle spreads

Pendulum

Numerology

Scrying

Palmistry/palm reading

Tasseography (Tea leaf reading)

Rune stones

Shufflemancy (Shuffling of a playlist)

Dice divination

Bibliomancy (Randomly picking a phrase from a book)

Carromancy (Melted wax)

Pyromancy (Reading flames)

Psychic abilities

Astrology

Aura reading

Divination via playing cards

Lenormand 

Sacred geometry

Angel numbers

+ Other types of magick

Candle magick

Crystal magick

Herbalism/herbal magick

Glamour magick

Hexing

Jinxing

Cursing

Weather magick

Astral work

Shadow work

Energy work

Sigils

Art magick

Knot magick

Crystal grids

Color grids

Music magick

Charms, talismans and amulets

+ Spellwork

What makes a spell work

Basic spell structure

What NOT to do

Disposing of spell ingredients

Revitalizing long term spells

How to cast spells

What to put in spells (See correspondence)

Spell mediums- Jar spells, spoken spells, candle spells, sigils, etc

Spell timing

Setting up a ritual

Taglocks: What they are and how to use them

+ Holidays and Esbats

Yule

Imbolc

Ostara

Beltane

Litha

Lughnasadh/Lammas

Mabon

Samhain

The 12 full moons (Esbats)

How to celebrate

Deity specific holidays

+ Altars and tools

What they are

The different types and their uses (travel altar, working altar, deity altar, ancestor altar, etc)

What you can put on your altar

What you use your altars for

Common tools in witchcraft

How to use the tools

Food and drink

Common herbs in recipes

Sabbat recipes

Moon water: What it is and how to use it

Potion bases

Tea magick

How to get your herbs

Foraging

+ Mental health and self care

Bath magick

Affirmations

Burnout prevention

Aromatherapy

Stress management

Mental health coping mechanisms

+ History of witchcraft

+ Dream records

+ How to differentiate between the magickal and the mundane

+ Calendar of celestial events (Esbats, retrogrades, etc)

+ How to dry herbs and flowers

+ What chakras actually are and how they work within Hinduism

+ History and traditional uses of reiki

+ The witches' alphabet

+ The runic alphabet

+ Common witchcraft terms

+ Common symbols in witchcraft

+ Your own witch tips

+ Good witchcraft books and authors to avoid

+ Any online resources you utilize often

[freedomfireflies]

Tease Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where you and your best friend, Harry, are invited to a Haunted House.

But ghosts aren’t the only fun thing about this party.

(For my non-spooky besties, the house isn't actually haunted! Just old and abandoned! There are no jump scares💞)

Word Count: 9.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, Daddy kink, masturbation, creampie, slight breeding kink, fluff, subspace, Harry being a simp

“Holy…shit.”

The large mansion looms into view. A tall, skeletal structure that’s brightened by the soft glow of the full moon. Hidden behind tall pines and a collection of dancing shadows, it stands like a sentinel of forgotten secrets. Ivy drips from the rotting wood, and boards cover a majority of the windows. The once grand façade bearing the scars of time.

You can see a collection of breathtaking stained glass windows lining the top story of the house. You can’t exactly make out the artwork from this distance, but you know, undoubtedly, that they’re beautiful. Only imagining what those reflections might look like in the sunlight.

The car sneaks along the gravel driveway, the sound of rocks and crunching leaves following you every inch of the way. You feel your breath hitch as you glance over toward Harry, who returns your look with a cocked brow of his own.

He pulls up next to the only other car on the lot. Rather, the only other car for miles. From the passenger seat, you can see Charlie, Jackie, and Caleb all huddled around the hood, conversing in hushed voices, and waving at you both in greeting.

Harry shifts into park before leaning back in his seat to turn his attention to you. “Well?”

You suck in a quiet breath before nodding once. “It’s…spooky.”

“Mhm.”

“And…big.”

“Thanks, but I meant the house,” he replies cooly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Funny. Honestly, I don’t think this is what I was expecting.”

“No?” He considers this with a nod of his own. “I guess it’s more ugly than scary. Caleb said he used to come here all the time when he was a kid. His brother claimed it was haunted.”

“Ooo,” you tease, and Harry smirks. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

He lifts a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t ever really think about it.”

“That’s fair.”

Now his expression twists into something more mischievous as he leans closer to you. “But…if any ghosts come out and try to steal you from me, I have no problem sending ‘em back to the afterlife.”

You laugh again as you playfully swat your hand across his arm before surging forward to kiss him. “You’re an idiot, baby.”

“Yeah. But m’your idiot.”

“Unfortunately.”

He laughs.

With that, you both unbuckle your seatbelts and step out of the car, joining your friends just beside the front steps of the mansion. 

“Well, well, well,” Charlie grins, nodding his chin at the two of you. “Can’t believe you actually showed. Thought Har-Bear wasn’t into Halloween.”

Harry offers another shrug; relaxed but amused. “I’m not. But I wouldn’t mind seeing you get the shit scared out of you.”

Charlie’s expression falls while the rest of you laugh. “Okay, funny. Hysterical. Caleb’s the one that pissed himself when he was here last.”

“I was ten, dipshit,” Caleb snorts. “And I didn’t piss myself, I just screamed a little.”

“Right,” Jackie teases, nudging him with her elbow. “Whatever you say, champ.”

Caleb’s eyes roll, but he’s smiling as the five of you begin to make your way up onto the porch. “You’ll see. It’s spooky.”

“I’m sure we will, bud,” Charlie replies, tossing him a wink. “And after you go running back to the car in tears, we’ll make sure to lock up for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

With a soft laugh, Harry looks over at you. “You scared, Bee?”

“Me? Scared?” you snort. “Never.”

“Good.” He tosses his arm around your shoulder and tugs you into his chest. “Nothing to be scared of while I’m here.”

The other two boys pretend to be annoyed while Jackie offers you both a cheeky grin. “You guys are sickeningly sweet.”

“Oh, we know,” Harry answers impishly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I mean, I do a majority of the heavy lifting. But Bee’s pretty cute, too, I suppose.”

“Hysterical,” you deadpan, using your elbow to shove him away as you all approach the front door.

Your little group slows to a stop, exchanging glances and deep breaths as Caleb slowly says, “…are you ready?”

The air is laced with anticipation and excitement, and the four of you nod before his hand outstretches for the door.

 It opens with a shrill screech as a flock of birds fling from their spot on a nearby branch and take off into the ghostly night sky. 

With a deep breath, Caleb leads you all into the house, head held high, and shoulders back. The mansion is dark and the floorboards creak beneath your sneakers. The air is musky and cobwebs drape from each corner of the doorframe.

Quicky, you all search for your cellphones and flashlights, flipping them on to illuminate the path before you. Revealing a bit more of the corridor as you make your way inside.

“Shit,” Charlie murmurs, eyes wide as his focus flicks from wall to wall. “All right, maybe you weren’t kidding.”

“Told you,” Caleb retorts, peeking his head into the first room. “It’s not exactly scary, but it is cool as hell.”

“No kidding,” Jackie chimes in while you nod. “How many rooms are there?”

“No idea. But there are at least three levels. Plus, the attic, but Zac and I could never figure out how to get up there.”

“I’ll find it,” Charlie declares confidently, and Harry shoots you a knowing smirk. “What? If anyone can, it’s me.”

“I’m sure,” Caleb huffs, slipping in to what looks to be the drawing room. “By all means, go ahead. Honestly, we can split up and check out the other rooms. There’s a lot of cool shit here.”

Charlie nods once, running the light from his phone down one of the walls. Examining the faded wallpaper and dust-covered picture frames.

With a cock of his brow, Harry leans closer, nudging his shoulder against yours. “What do you say? Wanna do some exploring?”

You grin eagerly, nodding as well. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll find the attic first.”

You catch Charlie’s frown out of the corner of your eye, but the five of you can’t help but laugh as Harry leads you toward the next hallway.

The group disperses, with Charlie and Jackie searching the kitchen, Caleb ascending the stairs to the second floor, and you and Harry beginning for some of the bedrooms. 

The house is quiet. Eerily so, with only the sound of your footsteps to accompany you. And even with two flashlights, you can only see a portion of the narrow hallway at a time. From the wooden trim to the chipped paint. 

You fall in line behind Harry’s taller frame, allowing him to guide you toward the furthest room as he strides with a confidence you envy. Unaffected by the sounds, and smells, and ghostly aurora. 

“You all right back there, Bee?” he calls after a moment more of your silence. Seeming to catch your strained inhales and lack of commentary. “Still with me?”

“Yes,” you whisper, but it’s airy. As though your voice has been swept away by the hands of a ghost. “Just…trying not to trip.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you can tell he’s smiling. “Come on, lovey, you know I’d catch you.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, lashes fluttering as you glance up toward the old chandelier dangling from the tall ceiling.

Suddenly, Harry stops, forcing you to catch yourself against him before he glances at you. “Hop on.”

Confused, you blink. “What?”

“Hop on,” he repeats, placing his cellphone between his teeth while crouching down. Allowing you access to his back in an invitation to climb up.

And once you finally understand, you can’t help but smile. Slipping your arms around his shoulders before hoisting yourself onto his body. Legs curling around his hips while his hands reach back to keep you sturdy.

Once you’re settled, you gently pull the phone from between his lips and aim the fluorescent gleam across the room. Providing him a bit more light to see as he straightens up.

“Thank you, baby,” he hums. “You all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Very. Just make sure to hold on, yeah?”

You grin a bit wider and tuck your chin over his shoulder. “Promise.”

With that, he begins down the hall, keeping his fingers tight around your ankles. “All right, baby dove, where do you wanna go first?”

Vaguely, you gesture toward the closest room. From the small sliver your light catches, you can see that it’s filled with large curtains and furniture draped in cloth. It looks…reminiscent. Calling to you and inviting you to step inside a lost era, a forgotten memory. 

He carries you closer, and as he strides through the murky corridor, you use the height advantage to look around. Taking in the more subtle details of the old house.

The hand railing beside the staircase. The broken floor beneath you. The cracked light fixtures and dusty bookshelves. 

You can’t imagine the life that was lived. The parties they threw, the elegance that sang from every corner, the memories that were created.

You wonder about the people who built it. Wonder what they were like, what made them leave. If they ever reminisce about the old house they used to call home.

“It’s beautiful,” you find yourself saying, exhaling the sentiment almost fondly.

Harry hums again, eyes trailing across the expanse of the carpet underneath his shoes. “Shame nobody ever bought it and fixed it up.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “Maybe we should.”

He smiles at this, squeezing your legs a bit tighter. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Wouldn’t it be fun? A little passion project?”

“Maybe. Don’t know what we’d do with all this space, though.”

You shrug. “Well, we’d have plenty of room to storm off if we got into a fight.”

He laughs. “Yeah?”

“And we’d have plenty of places for…you know, other things.”

“Other things,” he repeats knowingly, glancing back with a smirk. “I do love our other things.”

You snuggle closer. “And if we ever wanted to start a family…we’d have room for that, too.”

He’s quiet now, his tongue slowly sweeping across his bottom lip in thought. “D’you think about our family, Bee?”

“I do,” you admit, almost sheepishly. “Sometimes. Not, like…right away, or anything. But…I just wonder, I guess. What you’d be like. What we’d be like.”

“Yeah? And how are we?”

“We’re good,” you tell him. “You’re the fun parent. Of course. And I’m the one that makes them do their homework and eat their veggies.”

He grins. “Of course.”

“And they have your hair. Lots of curls, very wild.”

“Mm.”

“And they love to sing. They aren’t good at it…but they love it.”

He laughs a bit louder this time, head shaking as he brushes his thumbs across the exposed skin of your ankles. “Sounds about right.”

“And we’re really happy,” you finish tenderly. “And we have two dogs, and one cat. And nothing changes between us. We’re still us, and we still love each other a lot, and we still go on tons of adventures and have really good, wild sex.”

He’s smiling so hard, you can see his dimples. “I wouldn’t want anything less.”

“Me, either.”

You fall silent as Harry finally brings you both into the large room, ducking beneath the frame to make sure you don’t hit your head. You kiss the side of his jaw gratefully before he sets you down with a gentle plop, allowing you both to straighten up and take a look around.

Sizable paintings hang from each wall. Encased behind gold, elegant frames that are layered with a light film of dust. Even still, the artwork is breathtaking. Portraits of what look to be great men and women. Soft brush strokes that are wildly vivid, despite the many years stuck in this dark room.

Harry takes his flashlight from you and aims it toward the green, velvet sofa in the middle of the vast space. Eyes wide as he studies it. “A lot of this stuff is in better shape than I thought it’d be.”

You make a noise of agreement as you gingerly run your fingers along the faded wallpaper. “I wonder what made them leave this all behind?”

“I don’t know. S’probably worth a fortune.”

“And it’s still here? Nobody came and looted it?”

He sports a rather charmed grin at your choice of wording. “Guess not. Kind of strange, honestly. City never reclaimed it, either.”

“Yeah…”

He glances over, a mischievous glint behind the soft green. “Maybe there’s a reason.”

“What?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Maybe…the ghosts won’t let it go.”

Finally understanding his joke, you roll your eyes with a snort before striding toward the giant bookshelf. “Ha, ha.”

“Maybe the owners died in the fifties,” he continues, dropping his voice to a lower drawl. Attempting to add a bit of mystique and suspicion. “Maybe they were murdered in cold blood. And they never found out who killed them, so they haunt the grounds of their old house. Until the day their killer dares to come back.”

You pretend to be intrigued, nodding along with faux fascination. “Uh-huh. Which makes us…what? Ghost bait?”

“Mmm…perhaps,” he murmurs, stalking toward you. “Perhaps that’s why Caleb really brought us here. To feed us to his ancestors. Appease the Halloween Gods.”

“Right.”

He closes the distance between you, angling the beam of his light up toward his face as dark shadows dance across his features. “Or maybe Caleb isn’t Caleb at all. Maybe…he’s a ghost—”

Suddenly, he jolts forward, making you gasp as you steel yourself from the sudden movement. Eyes wide and heart racing.

But once you realize he’s merely messing with you, you begin to glare. Scoffing, “God, you’re an ass.”

He drops his cellphone and beams at you. Much too smug with his victory. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I won’t resist drop kicking your ass out that window.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, peering down at you with a delicate look of adoration before he’s pressing his lips to yours. “Forgive me?”

You try to pout into the kiss, but he’s too good. Warm and soft and the definition of comfort. “Hm. Fine. Just this once.”

He offers one final peck before returning to his search. Hands sweeping along the grimy bookshelves, fingers trailing down the broken spines. He seems lost in thought, and you watch almost fondly as he reaches out for one particular title.

“Frankenstein,” he reads aloud, tilting it back with a smile. “Used to be my favorite growing up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My mom used to read it to me all the time.”

And you feel this undeniable tug on your heartstrings as you settle behind him, arms slipping around his middle. “What did you like about it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I liked the idea of something so…broken being so beautiful. Or maybe it was just the idea of how he was built. And why. You know?”

“Yeah. I think it’s sweet you liked it so much. You never told me.”

“I mean, I stopped reading it as I got older. I think I just liked the way my mom read it to me. She’d do all these voices, try to freak me out.”

You laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“It was great. I loved it. S’probably one of my favorite memories growing up.”

And there’s that yanking in your chest again. “You’re cute, you know that?”

He smirks. “Thanks.”

With that, he releases the book, allowing it to fall back into place on the shelf beside the other novels.

But, the moment it lands, a startling and rather jarring rumble explodes from somewhere behind you. Compelling a jump as you both spin around in search for the offending sound.

And there, just beside the old grandfather clock that sits near the door, hangs one of the large paintings. This one of a beautiful woman wearing a stunning, purple grown and a coy smile. Yet, her portrait is moving. Sliding across the wall as if by magic until you’re able to see what lies behind.

A passageway. 

You suck in a gasp as you and Harry both shine your lights into the dark opening. Finding nothing more than a narrow stairway that disappears into somewhere else in the house.

You look to Harry.

Harry looks to you.

“What the fuck,” he whispers, but you can see the excitement weaving through his dimple. “That’s…the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.”

You can’t help but agree, feet drawing you closer, as if compelled by the mesmeric introduction and inviting shadows. “Yeah…”

Footsteps follow you. “Bee, hold on. We don’t know where it goes or if we can get back out.”

Now, you hesitate, considering the rather valid point. “It probably leads to the attic. Caleb said he couldn’t figure out how to get up there, but I’m sure there’s a way back down. There’d have to be.”

“Maybe. Or maybe…that’s where the ghosts are waiting to lure us in—”

“All right,” you hiss, shoving on his arm before continuing for the door. “I will slap that dimple right off your face, I’m serious.”

“Well, you know I like it when you do.”

And even despite his teasing, you feel your stomach flip. Memories calling back to the forefront of your mind as you remember his pink skin and arrogant smirk. The way he’d beg you to keep going – give him more. 

“Can you please be serious?” you choose to say, reaching back for his hand as you approach the entrance. “Because if we die in here, I don’t want one of the last things we said to be one of your shitty jokes.”

He laughs, but intertwines his fingers with yours willingly. Squeezing your palm for comfort. “Sorry, lovey. By all means, please do lead us into the deathtrap. You’ll hear no more jokes from me. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Good boy.”

He squishes your hand again knowingly before you take a deep breath and begin up the stairs. 

The walls are about five feet apart in width, providing a rather narrow space for the two of you to slip between as you ascend up into the rest of the house. The path curves like a spiral, up and up until you’re almost sure there’s nowhere else to go. And your head pops right out of the roof.

Then, you come to the last one, and see that it opens up and leads into something else. A vast, empty floor with more light that you’ve seen anywhere else in the house. 

Curious, you move a bit faster, eager to see what awaits. And once you step into the room…your breath catches.

Stained glass windows decorate each wall, the full moon projecting the most beautiful colors and imagery across the entire space. From the floor to the ceiling and every inch in between. It’s like walking into a rainbow. Or heaven. Such a stark contrast from the eerie journey up the stairs in nothing but darkness.

Harry’s shoulder brushes against yours as he steps up beside you. Eyes fluttering as he pockets his phone and glances about the room admiringly. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a quiet whisper. Walking toward the first window as your fingers outstretch for the tempered glass. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He follows you. “They must have loved it up here.”

You feel yourself smile. “I bet it was the perfect hideaway.” You motion toward the furthest wall where a dainty (but somewhat tattered) window seat lies. “Bet they came up here and just read or painted all day. Watched the sun rise and set.”

You feel him staring at you. Observing your profile as you continue to glance around, trying to soak in every little detail. 

Then, you feel him. His touch sweeping across your cheek before he’s brushing a bit of hair from your shoulder. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You glance over.

“About us. Having kids, starting a family.” His expression is void of any of his previous taunting. Instead, solely focused on the soft skin of your jaw as he ghosts his thumb beneath your chin. “Is that what you really want? With me?”

And a part of your heart aches because…yes. You’d live a million lifetimes with him. With kids, without kids. Here, there. Fast-paced or easy-going. You’d do it all. You’d do everything with him.

Everything.

You reach up and slip your fingers around his wrist. Keeping him close as you nuzzle into his palm. “Of course I would, Har. Just want you.”

He steps closer, taking both sides of your face in his hands now as he keeps you in his strong hold. Gazing at you lovingly until you feel your insides twist. 

“I will give you anything you want, Bee,” he murmurs, and you can feel his promise dance across your lips. “Give you kids. Give you a big, beautiful home. Give you the life you deserve.”

You inhale quietly, desperately grasping onto his arms.

“Anything you want, baby,” he breathes, and you know how much he means it. “Give you fucking everything.”

Tears spring to your eyes, dancing along your waterline until one jumps down your cheek. Right into Harry’s waiting thumb where he quickly soothes it away. “You know I would,” you tell him in a timid whisper. “I promise, I would, I just…I can’t…”

His eyes soften when he understands, yet his head shakes as he brings your chest to his. “It doesn’t matter how or why. If we want to start a family, we can. Any way we want to. Any way you want to. Nothing else matters, lovey. Just wanna do it together.”

Together.

You stumble over a choked sob, burying yourself in his embrace while he dips down to kiss you. Harder than he has all night and filled with a kind of love that can’t be explained. Only felt through the synchronistic brushing of his lips against yours. 

“My girl,” he exhales, nudging his nose along your cheek before bringing his kisses back. “My fucking girl. Know I love you, yeah? Know you’re my only?”

You whimper, nodding pitifully as you allow him to take the reins. Deciding how far and how deep this kiss goes. 

“Good.” He drops his hands to your hips, squeezing once. “Because you are, Bee. Never loved anybody the way I love you.”

And you know – you know he means it. 

Something clicks in your brain. Something lustful and needy. You’re overcome with this anxious desire to have him. To be with him wholly. You want to crawl into his skin and live there. Be as close to him as possible. 

Show him exactly how much he means to you.

The kisses become hungrier. Sloppier. Rushed and borderline animalistic as you reach down and lace your fingers with his. Guiding him away from the wall and toward the carpet in the center of the room.

He seems to understand your intent. Smiling against your mouth as you move him where you want him.

“Sneaky girl,” he breathes, pressing his mouth to your neck. Nipping below your ear until you sigh contently. “S’that why you really wanted to come up here, hm? Wanted to get me alone? Have your way with me?”

And even though he’s effortlessly putting the power in your hands, you can’t help but feel swayed by him. Drawn in by his suggestion and prowess while your stomach flips in on itself.

“Maybe,” you admit quietly, grinning when he chuckles darkly. “Because maybe I know…you want me to have my way with you. Don’t you?”

He nods quickly, groaning almost to himself before he gropes at your waist and moves his kisses to your exposed collarbone. “Do anything you want, Bee. I meant it.”

Pleased, you take yourself away from him. “Good. Because I want you on your knees.”

And he almost looks disappointed that he’s had to stop kissing you, but the starvation behind his eyes is unmistakable. 

He drops so quickly, your head spins. Head tilted back and hands obediently landing on his thighs in wait. 

“Good boy,” you can’t help but mutter, reaching down to press your palm to his cheek in gratitude. “Always obey me so well.”

“Always,” he repeats reverently. Voice thick as though drunk with longing.

“Can’t take too long, okay? They might come looking for us, and I don’t think we’d ever be able to live that down,” you add, softening your tone some to ease the charged tension.

“I know,” he replies quickly. Almost pitifully, as if desperate to agree and make you happy. “Be quick, I swear.”

A grin splits your face. “Want you to take off your jeans, baby,” you instruct now, nodding toward his hips. “Just your jeans. Don’t want you to get cold.”

So, he does. Fumbling with his belt and button before dragging the dark fabric down his beautiful thighs, revealing his new tattoo. It catches the moonlight and the reflection of the red glass across the room. Drawing in your attention while your mouth nearly waters.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead working quickly to rid himself of the material before returning to his knees. 

“Good. My jeans next,” you tell him, and he extends his hands toward your waist.

Just as quickly as before, he slips, pulls, and tugs until you can step out of your pants and toss them aside. Making sure to hold your hand as you do so you don’t lose your balance. 

It’s these little things that endear you to him. The way he doesn’t even realize he’s done something thoughtful. Instead offering such a gesture out of reflex and love.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper, squeezing his chin once. “Now…I want you to lie back for me, okay? Don’t want you to do anything else. Just wanna take care of you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow, and you can nearly see his heart thumping against his chest. He’s on his back in seconds, obediently lying on the carpet with his focus trained on you. Eager to see what you have in mind. 

Truth be told, you’re rather eager, too. Crouching down near his ankles until you can straddle his legs.

He lifts his head off the floor in order to see you, glued to your every move while his breath hitches.

You begin to make your way up his body. Bringing your lips to the beautiful, warm skin of his thighs as you travel toward his hips. Allowing your kisses to guide you.

You hear him release a strained curse. Catching the way his chest rises and falls a bit more rapidly, as if in tune with his racing heart. And you’re going so slow, you think you might kill him. Dragging your tongue along the tattoo before flicking your eyes to his. Making sure you truly have his undivided attention.

His lashes flutter, leg twitching beneath you. “Bee…”

“Yes, baby?” Your coy innocence makes another groan reverberate from his chest. “What do you want, hm?”

“Please,” is all he has the strength to mumble, fingers twitching beside him. Desperate to weave through your hair and tug. “Lovey, please…”

“I know. But I wanna play with you a bit first, okay?” You straighten up and crawl toward the tops of his thighs, just above his dark boxers. “Gonna let me play with you, Daddy?”

Another quick nod before he drops his head back to the floor. Overcome with desire.

And you imagine you know what he thinks you’re going to do. That he’s confident in his guess as he awaits for you to confirm his suspicion.

But there’s something much more thrilling about catching him off guard. Torturing him just a little. 

Because you know he loves it.

Once you feel comfortable in your new position, you allow your hand to travel between your legs. Dancing beneath the hem of your sweater before settling atop your baby blue underwear.

Your light grazes are innocent at first. Soft strokes along the cotton fabric. Enough to earn a shiver while Harry’s eyes cement to your hand. Mesmerized by the way you touch yourself.

You hum at the faint but teasing touches. Feeling almost giddy to quench this flame. Create pleasure for yourself and allow him to watch you. See exactly how good it feels.

Then, you hook the fabric to the side, and allow him the perfect visual of your cunt.

You notice a sharp chill as the cold air nips at you, but it only aids in encouraging you further. Making you grin to yourself while you use your other hand to drag your fingers through your pussy. Slipping between your folds and up to your clit.

“Shit,” he murmurs, eyelids growing heavier. “Shit, Bee—”

You circle the sensitive nerves a few times to work yourself up. Indulging in the feel and the unexplainable relief it provides. It’s like a drug. Addicting and somehow not nearly enough.

“Baby, please—” he tries again, palms finally reaching for your thighs in an effort to touch you. At least somehow. “Fuck—”

“Thought you wanted to be good,” you say, pinching your clit until you gasp. “Thought…thought you wanted to give me anything—”

“I do,” he answers through a rushed breath. “Bee, I do. I do, please—”

“Then, I want you to watch. Want you to watch what you do to me.”

He groans again, and you can see the slight pink in his cheeks from the frigid air and the way he’s so entranced with you. “Lovey, please…”

You slip down, teasing the tip of your finger around your fluttering hole until you can feel the arousal beginning to gather. Humming while you roll your hips in tune with your hand. Riding your own fingers before you’re moving back to your clit.

“Har…” His name slips out before you can stop it. Sighing from your tongue without pause. As if it’s instinct to associate him with your pleasure. To say his name in a desperate plea for more.

You feel him squeeze your legs. Tighter than he ever has. “M’here,” he calls. “M’right here, baby. What do you need?”

Too much. “You, Har. You, always.”

He’s pulling on you now. Palms smoothing up the globes of your ass until he can practically yank you closer. “Just ask. Ask me, Bee, and I’ll give it to you.”

And you’re torturing yourself. Perhaps more than him, and you nearly whimper when you realize how badly you miss him.

So, you remove your hands from between your legs in order to reach for his boxers. Slipping inside and pulling his cock out until he lands against his stomach. Beautiful, and flushed, and leaking pearlescent drops that glisten beneath the light of the moon. 

And once it’s free, you grind down. Dragging your once more covered cunt along his shaft. Close, but not close enough. Just to provide a bit of friction and make him moan as you brace yourself against his chest.

Your nails curl into the dark material of his shirt, scraping down his stomach as you reel. It’s so much and yet not even close to satiating you. Merely taunting you with the idea of what you really want. A type of release that will never be truly satisfactory like this.

“Fuck—” A lewd moan scrapes from the back of his throat. Hands pressing hard into your hips to help roll you over his cock faster and quicker. “Gonna fucking kill me, Bee.”

You’d like to be smug, but you’re too far gone to feel anything but need. “Har—”

“Gonna cum like this, baby? S’this all it takes?”

“I’m…I…”

“Look so cute, lovey. So fucking cute, using my cock to get off. Feels so good, doesn’t it? Rubbing your pretty little pussy all over me?”

Your eyes roll back, head feeling heavy as your chin drops to your chest.

Then, you feel his thumb against the only part of your clit he can reach. Pressing into it just enough to make you whimper. “Shh. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Wanna cum? Go ahead, you can cum, Bee. Make me so happy…just wanna feel you—”

And you hate how quickly it hits you. Hate that you truly thought you’d be able to edge yourself until you made him break.

But it consumes you from the inside out. Blindsiding your dominance until it sweeps you under his current. You become a trembling, shaking, moaning mess above him.

“There you go. Good fucking girl. So good…s’perfect,” he murmurs, continuing to guide you through it until you nearly collapse. “Feel better, baby?”

You nod weakly, cracking your eyes open just enough to catch his look of approval.

“Good,” he replies before a dark look seems to take hold. Hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. 

Suddenly, he’s sitting up. Forcing you to lean back as his arms loop around your waist and he’s hoisting you both into the air. Straightening back onto his feet while carrying you in his arms toward the furthest wall.

You barely get the chance to glance around before he’s dropping you onto the small window seat, right against the painted glass.

With a gasp, you collide with the cushion (which is admittedly much more comfortable than the floor), gazing up at him with surprise and wonder.

He says nothing. He can’t. He’s lost in his need for you – for your pleasure. Crouching down near your legs in order to reach for your panties and rip them from ankles. And once they’ve been tossed aside, he settles his body between your thighs, and surges forward.

His mouth is the closest to heaven you imagine you’ll ever get. Warm and wet and so expertly kind as he drags his tongue between your soaked, sensitive folds. Flicking at your clit before sucking it into his mouth with the kind of sound that makes your chest cave in.

“Har—” you whine, writhing a bit from the overstimulation and intensified pleasure. He’s chasing after your next orgasm before your first has even subsided, and it nearly wrecks you. “Shit, Harry—”

Still, he has no response. There’s no time or room to speak with the way he nips at your cunt before lowering. Letting his tongue slide inside you before pulling it back. Just enough to leave you squirming.

“Harry,” you try again, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair. Tugging with fervor until he does it again. “Fuck…please—”

His hands find your thighs. Pushing them open even further until you can feel the strain on your muscles from such a stretch. 

He’s suffocating himself. Buried in your pussy, he takes whatever he wants. Greedily swallowing you down with lascivious groans and exhales of contentment. Fingers curling around your legs, leaving bruises along your sensitive skin.

He’s insatiable. Ignoring your cries and whimpers for mercy, instead pushing you back to the brink. Making you see stars before you can prepare yourself.

You’re all over his face. Can see yourself glisten off his chin and swollen lips, the stunning stained glass windows painting ethereal pictures of him on his knees. Taking you on his tongue as though his life depends on it.

He captures your clit between his teeth and tugs. Eliciting another wounded, pitiful noise as you slump against the glass.

The second orgasm is just as powerful as the first, if not more. Because this time, he’s actually touching you. Blowing on your clit the moment he sees you begin to unravel, effortlessly dragging you into more pleasure.

You scratch his scalp so hard, you’re surprised you don’t draw blood. Practically pulling him through you while you ride his tongue and the wave of euphoria until you come crashing back down to Earth. 

“Oh, my god,” you whimper, features contorting with bliss. “Shit, H…please…please—”

But he’s far from through. Already licking the remnants of your orgasm from your quivering hole while you attempt to writhe away. The overstimulation almost painful as tears spring back to your eyes.

“Wait…wait, please,” you whisper, trying to recapture his attention by yanking on his curls and pushing your legs against his hands. “Baby, please…I need you. Need more, H…please.”

He looks up, and you see a glimmer of the moon in his eye. “What do you need more of? Hm? Tell me.”

You let your head drop back against the window, chest heaving beneath your thick sweater. “Har…can’t…I can’t, I need…need—”

“What?” he pushes. And you can hear the smug undertones as well as the reemergence of his cocky dimple. “What, baby? Tell Daddy what you need.”

And he knows what you need. He always knows, even before you do. But he wants to hear you say it. Wants to force the words from your mouth. Wants you to beg him for his cock.

With a heavy sigh, you answer, “You.”

“You already have me.”

You whine and toss your leg over his shoulder. Digging your heel into his spine to encourage him closer. “Need you to fuck me, H. Please…please, fuck me.”

His grin grows. “Well, well, well. Look at that. My sweet girl knows how to use her words after all.”

He crawls up to you, hands settling beside your hips as he leans forward.

“Doesn’t she?” he whispers, allowing his lips to ghost across yours. Teasing you with a taste of yourself. 

You feel as though you’re drowning. Unable to capture enough air in your lungs to survive, and you throw your hands around his neck to yank him the remaining two inches. 

 His tongue feels like heaven against yours. A mix of you and him that you swallow greedily. Wanting more than he’s seeming to give you.

“Please,” you try again. Releasing the ask against his cheek before nuzzling your nose under his jaw. Intoxicated by the scent of him. “Harry…”

He doesn’t have much strength to refuse you. His willpower long forgotten as he quickly obliges and grabs onto your waist to yank you to the edge of the seat.

He then lifts your leg and sets it onto the cushion, bending it at the knee to create the angle he wants. Allowing him enough room to work while he grabs onto his cock and removes his boxers the rest of the way.

Hard and heavy in his hand, he guides the tip between your thighs. Dragging it down your clit almost tauntingly before slipping in. And it’s far too easy. He disappears into our pussy almost unintentionally. Allowing your warmth to draw him in and keep him inside you.

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face.

“Shit,” he whispers when he feels the way your walls squeeze around his length. You might be used to his size, but those first few seconds are always euphoric. “There you go…you all right, Bee?”

You nod wordlessly, reaching out for his shoulders for something to hold onto. 

“I know,” is all he says in response. Able to read your tells better than anyone ever has. “S’all right. I’ve got you.”

Once he’s fully inside of you, he offers a moment of relief. Settling there while his hands return to your hips to lift you up ever-so-slightly in order to use you the way he wants. 

“Go,” you beg, nails drawing patterns down his back. “M’okay, go. Wanna feel you. Need to feel you cum.”

“Yeah?” He draws back before driving in. Hard enough to knock a gasp from your chest. “That’s what you want? Want Daddy’s cum in this pretty pussy?”

A blissful haze begins to cloud your vision. His sinfully sweet taunt ringing between your ears. Inciting an idea and a need you hadn’t thought possible.  

“Oh…” When he realizes, that wicked look returns. “Oh, baby. You do, don’t you? Wanna be full of me. Want me to fill this sweet, little cunt until you’re dripping. Till I’m spilling out of you. All down your thighs. Down to the floor.”

You make another incoherent noise before succumbing to his hard thrusts. Falling mute and limp. 

“Want me to lick it up…just to spit it down your throat,” he continues. “Want me everywhere. In your pussy…in your tummy. Just wanna be so fucking full of me.”

Every word from his mouth is crude and delicious. Designed to torture you and it works.

Because he’s right. You do want him everywhere. Want to feel him across every inch of your skin, inside every pore, dripping from every part of your body. Want to be stuffed with him. His tongue, his cock, his cum. There’s no part of this man you aren’t infatuated by.

“Say it,” he hisses, tugging your body up higher until he can slam into you from a different position. Finding that beautiful spot that makes your toes curl while you cry out and grab onto the seat beneath you for support. “Say how much you want my cum. Beg me for it.”

You can feel the sweat dripping down your back. Can feel the exhaustion in your limbs from having to contain so much pleasure. 

And he’s careless yet practiced. Still gentle, even when he’s ramming his hips into yours. Nearly tearing you in half with the force of his cock, but with a sort of devotion you can’t explain. Even with such force, you feel relaxed. 

Almost as if this is how you were always meant to be.

And then…something faint. Distant and familiar. The sound of voices – your friend’s voices, coming from somewhere inside the house.

For a moment, you worry you’ve been caught. That they’ve found you and are ready to run screaming from the house.

But you catch pieces of their conversation. Vague and somewhat confusing. 

“—well, then, you check. I already tried—”

“—probably just looking around. Maybe they went back to their car—”

“—I’ll text her. They could be lost. This place is huge—”

They haven’t found you. In fact, it seems they’re still searching. Unaware that the two of you found the attic, and perhaps even unaware of the passageway, too.

Harry seems rather relaxed as he pauses just long enough to glance up. A look of understanding forming as he nods toward the ceiling.

You look, too.

The voices are coming from the vent. Echoing the conversation from somewhere else in the house as they walk through.

Your heart races. Because if you can hear them, that means…

He seems to consider this at the same time you do, head cocking deviously as he pulls back. “Shh,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your waist. “Gonna have to be extra quiet for me, okay?”

You take in another deep breath, another whine already bubbling up the back of your throat.

But he realizes this almost instantly. Hand coming up to press against your mouth and muffle your pathetic cry before you can make it. “Uh-uh,” he hisses, attempting to chastise but you can tell he’s amused. “Said no, Bee. Need you quiet or I stop.”

But he can’t stop. You can’t let him stop. You think if he stops, you might die. That you’ll disappear into nothing and spend the rest of your life chasing something only he can offer.

Instead, you grab onto his wrist, and keep it against your lips. Using it as an excuse to whimper against his palm and promise your attempt at silence.

And maybe he’s unconvinced. But he’s just as desperate as you are. To finish and find that serenity. To feel each other in every sense of the word.

So he takes your vow of obedience and continues. Resuming his thrusts as the sounds of voices slowly begin to fade away. 

You’re brought right back to the precipice of pleasure. Reminded yet again of why you’d do anything for him. Why he’s so addicting. Not just because of his body…but because his heart.

Shades of blue, red, yellow, and purple explode across the walls and across your eyelids. The colors rich and vibrant, accentuated by the bright glow of the moon. 

And you can see him perfectly. Can see his stunningly structured face. The ridge of his nose, the sharp edge of his jaw. The damp curls that lay across his forehead and the rosy skin of his cheeks.

You know he’s always been handsome. Not just to you, but to everyone.

But now…he’s ethereal. Because he’s not just some guy. He’s not just Harry. He’s the man you love. The only true home for your soul. Your comfort place, your future.

Your everything.

And that’s what makes him so beautiful.

When he notices your stare, something shifts. He drops his hand, and surges forward to kiss you. Throwing a stutter in his rhythm as he laces his tongue with yours. 

“Shit,” is all you manage to make out of his hushed moans. “Gonna give you everything, Bee. Gonna fill you. Keep my cum inside you forever. Fucking forever, baby. M’yours. Always.”

You can feel yourself clenching down on him. Already approaching your third before he’s even allowed himself a first. It’s a trait of his you’ve noticed he exhibits quite often. Perhaps it’s a masochistic practice or perhaps it’s his nature to want your orgasms over his own. Waiting until he’s sure you’re taken care of before he allows himself to find relief. 

Yet another one of these little things you’d be lost without.

When he realizes just how close you are, he leans back and brings his lips together. Spitting directly onto your clit before bringing his fingers into play.

“There,” he grits, inflicting quick circles against the tender, swollen nerves that make you whine. “That’s all it takes, isn’t it?”

Your body answers for you. You’re nothing but a string of noises and twitching muscles. Dissolving into your orgasm until that’s all you are. Just his victory. His perfect prize to be claimed.

You feel him watch you. Infatuated with the way you tense and squirm before you finally settle back against the glass to catch your breath.

And perhaps that’s what does it for him. Not just feeling you cum but seeing it. The physical proof of your passion written so visibly across your face. The way you soak his cock, the way you drip down onto the seat below, the way you cling to him.

He chases that sensation. Chases the way it makes him feel and the release it promises him. 

It doesn’t take long for him to finish now that he’s not holding himself back. A few quick but hard thrusts and he’s spilling himself into your pussy with a low groan, face burying into your neck.

He holds you still through every second. As close as he possibly can, even after you’re sure he’s finished. 

The emotional orgasm feels just as overwhelming as the physical one. You can’t help but wrap your arms around his body to hold him against your heart. Listening to the sounds of his strained breaths before they slowly even out. 

And he’s so happy. You know he is. Refusing to move as his cum sits inside of you. Wanting to keep it there like he promised.

You want to keep him the same way. 

“Fuck,” you hear him whisper. It seems unintelligible curse words are about all the two of you have to offer in moments like this. It makes you smile. “Think I came so hard, I blacked out.”

You giggle at this, moving to hook your leg around his middle. “I’m glad you came. Feels good.”

He turns his head so his cheek can rest on your shoulder. “Yeah? S’my cum feel nice? All warm inside you?”

And there’s something about the way he says it. Soft but secure. Teasing you and caring for you all in the same breath.

You hum.

“Got it all snug inside your little pussy, baby?” He presses a kiss to your neck. A reassuring gesture meant to reward you. “Gonna keep it for me?”

You nod fervently before clinging onto his body a bit tighter. Feeling a shiver roll down your spine – either from the cold or his response. Truthfully, you aren’t sure. 

“Hmm. That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, slipping an arm around your waist in order to hold you closer. Hugging you, almost, as he settles in your embrace. “Guess we better get going, hm?”

But you don’t like this idea. Already feeling your expression fall into a desolate pout as you suck in a sharp inhale and cement yourself to his larger frame. 

He senses this shift – this refusal – and stills. “What? What’s wrong?”

You don’t have an answer. You suppose nothing is wrong, per se…as long as he doesn’t leave. 

“Bee,” he tries again, a bit firmer. The singular nickname laced with apprehension. “Lovey, what happened, what's wrong? You know you have to talk to me, okay? Have to communicate with me—”

“Nothing,” you whisper, cutting his bargaining short. “Nothing, I just…don’t want you to go, Daddy.”

A brief pause. Silent and filled with an unspoken tension that melts into something tender. “Bee, I’m not going anywhere. Just wanna clean you up and hold you a bit. Like we always do. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

You consider this. You do love when he holds you. Especially when he runs his hands down your sore limbs. Massaging the aches away while keeping you safe in his arms.

The mere thought makes you sigh. “Promise?”

He squeezes your hip. “Always, baby.”

With that, you unhook yourself from his body, and allow him to move back. Taking himself from you almost painfully before he’s putting himself away and moving for your clothes. 

He finds your underwear and both pairs of jeans, bringing them back to you almost respectfully.

He helps you step into them, securing your panties around your waist with an impish wink and a soft, “Gonna save it for later, yeah?”

Once you’re both dressed again, he fits himself between you and the window, and places you in the middle of his lap. Your back against his chest while his palms sweep up and down your arms, easing the pains away.

“Was that okay?” he asks after a quiet moment of reflection. “Did you like what we did?”

 You drop your focus down to his hands. To the way they look on your body. You hum. Say nothing. 

In turn, he shifts, attempting to sneak a glimpse of the side of your face. “Bee, d’you hear me?”

Still, you’re silent. Trailing your finger along his knuckles and over his wrist. Entranced by him. Hypnotized.

He uses this very hand to reach for your jaw. Squeezing it just hard enough to capture your attention and turn your face to his. “Baby, you’re scaring me. Are you all right?”

You feel your frown return, chest tightening with the implication. “Scared? Why are you scared? What…what did I do?”

There’s a subtle pull in his eyebrows. Almost imperceptible but you manage to catch it before it smooths away. “Nothing, sweet girl. But I want to make sure you’re okay. That I didn’t hurt you or take things too far. And if I did, I want to know. I need to know.”

“Daddy, you never hurt me. Ever.” The frown intensifies, nearly taking control of your whole face. “Don’t say that, it makes me sad.”

Again, a flash of confusion and subtle recognition streaks behind his soft gaze. “Daddy just wants to make sure you’re feeling all right. That you feel safe and comfortable with me. Now…and before.”

“Of course I do. Always feel comfortable with you.”

You imagine he should feel relieved to hear this, and yet he sighs as he releases your jaw. “Oh, baby.”

It’s heavy the way he speaks. Akin to disappointment, but there’s a touch of sadness. Perhaps even understanding.

It breeds a constriction in your chest that feels like a snake coiling around your lungs. “What…what did I do? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he’s quick to whisper, tightening his hold on you. “God, no, sweet girl. Just realized something, that’s all.”

A tad reassured, you straighten up. “Oh? What?”

He nuzzles his cheek against your temple and pulls you even further into his chest. “Nothing bad, I promise. Just that I need to take extra good care of you right now.”

“Really?

 He nods. “Mhm. So, what do you think, lovey, hm? Should we go home? Think we’ve done enough exploring for one day.”

Your lashes flutter, a bit startled by the switch. “We…you wanna leave?”

“I do. I wanna take you home and hold you. Properly,” he says gently, laying a chaste kiss to your forehead. “We can take a bath, get all nice and warm again. Know it’s getting cold, isn’t it?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized the drastic drop in temperature. But with this mention, you feel a noticeable chill dancing across the room. Can feel your breath grow icier as it leaves your lips.

“And once we’re warm again, we can crawl into bed, and just stay,” he continues. “Watch a movie, eat some snacks. Do whatever you wanna do, baby. S’that sound good?”

And it does. It sounds like heaven. Anything with him always does. “Can we please?”

He grins again before kissing your temple again. “Of course. We’ll head out now. Think you can walk or do you need my help?”

Your legs do feel a bit wobbly, but in all honesty, the idea of having him hold you all the way down is what you really want. To make sure he doesn’t take himself from you, even if you’re merely walking to the car.

Your innocent pout is answer enough, and he chuckles. “Want my help, don’t you?”

Nodding eagerly, you sit up, allowing him to slip back out from behind you and stand. Once he has, he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, making sure to steady you when you feel a bit rocky before leading you toward the stairs.

You leave the heavenly room behind, bidding the stunning shadows adieu as you disappear down the dark stairwell. 

And you hope, if there are ghosts, that they enjoyed the show.

After you’ve returned to the spare room on the first floor, Harry strides over to the bookshelf, and tilts the Frankenstein book back just like he had before. Prompting the portrait to slide closed in the same manner as it had when it opened. Hiding the secret staircase away for the next wandering couple.

Then, he turns to you. “All right, baby, let’s go.”

He crouches down, signaling that he’d like you to climb onto his back again, and you do rather giddily. Cementing yourself to his spine as you cling to him like a koala bear, allowing him to lead you back out into the main part of the house.

You find your friends already waiting by the door, talking casually until they see you coming out from the shadows.

You feel Harry squeeze your ankles as a sign of encouragement and you sigh to yourself while cuddling closer.

“Where the hell have you been, we’ve been looking everywhere,” Jackie calls. “You just left me with these dipshits.”

Harry chuckles. “Sorry. Got a bit lost and then we started talking. Did you find the attic?”

“No,” Charlie huffs, and he sounds rather offended. “I don’t think there is an attic. Think Caleb’s just full of shit.”

“I’m telling you, it’s there,” Caleb argues. “Other people have gone up, I just don’t know how they found it.”

“Huh. Weird,” Harry muses, and you have to turn your face away to hide your smirk. “Well, listen, I think we’re gonna head out. But this was fun. Thanks for the invite.”

“Aw, really? Already? We thought maybe we’d head over to Waffle House or something,” Jackie tells you. “You know, eat a shit ton of whipped cream and syrup in the spirit of Halloween.”

To this, Harry smiles, glancing back at you as if to check for permission and see if you’re interested. But you can’t really offer him much else except a shy grin, which he seems to understand.

“I think we’re just gonna turn in for the night,” he says instead. “But you guys have fun. We’ll have to do this again for Christmas.”

The other three laugh as you call your goodbyes and allow Harry to carry you to the car. 

He sets you down by the passenger door in order to unlock it and swing it open. And once it is, he’s still ever the gentleman, helping you sit and making sure you’re buckled in before shutting the door and jogging over to his side.

As he fumbles with his keys and gets the engine started, your eyes trail up toward the top of the large mansion before you. Finding those beautiful windows once more as you bid them goodbye as well.

You feel Harry’s hand slip around yours, recapturing your attention as you look over and catch his grin. “You ready?”

You nod and squeeze his palm three times. “Mhm. Always.”

Pleased, he brings your knuckles to his lips. Leaving a lingering kiss that nearly takes your breath away. “Happy Halloween, Bee.”

And your heart has never felt so full. 

“Happy Halloween, Harry.”

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🧡🧡🧡 (or just regular old Tuesday)!!! Thank you so much for joining me for Freaky Fun and for being so kind and supportive!!! You all have my heart!! Have a safe, wonderful night filled with laughs and amazing treats!! 😭♥️

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

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~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[seriiousgiirl]

𝓞𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁ 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉!𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓍 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇!𝒻𝑒𝓂!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

❛ Who are you? Demon to some. Angel to others. ❜

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. On the run from death after an unsuccessful night's hunting, you seek refuge in a small church deep in the forest. The priest, Astarion, takes you in, promising to take care of you.

Little do you know that despite his angelic face, he has devil thoughts.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. kind of enemies to lovers, smut with plot, age gap, somnophilia, taboo kink, dominance and submission, bondage, sensual education, forced proximity, tender worship, rough sex, corruption kink, oral sex, fangs and more...

Despite the angst, this has a good ending. I promise.

➜ ┊: oneshot ⋅ 17K words. A lot is happening. ➜ ┊ a/n: there's been a hype about Astarion as a priest on twitter (thanks to Neil's role) so that's inspired me, nothing offensive is intentional. Just enjoy!

Blood seeped from your wounds, each drop marking your path through the dense, oppressive forest. Every muscle screamed in agony, and your senses were on high alert. Vision blurred, the moon overhead glowed a sinister red, as if mockingly reflecting the blood you were losing. The woods appeared to extend indefinitely, comprising a maze of shadows and gnarled branches that seemed to reach out and entrap you. 

You were a hunter, trained to track and kill the very creatures that now pursued you. The irony was not lost on you; tonight, the roles were reversed. You weren't used to being the prey, but tonight, everything had changed. 

The ambush had been swift and brutal. The vampire had pounced on you with a speed and ferocity that left you breathless. Its fangs had sunk into your flesh before you could react, and though you had fought, the creature had overpowered you, leaving you broken and bleeding in the dirt.

The pain was a constant, throbbing reminder of your vulnerability. Each step was a struggle, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you pressed a trembling hand to your side, trying to stem the flow of blood. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirl, a mix of survival instinct and despair. You couldn't afford to stop. Not here. Not now. The forest was unforgiving, and every heartbeat echoed with the fear of what might be lurking in the darkness.

As your strength waned, you scanned the forest desperately for any sign of shelter. Just when despair began to creep in, you saw it: a church. Its silhouette emerged from the shadows, an ancient structure that stood in stark contrast to the wild, untamed forest around it. The stained glass windows glowed softly, illuminated by flickering candles within. The sight was almost surreal, like a beacon of hope in the endless night.

With a renewed sense of determination, you staggered toward the church. Each step felt like an eternity, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. The candles inside seemed to beckon you, their warm light a promise of safety in the darkness.

Finally, you reached the steps of the church. 

You stumbled, nearly falling as your strength gave out, but you managed to catch yourself against the stone. As desperation clawed at your senses, you knocked frantically on the door, hoping against hope that someone inside would hear your plea and grant you safety. A church was a holy ground where no vampire dared to tread, for fear of the searing pain it would bring. 

But as each moment passed without a response, the whispers of the night grew louder.

"Please," you begged, your voice raw with desperation. "Open the door! I'm in danger!"

The urgency in your tone carried the weight of your peril, the fear that gripped your heart driving you to implore for sanctuary within the sacred walls of the church. "I beg of you," you continued, your voice cracking with emotion, "I don't have much time. Please, you have to help me!" 

But as the moments ticked by without a response, the gnawing sense of dread only grew stronger. You could feel the presence of your pursuer drawing nearer, its malevolent intent palpable in the air. Panic threatened to overwhelm you as you realised that time was running out, and the safety of the church remained out of reach.

With one final, desperate plea, you pressed your forehead against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please," you whispered, the words barely more than a prayer, "don't let me die out here. Please, open the door."

Just when you feared all hope was lost, the door finally creaked open, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness like a lifeline. With a surge of relief, you stumbled inside, your heart racing with the knowledge that you had narrowly escaped the clutches of your predator.

As the door finally creaked open, a wave of relief washed over you, and you crawled inside, your body trembling with exhaustion and pain. Strong, muscular arms lifted you gently from the cold ground, cradling you in his embrace as you staggered into the warmth of the church. Your head fell back onto the broad chest that held you up, and you let out a shaky sigh.

Your breathing was ragged, your heart pounding, and your mind still reeling from the terrifying encounter. A voice, smooth as silk and seductive, washed over you like a siren's song. "My dear, what happened to you?"

You clung to the figure's robe, your grip tight as you struggled to find the strength to speak. "I... I was attacked," you managed to gasp out, the words coming in a hoarse whisper. "By... a vampire."

A shiver ran down your spine as his hands gently, but firmly, began to examine your wounds with gentle, intimate strokes. The contrast between the cruelty of the vampire's attack and the tender care he was showing you was overwhelming. You could feel his fingers gently tracing over your skin, sending electric shocks of sensation throughout your body.

As you tried to look up at him, your vision blurred and swimming with tears, sweat and blood but you caught a glimpse of his face. Even through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you could see how devilishly handsome he was, with his silver curls framing his strong jaw, and his ruby-like eyes glinting with concern.

Then, the charming priest's expression twisted with regret, and his hand brushed against your cheek, the gentle caress sending shivers to your core. "I'm so sorry, my dear," he murmured, "I should have been here sooner. But you're safe now. Let me take care of you."

His words were a balm to your battered soul, offering comfort in the midst of chaos. You nodded weakly, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you like a warm tide. Despite the pain that still throbbed in every fibre of your being, you felt a flicker of peace begin to stir within you.

As your head rested against his broad chest, you could feel the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, a soothing lullaby that eased your racing mind. His voice, a deep rumble that resonated through his body, washed over you like a comforting wave. His voice, deep and resounding, carried the power of wisdom and experience. 

"My child, you have been through a harrowing ordeal. Your wounds are deep, and the path to recovery will be long. But here, within the sanctity of my church, you will be safe and nurtured."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude as you asked, "I’m sorry… Am I... a burden to you?" The vulnerability in your voice was palpable. You hesitated, unsure if you were deserving of such grace, but his smile, gentle and understanding, promised everything you needed at that moment. 

"Quite the opposite, my dear. Your presence is a blessing. I'll do everything in my power to see to your recovery. I will tend to your wounds with the love and compassion that only a servant of God can offer."

Your heart swelled with gratitude, the weight of your tribulations lightening with each syllable of his holy promise. "Thank you, Father," you whispered, your voice a soft caress against his chest. "I trust in your care." His words, paired with the sincere look in his eyes, left you feeling both reassured and oddly drawn to him. You agreed, surrendering to the temptation of his promise, and allowed yourself to settle further into his embrace.

As the priest cradled you in his arms, holding you close like a cherished treasure, the world around you seemed to blur. Your vision wavered, and you clung to him, trusting in the strength of his arms to guide you.

The holy man eased you onto the bed, his strong hands supporting your weight as your legs buckled beneath you. The room was dim, decorated sparingly with candles, books and a desk. You could feel his eyes on you, and when they met yours, they were filled with a devotion that was both comforting and unnerving.

"Lie down, my angel," he instructed gently, his voice a hypnotic purr as he helped you onto the bed. The mattress was soft, enveloping you in its embrace as you settled onto it. Slowly, he began to undress you, his gaze never leaving yours. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, a soothing dance that contrasted with the rhythm of your heartbeat as you could feel his feather-light touch over your skin.

In a vain effort, you tried to stop him. "N-no," you stuttered, trying to cover yourself with your arms.

The coolness of the room against your heated skin sent shivers down your spine, the sensation electrifying under his watchful gaze. "Don't be afraid, I’ll be gentle," he whispered, his voice a promise of safety. "You are in my care, and I will ensure that you heal."

Seeing your reluctance, he added, "Listen to me," he said softly. "I am only doing this to tend to your wounds and help you heal. You have nothing to fear from me."

Despite your best intentions, you found yourself unable to resist the comfort his words offered. Your defences crumbled, and you allowed him to continue uncovering your body. He unlaced the back of your bra, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin, and gently slid it from your body. The tenderness in his touch sent a flutter through your chest, a sensation that was both foreign and enticing.

Once vulnerable, your nipples hardened in response to his gaze, sensitive buds aching for attention. Your body quivered under his watchful eyes, the heat between your legs growing as you succumbed to the temptation of his nearness. The priest's voice, a melodic rumble, continued to soothe you, his words a balm to your restless spirit.

"This might sting a bit," he warned as he applied a salve to your wounds. The cool, wet sensation was a shock against the warmth of your body, the sting a reminder of your ordeal.

You bit your lip, the pain a small price to pay for the healing touch of this mysterious man. "Thank you," you breathed, your voice a soft exhalation.

With great care, he examined your injuries, his eyes narrowing with concern as he located the worst of them. He murmured prayers under his breath, his voice a soothing lullaby as he tended to your wounds, applying healing salves with a practised hand.

As the priest meticulously cleaned the blood from your body, his fingers gentle yet firm, you could swear you heard the sound of his ragged, heavy breaths. The low, appreciative groan that echoed in the room was indistinct, your mind hazy and dizzied by your injuries.

You clung to the reassuring rhythm of his voice as he continued to soothe you, his words a balm to your aching soul. The priest tended to your wounds with a deft, almost sensual touch but you couldn't tell if it was real or a figment of your imagination, the line between dream and reality blurred.

"You're doing well," he praised, his voice thick. The priest's gaze lingered on your flushed skin, his fingers trailing gently over your body as he worked. "You'll be healed in no time," he said, a low growl that seemed to vibrate through your very core.

You moaned softly as the cool liquid touched your wounds, the sensation both painful and soothing. He placed a gentle hand on your forehead, his touch comforting as he whispered, "Sleep now. Trust in me, and I will make you whole once more. I promise."

His words, his touch, his very presence, enveloped you in a feeling of warmth and safety. You closed your eyes, drifting into the welcoming arms of slumber, your heartbeat slowing as you entrusted your body and soul to the care of the man who had become your saviour, your protector, your guardian.

"Rest now, my sweet Y/n," he said, his voice thick with longing. "I will be here, watching over you, ensuring your safety and your recovery."

In the dim light of the room, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows on the walls, the priest stood over you, his ruby gaze never leaving your form. He whispered more prayers, the soft murmurs a lullaby for your weary spirit as you finally allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. 

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

In the hazy realm of your dreams, the pleasure of his touch lingered. As you slept, you could feel a familiar pain in your neck, the sensation of fangs sinking into your skin. But this time, unlike the violent encounter that had brought you to this point, the bite was pleasurable, a sweet agony that coursed through your veins. 

A low moan escaped your lips, your body arching instinctively into the sensation. Your dreams were of lust and desire. The charming priest who saved you was there. He was a predator, a creature of the night, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. 

But it was an alluring craving, one that invited you to indulge in your deepest, most primal urges.

 It felt like the devil kissed your neck, but it felt like heaven. His tongue traced the path of his fangs, eliciting a shuddering sigh from your lips, the air thick with the scent of sweat and lust. Your limbs twisted, your body responding to the touch of your saviour, his hands roaming over your skin with a deft expertise. 

His fingers found your breasts, squeezing and teasing your nipples, the sensation a symphony of sensations that echoed through your body. You arched against him, your hips grinding against the hardness that pressed against your thigh. The dream was a carnal feast, his body enveloping yours, a fusion of flesh and desire. 

You could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, the intoxicating scent of his musk filling your senses. His hands roamed your body, achingly slow, each touch a promise of pleasure that lingered like the echoes of a distant song. Your moans grew louder, punctuating the rhythm of the dream, your body trembling as the pleasure built within you. The line between the dream and reality blurred, the boundaries of consciousness dissolving in the face of the overwhelming sensations…

You jolted awake, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself bathed in sweat. The haze of your dreams dissipated, leaving you acutely and painfully aware of your surroundings. Your vision was no longer blurred, and as you blinked, your sensations alighted shamefully on the wetness between your legs.

The feeling startled you, the outrageous state of arousal you found yourself in starkly at odds with the holy ground you now resided in. You couldn't help the flush that crept up your neck, a delicate blush colouring your skin. As your mind raced to comprehend the situation, you noticed the bandages that covered various parts of your body. The night gown you wore was soft, clinging to your skin. It was embroidered with intricate patterns and smelled faintly of fresh flowers, indicating that it has recently been washed. 

Your gaze landed on the priest, who sat at a study, his back to you. The sight of him brought a flurry of questions to the forefront of your mind. "Excuse me?" you called, your voice shaky with uncertainty. "Did you... change my clothes?" Your memory was foggy, the details of the night blurred and indistinct. The vivid dreams of lust and desire, the taste of blood on your lips, and the sensation of pleasure that still lingered in the pit of your stomach left you unsure of what was real and what was not.

The priest turned, his wine gaze meeting yours with a steady, unblinking intensity. "I did," he confirmed, his voice a soothing rumble that seemed to calm the chaos in your mind. "You were in no state to do so yourself, I had to wash your blood and tend your wounds — I wanted to ensure that you were comfortable."

His words were simple, yet they carried with them a weight of authority that left you feeling oddly reassured. Your heart continues to race, the sensation of being so exposed, both physically and emotionally, leaving you vulnerable, yet oddly at ease.

"I... I can't remember much of what happened last night." you said, your voice small as you recalled the shivers of pleasure that had coursed through you at his touch. A vivid image of his long fingers brushing against your skin flashed in her mind, the memory both tempting and terrifying.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was modest, yet warm and inviting, filled with the scent of burning candles and aged wood. You realised you were most likely in his personal quarters, assuming that such a small church wouldn't have many rooms. The bed you lay on was simple but comfortable, covered with a soft, worn quilt that smelled faintly of lavender.

Your shyness crept back into your demeanour as you asked, "Father, where did you... stay for the night? Where did you sleep?" Your voice held a curious inflection, a hint of fluster in your tone.

The enigmatic priest, sensing your discomfort, couldn't resist teasing you with a sly smile. "A good priest never sleeps when there's a soul in need," he replied, his voice a silky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I stayed awake the whole night, ensuring that you didn't experience any pain," he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Your well-being was… my top priority."

As you settled back into the bed, the priest moved closer, kneeling at your side. "I realise I haven't properly introduced myself," he said with a slight bow of his head. "My name is Astarion."

You nodded weakly, offering a faint smile despite the pain that still throbbed through your body. "I'm Y/n," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/n, despite the circumstances," Astarion said, his tone gentle.

As you spoke, a sharp, faint pain in your neck caused you to wince. Instinctively, you raised your hand to the spot, fingers brushing over the tender skin. You felt the unmistakable indentation of bite marks and a shiver of unease ran down your spine. You didn't remember the vampire biting you there yesterday. The memory of the attack was vivid—how you had fought back, the searing pain of its fangs in your side—but the neck was new.

Astarion noticed your discomfort immediately. "What is it?" he asked, concern flashing in his crimson eyes.

"There are... bite marks on my neck," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't remember the vampire biting me there."

Astarion's gaze softened with empathy, and he placed a reassuring hand on your cheek. "The vampire that attacked you was relentless. In your weakened state, it is possible that it struck more than once, leaving marks you weren't aware of at the time."

His explanation made sense, yet something about it left you uneasy. The way he spoke, the intensity of his gaze—it all seemed so personal, so intimate—seductive. But as you looked into his eyes, you found a strange comfort, a sense of safety that you hadn't felt since the attack, it felt nice.

"Try not to worry," Astarion continued, his voice soothing. "You're safe now. The wounds will heal with time, and I will ensure you are well cared for."

You nodded, trying to relax despite the lingering fear. "Thank you, Astarion. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

Astarion's smile was warm, almost tender. "It's my duty, Y/n. Now, rest. You need to regain your strength."

Astarion’s soothing voice continued to fill the room, a gentle murmur that seemed to lull the very air around you. “Rest now, Y/n,” he whispered again, his tone carrying a warmth that seeped into your bones. “You’re safe here. Let your body heal.”

His hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against your forehead before trailing down to caress your hair. Each gentle stroke seemed to ease the tension in your muscles, coaxing you further into the embrace of sleep. “You’ve been through so much,” Astarion continued, his voice a melodic hum that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “But you’re strong. You’ve survived, and now it’s time to rest again, angel.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, the steady rhythm of his voice and the gentle touch of his hand lulling you. The pain and fear began to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of peace. 

“Let go of your worries,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their soothing path through your hair. “I’ll be here, watching over you.”

The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you entirely was the warmth of his hand, the tender way he cared for you, and the deep, calming presence of his voice. In that moment, as consciousness slipped away, you knew that whatever questions and fears still lingered, you could face them later. For now, in the sanctuary of the church and the comfort of Astarion’s care, you allowed yourself to finally rest.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Days had passed since that harrowing night, and you had been secluded in the church, healing under Astarion's watchful care. Your strength has gradually returned, allowing you to move around more freely. This morning, as the sun filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the stone floor, Astarion invited you to take your breakfast outside.

The church's cloister, a serene, partially shaded courtyard, became your dining area. While you basked in the sunlight, feeling its warmth seep into your skin, Astarion, however, always remained in the shadows, moving with an uncanny grace that kept him perpetually out of the sun’s reach.

As you savoured the simple breakfast, your mind began to piece together the puzzle that had been forming since your arrival. It was easy for a good vampire hunter to notice the signs. The fangs that sometimes glinted in Astarion's mouth when he spoke and smirked, the way he meticulously avoided sunlight, and the fact that you had never seen him eat. It all pointed to one unmistakable truth: Astarion was a vampire.

Your heart pounded as the realisation settled in, mingling with the fresh morning air. You glanced at him, standing elegantly in the shadow of the cloister, his hand behind his back. His red eyes watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Yet, despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you knew one thing for certain: you were trapped. Your injuries, though healing, still left you weak. 

There was no way you could fight or escape him in your current state.

Astarion's voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and soothing as always. "How are you feeling today, Y/n?" he asked, a genuine concern in his tone that made your situation all the more confusing.

"I'm feeling better," you replied, forcing a small smile. "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

He inclined his head gracefully. "It's my duty to ensure your recovery. I'm glad to see you improving."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "You never join me for breakfast," you said, your voice casual despite the tension coiling within you. "Aren't you hungry?"

Astarion's lips curved into a faint, charming smile. "I have my own ways of sustaining myself. Your well-being is my priority." There was something unnerving about his answer, the implication that his nourishment differed from the conventional. The way he focused on you, though endearing, you knew bordered on possessiveness.

You shifted slightly in your seat, the movement causing a dull ache to flare up in your side. Astarion noticed and stepped closer, still within the shadows, his expression one of concern.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, his voice softening.

"A little," you admitted. "But I'll manage."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. As you sat there, the sunlight warming your skin while Astarion remain cloaked in shadow, you couldn't shake the feeling that Astarion, with his devilish good looks and soothing voice, was both your caretaker and your captor.

For now, you had to play along, especially as Astarion continued to care for you, providing you with food and shelter. He was attentive, almost doting, ensuring that you were comfortable and your needs were met. Each day, he brought you meals, fresh linens, and soothing herbal teas.

Despite your growing suspicions, you couldn’t deny the care he provided. Every bandage was changed with meticulous precision, every meal prepared with consideration for your weakened state. And so, you allowed Astarion’s gentle care to soothe your wounds, both physical and emotional, all the while preparing for the inevitable moment when you would have to face him for what he truly was.

Astarion's eyes softened as he regarded you, his voice a velvety whisper. "You must let me know if the pain worsens, angel. I cannot bear to see you suffer." He whispered, the endearment—now quite familiar, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. The contact was brief but electrifying, igniting a desire within you that you couldn't quite comprehend or control.

Your heartbeat quickened as he withdrew his hand, stepping back into the shadows, a wicked glint in his eye. 

"Now, eat up. You need your strength for later." The coded suggestion in his tone left you breathless, your mind racing with possibilities as to what 'later' could entail. The way Astarion spoke, his voice dripping with innuendo, only served to heighten the growing tension between you. It was all so forbidden. 

You hesitated, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers traced along your jawline. The subtle flirting, combined with his intimate care, blurred the lines between priest and enemy, leaving you both vulnerable and enticed. "I... I don't want to trouble you," you stammered, though your body betrayed your words, craving his touch and the comfort he offered.

Astarion smiled, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "It's no trouble at all, Y/n. You needn't worry about anything but your recovery."

You wanted to believe Astarion wasn't a danger, even less a vampire. His gentle hands and soothing words made you feel safe. Every interaction with him felt like a contradiction, a dissonance between what you knew and what you wanted to believe.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

As the days turned into weeks, your strength gradually returned. The deep wounds had healed to a dull ache, and the fog of pain that once clouded your mind began to lift. You and Astarion fell into a comfortable routine, each day a mirror of the last. You would wake up each morning to the soft sounds of quill on parchment, finding Astarion at his study desk, deep in thought as he wrote.

“Good morning,” he would greet you, his voice smooth and pleasant, as he set aside his work. 

The deep wounds might have healed, however, the bite marks on your neck remained stubbornly fresh. Alongside these wounds, vivid and intense dreams continued to plague your nights. Dreams filled with lust and desire, so real that you could almost feel the touch of hands on your skin, the press of lips against yours. Each morning you awoke feeling drained, a sore feeling between your legs, and a throbbing ache where the bite marks were. But you kept that all to yourself, far too embarrassed. 

He would then prepare breakfast, guiding you to the garden where you could bask in the sunlight. Astarion would remain in the shadows, his elegant form always just out of reach of the sunlight. He would watch over you as you ate, his presence a silent reassurance. After breakfast, he would excuse himself, his voice tinged with the same gentle concern as always. 

“I have some matters to attend to,” he would say, disappearing into the depths of the church. You assumed he went to sleep, retreating to whatever secret place he kept from the daylight.

Left to your own devices, you found solace in the books that lined the shelves. Despite the church's modest library, you read about heroes and history, getting lost in the words. On days when reading felt too isolating, you tidied the church, arranged flowers, and dusted pews, even though no one ever came to attend his services.

Lunch was a simple affair that you prepared for only you — the act of cooking gave you a sense of purpose, a small way to contribute to the strange sanctuary you now called home.

Astarion would return in the late afternoon. You would eat dinner in the kitchen, the soft light of the candles casting long shadows on the stone walls as he watched over you. Conversation flowed easily, your guardedness slowly eroding as the days passed. He would listen intently to your thoughts, his eyes never straying from yours, making you feel seen and heard in a way that was both comforting and unsettling.

As the night closed in, you'd meet him in the bathroom, where Astarion would await, his eyes fixed on you with a hint of intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He would offer you a small stool to sit on, allowing you the space to undress in his presence. At first, the act of exposing your body to him, an unfamiliar stranger only a short while ago, left you bashful and flushed. Your fingers fumbled with buttons and laces, your gaze darting to the ground, averted from his unwavering gaze.

Astarion, however, seemed unfazed by your hesitation, his attention solely focused on you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. The feeling of being so intimately observed, of your vulnerability laid bare, was both forbidden and intimate, a tug-of-war between modesty and desire.

The first time you squirmed under Astarion's touch, he chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "You'll have to stand still, Y/n," he teased, his voice low and husky. "You're making it difficult for me to tend to your wounds." Your cheeks flushed at his teasing. He looked at you with a hot gaze as he leaned closer, his breath washing over your skin, whispering, "If you're concerned about my touch, I can show you what happens when you're more willing to submit."

You were left breathless, and he seemed content with your reaction based on his prideful smirk. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your ears. "No-No I’m okay... I do trust you, Astarion," you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Astarion smiled, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "Then stand still, my angel," he coaxed, the pet name laced with tenderness. "Let me take care of you as you deserve."

As the days passed, though, the discomfort ebbed away. Astarion's gentle demeanour and the necessity of your healing fostered a sense of genuine trust between the two of you. Astarion's methodical approach to cleaning your body was as deliberate as it was unhurried. He would begin by wetting a soft cloth with warm water, the liquid shimmering as it caught the light. The scent of herbs and flowers wafted from the basin.

With the cloth in hand, Astarion would then gently wipe away the grime and sweat from your body. His fingers traced the contours of your form, the arch of your waist, the curve of your breast, the slope of your hip, and the dip of your lower back. He moved with a tender dexterity, each stroke a promise of care, an unspoken vow to protect and heal.

As he worked, the fabric slid over your skin, leaving a trail of dampness that soon dried under the influence of the air. The sensation of being washed, of being cleansed by Astarion's skilled hands, was both intimate and comforting, the touch of his fingers electrifying your body.

Astarion's fingers lingered so subtly on your nipples, brushing them gently. "So sensitive, aren't we?" he mused, his gaze flicking to your face. He trailed the cloth down to your inner thigh, the tip brushing against your most intimate parts. "Such a delightful creature you are, my angel," he remarked, his voice laced with desire. 

"I relish in the privilege of tending to you." He looked up at you through his lashes, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart would race as his hands lingered on sensitive spots, the tips of his fingers brushing against your nipples or the inner folds of your thighs—just enough to be appropriate, but still exciting. The moments of intimate contact were fleeting, yet they stirred a hunger deep within you.

The way he examined your wounds, the way his eyes lingered on your flushed skin, painted a picture of a man who was devoted to the healing of your body and the nurturing of your spirit. It was a dance of necessity and desire, leaving you in a dangerous but exciting situation.

As the evening sun cast long shadows across the kitchen as you and Astarion sat down to dinner, it was another one of those days. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Astarion watched you intently, his red eyes shimmering in the dim light.

As you took a bite of food, he spoke, his voice low and contemplative. "Y/n, may I ask you something?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a slight nod. "Of course, Astarion. What is it?"

"Why did you become a vampire hunter?" he asked, his tone gentle yet probing.

You paused, your fork halfway to your mouth, as memories of the past flooded your mind. "It's because of my family," you began, your voice tinged with sadness. "They were killed by a vampire when I was young. I was left with nothing, no home, no family. I had to fend for myself."

Astarion's expression softened, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss," he murmured.

You nodded, a bitter taste lingering in your mouth. "At first, I became a vampire hunter out of necessity. I needed to survive, to seek revenge for what happened to my family. But as time went on, it became more than that. It became a way for me to protect others, to prevent anyone else from suffering the same fate."

Astarion listened quietly as you spoke, his gaze never leaving yours. "It's a difficult path you've chosen," he remarked, his voice soft. "To carry such a burden, to face danger at every turn."

You nodded, the weight of your past pressing down on you like a leaden shroud. "It hasn't been easy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't just stand by and do nothing." A silence settled over the kitchen, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. 

"I understand," he said finally, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. "You've endured so much, my angel." Then Astarion's eyes narrowed, his mind wandering as he mused. "Vampires are often seen as monsters, creatures of the night that feed on the blood of the innocent," he began, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "But are they truly any different from those who hunt them? They do what they must to survive, to maintain their existence. They are not inherently evil, merely misunderstood."

He met your gaze, his expression earnest. "In their quest for sustenance, there are some who stray, who forget the cost of their actions. But all beings are capable of good or evil, it's a choice we make, not a preordained path.” Astarion shifted, leaning back in his chair. "You, my dear, have chosen a path of justice, fueled by loss and a desire to protect. Your heart is in the right place, and that is something to be admired."

Astarion reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending shivers down your spine. "Do not be so quick to judge, to condemn those you do not understand," he urged, drawing closer. "For in doing so, you may miss the beauty of the beast, the soul that lies beneath the surface."

He put his hand on the table covering yours as his thumb caressed your knuckles. The simple touch showed he could seduce you so easily. It was a devilish whisper that made you question your beliefs. 

After a brief silence, Astarion's eyes glimmered with a mischievous light as he reached for a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Would you care for some wine, Y/n? I find it has a way of easing troubled thoughts."

As Astarion stood, he moved gracefully towards the wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. With a skillful flick of his wrist, he opened the door and withdrew a decanter filled with a deep, ruby-red liquid. "Allow me to offer you a glass of wine," he said, his voice a low, sultry rumble.

He approached you with the decanter, his eyes locked on yours. "A little something that's sure to help you unwind after your ordeal," he suggested, his words laced with a flirtatious undertone.

As he poured the crimson liquid into two crystal glasses, the light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls, Astarion's charm seemed to weave a spell around you. The room grew warmer, more intimate, the soft flicker of the flames a testament to the growing intimacy between the two of you.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. As he sat back down, he moved closer to you. He handed you a glass, his fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "To new friends and shared stories," he toasted, his smile warm and inviting.

"To new friends," you echoed, clinking your glass against his and taking a sip. The wine was rich and smooth, its warmth spreading through you.

As he leaned back, he couldn't help but brush his arm against yours, the spark of arousal igniting between you. "Strength, resilience, and determination are traits to be admired," he said, his voice a sultry, velvet-coated whisper. "And they become all the more enticing when wrapped in a package as enchanting as yours, Y/n."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, the blush a testament to his words. "Thank you, Astarion. It's been an arduous journey, but I suppose it's made me who I am today."

His gaze never wavered, and he leaned in closer, the firelight casting shadows that danced on his chiselled features. "And that, my dear Y/n, is a woman I would gladly be drawn to. You possess a radiance that's as alluring as it is dangerous."

You felt your heart race at his words, the intensity of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. "You have a way with words, Astarion. It’s quite... disarming."

He chuckled softly, his smile widening. "I've been told that before. But enough about me flattering you. Tell me, Y/n, how did you come here? Were you hunting a specific vampire?"

You nodded, taking another sip of wine to steady yourself. "Yes, I had heard rumours of a powerful vampire terrorising the nearby villages. I thought I might be able to do some good here, to put my skills to use."

Astarion's eyes flickered with interest. "And instead, you found yourself in need of sanctuary."

"Yes," you said, the memories of that night still fresh in your mind. "But I suppose fate had other plans."

He smiled, a hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface. "Indeed, fate can be quite unpredictable."

You shifted in your seat, your curiosity piqued. "Astarion, you’ve been so kind to me, but I realise I know very little about you. Why did you become a priest?" The question hung heavy in the air, the weight of its implications a daunting shadow in the room.

Astarion's eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "A priest," he mused, his voice laced with a heavy sense of regret. A shadow crossed his face, his smile fading slightly. "Ah, that's a story for another time," he said, his tone vague. "It's a lonely path, one fraught with self-imposed torment. It's a form of penance, a never-ending punishment for sins long committed."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Punishment? For what?"

He waved a hand dismissively, the charming smile returning to his lips. "We all have our sins to atone for, don't we? Some of us more than others." He placed his hand back on yours, his touch was soothing.

After a moment, Astarion's gaze grew distant. "To partially answer your question, Y/n, one must first understand the nature of a priest's vow. Chastity, piety, and dedication to a higher power. It is a life of self-denial, of sacrificing one's personal desires for a greater cause," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his past.

"In my case, my path to the priesthood was not driven by divine inspiration, but by a profound need to purge the darkness within me. The sins I've committed run deep, and the road to redemption is a long and arduous one."

His smile, when it returned, was tinged with sadness, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the life he once led. "In essence, I chose this path as my penance, as a way to atone for the transgressions of my past. The harsh discipline and chastity I adhere to are a constant reminder of the price I must pay for the sins I've committed."

The intensity of the moment weighed heavily on the air as you digested his words. The sincerity in his confession was palpable, a testament to the internal struggle that plagued him. "I'm sorry, Astarion, for your suffering," you offered, your fingers intertwining with his, to offer a reassuring touch. "But perhaps, in your service and devotion, you have already found some measure of redemption."

The fire crackled, its dance casting shadows on the walls as Astarion's eyes darkened, the intensity in his gaze growing. "But, I must admit my angel, that since your arrival, I've found it increasingly difficult to keep my distance, to not succumb to the forbidden desires that once consumed me," he admitted, his voice thick..

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a mixture of fear and anticipation. Trying to maintain your composure, you played innocent, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't understand what you're implying, Father."

He chuckled softly, a dark, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, but you do, my dear. How can you pretend to judge what is good and bad when you've lived such a sheltered life? How can you truly know grace if you’ve never tasted sin?" His words hung heavy in the air, laden with implication. 

You tried to deny the accusation, shaking your head. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Astarion’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned even closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Your soul is too pure, too untouched by the world to understand. You’ve spent your life fighting monsters, but you’ve never truly faced the darkness within yourself."

Your heart raced, his proximity and intensity making it hard to breathe. "What are you saying?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Astarion reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, sending a jolt of electricity through you. "I’m saying, Y/n, that you’ve been living in a world of black and white, of good and evil. But life is far more complex than that, and you’re so young... To truly understand grace, you must also understand sin."

His fingers moved to your neck, brushing over the bite marks he had left, a reminder of his power over you. "I saw it in your actions," he continued, his voice a soft, seductive whisper. "When I was cleaning you, taking care of you, I saw how innocent you were, how… untouched."

You shivered under his touch, the mixture of fear and something darker swirling within you. "How can you pretend to judge what is good and bad, what is pure and tainted, when you yourself have never truly tasted the depths of desire and temptation?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "You must experience the temptations that pull at your soul, the desires that make you human," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Only then can you truly understand what it means to be alive, to be whole."

You tried to pull away, but his grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "You cannot know true grace without first experiencing sin," he whispered, his voice a hypnotic cadence that drew you in despite your fear. 

"You cannot know the light without first embracing the darkness."

Astarion's words wrapped around you like a silken web, his touch igniting a fire within you that you had never felt before. You hated yourself for the way your body responded, for the way your heart raced and your breath quickened at his proximity. "How can you understand the beauty of purity if you’ve never been tainted?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr. 

"How can you know the strength of virtue if you’ve never faced the allure of vice?"

You swallowed hard, your mind reeling from his words. "And you think you can show me this… complexity?"

“If you trust me,” Astarion's smile was both predator and enticing. "Yes, I know I can. Let me guide you, angel. Let me show you what it means to embrace both the light and the darkness."

His words were a dangerous lure, pulling you towards an abyss you had never dared to explore before and with anyone else. Despite your instincts screaming at you to resist, a part of you was undeniably drawn to him, to the promise of forbidden knowledge and the thrill of the unknown.

"I…" you hesitated, your voice faltering.

Astarion’s hand slipped from your jaw to the back of your neck, his touch firm yet gentle. "Trust me," he murmured, his voice a silken whisper that seemed to wrap around your very soul. "Let me show you what it means to truly live." And in that moment, as Astarion’s eyes held yours, you realised that the lines between good and evil, grace and sin, were not as clear as you had once believed.

He had the face of an angel. 

But devil thoughts. 

Astarion's gaze softened, though the intensity in his eyes remained. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. Your breath caught as he gently tugged you to your feet. The touch of his hand was both comforting and electrifying, as he led you through the dimly lit church. 

You followed Astarion down a narrow, spiralling staircase that led to the church's basement— you never dared to wander there before, it was all so new and overwhelming. The air grew cooler, and the faint scent of incense and aged wood filled your nostrils. At the bottom of the staircase, Astarion paused before a heavy wooden door.

He glanced at you, a devilish smile playing on his lips. "What you are about to see is a sanctuary, a place hidden from the world. It is where I find solace and where you might begin to understand the complexities of grace and sin." He pushed the door open, revealing a hidden sanctuary. 

The room was illuminated by soft, golden light from numerous candles placed strategically around the space. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and artefacts. In the centre of the room was an ornate altar, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that seemed to pulse with a faint, otherworldly glow.

Astarion led you inside, his hand never leaving yours. He guided you to the altar, his movements graceful and deliberate. "This," he said, his voice a hushed whisper, "is where I seek redemption, where I grapple with the darkness within me and strive to find the light."

Astarion's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch a comforting anchor in the swirling uncertainty. "Come, my angel," he said gently, guiding you towards the heart of the chamber.

You looked around, taking in the sacredness of the space. It was unlike any church you had ever seen—and for the time, you wondered if he was a real priest. "It's... beautiful," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Astarion smirked, his eyes lingering on the curve of your lips as you spoke. He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours, forcing you to lean back against the cold, hard surface of the altar. You could feel his arousal, a throbbing, insistent pressure against your thigh. "Grace," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "It's not just a matter of beauty, my angel. True grace is about balance, control, and submission. It's about becoming one with the divine, surrendering to the sacredness of all that is."

As he spoke, his hand slid up your thigh, his fingers teasingly close to the hem of your nightgown. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your nipples hardening under the weight of his gaze. "Let me teach you," he whispered, his voice now tinged with desire. "Let me show you the beauty and power of true grace."

With that, he hooked his fingers beneath the hem of the fabric, tugging it up your legs. The cold air of the sanctuary brushed against your sensitive, exposed flesh. You couldn't help but squirm, your thighs parting instinctively, aching for him to fill the emptiness between them.

Astarion's fingers trailed along the curve of your hip, then lower, over the tender skin of your inner thigh. They danced closer to the dampness between your folds, your hips arching to meet his touch. He smirked, his eyes darkened with lust. "You crave it, don't you?" he whispered, his voice a growl. 

"You crave knowledge and pleasure?" You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. Astarion chuckled softly, a wicked, predatory sound. "Then let us begin your education, my angel."

Astarion's lips trailed down your throat, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses, his tongue flicking across the sensitive skin. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts, weighing them in his palms.

You gasped as his teeth nipped at your tender neck, his tongue teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Slowly, he unbuttoned the garment, letting it fall to the floor, throwing it aside to unveil your swollen, erect nipples. He leaned in, his hot breath making you shiver, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His eager tongue flicked over and around it, his lips sucking gently. 

You arched your back, your fingers twisting in his silver hair, tugging him closer.

Astarion's hand slipped over your thigh and up to your damp panties. He pushed them aside, letting his fingers graze over your clit, making you moan. His mouth latched onto your other nipple, the dual sensations sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

He lifted you, and Astarion's eyes were dark, hungry, as he stared at the glistening wetness between your legs.

"You are exquisite," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You are the embodiment of grace and beauty, and I am honoured to worship you." He laid you down on the cold, hard surface of the altar, your breath hitching at the suddenness of the move. Astarion's gaze never left you as he positioned himself between your thighs.

Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he took in your arousal. He ran his tongue along the seam of your folds, making you arch off the altar. He continued to tease and taste you, flicking his tongue against your clit, eliciting a choked moan from you.

"Oh, gods," you panted, your fingers now gripping the cloth of the altar. 

“There are no gods here,” Astarion smiled against your wetness, his fingers teasingly circling your entrance. "But you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled by your folds. He dipped a finger inside you, curling it to find your sensitive spot. You cried out as the sensation overwhelmed you, your hips bucking against his hand.

Astarion continued to lavish attention on you, his tongue and fingers working in unison to bring you to the edge of ecstasy. You writhed beneath him, your body a mass of trembling desire.

You moaned, the sensation of Astarion's mouth and fingers driving you wild. "This, this is forbidden," you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

Astarion's eyes gleamed, his mouth a wicked grin as he continued his ministrations. "The forbidden is where the true pleasure lies," he whispered, his fingers flicking against your clit in just the right spot. 

Astarion's skilled mouth and fingers worked in perfect unison, his lips and tongue worshipping you, coaxing you to the precipice before pulling you back, over and over. His grip on your hips tightened, leaving a red mark behind, his sharp teeth nipping at your inner thigh, driving you to the edge of madness.

And then, with a final, fervent thrust of his fingers and fierce suction on your clit, he sent you careening over the edge, your body shuddering, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Astarion licked the last of your juices from his lips, his eyes gleaming with victory and desire.

"You've embraced the first lesson, angel. Now let's move on to the next one." He pulled you towards him, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising, possessive kiss, his tongue seeking entry. As you fought for breath, Astarion's hands found their way to the buttons of his trousers, releasing his throbbing, erect cock.

"You'll learn to worship me, just like I worship you — to take me into your mouth and guide me deep within your sweet, tight cunt," he breathed against your lips. "You'll learn to obey, to serve, and to find joy in the power you give and receive." With a forceful tug, he pulled you to your knees, staring down at you with a mixture of lust and expectation. You gazed up at him, meeting his lustful gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. 

You looked down at Astarion's erect cock, unsure of what to do. "I-I've never... done this before," you confessed, your voice small and hesitant.

Astarion's lips curved into a wicked smile. "You'll learn, angel," he said softly, his hand cupping the back of your head, guiding you forward. "Just as you've learned to embrace the divine, you'll learn to embrace the carnal."

You tentatively reached out, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. The heat radiated from his shaft, the veins pulsing beneath your touch. You hesitated, your eyes flicking up to his, seeking guidance. Astarion placed his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding you closer, your lips brushing against the head of his cock. He gave you a nod, urging you to take him into your mouth.

Gingerly, you parted your lips, sliding your mouth over the head of his cock. A salty, musky taste filled your mouth, and you hesitated, your eyes widening.

"Don't be afraid," Astarion cooed, his voice low and soothing. "Savour it. Worship it."

With a deep breath, you took him deeper, your tongue flicking over the sensitive underside. You felt Astarion's hand tighten in your hair, his breath catching. He guided you, his fingers gently urging you to move in a rhythm that felt natural, your mouth swallowing and releasing his cock, your tongue exploring every inch. Astarion's eyes closed, his head falling back, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips.

Your hands slid up his thighs, squeezing and kneading the muscles as you continued to worship him with your mouth. Astarion's hips began to move in time with your motions, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He was your teacher, your guide, showing you the art of submission and worship. You embraced it, your body eager to learn, to follow the path that Astarion laid before you. As you continued to pleasure him with your mouth, Astarion's grip in your hair tightened, the sound of his ragged breaths growing louder. You knew you were bringing him closer to release—and it felt… satisfying.

And with a low, guttural moan, Astarion came, his hot seed filling your mouth. Your eyes widened, unsure of how to handle it, but Astarion's hand cupped the back of your head, gently encouraging you to swallow, to accept the gift he offered you. You did as he commanded, your body learning this new form of submission, this new kind of divine pleasure. 

Astarion's eyes met yours, his face flushed with pleasure. "A beautiful first time, angel," he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. He pulled you to your feet, his cock still glistening with your saliva. Astarion's hands gently cupped your face, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and concern. "Tonight, you've learned much," he said softly, his voice a low rumble. "It's time to rest, to let your wounded body heal and regain its strength."

He pulled you into his arms, the warmth enveloping you, his solid form a comforting presence. "We'll continue our lessons tomorrow," he promised, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss as he pulled your nightgown back over your body and put his clothes back on with one hand. 

Astarion guided you from the altar, his strength evident as he carried you up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid you down gently on the soft bed, the silk sheets cool against your heated skin. He adjusted the covers, tucking them around you, making sure you were comfortable. Once you were settled, Astarion straightened, his ruby eyes meeting yours. "Sleep well, Y/n," he said, his voice a seductive purr.

You couldn't help but shiver at the sound of his voice. "Thank you, Astarion," you murmured, your eyes heavy with fatigue.

He brushed a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "You are safe here," he assured you, his touch both soothing and electrifying. "Tomorrow, we will continue our journey."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the promise of more to come both thrilling and daunting. "Astarion," you said softly, catching his hand as he moved to turn away. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

He paused, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions. "Because, angel, you have a light within you that is rare. It is something worth protecting, worth nurturing." He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. 

Your grip on his hand tightened, a sense of trust and connection forming between you. "I hope you're right," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I am," he said confidently. "Now rest. You need your strength."

You nodded, releasing his hand reluctantly. As Astarion turned away, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, a desire to keep him close. "Goodnight, Astarion," you said, your voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and yearning.

He glanced back at you, his smile softening. "Goodnight, Y/n," he replied, his tone gentle. With a final lingering look, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness.

You closed your eyes, your body exhausted but content. The events of the night played over in your mind, the promise of Astarion's guidance and protection a comforting thought. As you drifted off to sleep, your dreams were filled with images of the sanctuary, of Astarion's intense gaze and his soothing touch. 

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The morning light filtered through the small window of the bedroom, casting a soft glow across the room. You stirred, the ache in your neck pulling you from sleep. As you shifted under the covers, a sharp pain shot through your neck, causing you to wince. The memories of the previous night flooded back, and the sensations that had seemed so intoxicating now felt like poison seeping through your veins.

You reached up, gingerly touching the bite marks on your neck. They were tender, the skin around them inflamed and sore. A sense of unease settled over you as you realised they weren’t healing as they should. The implications hit you like a cold wave, and a chill ran down your spine.

Unable to deny the truth any longer, you understood why: Astarion was using you. He was feeding on you, causing your strength to fade away each night, slowly but surely leading you towards death.

You forced yourself out of bed, every movement a painful reminder of what had transpired. You made your way to the small mirror hanging on the wall, examining the bite marks with a critical eye. 

Your mind raced as you tried to come to terms with the revelation. How could you have been so blind? The signs had been there all along, but you had ignored them, lulled by his charm and the sense of safety he provided. You felt a mix of anger and despair, the reality of your situation crashing down on you.

Determined not to fall into despair, you knew you had to confront Astarion. You couldn’t continue to let him feed on you, to let him drain your life away. Gathering your courage, and with a heavy heart, you made your way to the kitchen. The weight of the knife in your hand felt foreign, its cool metal sending a shiver down your spine. You hesitated for a moment, the blade glinting in the soft light of the room.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for what was to come. Gripping the knife tightly, you hid it behind your back as you made your way back to the garden. You found Astarion in the garden, standing in the shadows of the cloister as usual, reading his book. He looked up as you approached, a smile playing on his lips. "Good morning, Y/n," he greeted, his voice as smooth as ever. 

"Did you sleep well?"

You didn’t return his smile, your expression serious. "Astarion, we need to talk."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Oh? About what?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "About this," you said, pointing to the bite marks on your neck. "About what you’ve been doing to me."

His smile faded, replaced by a look of mild concern. "Y/n, you’re still recovering. Those wounds will heal in time."

"No, they won’t," you countered, your voice trembling with anger. "They’re not healing because you’re feeding on me. You’re draining my life away."

Astarion sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes. "I suppose the truth was bound to come out eventually."

You felt a surge of anger. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

He looked at you, his expression a mixture of regret and something darker. "Because I need to survive, Y/n. And you... you were convenient."

“Convenient?!” His words cut deep, a mixture of betrayal and heartbreak washing over you. "I trusted you," you whispered, your voice breaking, tears threatening to fall. "I thought you were helping me."

Astarion's gaze softened slightly, a hint of remorse in his eyes. "I am helping you, Y/n. In my own way. You’ve learned a lot, haven’t you? About the world, about yourself."

"At what cost?" you demanded, your voice rising. "My life? My humanity?" With a swift motion, you brought the knife out from behind your back, the blade catching the light as it gleamed in the dim garden. "If I have to," you said, your voice trembling with anger and resolve, "I'll use this to protect myself."

Astarion's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of surprise. But then, to your dismay, it transformed into a knowing grin. "Ah, I see," he said, his tone mocking. "So it's come to this, has it? My, my, you really are full of surprises, my angel."

You held the knife out in front of you, your hand steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "Don't test me, Astarion," you warned, your voice firm. "I won't hesitate to use this if I have to."

He tilted his head to the side, studying you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "And what do you intend to accomplish with that little toy?" he said, his tone taunting. "Do you honestly think you can threaten me with such a thing?"

You felt a surge of frustration at his dismissive attitude, but you refused to let it shake your resolve. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect myself," you repeated, your voice growing more determined with each word.

Astarion stepped closer, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Oh, come now, Y/n," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Are you flirting with me?"

You recoiled, taken aback by his cavalier response. "This is not a joke, Astarion," you said, your grip on the knife tightening. "You’ve been using me, draining me of my life force."

He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and something darker. "And what if I have?" he said, his tone teasing. "What if I told you that you were simply a means to an end? A pawn?” He then chuckled, the sound sending a chill down your spine. 

“But… What if I told you, that along the lines, I fell in love with you?”

“You would lie, again.” you replied harshly, despite your heart pounding at the idea he could feel more for you. 

After a moment, he said, "Oh, Y/n," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into."

With a sudden movement, he lunged towards you, his hands reaching out to grab the knife. Instinct took over, and you reacted without thinking. With a swift motion, you brought the knife down, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

But instead of fear or pain, Astarion only smirked, his eyes alight with amusement— you had missed him. "Well, well," he said, his voice filled with mock surprise, his grasp on your wrist thought and commanding. 

"Looks like we’ve reached an impasse."

You stared at him, the realisation sinking in. He had known all along, had anticipated your every move. You were no match for him, not when he held all the cards.

Astarion stepped back, his smirk widening into a devilish grin. "What will you do now, Y/n?" he said, his voice dripping with challenge. "Will you run? In fact, running doesn’t matter, I’ll hunt you down if I had to.”

“Because I crave you, angel.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling within you. Despite the pain and betrayal you felt, there was something unnerving about the way Astarion spoke, something primal and alluring that drew you in despite your better judgement.

You took a step back, the weight of the knife still heavy in your hand. "I won't let you do this to me," you said, your voice trembling with defiance. "I won't let you drain me until there's nothing left."

Astarion's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, but my dear," he purred, taking a slow step forward, "you misunderstand. I don't intend to drain you until there's nothing left. I intend to keep you alive, to keep you by my side for eternity."

Astarion's devilish grin sent a jolt of desire through you, despite your best efforts to resist it. The primal urge to submit to his will, to give yourself over to his control, tugged at your very core. His words, laced with carnal intent, only served to stoke the flames of your deepest, darkest desires.

Your grip tightened on the knife, your heart racing as you took a step back. "I won't let you destroy me," you hissed, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. "I refuse to be nothing more than your plaything."

Astarion's eyes glinted with a wicked light as he closed the gap between you. "Oh, but my angel," he purred, his voice seductive, "you're already mine. And you'll find that there's no greater pleasure than being my plaything."

Your bodies were mere inches apart now, and you could feel the heat radiating off Astarion. The intensity of his gaze washed over you, as he reached out, gently cupping your cheek. His thumb traced the outline of your lips, causing you to shiver. "I'll make you crave it," Astarion whispered, the promise in his voice leaving no room for doubt, "the pleasure, the pain, the ecstasy. I will push you to your limits and beyond…”

“And you'll love every moment of it."

Your breath caught in your throat, the conflict between your desire to run, to resist, and your ever-growing need to surrender to his will warring within you. Astarion's fingers brushed against your neck, the heat from his touch sending a flood of sensations coursing through your body.

You could feel your resolve slipping, the knife in your hand wavering as you stared into his captivating eyes. The line between pleasure and pain blurred, and you found yourself swaying closer, your body betraying your mind, surrendering to the enchantment of the man before you.

Astarion's lips met yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you against him. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace, your defences crumbling, your body responding to his with a hunger it couldn't suppress.

The knife fell from your grasp, forgotten on the ground as you explored each other's mouths, your tongues entwining, your lips clashing, a symphony of desire and submission unfolding between you.

Astarion broke the passionate kiss, his lips lingering for a moment on yours before he pulled back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as you complained about the lack of contact, your lips chasing his. "Oh, you've been very, very bad," he purred, his voice thick with wicked intent. 

"And punishment is necessary when you stray from the path of grace."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire coiling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't deny the power he wielded, the allure of his dominance provoking an arousal that heightened your senses. As you lay there, defenceless and exposed, Astarion held you in his arms, putting you back to bed. With practised ease, he bound your hands to the headboard, the restraints tight to restrict your movements.

"You're my captive now," he declared, his deep voice a promise of both pleasure and pain. "And I'll do with you as I please." The vulnerability you felt, the loss of control, only served to amplify your arousal. Astarion's gaze raked over your body, his eyes lingering on your heaving chest, the rapid rise and fall of your breasts betraying your excitement.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Are you ready to submit to your master? Because I'm not going to stop until you're mine, body and soul."

Deep down, you knew there was no escape, and as much as the thought terrified you, a wicked and exhilarating thrill coursed through your veins. You cursed yourself for that, for the way your body betrayed you, responding to his touch despite the danger he represented. Because in truth, Astarion had already claimed you, body and soul, and now, you were his to mould, to break, to pleasure, and to torment.

You had fallen for the kind you hated, a vampire. 

The very creatures you had sworn to hunt and destroy. And Astarion had played you perfectly, manipulating your mind, making you believe that some vampires were good, that they could be trusted.

The memories of the past weeks flooded back, each touch, each word, all calculated to worm his way into your heart. You thought back to the days and nights you spent together, the gentle caresses, the tender words that seemed to reach into your very soul. All of it had been a part of his plan.

Astarion smirked as he admired you, a devious glint in his eyes. He leaned down, his lips pressing against yours in a possessive kiss, his tongue pushing against your lips, demanding entrance. And yet, you still opened it for him willingly, the taste of his saliva invading your mouth.

He pulled away, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making you shudder. His fangs elongated as he prepared to feed, the tip of one piercing your flesh. You gasped, the sharp sting of his bite quickly dissipating as your blood flowed into his greedy mouth.

"No," you whimpered, trying to deny the pleasure as Astarion's fangs elongated, the sharp points poised to pierce your flesh. "I... I don't want this." Your body bucked against the headboard, your hands straining against the silk restraints as he began to feed. The pleasure coursed through your veins, your core aching with each draw of his lips. "Astarion..." you moaned, your voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"You want this," he purred, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to feed. The room spun around you, the pleasure reaching an almost unbearable crescendo. "You crave it, just like I knew you would."

You tried to resist, your voice trembling as you replied, "I... I shouldn't enjoy this. It's wrong."

The pleasure that enveloped you as his mouth sucked your blood was indescribable, your body arching towards him, an animalistic moan escaping your lips, “Oh, yes gods.” You cried out. He sucked greedily, your blood a sweet ambrosia to his thirsty lips. The more he drank, the more intensely you felt the pleasure, the orgasmic waves crashing over you, leaving you trembling.

Then, Astarion's hands moved to his own trousers, his fingers fumbling with the button, unzipping them to reveal the thick erection straining against the fabric of his underwear. His eyes never left yours as he pulled out his cock, the head glistening with pre-cum, the veins pulsating with desire.

"Every night, I've fed on you. But, I've also found other ways to amuse myself while you slept," he confessed with a smirk, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking it with slow deliberate motions. "I've watched you, so beautiful and vulnerable in your slumber, the way your breath hitches, the way your nipples harden, the way you squirm in your sleep, all signs that even while unconscious, your body craves me."

His strokes grew more fervent, his hips bucking in small motions, the slick sound of his hand moving up and down his shaft filling the room. "And I've touched myself, imagining myself burying my cock in your tight, wet cunt, fucking you until you screamed my name."

As he stroked himself, the sounds of his hand moving up and down, slapping against his shaft, filled the room. You blushed, the realisation of how much he lusted after you, the intimate invasion of your privacy, making your pussy dampen, your desire for him growing more insatiable.

Astarion's eyes bore into yours, the hunger and lust in his gaze undeniable as he continued his lewd confession. "I've come so many times, my release tasting of you, a tangible reminder of this unending obsession I have for you. And now, angel, I want to take you, to finally—finally fill you with my cock and claim you as mine."

Astarion's voice grew thick with lust, his hunger for you apparent as he declared his intentions. "Let me see your submission, let me see how badly you need me." As you gazed up at him, he reached forward, his hand cupping your chin, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "Open for me," he demanded, and you did, your lips parting to reveal the wet, inviting depths of your mouth. 

“Good girl.” He purred with a low appreciative growl. 

Without hesitation, Astarion guided his cock to your lips, the head brushing against them before he thrust forward, burying himself in your mouth. You gasped, the taste of him, the feel of his thickness. Astarion urged you on, his grip tightening on your head as he demanded more. "Suck me, use your saliva to lube my cock."

You did as he bid, working your saliva along his length, the slick substance coating his cock as you took him deeper in your mouth. The taste, the sound, the feeling of him, heightened your arousal, your body quivering with need. Suddenly, he stopped you, pulling out of your mouth with a low growl. You gasped, your lips parting to reveal the absence of his cock. He then positioned himself between your spread thighs, his eyes locked on yours, the lust and desire burning brightly.

"No preparation," he growled, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. "This is your punishment, remember, and I want to feel every inch of you, raw and unbridled."

His rigid member pressed insistently against your swollen, slick folds. Before you could even gasp, he thrust forward, burying himself inside you, the sudden invasion making you cry out in both pain and pleasure.

He began to fuck you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and powerful, filling you completely with each stroke. Your breasts bounced with each impact, your nipples brushing against the rough fabric of his robe, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he stretched you.

Astarion's hands gripped your hips harder, his thrusts becoming more frenzied as his anger boiled over. "Never, Y/n. You will never be free from me," he snarled, his voice deep and guttural. "I could give you the entire world, everything you could ever desire, and you still refuse to submit to me." he hissed.

You felt the veins on his cock pulse with each thrust, the intensity of his anger amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body. Your pussy clenched around him, your body betraying your resistance as he pounded into you with a force that bordered on violence. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the wet smacks of skin on skin punctuating his threats.

"You may think you want freedom, but what you truly crave is my control, my dominance," Astarion growled, his words heavy with conviction. "You can't resist me, and I won't let you go, Y/n."

He leaned down, nipping at your earlobe, the sharp pain mingling with the pleasure of his cock stretching you open. It was almost as if he was branding you, claiming you, as he continued his relentless assault on your body.

Your resistance crumbled beneath the onslaught of his passion, your arousal growing with every harsh word. Your body shook, your pussy clenching around him in desperation, and you whimpered, not able to form a coherent thought or sentence. 

His vampire's kisses became more urgent, his tongue duelling with yours as his hips moved at a frenzied pace. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, each vein rubbing against your inner walls, causing sparks of pleasure to radiate through your core. "Fuck, you're so tight, angel. I'm going to fill you with my cum," he growled, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you closer with each thrust.

The base of his cock rubbed against your clit, each impact bringing you closer to the edge. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him with every spasm. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, wet and primal, as you fucked with a desperation born of need and lust.

You could no longer deny the truth in his words. You arched your back, your hips meeting his thrusts, your body begging for more. "Fuck, yes, Astarion. Don't ever stop," you gasped, your voice shaking with need.

"That's it, Y/n. Take it. Take my cock, your body was made for it," he growled.

Astarion leaned down, nipping at your neck, leaving tiny marks in his wake. His fangs grazed your skin, the mixture of pleasure and pain making your orgasm crest, crashing over you in waves.  Astarion's movements might be more violent, his body a tempest of raw, carnal desire as he fucked you. But the contrast between his tender kisses and the aggressive force with which he took you was arousing, a betrayal of his tender nature.

His lips left yours, a trail of wet, hot kisses making their way down your neck, the sharp points of his fangs grazing your skin as he growled, "You make me lose control, Y/n. Every time I touch you, I'm reminded of the beast I am."

You cried out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch within you. "Astarion," you pleaded, your voice shaking. "Don't stop, please... Please don't stop." At your words, his thrusts became more erratic, the violence of his movements a stark contrast to the tender, loving kisses you'd received only moments before. 

The combination of his conflicting emotions and the relentless assault on your body left you breathless, your orgasm overtaking you. The tenderness of his kisses, the violence of his thrusts, and the desperation in his voice all converged, creating a whirlwind of sensations that left you at his mercy.

The sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock was too much for Astarion, and he roared, his cock pulsating inside you as he unleashed his hot, sticky cum deep within your quivering depths. Your bodies heaved, entwined, as the aftershocks of your orgasms continued to reverberate through you both.

Slowly, Astarion pulled out of you, his cock leaving behind a trail of cum and your fluids. He fell back, his breathing as ragged as yours, and gazed at you with an expression that was both lustful and tender—prideful, as if he could never get enough of you.

As Astarion pulled out, your body felt empty, the void left by his departure a stark reminder of the loss. Your legs trembled, and you sagged against the bed, the weight of your arousal now replaced by an aching, throbbing sensation that echoed through your body.

Your eyes observed your own form, taking note of the red marks that adorned your hips, the bruises on your wrists from the restraints, and the trickle of blood from the bite on your neck making its way down your collarbones. You looked at Astarion, this man who had brought you to such heights of pleasure, however, you saw him as a monster, a creature who revealed in the act of inflicting pain while claiming to love you.

Tears began to stream down your face, the realisation dawning that your pleasure and his desire for violence were intrinsically linked. The more he hurt you, the more he pleased you, a twisted, tortuous dance that left you aching and unsatisfied. "Why?" you managed between sniffs, your voice fraught with hurt and confusion. 

"Why do you do this to me?"

Astarion's expression softened, and he reached out to you, his hand cupping your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. "Because you're mine, Y/n," he said, his voice low and filled with an unshakeable conviction. "Because you bring out the best and the worst in me, and I can't help but be drawn to the darkness you unleash within me. It's not something I can control, Y/n. I love you, and I hurt you because I can't help it."

"This is not love— You're a monster," you whispered, the tears falling faster as the full weight of your situation settled upon you. Despite the blissful orgasm, you couldn't escape the truth.

Astarion flinched at your words, a flash of hurt crossing his face. He let out a shuddering breath, his grip on your chin tightening slightly before he released you. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know what I am, and I know what I've done to you. But it's because I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."

You looked at his pain expression, your heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and fear. "I can't stay here, Astarion," you said, your voice trembling. "I can't live like this, constantly torn between love and pain." 

For a moment, you saw the conflict in his eyes, the battle between the man he wanted to be and the monster he used to be. "Y/n," he began, his voice breaking, "Please. I need you."

You shook your head, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "I can't," you repeated, your voice firmer this time. 

"Y/n, I... I didn't mean to hurt you. I lose myself sometimes, and you bring out a side of me that's... feral, wild, and I can't control it."

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your heart. You felt a mixture of fear and confusion, your desire for him warring with the pain he had unintentionally caused.

Astarion's hand gently brushed against your cheek, his touch tender now, his tone filled with remorse. "Please forgive me. I don't want to hurt you, Y/n. I promise, I'll find a way to control myself."

Tears streamed down your face as the realisation of your situation sank in. "I… I don't want to stay," you whispered, your voice fraught with hurt and confusion. The weight of your decision pressed heavily on your heart, but you knew it was the right choice for your own sanity and well-being.

Astarion's face contorted with a mixture of pain and resignation. His hand lingered for a moment, trembling slightly, before he reluctantly reached for the knot that restrained your wrist. With careful precision, he untied it, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

As the restraint fell away, you rubbed your wrist, feeling a sense of freedom mingled with an aching sense of loss. Astarion's eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "If you truly wish to leave," he said, his voice low and heavy with regret, "then I won't stop you. But let me take care of you one last night. Allow me to tend to your wounds, and ensure you're well enough to go."

You hesitated, the conflict within you raging. Despite everything, a part of you still longed for his touch, for the care he had shown amidst the darkness. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Alright. One last night."

Astarion's shoulders relaxed slightly, a flicker of relief in his wine eyes. He guided you gently to the bed, his touch tender and careful. He helped you lie down, adjusting the covers around you with a practised ease. The silk sheets felt cool against your heated skin, a soothing contrast to the turmoil within.

He brushed a lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek before he turned away to gather the supplies needed to tend to your bite wounds. You watched him, your heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and longing. Despite the pain he had caused, there was a part of you that couldn't help but care for him.

You felt a pang of sadness, an ache that went beyond the physical pain of your wounds. 

You had spent so much time with Astarion, sharing moments that were as mundane as they were precious—reading together, talking late into the night, tending to the garden. The thought of leaving him, of abandoning him back to his loneliness, was almost unbearable.

He moved with grace, his touch gentle and precise as he cleaned and dressed the marks on your neck. Each movement seemed filled with an unspoken apology, a silent plea for forgiveness. When he finished, he looked down at you, his eyes softening. "Sleep well, angel," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. 

"I'll be here if you need anything."

As he turned to leave, a sudden wave of loneliness washed over you. You reached out, your voice trembling. 

"Astarion, wait."

He paused, turning back to face you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yes?"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Will you stay with me? Just for tonight?"

Astarion's eyes widened slightly, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "After everything... are you sure you want me to stay?"

You nodded, your eyes filled with unshed tears. "I don't want to leave you alone," you said softly. "Not tonight."

For a moment, Astarion seemed at a loss for words. Then he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle. "Thank you," he said quietly. "You don't know what this means to me."

He looked deeply into your eyes, his gaze softening. Without a word, he gently moved closer, sliding his arms around you with a tenderness that belied his strength. Slowly, he drew you into his embrace, his touch warm and reassuring. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, a steady rhythm that began to calm your racing heart. His nose pressed against your hair, and you felt the soft caress of his breath as he exhaled. 

"Shhh," he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur. "It's alright. Just relax. I'm here."

You nestled into his arms, the tension in your body gradually dissipating. Astarion's presence enveloped. His hand gently stroked your back in slow, comforting circles, and you felt the weight of his chin resting lightly on top of your head. "Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice a lullaby in the quiet room. 

"Let go of your worries, just for tonight."

You obeyed, your eyelids growing heavy. The scent of him, a mix of bergamot and something uniquely him, filled your senses, and you found yourself drifting closer to sleep. His other hand came up to cradle your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a gentle, repetitive motion.

"I'll be right here when you wake up," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I promise."

His words, filled with a sincerity that you had rarely heard from him, wrapped around your heart. You felt the last of your resistance melting away as sleep began to take hold. In his arms, you felt a sense of safety and warmth that you hadn't known you needed until you met him.

As you drifted into slumber, Astarion continued to hold you close, his presence a comforting anchor in the night. His nose remained pressed against your hair, and his steady breaths lulled you deeper into sleep. 

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

I'll be right here when you wake up.

I promise.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the cold emptiness beside you. The space where Astarion had been was now vacant, the bed's sheets cool to the touch. It was another lie, another illusion of safety and care shattered by the harsh reality of his absence. You sighed, a mixture of sadness and resignation settling over you. Part of you had hoped that perhaps he would be there, making a desperate attempt to change your mind, to convince you to stay. But the room was silent, and Astarion was nowhere to be seen.

You gathered your things slowly, your movements heavy with the weight of disappointment. Each item you packed felt like a small piece of your heart being torn away. You wandered through the church, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The place felt even more desolate than before, the shadows longer and the silence deeper. You searched for him, a flicker of hope driving you to check every corner, every hidden space.

But Astarion was gone. There was no trace of him, no sign that he had ever been there.

Days passed in a blur of longing and despair. You found yourself lingering, unable to leave the place that had become a twisted sanctuary. Each day you waited, hoping against hope that he would return, that he would explain, that he would ask you to stay. But the days turned into nights, and Astarion never came back.

You stayed a couple of days, the church becoming a prison of your own making. You tended to the garden, read the books on the shelves, and kept the place as tidy as you could, as if maintaining it would somehow bring him back. But each sunset brought only more loneliness, and each sunrise reminded you of his absence.

Finally, with a heavy heart, you came to the painful realisation that you would never see him again. Astarion had vanished, leaving behind only memories and unanswered questions. The love you had shared, however twisted and complex, was now just a ghost haunting the empty church.

With a final, sorrowful glance around the place that had been your refuge, you gathered the last of your belongings and walked out into the night. And as you took your first steps away from the church, you carried with you the bittersweet memory of a love that could never be, and the knowledge that because of him you had survived, even if it meant leaving a part of yourself behind.

As you stepped out into the night, a sense of unease washed over you, prickling at the back of your mind like a warning. Your hunter instincts surged to life, urging you to pay attention, to be alert. The forest seemed to whisper to you, a cacophony of voices urging you to act, to help.

Astarion. 

Without a moment's hesitation, you raced through the darkened woods, your heart pounding in your chest. The urgency of the situation fueled your movements, driving you forward with a singular purpose. Images of worst-case scenarios flashed through your mind, each more horrifying than the last.

As you drew closer, the putrid scent of death and blood assaulted your senses, causing your stomach to churn with nausea. Your steps faltered for a moment, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. But you pushed forward, steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Astarion lay on the ground, his body battered and bloody, surrounded by the lifeless corpses of other vampires. The sight made your heart ache with a mixture of fear and sorrow. Despite everything, despite the pain and betrayal, you couldn't bear to see him like this.

Without a second thought, you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him. His breathing was shallow, his skin pale and clammy to the touch. You gently cradled his head in your arms, your fingers trembling as you assessed his injuries. "Astarion," you whispered, your voice filled with concern. 

"Can you hear me? What happened?"

He stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. There was pain and confusion in his gaze, but also a glimmer of relief at seeing you there.

"Y/n, my sweet angel" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't think... you'd come."

You shook your head, your heart breaking at the vulnerability in his voice. "Sorry it took me a while, but I heard you," you said softly. 

A weak chuckle escaped Astarion's lips, his voice strained with pain. "Before you leave," he said, a hint of humour lacing his words, "I thought I should take care of those pesky vampires that were threatening the village. Wouldn't want you to leave thinking I'm not capable of protecting you, now would we?"

His attempt at levity brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked them away, your vision blurred with emotion. In that moment, you realised the truth—that he had done all of this for you. Despite everything, despite the pain and the betrayal, he had risked his life to keep you safe.

The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. How could you have been so blind, so quick to judge him without understanding the depth of his feelings?

As you looked into his eyes, you saw the truth reflected back at you—a love that transcends boundaries and defied logic. In that moment, you knew that you couldn't just walk away, not when there was still so much left unsaid between you. "I'm proud of you, Astarion," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. 

"I always have been."

He smiled weakly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

“Don’t thank me yet,” Taking a deep breath, you helped Astarion to his feet, one arm around his waist for support, the other cradling his head. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, the sharp sting of pain etched across his features.

Despite his weakened state, he leaned on you, allowing you to guide him back toward the church. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of orange and gold, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that enveloped the village. His steps were slow and uncertain, each breath laboured, yet he pressed onward, driven by a will that was as unyielding as the love he bore for you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for the man who, despite his flaws, never faltered in his devotion to you.

The journey back to the church felt like an eternity, each step a struggle against the darkness that threatened to engulf you both. But you refused to falter, refused to let Astarion succumb to his injuries.

Finally, you reached the safety of the church, its walls a sanctuary against the horrors of the night. With careful hands, you guided Astarion to the very same bed he had welcomed you a while ago. 

Now layed down, Astarion watched you with a mixture of gratitude and awe. "I never imagined the day when I would be at the mercy of a human," he admitted, his voice tinged with irony. But you didn’t laugh. 

With trembling hands, you gingerly began to tend to Astarion's wounds. Each movement was a delicate dance between fear and compassion, the weight of his suffering pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. The sight of him in pain pierced your heart like a dagger, and you fought to keep your composure, to stave off the overwhelming tide of despair threatening to consume you.

As you worked, your mind raced with a cacophony of emotions—grief, anger, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. How could you, a mere mortal, hope to heal the wounds of a creature as ancient and powerful as Astarion? Yet, despite the odds stacked against you, you couldn't bear to stand idly by while he suffered. 

Astarion watched you with a mixture of gratitude and concern, his wine eyes filled with unspoken words. He reached out to you, his touch gentle against your skin, a silent reassurance in the midst of chaos. "Shh, Y/n," he murmured, his voice smooth and soothing like velvet. "It's all right. You’re doing great angel."

His words offered little comfort, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. With a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand, pushing aside your own emotions as you worked to ease his pain. Each touch, each bandage applied with painstaking care, was a silent prayer for his recovery, a desperate plea to whatever gods might be listening to spare him from further suffering.

Astarion watched you, his eyes filled with anguish and concern. Feeling your turmoil, he reached out to take your hand, his voice a soothing murmur as he spoke. "Y/n, listen to me. I haven't been truly honest with you. When I spoke of my sins, the sins of the flesh, that's what I meant."

His words hit you like a hammer, and for a moment, you couldn't find your voice. Astarion continued, his confession laced with pain and regret. "Most of my life, I was used. A pawn in a game, my body a tool to lure others into a trap. My master, the one who made me into what I am, he used me for his own wicked purposes. And when he died, I came here, to take penance."

He looked up at the ceiling, the pain etched in every line of his face. "Every day, the holy ground is a punishment for me, a constant reminder of my past. But being here, it's my way of making amends. And you... you showed me something I never thought I'd find. I know I'm not perfect, Y/n. I've made mistakes, many of them, and my past is one I can't escape. But I want to be better for you. I want to start anew."

You listened to Astarion's confession in stunned silence, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. Anger flared within you, a fiery inferno that threatened to consume you from the inside out. How could anyone be so callous, so cruel as to use another person in such a way? The thought of Astarion's past filled you with a righteous fury, a burning desire for justice that pulsed through your veins like wildfire.

But as he continued to speak, his voice tinged with regret and remorse, you felt the anger give way to something else—a sense of empathy, of understanding. Astarion had never known affection, had never experienced the simple joys of human connection. His life had been one of pain and isolation, a constant battle against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

"When you came here," he confessed, his voice soft and vulnerable, "I didn't know what to make of it. I had never felt anything like it before—the warmth, the kindness, the affection. It was overwhelming, and at some point, I think I fell in love."

His words hung in the air like a heavy fog, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you like a burden too heavy to bear. You had never imagined that your presence could have such an effect on him, that your simple acts of kindness could inspire such profound emotions.

"But I didn't know how to express it," Astarion continued, his voice filled with regret. "I was so caught up in my own pain, my own anger, that when you threatened to leave, it... it turned into something else. Something ugly.  I lashed out at the only thing I could control—you."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the conflicting emotions warring within you like a stormy sea. On one hand, you felt a deep sense of sadness for the pain that Astarion had endured, for the loneliness that had plagued him for so long. But on the other hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, of hurt and anger at the thought that he had lashed out at you in his moment of weakness.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Astarion whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I've hurt you, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But please... please understand that I never meant to cause you pain. I love you, Y/n, and I would do anything to make things right between us."

Tears cascaded down your cheeks in a torrent, a floodgate of emotions unleashed by Astarion's heartfelt confession. His words were a symphony of pain and longing, each syllable carrying the weight of his regrets and the depth of his love. You couldn't help but be moved by the raw vulnerability he laid bare before you, his soul laid bare like an open book, pleading for understanding and forgiveness.

As his voice trembled with emotion, you felt your own resolve waver, the walls you had erected around your heart crumbling in the face of his sincerity. "I love you too, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, yet weighted with a lifetime of unspoken truths. "I don't want you to suffer for something that wasn't your fault. You deserve happiness, just like anyone else."

Silently, Astarion's hand, weakened by his wounds, reached for your cheek, his touch gentle and tender against your skin. With a soft sigh, he guided you towards him, you felt the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, a tender caress that said more than words ever could. His kiss was a balm for your wounded soul, and you knew he felt the same about yours. 

"You have to make me a vampire," you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and resolve. "We'll leave this church, and we'll build a new life together. We'll find a place where we can be happy."

Astarion's eyes, clouded with a mixture of relief and love, met yours. His lips curved into a weak smile that was both tender and heart-wrenching. It seemed as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and in its place, there was a joy that shone forth from the depths of his very being.

"Yes, my love, I would love that," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. As his lips lingered on yours, you felt a sense of belonging wash over you, a sense of fulfilment that you had longed for all your life. For that brief, fleeting moment, you were no longer alone - you were one, united by a love that defied all logic and reason.

As you surrendered to the bliss of his kiss, you knew that in the embrace of his love, you had found your home, your sanctuary. 

Your salvation.

❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜

[sunkissedchld]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞

𝒊. 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆?

when a planet is in retrograde (rx), it appears to be moving/rotating backwards from our point of view on earth. it's important to note the planet is not actually moving backwards - it just looks that way because of its position in relation to earth and the sun. with that in mind, the sun and moon cannot be in retrograde.

𝒊𝒊. 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆?

when a planet is in retrograde, often it makes it harder to deal with its energy. it could cause a lot of internal conflicts that also impact connections with people throughout one's life.

having a planet in retrograde in your natal chart is not a bad thing or a bad placement - it just means one has to work a little harder to understand and harness the energy of the planet compared to ones that are direct.

technically, this post was made to read for natal retrogrades, but it can also be useful if you want to know general challeneges that can occur during transit retrogrades also!

𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒔

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘

this retrograde is what's most known when people talk about retrogrades. with this planet in retrograde natally, you could find it hard to communicate with others. this could be in that you have a stutter, or you could be too harsh or too passive when addressing others (depending on the sign). you could be too impulsive in your actions, or you could overthink and inhibit yourself from taking charge in your life. i could also see people with this planet in retrograde finding it hard to write and learn new languages.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒

you could find it hard to fall in love and/or to find, be in, and maintain relationships of any kind - but especially romantic ones; it could take a long time for you to start dating compared to others. this planet in retrograde can also make it hard for people to develop and sustain self-love and self-attraction. you may not see yourself as handsome or beautiful and/or others may look down on you or ignore you because of your looks. this is another planet that could make it hard to get along with people because venus is also associated with harmony overall, but the issues with beauty and love are more prominent.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒

you could find it hard to bring your drive and passion to the surface. you could find it hard to be self-motivated and may prefer to take things slow throughout life and see how things pan out versus taking control. if you know the musical hamilton, you could be similar to aaron burr in waiting for things to happen to or for you versus making things happen. i could see natal mars retrograde manifesting as someone being asexual and/or having a low libido. you could have issues with bottling up anger, creating anger issues; if underdeveloped, i could see this leading to self-harm or other violent tendencies - this is not absolute

𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑

it could be hard for you to recognize your luck and/or you may feel as if you have no luck even if you actually do. this is a "the glass is half empty" type of placement. you might have taboo beliefs, and people may make you feel as if you’re weird or wrong for them. although people may make you feel that way, your belief system may still be strong depending on your jupiter sign. there's a possibility of not being fit for tradtional higher education. you may feel like you have to create your own luck and could have trouble trusting the universe and your guides to provide for you.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍

you could be too harsh on yourself when it comes to having structure. you may burden yourself with responsibilities no one else is giving or expecting of you. you may put more boundaries and limitations on yourself than is naturally expected of you. i could see this placement manifesting as asceticism in some people. you might feel like people never live up to your expectations, or they always let you down, so you only trust yourself to get things done. with this placement, there's an emphasis on self-motivation and high ambition.

𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒

it could be hard for you to express your individuality outwardly. maybe you’re too worried about how much you’ll stand out amongst others, and so you try to fit in with the majority instead of recognizing how different you can be. you may be more cautious about expressing your rebelling views. you could be more focused on individuality on a more personal level versus on a societal one. in the case of rebellion and innovation, you may feel the need to rebel against yourself and ideas you put on yourself versus ideas society puts on you.

𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄

your dreams could be more intense and grandiose than other people's dreams are - this could be in visual dreams you get while sleeping and/or in terms of life goals. you could be deeply spiritual and in tune with your intuition; you might even be able to predict when things will happen to you, or you could get deja vu often. you could overly daydream when it comes to personal goals and ideals; you might use daydreaming and other forms of escapism as a way to constantly ignore everyday life. the idea of realism could be foreign to you.

𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐎

you may go through life transformations regularly. you could change your appearance often, or explore different religions all throughout your life, or your beliefs could change drastically as you get older. you could have strong power over yourself and possibly others - even unkowingly. you could find comfort in traditionally taboo things, espeically the occult and/or horror and things of that nature. in addition to constantly going through transformations, you could have fond memories of the past and have a deep connection to the concept of nostalgia. you could constantly look to the past in order to change who you are in the present or future.

[hwasdvlly]

Mini-Me | k.hongjoong

✧ summary: it's not every day you get a surprise visit from your beloveds.

✧ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader

✧ genres: romance, fluff, family, and slice of life

✧ word count: 0.6k words

✧ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, idol!hongjoong, non-idol!reader, married life, the members are the best uncles, cuteness overload

✧ a/n: despite being a hongjoong writing it's also our yeosangie's birthday! this is honestly so soft to read

His little angel is a carbon copy of himself.

She has his doe brown eyes, facial structure, and his cherry lips. Hongjoong loves his baby to the moon and back. 

He believes his Heeyoung will be a daddy’s girl when she grows older. The members even debated whether she’ll become one or a mommy’s girl. Hongjoong is confident that Heeyoung is going to stick by his side. She has him wrapped around her cute small hand. It was love at first sight when he saw her beautiful face. 

Even though being an idol and raising a kid is difficult, Hongjoong is committed to doing what he loves and staying in touch with his wife and daughter. He calls them his treasures. Hongjoong did joke about it because the saying takes after one of the group’s songs. Overall, he grew to love it because they are his everything. 

It’s late afternoon, and the sun is setting. The group has been rehearsing nonstop. As the captain, Hongjoong directs the members and wants an excellent result for their comeback showcase. He is a perfectionist in all aspects. 

Subsequently, they have visitors. 

Hongjoong’s stern face amends when he sees two special people. You opened the glass door, and Heeyoung waddled inside the practice room. “Youngie!” The guys squealed at the sight of their beloved princess. Heeyoung is also known as Atiny’s little sister. 

“Come to Uncle San!”

“No! You love Uncle Wooyoung more!”

“She loves Uncle Mingi the most!”

“Youngie wants puppy Uncle Yunho!”

The four of them bent down to her level with open arms. “Yah! Don’t give her a hard time!” Jongho scolds them. Pure and innocent Heeyoung stares with a blank expression. Her big eyes look at the seven handsome guys smiling at her. With her little chubby legs, she makes her way to hug Yeosang. He laughs cheerily. “She prefers Uncle Sangie!” The man picks her up in his arms. 

You walked over to him with a box of delicious cupcakes. “Happy birthday Yeo! Heeyoung and I wanted to surprise you with a gift.” You showed him the sweet treats. His sharp, dark eyes softened. “Thank you so much, noona. And Youngie.” He kisses your daughter on her mochi-like cheek. Yeosang also brought his arm around your shoulders for a hug. 

Soon enough, the little family and friends gathered for a short break. “Here you are, baby.” You give Heeyoung a cupcake out of the box. She holds it tight in her hands. “Who do you want to sit with?” You asked her. The two-year-old shifts to see her seven uncles are giving her puppy eyes. Hongjoong is sitting next to you and snickers at his child. She doesn’t know who to choose. But eventually, she moves her feet to go for an uncle. 

A smile etched on your face. “And Youngie chooses Uncle Seonghwa~” You playfully dragged out his name. Heeyoung plops herself onto the oldest member’s lap. Like a gentleman, Seonghwa smoothes down the skirt of her dress. 

Instantly, the members get occupied with Heeyoung. They would talk to her so soft and gentle. While that’s happening, Hongjoong scoots himself close to you. He rests his head on your right shoulder. “I’m happy for this abrupt visit,” Hongjoong confessed to the love of his life. You can hear the exhaustion in his voice and notice the heavy eyebags on his bare face. 

As you rest your head on top of his, you reach for his left hand and interlace his fingers with yours. His ring finger has the item that symbolizes their love, respect, and trust. “I know my husband more than anyone else. You are too stubborn to take a break.” You stated with humor, yet you were being honest. 

Hongjoong lets out a giggle that is so melodic. It never fails to make your heart flutter.

[tgirlrobot]

Karyn Felicidae, Third Floret was a very sneaky floret. She knew that if Mistress had caught her in the act she'd probably be punished in an absolutely embarassing way, but she didn't want to dwell on that while she carefully cut a small piece of ribbon. The last time Maryn was caught with scissors, and god forbid, cutting some material, she was put into a doll-body with no motor control for a week! Mistress was especially mean to her during that time, making her say such embarrassing things like how she "loved her Mistress so much" and that "she would always be a good girl" and and and...

A small mental hiss of xenodrugs stopped the thoughts from going off-course. her spine-friend, her Haustoric Implant, she reminded herself. She needed to stay on travk while she built this... what was it she was building again? No matter. She laid the ribbon into a bath of ichor-black goop before placing it on the handheld structure, smiling as it contracted into a small, loose curl before the substance grew transparent, showing the shining silk underneath.

"Darn 'fini and their dumb... stuff." Karyn muttered to herself as she placed a green rod into the contraption, nodding to herself as she watched everything warp around it, accepting the additional mass and shifting it about, adding onto the figure in front. This was absolutely helping her escape plans of finally rejoining her crew before launching her attack on the stars-darned evil plants that gave her this pretty dress and fancy collar...

Who knows what they've done to her head, though! She might be a brainless slave working in the mines and all this was right now was a machination of her mind! Perishing that simply idioitic thought, Karyn simply fitted the final piece of glass into the masterpiece of an escape tool before leaning back, taking in the full thing in all its two-foot wonder. Green strips of material swung around and around, creating ropes and intricate patterns implying a greater depth to the humanoid model. Moss and red ribbon laid on the top, creating a facsimile of terran hair. Half-moon glasses sat in front of a pair of diamond gemstone eyes.

"Perfect!" A voice harmonied Karyn's, looking upon the mkdel figure of herself. "Look at all that detail, pet! Aren't you proud~!"

Karyn turned around to see her. Mistress Dandel Felicidae, 12th bloom, clapping a pair of woven vined hands together excitedly. The doll in her hands being a significantly downscaled version of the being towering over her. "Fear me, plant lady! My escape is assured woth this!" Karyn pushed the doll towards Dandel, who simply laughed in reaction.

"Of course it is, sweetie! Now come on, let's get you to go for a bath~ then you'll totally get rescued by your pinnates!" Dandel replies, picking up the doll with a single vine, to add to the collection on a shelf of "escape tools", like the adorable knitted sweater she got for her Coreday, or a bookmark made so she wouldn't lose her place in the adorable floret's domestication contract.

"Can we use the purple class A shampoo again? Please?" Karyn batted her eyes as the both walked to the bathroom. "The overnet said it makes me immune to head scritches! And the "class A" meant "Anti-Affini"!"

Dandel laughed jovially. Making a closed overnet where it was only her and the floret was the best decision ever. "Of course petal. You're surely going to be unstoppable if you're immune to head-scritches~"

Funnily enough, Karyn Felicidae was never immune to head scritches, and lost tonight's game of "can she escape the compact" (she never wins~)

[overly-dramatic-artist]

On the Horizon - prologue

Hello friends! As per the voice of the people, the Wild West au is being written into a fic! I’m still building the world and some plot details, but here is a small little appetizer of a prologue! Thank you for all of the love and enthusiasm that you have shared with me about this au!

The memories of this town remain, like the grains of desert sand caught in the folds of leather boots and saddles. Nothing truly leaves this place. The plant may be plucked, but the roots that get ripped by the stubborn ground are trapped, not unlike the years spent in innocence under the scorching sun and surrounded by the unforgiving mountain range.

You pull on the reign, effectively halting the steed hauling your small wagon you sit upon, as you see the more defined structures of Aurora Springs come into view against the glowing sunlight that sinks lower against the purple mountains. There’s an ache in your chest, a tightness in your lungs as you breathe in the dry air, remnants of your past rushing forward like a dust storm, unyielding as the laughter of childhood wonder and honeyed words of your mother embrace your subconscious.

Her final letter sits in the tight space between your chemise and vest, over your heart and folded just as it had remained for the past 6 years.

And on the opposite side against your hip is your father’s holster and pistol, tucked discreetly into a deep pocket of your skirt.

A letter of love. An object of protection.

The only pieces you had left of your parents that had driven you to abandon the notion of mercy.

You had become a product of this desert, unrelenting and unforgiving.

………..

Some things in life never change. The out of tune piano across the bar. The shattered glass window that has been long since in need of repair. The suede leather chaps Sun had worn for years. The casual look of disdain on his lunar counterpart’s face as patrons yap and jabber. And of course, the unfounded and quite frankly stupid belief of man that this time for sure he will win.

With a round of loud groans and laughs, Sun collects his winnings from the table, much to the anger of the drunk man who had refused to fold before losing everything.

“So sorry, gentlemen, looks like I win again,” the sunny automaton says, the faux-sympathy of his synthetic voice further riling his red-faced opponents.

The man with the heavily oiled mustache and britches two sizes too short frowns, spits at the floor and stands with a screech from his chair.

“You been counting the cards! Ain’t right for a cheater to win.”

“Come now, good sir, I renounce rule-breaking. If you truly thought me a cheat, you shouldn’t have played the game.” Sun tilts his grin towards the man before slowly standing to his impressive height, one hand cradling over the grip of the pistol in his leather holster. “But I suppose we could always settle this like proper men…?”

The glint of the low bar-lighting on the silver gun that hits the angered man’s eye is enough of an answer, and the loser leaves in a huff, stomping away from the table.

Not long after settling all bets and debts, the lunar and solar automatons leave, saddling up their horses roped in the stalls.

”No need wasting a gunshot for the sake of petty cash,” the dark one says, his red eyes reflecting on the black rim of his hat, stomping the last embers of his cigar into the ground.

“You of all should know I don’t take well to being called something so despicable as a cheater,” Sun playfully shoots back. “Besides, I could get a couple rounds more with what I won.”

Moon clicks his teeth at his partner, adjusting the rifle slung over his back before signaling with the reins for Astraea to start moving. The horse brays, leading Calliope to follow.

As usual, the lunar bot remains silent for the ride through town, keeping his gaze forward. Sun was good at filling the silence, or at the very least, making the pair seem slightly less intimidating to onlookers. Their line of work came with that deadly connotation, and they lived up to their titles, but a bit of charm and camaraderie was useful for keeping the townsfolk in good favor. A nod to the miners coming back from the canyons, a wink at the courtesans on the corner.

Passing one of the bulletin boards by town hall, Moon pulls the reins to a halt with a hum. Sun looks where his partner is fixing his eyes, an identical smile pulling his lips. On the rotting wood bulletin is a newly pinned poster. A wanted poster. With an intriguingly high priced bounty wanted alive.

“I was looking forward to a weekend fixing that fence in the east pasture…” Sun says, pulling the poster down, letting his fingers trace over the details of the pretty face printed in ink, “…but I can’t pass up such an offer.”

His lunar lover laughs with a shake of his head.

“Does it say where they last were?”

“Stormridge, headed west.” Sun passes the paper to Moon. “Could already be here in town.”

The red-eyed bot hums, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket and lighting it with the exposed wire on his wrist with a hiss. He lets his systems take in the smoke, the tarry buildup caressing the roughness within his casing. With an artificial exhale, he looks back at his partner.

“I suppose we should go get those rounds then.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Ahhhhhhhh!!! I hope that is enticing and intriguing for a beginning!

And for anyone who hasn’t seen this au before, here are some of my sketches for it 💖

[pawnshopbleus]

Happy Birthday, Miss. President

Professor!Abby Anderson x Fem!Student!Reader

Contains - smut, teacher and student relationship, Reader is 22 and Abby is 32, this isn’t beta read so…

Summary - When an alumni meeting and your birthday fall on the same day, Professor Abby Anderson finds a way to make up for it.

Author's note - I don’t know how college works because I’m a senior in high school. Let’s just pretend that Harvard has class presidents. Let’s also pretend this is in character for Abby.

When you ran for senior class president you knew that there would be certain commitments that you could not break. You promised the entire student body that you would take their concerns into account. You wanted Harvard to become an inclusive school where everyone was welcomed. You weren’t expecting to win considering that you were running against Dina Williams, head cheerleader and every man's dream girl. When you won, you were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to get to work. That was until you found out what it meant to actually be the class president.

You needed to approve new clubs, promote pep rallies, set up the student section for football games, host spirit week, hold outreach meetings, and attend all the club meetings. To say that your life would be busy would be an understatement.

That was three months ago. Now, it is a cold October day. The trees rustled along the windows of lecture room two hundred and eleven. Some heads were settled on the desk in front of them while others quickly scribbled down notes. Professor Anderson, the chemistry professor, and your advisor glided through each slide about molecular structure. You watched as students dropped their pencils and pens to give their poor little hands a break from writing. You enjoyed the show from the comfort of your teacher's assistant's desk.

The clock struck five pm, indicating the end of class. Students rejoiced as they packed up their things and left the lecture room, leaving only you and Professor Anderson in the classroom.

You watched with attentive eyes as she walked over to her desk in the front of the room. It was dimly lit and cold over there, casting an angelic glow over her. Professor Anderson was wearing the forest green button-up blouse that you liked so much. It was made out of cotton meaning that sometimes it gets too hot. When she overheats in her clothes she likes to unbutton the top three buttons of her blouse. If one tries hard enough they can get a small glimpse of the bra she's wearing. You feel like a perv for knowing, but the professor isn’t so innocent either. Sometimes you catch her licking her lips as she stares at you, completely forgetting that she’s in a room with hundreds of other people.

As a chemistry major, you need to take many advanced chemistry classes. Since the first day of class, you found yourself staring at Professor Anderson as she taught. She would often lean on her desk in front of the class while her arms were crossed in front of her. She was the type of woman that you fantasized about. Tall, strong, and smart.

At first, it started out as a simple attraction towards her, then it turned into a crush, and now you were completely infatuated with her. You felt like you struck gold when she was appointed to be your advisor.

You get up from your chair and walk over to Professor Anderson’s desk. She looks up at you through her half-moon glasses. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly. She prefers to wear her hair in a braid, but on rare occasions, she will wear it down, just the way you like it.

“Come pull up a chair. We have some things to go over,” Professor Anderson said as she pulled out her calendar.

You dragged a chair from the corner and placed it next to her. Now that you were just inches away from her, you could smell the keynotes of her perfume. Black cherry, tonka bean, and almond. You inhaled the scent through your nose and exhaled. She smelled good enough to eat.

Professor Anderson flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other, giving you a good view of her neck. God, how you wished you were a vampire right now so you could sink your teeth into her perfect neck. You wanted to consume her, mind, body, and soul. Maybe that was a little violent, but it was true.

You were sitting so close to her that if you extended your pinky just a little bit you would be touching her.

“So, what is it you wanted to go over?” you squeaked. You hate how pathetic you sound every time you speak with her. Oh, how you wished you could exhibit the confidence some lesbians had in television and movies.

At least your birthday is coming soon. It was next Friday, the perfect day for it to fall on. After two hours of classes, you would return to your shoebox of an apartment and watch a stupid rom-com while you drank boxed wine. Now that sounded like the perfect way to spend your twenty-second birthday.

“You have a very busy week ahead of you. On Monday you have a GSA meeting to go to, the Tuesday there is an event you need to set up for, Wednesday there’s a peer counseling session you need to over see, on Thursday there’s a short film screening that you need to make an appearance at, and on Friday there’s an alumni meeting that you need to attend.” Professor Anderson took a deep breath in to catch her breath after talking for so long.

Your eyes widened with horror. No, you couldn’t spend your birthday in a stupid meeting. “Professor, I don’t think I can make it to the meeting on Friday. It’s my birthday.”

“Friday is your only mandatory day. I’m sorry but you have to go.” Professor Anderson put her hand on your upper thigh and squeezed it. She must have realized what she had done because she quickly took her hand off our thigh and cleared her throat.

You let out a small sigh of frustration and played with the sleeve of the top you were wearing. You weren’t going to complain. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful in front of your professor.

“I’ll be there, Professor,” you assured her.

“Do me a favor. When it’s just the two of us, call me Abby.”

Abby, short for Abigail. A name of Hebrew origin deeply intertwined with a figure of great beauty and intellect.

“That’s a beautiful name,” you gave her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. You were still a little disappointed about not having your birthday off, but this is what you get for running for class president.

You dismissed yourself and began the trek from your college campus to your apartment. Leaves were falling and trees that still had their coverings began to change color. The wind rustled and shook the naked branches of trees. The sun was setting, and the streetlights were about to turn on.

You hugged yourself tight as you walked against the wind. You kept licking your lips as you walked, silently cursing yourself for not bringing Vaseline with you.

You reached into your bag to search for the keys to your apartment. You unlocked the door and dropped your things on the floor. You replaced your day clothes with your pajamas and got into bed, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You stayed up all night thinking about a certain blonde-haired professor that looked like a dream.

— — — — — —

The alumni meeting was in full swing. Men and Women in their forties and fifties mixing and mingling with each other. The room smelled of expensive perfume and cologne, no doubt it was from the amount of money most of the alumni went on to make. Most of them are very successful doctors, engineers, scientists, CEOs, tech pioneers, and entertainment executives. The rest of them peaked in college and have thousands of dollars in debt.

You stood at the back of the auditorium smiling once in a while at alumni who caught your eye. So far, you haven’t done anything. The most you did was direct a lost man who needed to use the restroom. When you told him that the restrooms were in the other hall he mumbled something under his breath. It went along the lines of things sure have changed since I went here. You didn’t have it in your heart to tell him that the restrooms have always been down that hall.

You silently cursed Abby for making you attend this meeting. You could have been at home celebrating your birthday, but instead, you had to stand in the back of a stuffy room with people way older than you.

The latest Abby could have done was attend the meeting. Could you even call this a meeting?

A man who looked like he was in his late sixties stepped on the stage in the front of the room. He tapped the mic three times and spoke into it. His voice was raspy, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the entire Harvard community, I welcome you back to your alma mater.” Everyone in the room began to clap. The sound was overwhelming. The man on stage began speaking again. “Now, I would like to welcome one of our best professors to the stage. She is a Harvard graduate herself and now teaches chemistry in the Department Of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Professor Abigail Anderson.”

Abby stepped out in a black jumpsuit and red Louboutins. Her hair fell down in beautiful waves and grazed her open back. She looked like a dream up on that stage.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” her eyes began to scan the crowd and once they fell upon yours she smiled and began speaking again, “I am here tonight to reward all of you for your kind and generous donations. All of you will be rewarded with your own monument in the botanical gardens.” The alumni began to clap and cheer.

Is this why you needed to be here? To watch some rich people pay their way to the top?

You pushed your way through the sea of older people and made your way outside. Autumn in Massachusetts was fairly cold, but winter was colder and harsher. You hugged yourself in hopes that your own body heat would warm you up as you began walking in the direction of your apartment. This was your first time as class president leaving a function early. There was no reason for you to be there.

“Where are you going?” Abby asked from the doorway of the auditorium.

You huffed, causing you to see your breath in the cold air, “I’m going home.”

Abby ran up after you, “As senior class president it is your duty to be here. As your advisor, I will not tolerate your attitude.”

You stopped walking, “There’s no reason for me to be there. Either this is a ploy for the room to look packed or you really hate me. There are other ways I would like to spend my twenty-second birthday and being in a room with Harvard alumni is not one of them.”

“Listen to me,” she said your name in a tone that can only be described as stern. You could have melted from how much your skin heated up, but you kept your composure. “I understand that it’s your birthday, but I need you to go back there and mingle with people for a little bit.”

You inhaled the cold autumn air through your nose and exhaled. “Fine,” you said flatly.

“Good,” Abby’s cherry red lips stretched into a smile at your agreement. “By the way, I have a surprise for you in my classroom. You’ll have to wait till later to open it though.” Abby winked before returning to the auditorium.

You followed her back into the auditorium. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. You returned to your place in the back of the room. You took a sip of the water that was on the refreshment table in the front of the room. You wanted to stay sober enough for whatever Abby had in the classroom.

— — — — — —

The auditorium was mostly empty. The alumni have returned to their accommodations for the night. The only people that were left were you, Abby, and the janitorial staff.

Abby beckoned you to follow her with her hand. The two of you walked side by side to her classroom. You were at a respectable distance so as to not cause suspicion, but you wished you could be closer to her. You wanted to feel her skin on yours.

The two of you reached her classroom a few minutes later. It was cold in her classroom, if not colder than outside.

Abby lit two vanilla-scented candles instead of turning on the lights. The flames bounced off the walls of the classroom causing it to cast an angelic glow over the both of you.

Abby walked over to her desk and grabbed a small box from her drawer. “Happy birthday,” she said as she handed you the box.

Inside was a silver necklace with your first initial. “Oh, Abby. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your words were all over the place and all of a sudden you felt bad for the way you treated her earlier.

“It’s no problem. Here, let me help you put it on,” she volunteered. She held the necklace in between her fingers and slid it around your neck. The cold metal kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked at Abby over your shoulder and gave her a soft smile. When your eyes met her, that's when you realized that her eyes were focused on your lips. “Abby?” you whispered. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. You gave her a soft nod and she kissed you. Years worth of pent-up emotions came down to this. Her kissing you in the spur of the moment.

You immediately returned the kiss, your lips meeting hers with the same amount of fervor. Your hands tangled into the long strands of her hair. Abby tasted just like cherries, sweet and a little tart. Now that you’ve had a taste of her you wouldn’t be able to get it out of your mind.

Abby broke the kiss, giving you a few moments to catch your breath. You were high with desire for your professor. “Do you want this?” she asked. Abby wanted to make sure that you were one hundred percent on board with this before you went any further.

You nodded your head and Abby asked. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathed. You were surprised at your ability to form words at the present moment.

Once she had your verbal consent she attacked your lips once more. This time she allowed her hands to glide up and down your body. Her hands explored every inch and curve of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Remnants of her red lipstick painted your skin along the way.

You were getting bored of the teasing so you guided her hands under the top you were wearing, giving her permission to take it off. The rest of your clothes are soon to follow. Now, you’re left with nothing on but your necklace as Abby guides you to lie down on her desk. It’s cold and hard, but that’s the least of your worries when you have a naked Abby Anderson hovering on top of you.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this properly, but I couldn’t wait,” Abby whispers into your skin as she leaves trails of wet kisses on your skin.

Abby’s trail eventually leads to where you need her the most. Your sex is exposed to the cold air of her classroom. Her hands latch onto the fat of your thighs as she trails kisses on the inside of your thighs. It was one of the most erotic sights you’ve ever seen. Abby was down there, her hair grazing her naked skin, the glow of the candles making her look like a goddess.

Abby licks up and down your slit, getting you nice and wet for her fingers. Your thighs twitched, not being used to the feeling of getting eaten out, but Abby kept them apart with her hands. She continued massaging your clit with her tongue. She was using methodical strokes. Up and down and side to side were her favorites.

She inserted one finger in first, getting you used to her size. Her fingers were thick so it took a few thrusts for you to finally feel ready for another. Her fingers slid in and out of your slick hole as she continued sucking your clit.

You were close. You could feel your orgasm pooling in your lower stomach. “Abby,” you breathed, “I’m close.”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.”

And without further warning you came, your juices painting her face Abby helped you through your orgasm, stroking your clit a few times for good measure.

It took both of you a few moments to collect your breath. Abby then got a towel that she had in her desk and cleaned you up. She proceeds to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

Abby let out a laugh of delight, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” Your forehead scrunched up in confusion, “Why?”

Abby then proceeded to compliment you more times than you can count. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was growing on your face. This was the best birthday celebration a girl could ask for.

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

Let's pretend that was good!

[periwinklemoonlight]

desperate for a minute in the light ⋆ boatem knights au

my third short story set in bee @applestruda 's boatem knights au and canon to the plot written by zera @hopepetal !! this is a big one!

cw: death, graphic injury, body horror

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

⋆⋆⋆

It all was a bit of a blur. Pearl wasn’t sure if she could recount how exactly she had stumbled across the ancient temple in her journey, if she was honest. She had just been wandering around the forest on the outskirts of camp, and maybe travelled a bit too far in when she’d broken off from the others. She was sure that she would’ve seen a structure as big as this one earlier, though. Or that someone else had seen it, at least. The thing practically towered over the treetops around it.

Pearl tiptoed around fallen tree branches, fluttering her wings curiously. The structure sat in the middle of a small clearing, lush with tall grass and decorated with small, vibrant purple flowers. They were in sharp contrast to their surroundings, a stark colour among greens and yellows. She made a mental note to remember to pick a few from their stems when she was on her way back. There was a slightly older girl in her flock that she knew had garnered a great interest in botany recently, and Pearl had thought it a good idea to ask her to identify the flora. She’d also found herself rather interested in plants as of late, though she was always most enamoured with those that matched the lustrous gold colour of her wings. 

There was a small path of scattered rocks leading up to the entrance of the temple, barely visible between the blades of grass that hiked up to her waist. The Sun was high in the sky, and at just the right angle for the building to now be casting an ominous shadow over her as she approached ever closer. Its intimidating stature did not deter her; Pearl stepped deeper into the darkness.

It was extraordinarily odd, she had decided, that something like this had been here for what she presumed had to be centuries, if not millennia, and not a single person had ever mentioned it. It was a tall thing, to be sure, although as she looked closer she saw it did not seem to actually be very large beyond its generous entrance. It appeared to Pearl as more of a facade, as if the idea of a structure was all that remained. She wondered what the need for such a building may once have been before time and disrepair had taken hold of it and its architects.

Speculation aside, it was in a terrible state to be sure, with massive chunks of rock missing and an assortment of unidentifiable vines and mosses nearly entirely encompassing what was left. They seemed to crawl in between the cracks of stone and twist into each other like knots. Frail-looking columns teeming with fractures were all that remained to hold it all in place among crumbling walls, though evidently not without much difficulty. All things considered, it was a miracle it was still standing. 

The absolute disarray the structure was in made it all the more intriguing that a crescent moon symbol at its forefront was still completely intact, and subsequently, all the more imperative for Pearl to investigate. Or at least, that was how she had reasoned it out in her mind. 

Pearl crossed the threshold inside. 

She wasn’t expecting to find anything of value inside the old temple when she had entered, much less the prettiest thing she had ever laid eyes upon. There, resting on a crumbling pedestal at the other end of the temple was a beautiful silver crown, adorned with twinkling jewels and iridescent pearls. All her other curiosities were instantly thrown away the moment she saw it. It was magnetic: how she was instantly drawn to the item, and utterly sure that her finding it was no mistake. 

Sweet sunlight poured into the temple through half shattered stained glass windows, coating the crown in an alluringly bright glint that made Pearl’s heart swell with excitement. It was perfect. Her flock mates would come back from their search and see her wearing the gorgeous object, shinier than anything any of them had ever seen before, and be unable to resist showering her with praise for her expert find. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t already deeply accustomed to it, though. Being her flock’s golden girl had its perks, undoubtedly, especially in terms of popularity among the other children. The meticulously woven crown of sunflowers in her hair said as much. 

Something dark began to build in her as she approached it, however. The closer she got to the object, the more she could swear she smelled something rotting. Every eager step she took was soon punctuated by a feeling of dread that was quickly overtaking the initial exhilaration. Still, she persisted. She couldn’t give up the opportunity of retrieving the crown, couldn't shake off the feeling that something about it was just so right. Something so meant for her, and her alone. 

Pearl held her breath as she reached the final steps, though at that point she couldn’t tell whether it was in anticipation or to momentarily relieve herself of the nauseating smell that exuded from every crack in the stone and permeated all her senses. It was wholeheartedly disgusting, but Pearl had never been one to flinch at a little muck. The crown was just as beautiful up close, every jewel shining in a vibrant technicolour that by all accounts should have been impossible. She wanted nothing more than to take it for herself, place it upon her head and declare her rightful place as queen of this old dilapidated structure. 

She reached out to grab it, and gasped in shock at the intense burning sensation that instantly spread from the metal’s surface to her fingertips. Then, it all went dark. Though it was midday, the light that had been streaming into the temple vanished at once, as if someone had forcefully put the Sun to rest and brought upon night. The only light now was a faint, ghoulish glow emitting from the crown as it continued to singe her fingers. 

Pearl screamed in pain, though it only fell on the deaf ears of the dark. The sound reverberated around the temple walls, surrounding her in a claustrophobic cacophony of her own agony as the smell of flesh burning filled the air.

She watched in frozen horror as the skin on her fingers began to melt and rot before her eyes. Flesh bubbled and sloughed off as the burning spread down her palm, then her arm, until it creeped into her shoulder and threatened to seep into her wings. Pearl cried out again, bony fingers trembling uncontrollably as the rot began to trace her spine. Chills wracked exposed bone as warm blood ran down her back. Her feathers withered into ash as quickly as hair catching flame. As the pain began to paralyze her body entirely, Pearl thought, while she still had the capacity to think, anyone, anything, please, help me.

Her vision began to fizzle out entirely, and what was left of her collapsed on the temple floor as she finally let go of the wretched item, fingers fully limp. It was far too late, though. Seconds, maybe minutes, maybe years of agony seared through her body as she lay helpless, the crown fallen somewhere just out of reach. And then, it all stopped. 

Pearl wasn’t anywhere, and she was everywhere. 

A new type of darkness encapsulated her, this one deeper, more primordial than the first. No, not the absence of light as it had once been, but rather the essence of darkness itself. Although she knew it was dark, she could not see. No senses passed through her as she drifted meaninglessly, unsure if she was falling or rising or even moving at all. 

It was peaceful, yes. It couldn’t be anything but. Nothing around her, nothing against her, nothing for her, she was nothing just the same. All that was left was a deep, insurmountable emptiness. The emptiness that held the fabric of the universe together, the negative space to fill the gaps to keep it all from falling apart at the seams. Pearl might have felt fear, being surrounded by nothing and everything, if she had still been capable of anything at all.

Pearl spent forever in the silent nothingness, and no time at all had passed when she first heard it. A faint single tone, low but not deep, floated around her. Pearl clung onto the sensation desperately, trying to grasp at it, take it for herself and hold it tight to her chest. Instead, she followed it as it slowly became louder, more solid. The pitch increased, then dropped and mellowed out in the middle once more. The melody was the brightest thing she had ever seen in a long, long time. 

She followed its lead, doing something akin to opening her mouth to sing along, wanting to join this light in its song. She did not, of course. She had no mouth to sing with, and no voice to produce noise. She was just Pearl. Still, she chased the tone, which had since then evolved into a simple melody, repeating itself patiently, taking care to never get ahead of itself or change its pace. The melody had all the time in the world. It knew Pearl did, too. 

She felt herself be guided by the song, mirroring its tones with her movements. When it dipped, she dived down with it. When it rose, she soared. The vocalisations carried her like a current, weaving Pearl through its highs and lows. 

And then, all at once, nothing was dark or ever had been dark. A brightness enveloped her, so purely light that darkness would never dare step close to it, lest it cease to exist entirely. It knew better. The melody had evolved too, the chiming tones teetering on the edge of resembling words. Pearl could not make them out. 

Instead, she allowed the song to engulf her as well, feeling two blankets of light drape across something that could have been her back. Gently, the song washed over her and flowed like a lullaby, rendering her into something akin to sleep. Suddenly, after spending eternity in absence, she was something again. The light became brighter, heavier, thicker, until it was no longer encasing her. It was her.

The light was as bright as it ever could be, and suddenly it was dark again.

And cold. And wet. And sticky. And gross. Pearl opened her eyes, and found herself exactly where she’d ought to have been. Collapsed before the pedestal, yet bathed in the same warm light of midday. Except, something was very, very wrong. She lifted herself weakly off the temple floor onto her elbows, finding her hands covered in a black sludgy substance. Brown, wilted petals and leaves lay where her head had been. Pearl’s vision blurred and spun, and she blinked it away as best as she could, trying to orient herself to having a body again. 

She wiped the sludge off her hand on something white and soft, a fuzzy substance resting gently underneath her as if it had broken her fall all this time. Its edges appeared torn and frayed. She attempted to raise herself up further, and was met with an intense ache in her back that caused her to double over again in pain. She inhaled sharply — she was breathing, she could breathe— and tried again, this time successfully balancing onto her knees. 

She made a half hearted attempt to flutter her wings, feeling panic start to surge through her when they felt wrong. Lighter. The familiar weight of hollow bones and strong muscle on Pearl’s back was replaced with something featherlight and delicate, though she would bet that whatever was there wasn’t feathers at all. 

With trembling hands, Pearl reached up over her ear to feel the texture of the small wings that resided there, the panic bubbling inside her as she felt nothing but smooth skin and clumps of wet hair where soft feathers should be. No, no, no. 

Her hand traveled higher, threading through her hair and stopping at her forehead. No, that wasn’t right. Her hand was stopped. By an antenna, sticking out of her head just where her bangs began. She grasped it, and promptly cried out in pain at just how sensitive it was, her nerves on fire. And then it hit her. She was feeling what it felt. It was a part of her. 

There, sitting covered in sludge-like black goo and on top of a silk cocoon, at the crest of a worn down temple in the middle of nowhere, Pearl screamed. And this time, it was heard.

She had only just managed to get herself to stand on her own two feet again when she heard twigs snapping and familiar voices chattering nervously, getting closer. Pearl balanced herself with great difficulty, the lightness on her back still disorienting. Slowly, achingly, she stepped forwards off of the silk and onto the cold, gritty temple floor once more. 

“Pearl?” an approaching voice called out, stretching out her name. “Where are you? Are you okay?” Pearl opened her mouth to speak and screamed again as black sludge poured out and trailed down her chin, evidently not yet all spilled on the floor behind her. The noise alerted her flockmates, though, and the footsteps drawing near increased in speed tenfold as she spat out the rest of the sludge, feeling utterly disgusted. 

“Pearl!” they called again. “Are you in here?” A flurry of voices accompanied the cry, getting closer and closer until Pearl could finally see them approaching her. The leader of the search party, a girl with dandelion coloured wings, was the first to enter the temple, and the first to see her. The others quickly appeared at her sides as the girl cried out in shock, clasping her hands over her mouth and stumbling backwards. The rest of the search party followed suit similarly, gasping and yelling as they laid eyes on her. 

Panic quickly returned to light Pearl’s nerves ablaze and replace the small shred of hope that had been building when she’d first heard them approach. She tried to speak again once more and found that her throat, terribly dry despite being choked with sludge moments ago, could only produce a croak that tore into her vocal cords like shards of glass. Tears formed in her eyes as another drop of sludge fell to the floor in front of her. She could see on their terrified faces and through their hushed whispers to each other that she had only moments to plead her case.

Desperately, Pearl gestured behind her where she knew the silver crown had dropped from her hand, unsure what she expected to happen but hoping they would notice it nonetheless. Something, anything. Instead, what she said was a conveniently placed pile of ash that just so happened to create a perfect ring shape. Pearl wailed in frustration, the sensation ripping through her throat. 

“Oh my void, she’s a monster!” one of her flockmates, a girl about her age with pretty amber wings, shrieked through tears as she clung to her friend. As soon as Pearl took a single step forward, she knew it was over. The other girls all screamed and ran as fast as their feet could take them out of the temple, each clamouring to be the first to escape. 

On wobbly legs, Pearl followed them, chasing just as desperately she did that melody in the darkness. She couldn’t let her hope run away from her. 

One of the slower girls dared to look back and screeched to the others, “She’s following us!” Those who had exited the temple now scrambled to take flight, pausing only to pull the last of their flockmates along with them into the sky. They had already risen high into the sky by the time Pearl made it out, the tall grass beneath them entirely trampled in their haste. Purple flowers lay pathetically: half-lodged in dirt, disregarded. Pearl’s eyes darted upwards at her fair-weather friends and she grit her teeth, determined to fly after them despite her badly aching body.

Pearl jumped and flapped her thin wings uselessly, embarrassingly unacquainted with the new protrusions on her back. She managed to hover in the air for only a moment before she came crashing down onto herself, her already bruised limbs now meeting solid ground. She didn’t try to get up again. 

Instead, Pearl lay there in the dirt, shivering and crying unabashedly into her arms as her flitty wings twitched, unable to do anything as her flockmates abandoned her as quickly as they’d found her. When she’d finally mustered up the resolve to lift her head up, she was greeted with a single amber feather that had fallen just inches away from her.

⋆⋆⋆

Pearl had gone silent in front of Grian, her words now replaced with shaky breaths and sniffles. He finally let go of her hair and let it fall against her back, having finished braiding it long ago. 

“Pearl?” He asked gently. “Are you okay?” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he used the opportunity to slide himself beside her. Soft blankets crumpled around him. A simple glance revealed what he already knew: quiet tears were streaming down her face. She turned her head away from him to wipe them, suddenly aware he could see them now. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Pearl breathed. She faced him again, unable to hide the smile that creeped up into her cheeks when she saw his silly worried expression. “Honest.”

“Are you sure? We can stop now if you want-”

“Griba,” Pearl interrupted. “I want to tell you. I don’t think there’s anyone on this planet who deserves to know more than you. Will you let me do that?” Grian’s shoulders relaxed.

“Of course, yeah.” He looked sheepish. “Sorry.” Pearl elbowed him playfully.

“It’s alright, mate. Really. It’s been on my mind for a while now.”

“So… what happened next?” Grian asked. Pearl took a breath before continuing.

“Well, for starters, I had to get all that muck off me. So I took a little dip in the nearest river. I don’t blame them for not recognizing me at first, now. It stained my hair and clothes black for a while. I still looked like a completely different person by the time I went back to camp.”

“You went back?”

Pearl laughed. “What choice did I have? There was no place for me there anymore, I knew that, but there wasn’t exactly a place for me anywhere else, either. So I went back. They… I’m not quite sure they knew what to do with me. They tolerated me, which was all I could have ever asked for at that point. Well. Pretended to tolerate me. But that was all I needed. I could tell as soon as I got there that everyone already knew everything they needed to. How the other kids had found me, that I was a… moth.” She paused for a moment, sniffling again.

“Everyone was gathering up to leave camp. By the time I got there, they’d already begun to pack their things, so I did the same. We always travelled light, of course, but I can’t tell you how happy I was to finally get myself a change of clothes. I was wearing my favourite dress that day, you know? Green, with lovely droopy shoulders and little bits of gold to match my wings. And it was ruined, covered in nasty muck and drenched in river water, just like the rest of me. I think I burned it. The night they all left.” 

Grian tilted his head to the side, trying not to intrude on her space but wanting to be closer nonetheless. He thought of the choice he had made all those years ago, the look on his little brother’s face when it happened. A hand grasped tightly in his own, wings wrapped even tighter. He imagined Pearl in his place. To be loved one minute and left behind all the same. “You didn’t have any family in your flock?” As soon as the question left his lips, he regretted it.

Pearl winced, her face scrunching up. Another tear dropped down her cheek. “I did.” 

Grian looked as though he was about to give her a million apologies, but instead, he silently wrapped his wing around her, brushing his feathers against her shoulder as if to say, I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.

Pearl continued. “I did try to leave with them, don’t get me wrong. By then, I had actually figured out how to fly a little with these things.” She spread her wings out for a moment before flattening them out again. 

“But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t keep up with them normally, not by a long shot, and especially not in the middle of a storm like the one that was raging that night. I would have never admitted it to myself back then, but I’m certain now that they left when they did very much on purpose. They wanted to make sure there was no way I could follow. And they were right, I couldn’t. I did make it farther than I thought I would’ve, higher too actually, but void, was the wind strong. I was tumblin’ around like a leaf in the air trying to keep up. I tried for a good long while until I just couldn’t anymore. And then I fell.” Grian pressed his lips together, his mind suddenly conjuring up another familiar image. Yellow feathers stained red, caught on tree branches and littered in the grass below. He knew all too well the consequences of an avian falling. 

“I was one of the lucky ones, I guess you could say. My wings, flimsy as they were,  — are  —, were okay for the most part. It was my leg that took the blow the hardest. The break was pretty bad, I won’t lie to you. It was only another stroke of luck that saved me. There was a village nearby, barely visible from wherever I’d landed. But it was there. So, one more time, I chased it. I propped myself up on my good leg as best I could, and I was going to drag myself over to that darn village if it was the last thing I did.” Inexplicably to Grian, she giggled after she spoke. His expression said it all, and Pearl laughed again.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just thinking about it. I must’ve been quite a sight to those poor village folk! Covered in mud, leg twisted all the wrong way, soaking wet in the storm! I think that was the beginning of my whole ‘wet cat’ shtick, honestly.”

“Pearl, you could’ve died, I don’t think-” Grian began.

“I know I could’ve died!” she squawked, throwing her hands up. “But it just, I don’t know, it didn’t really scare me anymore. I didn’t want to die, mind you, but I had just kinda thought, well, I was going to live, or I wasn’t. Simple as that. And hey! Look at me now! I’m still kickin’, aren’t I?” 

Grian couldn’t imagine it. All his life, above all else, he had been determined to survive. There wasn’t any other option. He'd tell himself he would live to see the Sun rise another day, and somehow, he would. Death was not something to come to terms with, shake hands with, tell I’ll see you later. It was something to fend off, teeth and soul bared, and triumph against despite all odds. There was simply too much life had to offer to him, and he would be a fool to refuse it. 

“That you are, Pearl,” he smiled, poking her with his knee. Pearl returned the favour with an exaggerated kick to his shin with the leg she’d been swinging back and forth off the edge of her bed. Grian yelped dramatically.

“And don’t you forget it! Where was I? Oh, yes yes, the village. Well, I did make it over there in the end.” Pearl looked wistful. Grian waited patiently for her to continue again, but the moment never came. After a good long while, he spoke.

“...And then?” He asked.

“And then?” Pearl slinked her braid over her shoulder. It really was nicely done, each strand placed with clear care. “And then I met you, doofus. And Jimmy. And it was the best darn thing to ever happen to me.”

[yellow-berrys]

dote on me | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: you are completely oblivious to the way sirius black dotes on you, and think that the way you're infatuated with him is completely one-sided. but he begs to differ.

warnings: mentions of a bad childhood, mentions of smoking, drinking and illicit substances

navigation | masterlist 

Sirius Black makes you nervous and he darn well knows that. He uses those consuming grey eyes of his, filled with enigmatic interest, to his advantage. He only needs to focus them on you for a considerate amount of time for you to start burning up like a wildfire. And his nose, it’s pointed and perfect, leaving you wondering just how unfair life can be. His cheekbones are high and structured, light hitting them at glorious angles. His lips are devoid of much red. They’re this cool plum colour that looks like it’s lip gloss all the time but really isn’t. His skin is framed by smooth black hair, and the layers in his haircut are so pretty it prompted every other guy in his life to get the same one. It drives you mad that he was born with this face and that hair. It’s simply unjustified. 

It would be fine if he was just a pretty face. But it’s not. It’s simply unacceptable just how nice he is. Sometimes you wish he isn’t a gentleman and that all the rumours about him being a player with a million tattoos were true, because you’re envious and adoring of him. 

And like anyone, he definitely has a vice. People think it’s cigarettes for him but he definitely does not smoke. And he doesn’t drink. At parties, he’s cradling a cautiously poured glass of lemonade instead. And he definitely doesn’t do drugs, because he hangs around Remus Lupin and there’s no way he would be allowed to if he did. Remus is a little sickly sometimes, and his body is very sensitive. 

He likes to say his vice is chasing things he’ll never have. Like his childhood. He thinks he has regained that. Now, maybe it’s some sort of romance. All his life he’s been mooned over. People love him, mostly because he’s beautiful, and they offer him burning hot love all the time. People think he’s one for angsty, fiery passion. But Sirius thinks that fires never last, they’re too easy to disturb and taint everything with the unpleasant smell of smoke. James once did one of his stupid Women’s Weekly quizzes on him, the one with the “Tell me your favourite colour, and it’ll tell you what other people think of you, tell me your favourite animal…” questions. Sirius had laughed, thrown his head back and answered in a complete stupor. “Black, maroon if black isn’t an answer, dog…” James had asked him what his favourite body of water was and Sirius had said “A lake.”

He had spent summers of his broken youth dipping his toes into the pretty lake by his family’s home in France, escaping from the whirlwind world inside the walls of Walburga and Orion’s chateau. It didn’t make him cry more when he cried, because it would welcome the tears into the gently flowing water. 

James had smiled, “Why?”

Sirius had told him, “It’s gentle, relaxing, peaceful. The one in France was so enveloping and soft. I felt safe there.”

“Chateau?”

“Yep. I used to go out there as a little boy. It was so quiet out there and it felt like heaven, so fluid and open.”

“Hm,” James had studied the words underneath, squinting his eyes, “Ooh, that’s how you feel about love. Never knew you were the romantic type, Pads.”

He had laughed. 

James had asked you too. You had giggled, “Did you steal Lily’s Women’s Weekly again?”

He grumbled, “Not again.”

“I like ponds with little koi fish swimming in them.”

“Why?”

“It’s calm in a joyful way. It’s safe and there’s always rays of golden sun and it feels so delightful and promising. Lucky too, I guess. Oh! And it’s so pretty by a koi fish pond.”

James had grinned and left promptly. 

Sirius thought it was strange when he had first met you. He hadn’t ever had these feelings before, and it took years for him to shove them aside and focus on his studies, friends and mischief-making. But you were affiliated with Marlene, you were always around in some way. You and him became friends and Sirius felt those feelings resurface again. 

He groans into his hands as he runs it across his face. 

“Why?!” he asks Lily, who is watching amusedly. 

“I’m sure you can’t help it,” she says primly, “But what if you could help it?”

He looks at her inquisitively. 

“What if you acted on these feelings? It isn’t half-bad of an idea. You’re grown up, Sirius, and if you still like her that means it’s real.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“What if bad things happen?”

“What’s the worst that could?”

“Death.”

“You’re already halfway there,” she rolls her eyes, “Give it a shot, maybe love will make you less sad.”

“I’m not sad!”

“Whatever, start loving, Sirius.”

She picks up her Women’s Weekly magazine and starts reading. “Ooh, there’s this quiz-”

Sirius groans. 

–

“Hey darling,” Sirius strides into your apartment. Good start, he thinks. 

You’re sprawled on the couch, grinning as you FaceTime Marlene and Dorcas. When you see him, you look up, surprised. 

“Marlene’s in Vegas,” you say, “Didn’t she tell you?”

Marlene did tell Sirius, and even offered that he come with her and Dorcas.

You flip the camera to Sirius, and even in blurry, low quality, Facetime video he’s still very handsome. 

Marlene screams, “What is that monster doing in my apartment?”

You grin, “Marls, he was looking for you.”

“Actually,” Sirius tilts his head, and if you weren’t so thick you might see the smitten look in his eyes, “I’m here for you.” 

You frown, “For taxes? It’s only the start of the month. Besides, the IRS will never tail you, you’re too rich for that.”

“Can’t I spend time with you, pretty girl?”

It’s flattering, but it seems too abrupt to be genuine. You brush it off with a laugh.

“Get a load of you,” you roll your eyes, “What do you need?”

“I need you,” he attempts and the confession, although seeming flirtatious and joking, brings a smile to your face. 

Marlene chortles, “Guys- I-I-I-I’m…cutt-ing…ou-ou-ou-t.” She fakes it and it’s obvious, but the FaceTime ends and Sirius sits opposite you now. He’s pretty even at seven in the evening and it makes you very nervous. 

You stand up, uneased, and make towards your bedroom. 

“Where are you going?”

“Oh,” you gesture to an old pile of clothes, “Marlene cleaned her wardrobe out before she left, so I decided to follow suit so then we can donate them.”

“Why’re you leaving me?” he pouts. 

“You want to…stay?” 

You’re so puzzled and your heart is beating far too fast for your liking. It goes pitter patter like the rain outside. It’s exhausting. The feeling might be addictive, like a good old fashioned crush, but it’s always playing with you. It feels avaricious to love someone out of your league, worth more than you have ever been.

His sudden showering of affections and doting on you, you think, is because he’s lonely. He doesn’t live with James anymore. You empathise with him, but only because you think you’ll know what that feels like in a month when Dorcas and Marlene move in together. But it really isn’t. Sirius actually thinks that you deserve all the heavy-handed loving in the world, and he always has. His apprehension towards him being the person to do the loving is slowly fading away as he sees the shy smile on your face. 

“If you’ll have me.”

And you turn your head around so he doesn’t see you blush, “Okay, I’ve been meaning to get a second opinion. Whenever I do this I do it with Marlene.” 

You try things on by the mirror in your bedroom, instructing Sirius to look away when needed. He isn’t much of a help at all, because he thinks you look good in everything. Which is just certainly not true. 

On a whim, he suggests that because he isn’t aiding you successfully, you should help him on his own closet. In the end, you wind up in his apartment. 

Sirius has never boasted about what he has at all, mainly because he isn’t proud of it. By what unethical means his trust fund has come from, he doesn’t even want to know, but he’s grateful for it. You’ve only ever seen his living room, kitchen and his small powder room, and they’re lavish and capacious to no ends. Everything subtly screams wealth and luxury. His bedroom is no different. A large bed sits in the middle, framed by expensive paintings. There’s a well made ebony table in the corner, spotless and tidy. The two armchairs in the room are, whilst clearly faux-leather, intricate and of the sort of taste cultivated only by time. A copy of the original Call of the Wild sits on a table. A bookshelf is on one side of the room, grey, stretching from the floor to ceiling. You run your fingers along the spines of the book. They’re all special editions. A simple chandelier (what an oxymoron) dangles in the middle of the room, and you find the ceiling is gilded with plaster and gold. Pictures of friends and family adorn the white walls. 

His walk in closet is humongous. You gasp as he opens the door. It’s double the size of your living room. The clothes are organised by colour, style and season and there’s a considerable lack of colour. In the middle sits an accessory table, with dozens of gold watches and silver necklaces. Delicate rings and bracelets all are displayed. A glass cabinet with bottles of cologne and perfume stands next to it. The only ones you can recognise is something that resembles the Ralph Lauren logo and Dior, and then again it isn’t even the one Johnny Depp uses.

He smiles sheepishly, ashamed that he has such nice things, “I did use my own money on this. Euphemia helped me fix it up.”

“It’s beautiful, Sirius,” you’re almost afraid to touch anything. You don’t think you belong in such a gorgeous world. You don’t think you deserve it. 

Sirius beams at you, “Guess there’s not a difference between it and you, then.”

Your face warms. Sirius is already taking clothes off the racks, whilst you stand awkwardly. He’s chatting, talking about where the clothes came from and who gave them to him and why he likes it so much. Your shoulders relax and you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. So far he’s through all the things he deems necessary for him to live. 

“And this jumper,” he holds up a pristine Ecru crewneck, offering it to you, “Is from when I went to visit Machu Picchu with James. When we left, one of the ladies we had been staying with gave us both a handmade jumper.”

You hold the fabric delicately in your hands. 

“It’s alright. It’s just clothes, darling, you can do whatever you like with them.”

He’s so nice it hurts and you grin at him endearingly, “Thanks, Sirius.”

An adoring smile finds its way onto his face as he turns to pick up the next item. You put the sweater in the “KEEP” pile. 

“How did this get here?” he laughs as he pulls out a bright yellow crewneck, with a little emblem etched on the side. Immediately he tugs it on, grinning as he surveys the bright colour in the mirror. 

You’re blushing away because the colour suits him so well and makes him look way softer than he usually does.

He sneaks a glance at you in the mirror, and when he sees your lack of eye contact with him he frowns. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you. 

“Yeah. Yellow looks really nice on you, Sirius.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm. I don’t know, it makes you look…cuddly?”

He doesn’t smirk like you expect him to, but swivels around and smiles at you again. He knows he looks like he loves you. He doesn’t mind. You’re just sitting there, confused at why he’s doing this. It’s weird and sudden and it’s definitely something he would do. 

Maybe this is his new favourite jumper. 

He throws it in the keep pile. You tut disapprovingly and rearrange it gently. Seeing a t-shirt, he takes his own shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. You cover your eyes, not wanting to intrude on his privacy. 

Sirius is midway through putting the shirt on when he laughs. “It’s okay, princess, I didn’t ask you to look away. I don’t mind. Unless you do, then I’ll change over there.”

You peek your eyes at him, and Sirius hopes that he’s not imagining your pupils blown slightly. 

And you didn’t think he could get more perfect, but he is. His muscles are toned and defined, and slightly strained as he slides his shirt on. Gosh, he makes you feel inadequate. He can’t know you want him, so you grin as if you’re unaffected. 

“That’s cute,” you nod. 

And the process repeats. Sometimes he takes off his pants too, leaving him to just his boxers that cling onto him in an ungodly way. 

“Are you done?” you ask, eyes covered tightly by your hand. 

“Yeah.”

Sirius is dressed in a suit, the tenth one tonight, “Do we like this one, or the grey one?”

“I like the way this one fits, but I like the grey colour more. But I think the dull dove blue one was the best because it brings out your eyes.”

Sirius makes a mental note to get the grey one altered. He chucks away some old sleeping tees, and a bunch of band hoodies he doesn’t wear anymore. He also gets rid of one of his expensive sweaters with a cable knit and a button up shirt, a bunch of sweatpants and this hideous sweater vest that his Aunt Thelma gifted him for his 17th birthday. 

He thinks maybe you might like to wear some of the things he has in his wardrobe–Euphemia picks them out with him and she represents a small portion of women. He lugs the bag of clothes to his car, and when he’s back, he sees you cross-legged on an armchair, typing on your phone. 

“Sweetheart, what do I owe you?” he asks. 

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, “For what?” 

You put your phone down on the side table. 

“For helping me?”

“Nothing, Sirius, nothing at all. It’s my pleasure, really.”

“Do you want to take some of my clothes? I have more than enough.”

You look inquisitively at him, “You don’t mind?”

“‘Course not.”

You go home that night with two of his fancy jumpers, he insists, and one big button up shirt, and a bunch of other stuff he is adamant you should take too. You call Lily. Her voice comes out muffled on the other end. 

“Hey Lily!

“Mhm, I’m well, how are you?

“He’s not that bad, I’m sure. You do know he took your Women’s Weekly– 

“I’ve already done that quiz. 

“Right, well, I don’t think Sirius is fine, in his own right.

“No! As in the sad happy fine, not the cute handsome fine.

“Well- no- I- I don’t think he’s not fine- I mean - Okay whatever. Is he alright? He keeps on acting weird.

A long pause. 

“You know something, don’t you, Red? 

“It’s kind of strange. I mean, he offered for me to take one of his- I don’t know, the Ermenegildo Ze-

“Yes, that! One of those jumpers. 

“Are you sure? That’s what he is normally? Isn’t he usually bad-boy cool guy? Not dorky weird compliment giver? 

“Alright, fine. 

“Bye, love you!”

You survey the pile of clothes for any trace of a prank. Nothing. You take out one and inspect it suspiciously. Then, your intrusive thoughts get the better of you and you sniff the material carefully. It smells really nice. You chuck them in the wash just in case Sirius has popped one of his silly prank gadgets into the pockets or beneath the collar. 

The next time you see him, Lily has called you to tell you she and James are going to Vegas to join Marlene and Dorcas. They’re celebrating a championship. She invites you, but you decline, not liking the idea of tailing behind the two couples and intruding on the romantic atmosphere. Sirius is all alone, and Lily tells you to ‘please go and check up on him’.

The apartment seems okay. It’s spotless like it always is, smelling of air freshener and Sirius’ cologne. It doesn’t look like Sirius is going through something rough at all. Sirius might not even be home, so you’re about to leave when you hear music coming from a secluded area of the apartment. You sneak into the corridor and the door is ajar. A beautiful black grand piano stands, Sirius sitting at it, playing the finest tune you’ve ever heard. The sounds reverberate gently through the room, and it’s divine. It’s joyful and skips on merrily. His eyes are closed and his lips are turned up. It makes you think that maybe he’s thinking of someone. 

He stirs a little at the noise and you pull back. He gets up from his chair and peeks his head around the door. You’re wearing his jumper over some sweatpants. It’s so pretty on you, falling oversized. 

He laughs, which brings heat to your cheeks, “Do you want to come in?”

“You’ll let me?” you gasp, “But you don’t even let Dorcas come in, and she’s a cello-ist.”

“You’re special,” he winks and you blush. You must look like a motley of colours- florid and pink. But you don’t mind, he makes everyone nervous and you’re not special, which puts you at ease.

You perch on the cushy chair as he plays a lilting song. You hum, approving, “What’s the song called?”

“Love,” he says and you agree. The song plays like what love feels like. 

It’s so soft, and warm. Combined with Sirius’ lavender and honey cologne, it makes you drowsy. He notices your eyes are barely open, and instead of ending the song, continues to play the same melody over a lighter bass. When your breathing becomes steady, he quietly rises from the piano and scoops you up, knowing it can’t be comfortable to sleep in a chair. He carries you to his own room, where he tucks you into his bed. You’re murmuring unintelligible things. He leaves and continues playing, before Lily calls and he knows he should be in bed, because it’s morning in Las Vegas. Thus, he shuts his piano and drapes a soft velvet across it. He falls onto the couch and listening to Lily’s calming method to waking up, he falls asleep. 

In the morning, you’re in a vaguely familiar room. The sheets are silk and the ceiling is fancier than an art gallery’s. You yawn, stretching. The clock next to you detects the motion and flashes a dim white. Of course it’s an analogue clock, reading 5:00 am. You remember shutting your eyes slowly in the piano room, the news had been playing on the TV earlier. So you had fallen asleep at seven. 10 hours, more than enough. You quickly get up and make the bed. After using his fancy skincare products and brushing your teeth with a spare toothbrush you find packaged up, you hear soft snores coming from the living room. Sirius is there, phone by his side. 

You pout at how much of a gentleman he is, retrieving a blanket and carefully placing it on him. Then you prepare a smoothie, with the fourteen-million ingredients he has in his giant fridge, and leave it in there with a note. But Sirius wakes. He’s always been a light sleeper. 

He leans blearily over the couch, “Sweetheart?”

“Good morning!” you chirp. 

“Why do you have to be so gorgeous at five in the morning?” he slurs. You raise your eyebrows. He’s really always very flirty, and you’re used to it not being genuine by now. He sways out of bed and into the bathroom. You hear the running of a faucet, and sit down on a kitchen chair, checking your phone. Lily has blown it up. 

TO: REDHEAD

REDHEAD 7:31 p.m. sooo, how is he??

REDHEAD 7:43 p.m. hellooooo babes????

REDHEAD 8:00 p.m. are u ok ??

REDHEAD 8:05 p.m. ANSWER ANSWER ANSWER

REDHEAD 9:47 p.m. I’m calling sirius

REDHEAD 10:00 p.m. omg YES GO YOU OMG

5:30 a.m. what

5:30 a.m. he was playing the piano lils and i fell asleep 

REDHEAD 5:31 a.m. ok keep telling urself that <3 i mean has he ever let us sit in when we asked???

5:32 a.m. i told u he was acting strange 

You grin as you see some of the videos she has sent you. One is where James and her and celebrating, him beaming like he always does. She looks madly in love with him. You screenshot and send it to your email so you can print it out later. There’s another of Marlene and Dorcas doing the spaghetti thing at a Michelin star restaurant. They look as if they’re having a wonderful time. It makes you realise that you’re craving something like that too, only not in the wild world of Vegas. You already have something like it, but it’s so one-sided and your heart can’t stand it. You wish someone would just, dote on you. And genuinely, because there’s no way Sirius Black means it. 

You express these feelings to Marlene when she’s back, moving boxes and taping things up. 

“I want to love someone, Marls. Who loves me back, so don’t even say Sirius.”

“He doesn’t act like that around everyone else, you know.”

“He does! Besides, what makes me so special, Marlene? He could have anyone.”

She laughs, “Oh goodness have you got a lot to learn.”

–

Marlene and Dorcas invite you to their housewarming party in their house. They say it’s perfect for a family and they want to start one whilst they’re young. It’s quite a large gathering for a housewarming party, and the inside is buzzing with excitement. You’re talking to some of their colleagues- Alice and her boyfriend Frank on the couch. 

“And we’re planning a trip to Ibiza for next month,” she blinks up at him lovingly and he does the same. It makes you subtly raise your phone as if you’re getting a message and type, before quickly flashing a photo of them whilst they’re gazing into each other’s eyes. 

Sirius spots you grinning away, like you want what Alice and Frank have. He sidles in next to you.

“Hey darling,” he smiles and you smile back, “Hi.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Alice asks. 

“Oh of course! I thought you would already know him,” you put down your drink, “Alice, this is Sirius. Sirius, Alice. Frank, Sirius. Sirius, Frank. They’re planning a trip to Ibiza and were voted Best Couple in high school.” 

They’re both intimidated by Sirius, you can tell, but Sirius smiles, “Nice to meet you Alice and Frank. How long have you been together?”

They cheesily smile at each other, “Seven years and going strong,” Alice flashes her wedding ring. 

Marlene calls you over to the kitchen island, where she is mixing drinks up, “Hey darl!” 

“Sup, Marls.”

“Need a drink?”

“Just pink lemonade,” you hold out your cup. A boy comes around the table, smiling at you. Marlene smirks a little. 

“Y/n, this is CJ. He’s a footballer, and a damn good one.”

You grin, outstretching your hand, “Hi CJ, nice to meet you.”

He shakes it heartily, “Likewise.”

“What team do you play for?”

“Oh, just a local one,” he rubs his neck bashfully, “I’m not that good.” 

CJ, whatever it stands for, is handsome, with bright green eyes and curly brown hair. He’s sweet too and has this shy air around him that’s impossibly good natured. He’s Emmeline’s to-be lover.

“Try me.”

“Liverpool,” he says meekly. 

“Oh, you’re the Cruz Johnson! How’s football for a living?”

“It’s great, actually,” he chuckles, dipping his head to whisper secretly into your ear, “Though this beer is actually some recovery drink, so could be better.”

You laugh. 

He grins as he takes a sip and makes a funny face, “So what do you do?”

You tell him and he nods, “Impressive indeed. How’d you meet Marls here?”

“She and I were classmates! I wore her down eventually, she used to hate friendship.”

“Oh tell me about it. I met her at the football club, where she was playing for the ladies’ team. And the first time the coach tried to congratulate her she just rolled her eyes. He was filthy.”

“Oh?” your eyes are sparkling with mischief. 

“When he dislocated his cheekbone a few weeks later, she told him she could ski on them if she tried. Anyway.”

You purse your lips in amusement, “Am I allowed to laugh at that?”

“He looked like this,” Cruz makes a face and you giggle. 

Sirius is watching this all with a very sour look on his face, feeling very jealous. 

Cruz takes another sip of his drink, “So, who are you here with?”

You’re confused, “No one? I mean, unless you count Marlene, but she’s with Dorcas. And my friend Emmeline too.”

At the mention of Emmeline’s name, his eyes light up, “About her…”

“She’s single and she does like green eyes,” you pull him near the wily, tall Emmeline, who blushes shyly as she sees Cruz, “Besides, I think she has a thing for you. Ever since, you know, you crashed into her and spilled your coffee on her favourite shirt,” you joke. 

He blushes, “Gosh, you still remember that? Will you send me the name of the shirt so I can buy her five more? I know I already replaced hers but I still feel so bad.”

“Awh. That’s very nice of you, Cruz. Here,” you hand him your phone, “What’s your number?”

Sirius is watching you, hands tense around his cup. He decides to go up to you. 

“Hey darling,” he says lowly into your ear, making you jump and your cheeks heat up.

“Sirius!” you berate. Cruz is watching with a knowing smile as he hands your phone back. You quickly text him, “Okay, sent it.”

The two guys are sizing each other up. You can sense their hostility.

“Now, boys, be friendly. Cruz, do not worry, Sirius is only friends with Emmeline, and Sirius, don’t worry, Cruz won’t try to pick up Regulus.”

You feel both of them relax. Cruz grins at Sirius, “Nice to finally meet you, man.”

“You too!”

“And don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for her either.”

You’re silently eavesdropping on the conversation whilst texting Emmeline. You sneak a look at Sirius, who has an unnatural pink on his porcelain skin. 

“C’mon green-eyes, aren’t I obvious about it?”

Cruz agrees, “Too much so.”

“Anyway, I’ll let you get to Emmeline, Cruz.”

He stumbles, grins at you and waves at the same time, “Thanks, mate.” 

“No problems.”

You watch as he goes and makes a fool of himself in front of Emmeline, who likes it. You turn to Sirius, eyes still watching them. You’re still painstakingly lonely. Tonight you think you’ve third-wheeled at least three couples, and set up two. Even though Sirius is there, he’s just a constant reminder of what you can’t have. 

Sirius can see it in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much more he needs to do. Lily wants to know though. 

“Soooo, lovely,” she begins and you narrow your eyes at her. 

“I swear I didn’t take your cookie cutters and destroy them whilst trying to make clay sculptures with Emmeline and Cruz,” you put your hands up. Lily raises her brows and you murmur a quiet, “Oh no.” 

“My cookie cutters that you gave me?!” she yells. 

“It’s fine, I’ll get you new ones.”

She sighs, “Right. Anyway, Sirius Black.”

“Sirius Black,” you say slowly.

“Mhm. Are you ever going to tell him you like him?”

“No, I don’t even like him.” 

“You don’t?” Lily feigns surprise.

“Nope.”

“Is he cute?”

“Yeah.” 

“Is he nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“He doesn’t like me like that, Lils,” you scold. 

“Why does he call you ‘darling’ then? He has to.”

“If he did, that would be embarrassing for him. Gosh knows he’s too good for me. If he likes me, I would question why because he could probably do better,” you shrug, “I’m confident, but not completely blind.” 

“Okay. So if he liked you, you would want to date him?”

You reply meekly, “Yeah.”

“I think you should tell him, though,” Lily sighs, “Better you than anyone else doing it.”

You ponder for a moment, “True,” you sigh, “He’ll be nice about it.”

Lily squeals, “I’m planning your wedding!!!” 

You knock on his apartment door, reconsidering for the last time whether you want to do it or not. 

Sirius opens the door, looking confused and handsome, eyes bluer than usual. 

“Hi,” you breathe. 

“Gorgeous, to what do I owe this sudden visit?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Really?” his eyes are glistening. 

“Yeah.” 

“Come in then. Mind the mess, taxes.”

You hum, “Need help?”

“Actually, yeah. Should I write off…”

You sit down, distracted by the papers flying everywhere, taking a pen and starting to write. Your mission is almost forgotten after you finish helping him with his taxes, smiling satisfiedly at the hefty return he receives. 

“Good,” you grin, admiring your work, “I’d say this is a successful tax file.” He swipes his tongue over his teeth, so attractively and seals the envelope, setting it down on his stack of things he needs to post. 

“Package to Marlene and Dorcas, papers to…” he rambles, pacing out his thoughts, “Oh, and my portfolio. Can you check if they’re alright to send in?”

“Portfolio?” 

“Oh,” he turns red, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “Someone asked me to model for them?”

“When?” you gasp. He hands you the envelope, and you carefully pry out some photos. 

“A week ago,” he murmurs, “Can you check these aren’t too…much?”

They’re glossy between your fingers and smooth, candid shots, some staged and every single one of them belongs on the cover of Vogue. It’s strange, the pictures of Sirius should be in a magazine, famed and lovely, but he’s right here. Nervously fidgeting around. He’s so tangible right now. You reach out to skim your fingers over the photos, then stretch them out to touch the skin near his lips. He’s taken aback but leans into your touch.

“I think they’re perfect,” you fold the envelope over, handing it back to him. 

He’s still looking incredibly ashamed of himself.

“Why do you look so sheepish?” you laugh, “Stop that! It’s alright.” You surge to hug him, “It’s amazing, Sirius.”

Sirius hides his face in your neck, “I feel like a show-off,” he mumbles and you laugh. 

“Sirius, it’s honestly alright. You’re not, far from it actually. It’s okay to have nice things.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being a wimp.”

“It’s fine, I understand. These feelings are completely normal, but that doesn’t mean they’re true. If I had a staggering net worth of a few hundred million and never told you, would you think I’m a show-off?”

He shook his head. 

“Exactly,” you smile at him, “Now do you want to go to the post office? It closes in half an hour.”

He nods, “‘Kay.”

The post office man greets him with some flirting, and he sets down his stack of parcels, ignoring him to go sign some of them. 

He looks over to you, “You’re his…” he studies your face, “friend?”

It makes you feel small and judged. You chew nervously on your lip, unconsciously stepping towards Sirius. You know you couldn’t possibly pass off as his girlfriend, but it’s an ugly reminder you don’t need. Sirius smiles politely, “These three are in a letter card, but can we get them to be delivered…”

After he pays, you try not to make it seem like you’re in a rush to get out. He notices, of course he does. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say to you?”

You stay quiet and Sirius does too. He drives to his apartment and sits down on his couch. You follow. He’s silent. 

“He said something about us,” you break the fragile silence, “About me.”

“What?” 

“Well he looked at me and then asked if I was your friend after giving me a once-over.”

Sirius shrugs, “Aren’t you?”  

Your heart falls, “Well–. The thing is–, look, I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I kind of– scratch that, I have this massive crush on you and probably more,” you wince, “Please be nice about this.”

He looks positively shocked. You can’t tell if it’s good shock or bad shock. 

You grimace, “And please can we stay friends?”

“You think I’m rejecting you?” he almost scoffs, lifting you easily into his lap. He’s so close you could count the colours in his eyes. A charcoal, a light cerulean, a tinge of yellow ochre, “After all my countless advances, the gifts, even inviting you into my piano room whilst I played, I couldn’t, sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“Haven’t you noticed I haven’t ever dated anyone since two years back? That I pretty much have been begging to be noticed by you these past years,” he continues, “All because I want to be yours. Because I couldn’t even think of wanting anyone else. I like you so much.”

“Hey Sirius?”

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

You huff, “Can I kiss you?”

Before you can do anything, he’s grinning as he presses his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. When you break apart, he's still grinning. He thinks he will be for the rest of his life.

“Whoa,” you say as you grin at him. 

He hugs you tightly, “Please never say we should be friends again.”

You nod, “Never.” 

[astrologicalsstuff]

Some more

Astrology observations

Scorpio risings causing drama without even meaning to

Capricorns are the hottest placement sun and rising

Everyone says it’s probably Leo or libra or Taurus but Capricorns have this I’m hot and it doesn’t matter energy. Like those placements know they’re hot. They got the bone structure and legs

Everyone thinks it’s Scorpio but I would NOT WANT TO MAKE AN AQUARIUS ANGRY. These people can be calculated and smart. They don’t feel in the same way other people do typically so they can really whip out some unwarranted shit.

Aries moons going 0 to 100 in half a second.

Virgo aries combos especially Virgo sun aries moon or Virgo rising aries… acting first thinking later and regretting everything:((( these can be some very… stimulated people.

Cancer Leo Taurus in the big three loyal and selfless with a dash of manipulation

Leo Venus will like you and still make you chase for a year you’d better be ready to chase!

Venus in the second know their self worth.

Mercury in Pisces/Sagittarius or in the 9th or 12th house how’s that ADD/ADHD??

Cancer stellium/ Virgo stellium with those stomach problems.

Where your 6th house ruler sits is how your health shows up. 6th house ruler in the third might need glasses or have hand problems. 6th ruler in the 12th might have mental health problems. 6th ruler in the 5th watch your heart.

Aquarius moons are so chill if your not tryna have a relationship with them and humble too. Like they won’t start shit.

Neptune in fire houses (1 5 & 9) have the reputation of being mysterious but isn’t as mysterious as everyone thinks, they don’t really know themselves either lol.

Further, neptune in the first just doesn’t see themselves the way you see them

Neptune in the 5th probably have identity issues, people like them better on drugs. Struggle to see themselves the way others see them causing misinterpretations

Neptune in the 9th people don’t see the spirits on your side lol. Maybe people don’t see that you can see through them

Saturns not all bad, in houses where you must acquire (earth houses 2 6 10)

Moon in the ascendant will have children especially with planets in the 5th.

Capricorn or Saturn in the 5th may have a hard time conceiving or having children

Uranus in the 5th… just make sure you wrap it cause get ready for those unexpected pregnancies. Also what’s up with those one night stands??

Neptune in the 11th most likely means friends at a distance or friendships where you do a lot of drugs and alcohol. Friends Can be artists as well. Best case I think these people are celebrities and connect with masses online.

Mars in Leo are HORNY and loud about it

Pluto in the third can cut people with their words

Moon in the 10th makes people comfortable around you yet a distance between you and other people?

Neptune in the 10th where’s your dad lol?

12th house ruler in the 10th everyone talks about you behind your back so much gossip

Virgo men lowk like it when you call them out🫢🫢

Pisces moons can’t stop lying huh? Like you don’t even know why your doing it

Virgo rising s are so hot. Like subtle beauty look good without makeup.

Virgo sun women’s personality is basically just whatever copies and compliments their best friend…

Fire sign moons are soo DRAMATIC

Moon in first = heart in sleeve

Thanks for reading let me know what you think please don’t copy my information!

[hobiebrownbrowser]

Constant Arguments pt.2 <Back massages>

Summary: After the argument things got better. Until he started to disappear like always.

Contents: Kissing, cuddling, etc

Bad Spanish= blame Duolingo and the internet lol

Translations:

"¿Por qué estás levantada princesa?" = "Why are you up princess?"

"que voy a hacer contigo.." = "What am I going to do with you.."

"dulces sueños mi amor." = "Sweet dreams my love."

It was happening the way you thought it would. Still waking up on a cold mattress alone at night. You wanted to call him. Knowing damn well he wouldn't pick up anyway. You were more worried than angry, having to worry about his safety more than anything else.

It sent chills up your spine just thinking about Miles not coming back. You pushed the thought aside. Looking at the alarm clock too see it was 3AM. It was still considered night. The sun was hiding from the moon. I don't know why but it always felt that way. Just how Miles emotion's were hidden from you. Locked away in his heart where you couldn't reach.

You sighed, Looking at the slightly opened window. The air making the room colder than usual. You got up to close it. Stumbling in the dark until you reached the clear glass. The night was beautiful. The sky being filled with stars you've always wanted to touch.

The sight was memorizing. Wondering if Miles saw the same thing you did when he left every night. No matter how many times you told yourself you were fine with it, deep down his absence hurt. It felt life a knife was forced into your back. Missing his small touches more than anything.

You tightly shut your eyes. Eventually closing the window. You decided to stay up a little longer, Taking out your notebooks to study for a test you had tomorrow. Slowly easing the pain that reminded you of Miles. At least it was a distraction from something else. 'Someone' else.

//\\

How long has it been? 2 hours? 3? It was hopeless waiting for him to come back. The notes on every page memorized in the back of your mind on repeat. You looked outside one last time before getting up, Your stomach growling as you exit the room and towards the kitchen.

"¿Por qué estás levantada princesa?" You were startled by the sudden voice. Almost dropping the food in our hands. You looked back too see Miles sitting on the couch. Neon lights catching your eyes as he stands up.

You'd be lying if you said his mask wasn't imitating, His body turning until he was directly facing you.

"I was hungry.." was all you could say. His mask retracting to reveal his handsome face. He was breathtaking and he knew that. His braids complimenting his looks.

He looked you in the eyes before the food in your hands. It was more like a small snack, A tub of your favorite ice cream in your hands as you grab the scooper from the drawer.

Miles looked at you again before rubbing his temples. Covering the small smile that was daring too plaster on his face. You were the most adorable human he laid eyes upon. Giving up the tough act and taking off his suit for the night.

The thought of him laying next to you made your heart flutter. Finally being able to feel his arms wrapped around you tightly. It was a one time opportunity. Finishing in the kitchen and quickly following his lead like a lost puppy.

You noticed he was limping a bit. Walking slower than normal. He must be tired. Whatever he does out there must take alot of strength and energy. You quickly examined his built structure. Wanting to ease the pain somehow.

An embarrassing idea popped up in your head. What if you gave him a massage? Like what those places do to loosen up the tension in people's bodies. It was a silly idea. But you wanted to try it nonetheless.

"Hey babe...?" All you heard was a "hm" Miles being to tired to turn around. How were you going to explain you wanted to relax his muscles?

"Does your body need aftercare?" Miles stopped in the middle of the stairway. Looking back at you with a raised brow. Of course he'd take it as an invitation and not a helpful gesture.

"Not like 'that' Miles." You rolled your eyes. Urging him to keep going and you'll explain on the way. Miles shook his head 'no'. Clearly lying from the way he kept limping up the stairs.

You scoffed, Questioning if he could go any slower than this. It broke your heart a bit seeing him struggle. A part of you giggling, thinking he was waddling like a penguin.

"What's so funny Hermosa?"

You shook your head clarifying that it was nothing serious. You both reaching the top of the stairway and back to the bedroom. Miles immediately aiming for the bed, lying down clearly exhausted.

"Are you sure you don't need me to help?" You could tell he was thinking hard about what you said, A smile creeping on your face as he ushers you to come closer. Pulling you towards him as you both just lay there.

"Miles! My ice cream is gonna melt..." You whined, His grip not loosening on your waist, His eyes already glued shut. You poked his cheek. A small grunt emerging from his throat before he fluttered his eyes open again.

"que voy a hacer contigo.." You simply shrugged, bringing back up the offer to relax his muscles for him. He groaned again, sitting up from the bed and pulling off his shirt. Your heart dropped seeing all the scratches and scars on his back.

You wanted to kiss all of them. Taking away the pain they'd brought him. Without hesitation you kissed the one that ran down his spine. His body tensing up before relaxing to the cold touch of your lips.

You took a firm grip on his shoulders. Putting pressure with your thumb before rubbing in a circular motion. Making sure to get every crevice of his neck before moving somewhere else along his back muscle.

You couldn't really reach anywhere else with the position you were in. Telling him to lay on his stomach for more access to his pressure points. He paused for a moment before complying with you.

It was time to work your magic. Pressing on his back until you found an exact spot that felt like it needed treatment. A bearable sigh coming out of Miles nostrils everytime you found a painful spot. You didn't want to hurt him, being extremely careful in those sore parts.

Miles would let out a shudder every minute or so, The room temperature slowly dropping the colder it got outside. Your ears perked up to the sound of something hitting the window. A single water droplet catching your eye before many more revealed themselves.

It was raining, no wonder it suddenly got colder. You quickly finished up so Miles could rest. Miles pulling you closer to him.

"Ew. You stinky." Miles gave you a look, just wanting to sleep. Kissing your forehead and closing his eyes. You watched with glee, giving him a peck on the lips before grabbing your bowl of half melted ice cream. Finishing it off before following Miles lead to slumber.

"Dulces sueños mi amor."