#his smile is so precious it's burned in my brain

[charlesollielandooscararthur]

Sick

summary: Y/n is sick...

I feel miserable. My head is pounding, my body aches in places I didn't even know could hurt, and my nose is so stuffed up that breathing feels like a full-time job. I'm curled up in bed under a mountain of blankets, feeling like a small, pathetic pile of humanity, when I hear the door creak open.

"Y/n..." Charles's voice is so soft, it's almost a whisper, but it cuts through the fog in my brain easily.

I lift my head just barely to look at him, my eyes puffy and tired. I'm too weak to even form words, so I just let out a pathetic little grunt, which somehow says everything he needs to know.

He smiles — that small, soft smile he only ever uses when he's worried about me — and crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out, brushing some sweaty hair away from my forehead, his hand cool and comforting.

"You're burning up, baby," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up a little."

I don't have the strength to argue, even though the thought of moving makes me want to cry. Gently, Charles scoops me up like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest. I tuck my face into his shoulder, too tired to even be embarrassed by how much I'm leaning on him.

He carries me into the bathroom, already warm from the steam of the bath he must've run earlier. The smell of lavender fills the air — something calming, soothing — and he kneels down with me, setting me softly on the edge of the tub. I blink at him through heavy lashes, feeling like I might fall asleep sitting up.

"Let me help, yeah?" he says quietly, almost like he's asking for permission. I nod weakly.

With hands that are so careful it almost makes me cry, Charles peels my sweat-soaked clothes off, helping me step into the warm water. The second my body hits the heat, I let out a small, broken sigh. It feels so good I could melt right there.

Charles rolls up his sleeves and kneels beside the tub, taking a soft cloth and running it gently over my arms, my back, my face. Every motion is slow, patient, like he's afraid I'll shatter if he's too rough.

"You're doing so good," he whispers, dipping the cloth back into the water and wringing it out carefully. "Just relax, okay?"

I close my eyes, letting myself be cared for. The warmth of the bath, the rhythmic motion of his hands, the quiet sound of his breathing — it all works together to calm the pounding in my head just a little.

After a while, he helps me out, wrapping me immediately in the biggest, fluffiest towel he could find. He dries me off so gently it feels like I'm made of glass, then carries me back to bed and tucks me in like I'm something precious.

"I'll be right back," he says, brushing a kiss across my forehead.

I don't even have time to miss him before he's back, a bowl of soup in his hands and that same gentle look in his eyes. He sits beside me again, helping me sit up against the pillows.

"Here," he says, blowing on the spoon before holding it up to my lips. "Small sips."

I feel stupid, letting someone feed me like I'm a child, but Charles doesn't make it feel stupid. His hand is steady, his touch light, and his patience endless. Every spoonful is warm and soothing, easing the ache in my throat a little at a time.

"You're doing great," he says after every few bites, like it's some huge accomplishment that I'm managing to swallow soup.

When I'm too tired to eat anymore, he sets the bowl aside and carefully tucks me back under the covers, adjusting the blanket so it's perfectly snug around me. He sits with me for a moment longer, running his fingers softly through my damp hair.

"You're safe," he murmurs. "You're gonna feel better soon. I've got you."

And even though my body feels awful and my head is still pounding, I believe him. Because with Charles here — patient, soft, steady Charles— I know I'm going to be okay.

I'm half-dozing when I hear the door creak open again. I manage to crack one eye open just enough to see Alexandra slipping into the room, her arms full — a fresh set of clothes, a fluffy blanket, and what looks like a cup of tea balanced precariously on top.

Charles looks up at her with a small smile, and even through my fever haze, I catch the quiet exchange between them — that look they always share, the one that says "we've got this."

"Hey, baby," Alex says softly, setting everything down on the nightstand. She crosses to my side of the bed and kneels down, her hand cool as she brushes my hair back from my face. "You scared us a little."

I blink at her, throat too raw to speak, but I reach for her hand weakly. She catches it immediately, squeezing back gently.

Charles shifts so Alex can sit beside me, her body curling protectively around mine. She pulls the new blanket over both of us, making sure I'm tucked in right against her chest. I sink into her warmth like it's the only thing tethering me to the planet.

Charles sits at the foot of the bed now, watching, making sure everything is just right. He picks up the tea Alex brought and gently places it in her hands.

"Think you can get her to sip a little?" he asks quietly.

Alex smiles at me, the kind of smile that feels like home, and nods. She tilts the cup carefully, holding it to my lips. The first sip is warm, a little sweet, and it soothes the rawness in my throat immediately.

"There you go," she murmurs. "Just little bits. No rush."

I take a few more sips before resting my head against her shoulder again, completely exhausted but feeling... safer. Better. Not fixed, not yet — but not alone.

Charles moves around the room quietly, picking up the abandoned soup bowl and tidying up, but every few minutes he glances back at me, like he can't quite help himself.

"You're gonna be okay, baby," Alex says into my hair, rocking me just a little like I'm a kid again. "We've got you."

"Always," Charles echoes from the foot of the bed, his voice so sure, so steady.

And somewhere deep inside the fever and the fog, I believe them. I believe every word.

Because if there's anything in the world I trust — it's Charles's steady hands, and Alex's arms around me, and the way they both love me like I'm something fragile and fierce all at once.

I close my eyes, wrapped up in both of them, and finally — finally — let myself rest.

Alexandra's POV

Y/n's breathing evens out against my shoulder, her body finally relaxing fully into mine. I stay completely still, scared to even shift in case I disturb her.

Charles catches my eye from the foot of the bed. He's still holding the empty soup bowl in one hand, the towel slung over his shoulder from earlier. He looks tired — the same kind of tired I feel. The kind that settles in your chest when someone you love is hurting and there's not much you can do but be there.

I brush Y/n's hair back from her forehead again, fingers gentle, and kiss the top of her head. She doesn't stir. I can feel how warm her skin still is — the fever's still hanging on — but at least she's sleeping.

Charles sets the bowl down quietly on the nightstand and moves closer, crouching beside me. His hand finds my knee, squeezing it softly.

"She's okay," he says, barely above a whisper, like he's trying to convince himself too.

I nod, my throat tight. "Yeah. She's okay. She just needs time."

We both look down at her. Y/n looks so small like this. It's rare — usually she's so loud, so stubborn, so alive — but tonight she just looks... fragile. And it breaks my heart a little.

Charles leans his forehead against my arm for a second, letting out a slow breath. "I hate seeing her like this."

"I know," I whisper. I run my fingers through her hair again, slow and rhythmic, just trying to soothe her even in sleep.

We stay like that for a while — the three of us — until the room feels like it's breathing with us, warm and quiet and full of love.

Charles helps me shift her properly into the bed, both of us moving carefully like she's made of glass. She mumbles something under her breath as we lay her down, her fingers weakly clutching at my hoodie, not wanting to let go even in sleep.

"I'm right here, love," I whisper, smoothing her hair back. "Not going anywhere."

Charles pulls the blanket up to her chin, his movements careful, tucking her in the way you would a kid — neat, protective. His eyes are so full of tenderness it almost undoes me. He brushes a thumb across her cheek before finally climbing into bed on the other side of her.

I slip under the covers too, curling up close. Y/n immediately nuzzles against my chest, her face pressing into me, her whole body instinctively seeking comfort. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the weight of her settle into me fully.

Charles lies close on her other side, one of his hands finding hers beneath the blanket. He squeezes it gently, grounding her even in her sleep.

For a long while, we just lie there. The room is dim, the only sound the faint hum of the heater and Y/n's soft, uneven breaths. Every so often, she whimpers, shifting like she's caught in some fever dream, and each time, either Charles or I is there — whispering quiet reassurances, rubbing slow circles into her back or stroking her hair.

At some point, Charles's foot brushes against mine under the covers, a silent touch, and I press back without thinking. No words needed. We're both here. We both have her. We have each other.

I kiss Y/n's hair again, breathing her in — even sick, she still smells like home.

Eventually, I feel Y/n's breathing deepen, her body truly relaxing between us for the first time all night.

I let my eyes drift closed, one hand stroking through her hair, the other curled protectively around her. Charles's arm stretches over both of us now, like he's trying to shield us with just his presence alone.

And finally — for the first time in hours — I let myself rest too.

The morning is quiet, the soft kind of quiet that only happens when it's just the three of us, tucked away from the rest of the world.

The first thing I feel is Y/n's hair tickling under my chin, her head still tucked against me like she's afraid to let go even in sleep. Charles's hand is still loosely laced with hers, his breathing steady and slow.

I don't dare move much. I just lie there, running my fingers softly through her hair, careful not to wake her too soon.

Her face looks less flushed than last night, her brows no longer pinched tight in pain or fear. She's still pale, but she looks... peaceful.

I glance over at Charles. His eyes are open too now, just watching her, his thumb tracing absent-minded little circles on the back of her hand. He catches my eye and gives me a small, tired smile.

"She's cooler," he mouths.

I nod, swallowing the lump of relief in my throat.

We stay like that for a while, just breathing together, soaking in the slow miracle of her getting better.

Eventually, I feel her shift a little, her nose scrunching like it always does when she's about to wake up but doesn't want to. I smile down at her, brushing a knuckle against her cheek.

"Morning, sleepy," I whisper so softly it's almost a secret.

Her eyes flutter open, confused at first — then they land on me, then on Charles, and something in her whole body relaxes like a string snapping loose.

Y/n' POV

I blink a few times, trying to figure out if I'm dreaming.

But no — Alex is real, right there, holding me so close I can feel her heart beating against my ear. And Charles is there too, his fingers wrapped around mine like he never let go.

For a second, I just stay still, soaking it in. I feel weak, my throat dry and scratchy, but there's something warm and safe about the way they're looking at me. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as we're here, together.

"Hi," I croak out, my voice wrecked.

Alex smiles at me so softly it makes my chest ache. "Hi, baby. How're you feeling?"

I frown, trying to assess it. Everything hurts a little, my head is pounding, but it's better. Way better than last night. I glance between them, feeling a rush of gratitude so fierce it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

"Like I got hit by a bus," I rasp, managing a weak grin.

Charles chuckles — a warm, low sound — and reaches out to brush my hair away from my face. "You look better than you did yesterday."

"Not saying much," I mumble, and Alex laughs, the sound soft and sweet.

"You scared us," she says, her voice dipping low, her fingers tracing patterns on my back. "But you're okay now. We've got you."

"I know," I whisper. I nuzzle closer to her chest, clinging onto the comfort. "Thank you."

Charles squeezes my hand. "Always, Y/n/n."

Alex presses a kiss into my hair, lingering there like she can heal me with just her touch. Maybe she can.

I must've drifted back off for a little while, because the next thing I know, the bed shifts underneath me. I groan, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.

"Nooo," I whine into Alex's hoodie, clinging onto her like a stubborn koala.

She laughs quietly, trying to peel herself away without really trying. "Baby, you need to eat something," she says gently, stroking my hair. "You haven't eaten in almost a day."

"I'm fine," I mumble. "I'll survive. Like a cockroach."

Charles snorts from where he's sitting at the foot of the bed. "Cockroaches eat, you know."

I crack one eye open to glare at him, but it's weak at best. My body feels like it's made of wet sand.

"Come on," Alex coaxes, so soft it makes my heart ache. "Just a little bit. For me?"

I huff dramatically but I already know I've lost. I can never say no to her when she uses that voice.

"Fine," I grumble, rolling onto my back like a petulant child. "But I'm not chewing. One spoonful and I'm done."

Charles stands up, bringing over the little tray they must've set up. There's a bowl of steaming soup — homemade, by the smell of it — and a glass of water with a straw.

"You don't have to chew soup, genius," he teases, setting it down carefully beside Alex.

I stick my tongue out at him, then immediately regret it when my throat scratches painfully. Alex just smiles, dipping the spoon into the broth, blowing on it until it's cool enough, then holding it up to my lips.

"Open," she says softly, like she's feeding a toddler.

I roll my eyes but obey, letting her feed me a spoonful. It's warm and salty and tastes like heaven, even if my stomach protests at the sudden attention.

"Good girl," Alex praises, wiping the corner of my mouth with her thumb. The simple, silly praise makes me blush hotter than the soup.

Charles chuckles low under his breath, pretending he's not looking at me like I'm the most ridiculous, lovable thing he's ever seen.

"Don't laugh at me," I mutter after swallowing another sip.

"I'm not," he says — and he's technically telling the truth. His face is suspiciously neutral, but his eyes are glowing with affection. "I'm proud of you."

"You're so full of it," I grumble, but deep down, it feels nice. It feels safe.

Between the two of them — Alex patiently feeding me and Charles making me laugh just enough to forget how gross I feel — the ache in my chest loosens a little more.

Maybe being sick isn't so bad... when you're this loved.

[nahrumi]

sae's smile......

[rafesangelita]

♡ rafe is tired, but never too tired to have pretty little sheep!reader bouncing on his cock

warnings: dealer!rafe, light fluff, sleepy sex, riding & reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, praise, spanking, hair pulling, use of the name ‘daddy’, tit sucking

a/n: sheep!reader has been getting heavily requested.. so ask and you shall receive! i’ll be giving longer fics a small break until my pogue!sweetheart!reader series is done because my brain is actually going to explode lol

nothing felt better than coming home to you after a long day of bullshit and seeing you in nothing but those cute thigh high socks of yours. especially when you were so needy and willing to do all of the work. you’d give rafe what felt like a thousand kisses all over his face, his arms wrapped around your waist as you gushed about how much you missed him and thought about him all day. “yeah? i missed you more.” you’d smile at his words, quickly getting him out of his clothes.

you massaged the tension out of his shoulders and left trails of kisses along his skin, your boyfriend growing more relaxed as your skilled hands worked to get him unwinded. by the time you were finished, he was barely able to keep his eyes open, his heavy-lidded gaze meeting yours. “what do you want, baby? you’ve been looking at me like you got something on your mind..” your cheeks heated in response, his fingers dancing along your flesh.

“i know you’re tired.. but can i get on top?” a lazy smile made its way to rafe’s lips before he pulled you onto his lap.

“fuck, yeah.”

those two words were all the confirmation you needed, your shaky hands planted on rafe’s thighs as you moved on top of him, his cock filling you to the hilt. watching you move so fluidly on top of him was enough to make his eyes roll to the back of his head, the sight of your soaked cunt gripping him with every drag of your hips drew more moans from him than the last. “ah, f-fuck! you’re just taking that shit..” rafe was mesmerized, his large palm resting in the curve of thigh.

you cried out when his hand came down on the globe of your ass, a stinging sensation spreading across your sensitive skin. “riding me dumb, huh?” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before pulling you back against his chest. you were arched almost painfully in this position, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. “poor baby, here by herself all day..” you whimpered, his free hand snaking down your tummy until he had your clit pinched between his fingers.

you shrieked, white, hot pleasure blinding your vision. rafe knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what would have you yelping in pain, and what would make you all soft and warm like putty in his hands. “riding daddy makes you so fucking wet,” your hips stuttered when rafe starting rubbing hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the lewdness of his words, “just letting me use you like the cock slut you are, right?”

“y-yes!” you whimpered, sighing in relief when he let your hair go. “make yourself cum, ‘pretty girl, let me feel you.” rafe watched as you leaned forward, your back arching deliciously as you bounced on his length. your ass met rafe’s thighs in rhythmic claps, the sound making both of you moan. “turn around, precious, ‘needa see that pretty face.” you slid off of him for a moment, finally swinging a leg over his lap before sinking back down on his cock.

pushing his face into your chest, you whined when you felt him take one of your tits in his mouth, his tongue circling around the sensitive bud. he licked and sucked as you worked to make both of you cum. you relished in these moments when you two were panting into each other’s mouths, skin hot and burning with fiery need and desire, never wanting it to end. rafe’s abs constricted as he inched closer and closer to his climax, your thighs aching for a break.

“don’t fucking stop..” rafe dug his fingers in the flesh of your hips, “oh, my god, don’t stop!” he repeated, your eyes brimming with tears as your clit slapped against his pubic bone. as soon as you doubled over, your head falling against his shoulder, rafe knew the band in your tummy finally snapped, his own orgasm hitting him at the same time. embracing you tightly, rafe thrusted up from below you so you could just cum without keeping up your pace.

you shook against him, tears rolling down your cheek and onto his collarbone as you reveled in each wave of pure bliss. rafe’s mouth stayed open, his eyes screwing shut as you milked him for all that he had. eventually, you two came to a stop, your breaths being the only sound in the room. if rafe felt tired before, he was even more drained now.. literally. nothing beat his pretty thing of a girlfriend taking his load at the end of the night.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤALIEN GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Qu Reader Part 4

☆⁠ HEADCANON : It's Been Two Years Since You Told Him You're Pregnant. And When He Start To Believe That Maybe You Were Wrong, He Become A Father...

☆⁠ NOTES : Qu is an alien species from the book All Tomorrows. You can learn more about her here. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Mark had been convinced you weren’t actually pregnant.

Two years had passed. Two whole years.

Two long years of your strange habits, cravings, and obsessive nesting.

But… no baby.

At first, Mark had panicked. Then, after months of nothing changing, he thought, Maybe she was wrong? Maybe whatever weird biology she had messed up and she wasn’t actually pregnant.

He even asked his mom about it.

Debbie had given him a deadpan look. "You’re hoping it’s a mistake?"

Mark sighed. "I mean, yeah. It’s been two years. Nothing happened."

Debbie just shook her head. "Mark, honey. She’s an alien. You don’t know what’s normal for her."

Mark groaned. "I just—I don’t know if I’m ready for—"

But then, one morning, he woke up to— Something he never expected.

Mark walked into the bedroom that morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—

And froze.

Tiny babies. A lot of tiny babies.

Mark froze.

His brain shut down.

You were curled up in your nest, naked, looking like a goddamn angel, surrounded by— He blinked. What… the hell? There were tiny creatures all around you. At first, he thought they were insects or some weird alien parasite. But then one of them turned its tiny, shimmering face towards him— And Mark swore his heart stopped. They were—

Glowing, beautiful creatures.

Some were spinning in circles, some were chewing on your hair, and others were just clinging to your fingers like tiny, precious fairies.

Mark’s mouth opened. No sound came out.

You were smiling softly, cradling one of them in your hand. The little thing let out a soft, bubbling sound and nuzzled against your nose.

You laughed.

A sweet, soft sound—like bells ringing in the wind.

And Mark—

Fainted.

He woke up to tiny hands patting his face.

He blinked blearily, vision blurry.

Then, he saw it.

A tiny, palm-sized creature was sitting on his chest.

It had soft silky hair, jewel-like eyes, and a face that looked eerily like yours.

It stared at him, then made a tiny, frog-like croak.

Mark screamed.

The baby screamed back, jumped in surprise, flipping in the air like some kind of acrobat and landing on his face.

Mark flailed. "WHAT—WHAT THE HELL?!"

You tilted your head from where you were still lying in the nest, surrounded by tiny babies.

"You loud," you said, unbothered. "Babies sleep."

Mark sat up so fast the baby on his face tumbled into his lap. "I—what—what the fuck?!"

Mark’s brain short-circuited.

He looked around. The nest was covered in tiny, glowing babies—some were curled in your hair, chewing on it like kittens, others were nestled against your stomach, and a few were floating?

Mark stared.

Then, slowly, he looked down at the tiny baby in his lap.

It was looking up at him with big, glowing eyes.

It reached out—tiny, delicate hand brushing against his chest.

Then it leaned forward and kissed him.

Mark melted.

You were still holding one in your hand, gazing at it with a soft, angelic smile, your eyes full of warmth. The tiny baby made a bubbling, singing noise, almost like a frog’s call but… softer. Sweeter. Mark’s heart squeezed. This was… This was… actually… kind of beautiful? The baby bite your finger. And you laughed. It was the most pure, soft, happy laugh Mark had ever heard from you. Mark felt his head spin. His chest ached. His eyes burned. He stepped forward, swallowing thickly. "Babe… are these…?" You looked up at him, your glowing eyes soft and proud. "Our sons." Mark felt his heart explode. "Sons. I have sons. Holy shit. I have too many sons."

Then, as Mark took in the beautiful, fairytale-like scene before him— You opened your mouth. Wide. Way too wide. Like something out of a horror movie, teeth glistening. And one of the babies dangling above your mouth. Mark’s soul left his body. "HOLY SHIT—" He lunged forward, grabbing the baby out of your hands.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!"

You blinked at him, confused. "Mark?" Mark clutched the baby to his chest, horrified. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING?!" You tilted your head. "Eat." Mark screamed. "NO! BAD! DON’T EAT THE BABY!" You blinked, then giggled. "Not eat all. Only some." Mark felt like he was going to die. "OH MY GOD. YOU’RE A TERRIFYING MONSTER." You pouted. "Not monster. Mother. Must eat weak." Mark hugged the baby. "OVER MY DEAD BODY." You blinked at him. Then, after a pause, you smiled. "Mark strong." Mark huffed. "Damn right I am." You just laughed and snuggled into him. "Then no eat." Mark sighed in relief— And then froze. "Wait, so you’re saying—if I wasn’t strong, you’d eat them?!" You shrugged. "Maybe." Mark’s eye twitched.

The babies chirped curiously, tilting their tiny heads. Mark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ. I need to call my mom."

Debbie had seen a lot in her life. But walking into her house to find one hundred tiny, fairy-like grandchildren crawling around her living room was definitely a first. "...Mark." Mark turned to her, exhausted. "Mom." Debbie looked around. The babies were absolutely adorable—singing softly, clinging to Mark, playing with each other’s hair. "...I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this." Mark sighed. "Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting her to try to eat them." Debbie froze. "...She what?" Mark groaned, rubbing his face. "Apparently, her species eats their weaker children." Debbie stared. "And you stopped her?" "Of course, I stopped her!" Debbie hummed. "Huh." Mark narrowed his eyes. "Why do you sound… not surprised?" Debbie shrugged. "Honey, you dated an apex predator. What did you think was gonna happen?" Before Mark could respond, Nolan walked in. He took one look at the scene before him— And froze.

He just stood there, staring at you—looking like he wanted to drop dead. "...You gave birth to a hundred." You tilted your head. "Small number." Nolan inhaled deeply. "Small number." Mark shrugged. "At least they’re cute." Then, one of them climbed onto his head. And Nolan watched as Mark just let it happen.

His expression was unreadable. Slowly, one of the babies floated up to him, its tiny, glowing eyes staring at him curiously. Nolan glared. The baby chirped prettily. Nolan’s face twitched. The baby gently kissed his nose. Nolan let out a deep sigh and rubbed his temples. "Goddammit."

Nolan still hate you. But he had to admit— These things were… adorable. They were unnaturally well-behaved, polite, and clung to Mark like little ducklings. And worst of all? They liked him. Nolan would be sitting on the couch, arms crossed, trying to ignore them— When suddenly, a tiny one would crawl onto his lap, grab his mustache, and start playing with it. Nolan’s eye twitched. "...Mark. Get it off me." Mark smirked. "I think they like you." More babies swarmed him. They hugged his arms, kissed his face, and made little happy croaking sounds. Nolan just sat there. Defeated. "...I hate this." But he didn’t move.

The babies love Mark. They sleep on his chest, crawl all over him, and fight each other for his attention. And they were obsessed with him. Mark could not escape. He woke up one morning with ten of them sleeping on his chest. Another time, he found them cuddled in his hoodies, making little happy noises. Mark’s life was now just being followed by a pack of glowing, fairy-like children who worshiped him. And honestly? He loved it. Even if he caught them eating random things. Because these kids? They ate anything. One time, Mark caught one of them chewing on a doorknob. Another was licking the floor. And one almost ate his phone. Mark had never screamed so loud in his life. Debbie caught one doing the dishes. She nearly cried. They talk to you in your native language. Mark has no idea what’s being said.

It's terrifying.

It clicks, hisses, gurgles, and warbles.

It chirrs like an insect’s wings, croaks like a deep-sea creature, pulses like something breathing in the dark. It is wet, guttural, and skittering, yet somehow, in its horrific alien cadence, eerily beautiful. “Ɐ̷̢͙̤̖ɦ̶͙̳̝͚͖’̙̻̠̼̫͢z̢̲̦̗̗h̵̛̞h̵͍̘͉̠͙l̨̡̥̟̝̠͚l̠̦͉̜͜ͅ r̸̪̜̰͕ͅr̴̗’̳͚̦̲̲̞k͕̗͉̗͢a̶̛̗̞̩a̵̜̯͖̜̠a̵̙̦͉̗̦ͅ-̡̡͉̪͕̞̪̜c̡͚h̴̡͍̖̦̳ī̶͓͖̝͚̙ī̴̫̻͇ͅī̡̢̬͈̹,͇̜̞̩͎͎̕͜ ś͍͉͉s͏̦͕͍̻ͅa̶̮̠̳̲̹’̴͖͍͈͙͖v̦̬̺̰̻͍͠a̸̳h̞̦͈͈r̸̖͖̞h̖͙̯͜h̵͉̠̘͎̞̰ t͉̳͈͞c̴̳͍̜̟̟̻h̨̹̖̳̖͡ͅa̢̰͓͚͎’̡͎̹͡k̸̝͝a͓̞̗͡a͎̠ͅr̵̫̪u̶̘̜͚u̢͍͉̠̘.̸̪”

Sleep, little spawn, the dark waters hold you now... hush... hush... hush...

“T͕͘’͖͚͓͡k̦̘͖͍̀k̢͉͍h͏̲̼̙r̩̙̦̬r̵̨̟r͙͉͚͉̺͘ͅ s̜̻͎̞͜s̛̪̠̼̘̦’̵͏̻͍̯ͅk̸̼͙̞͍̩̯̕a̴̬̰̳͍̘͇͝a̛̬a̼̕̕’̡̦v̸̮͕̲̞̙̕v̵̛̠̜̲n̹̩̕n̨̩͙̝̲̬̳͠,̸̜͍̗͇ h̹͎̲͕͜h͉͝’̨̡͓̝͎̰z̖͙̠͝ͅr̷̞͉̤͚̘̗͞r̜̼͢r̸͙̼̟̕a̡̻̦̙̞͡a̛͙͉-̵̨̳͕̩c̡̡̲͈h̖̜̤͟ͅi̢̨̻̥̤i̵̛̗’̻̘̲̘͠v̷͎̯̘h͎͝u̞͝r̷͉̗̩̰r̴̙͎̞ͅ.̦̖̞͎́”

Do not tremble, do not weep, the deep will consume all things in time... hush...

“C̞̩̠̰͘h̞̻̪̀k̨̼̲̺̠k̠̀’̼̕ͅh̶̨̞h̵̘z̢̙̞̞z̷̲̩̰—͏̗̝v̡̻a̵̦͖̬à̺̗’͙̤̤͙̳͡r̶̜̲̱̬͢i̼̪͡’̷̡̯̹x̷̡̗h̷̩͜h̩͞a͏͙̪̼̝͝a̸̲̥!̡̢̬͇̪͖ K̨̩r̠̕i̦̩̕͢i̛̺͜’͜ͅͅt̷̮̼̩͙ź͖̥̤c̯̙̳̟̥̕h̸͜ v̶͔͢r͏̡̞̜̼’̵͏̰r̸̜͎̰r̼͡n̷̦̝̜̰n̛̬̦͖̜a̛͚̻̗̝?̨͏͎̰”

Oh, my little crawling thing—what is this mess you've made?

“H͠h̀͜z̷z͝h̸̗̬͖̼’̡̺̩̪͓k̷̺̦̠̩k̛̘h̸̝̯͕,̢͎̗̬ v͞á̻͕a͠’̸̳͚͇͙x̡̨̬̦r̸͕̟͙͜r̢̛̻̩̲h̕͟.͡.̶̯̜͓̼͉̹.̶̩͙̻ c̴̝͉h̢̨̝̗̤’̵̙̯̗t̡̢̻z̷͎̻̳h̸̗̖h͙̖̕̕h̷̪͓ v́r̴̻̖r̶̦̠̰a͠a̢̠̙a̳͜a̢̲̰̟ s̴͚ͅz̞̝̦̕͞à͙’̨͙͖̕l̨̙̰̖͡a̢.̶̦̦”

Shhh, my teeth... I will tell you what the tides never whisper...

“T̵̟̝̻’͍͡s̵̗̝̼h̢̯̗̰̰h̢͚͕̪k̷͖a͏̛̥̖a̛̜͎͍͕ v͎̬̗̖͢v͏̡̙̜̗r̵̬̘̻͡’̵̯͙̕h̨͎h̦̞̹̕u̷̝̲u̦͕̬͜u̷̠̰n̶̨̝̗̠ c̰̩̝̺͘h̸͏̝͙̼̩z͚͎͔̕z̛̙͕̯t̩͘͝’̛̹̹̰̘v̸̰̹̗͉͜v̡͏̹̹̲̬h͇̕̕a̵͖a͏͕,̷̨̠͙͉ m͏̹͚̖a̡͚̲̠͠h̡̛̗̗’̪̬̪̻̯͝t̴̬̻c̸͍̘̯͍̝̕h̸̦͡r̘̖̳͜ͅr̢͎͠h̷͍̤.̷̢͎”

Come, my dripping, writhing things... to my arms. They all croak back in unison everytime. Mark dies of cuteness. He's also kinda scared because he don't understand anything. They like to steal Nolan’s things. His gloves, cape, books. One tried to steal his boot. Nolan caught it dragging the boot across the floor.

"Mark. Control your gremlins." "Dad, they’re literally palm-sized babies." "They have no fear." The babies nest with you. They curl up in your hair, hold onto your fingers, and purr. Mark watches them sleep and feels his heart explode. He still can’t believe it. He’s a dad. And despite the sheer insanity of it all, Mark had to admit—

These kids were freaking adorable.

They clung to him like little monkeys, curling up on his chest when he napped.

They kissed him all the time, tiny soft lips pressing to his cheeks, nose, and forehead.

They loved everyone—especially his mom.

Debbie would be cooking, and they’d all be floating around, handing her ingredients.

"Thank you, sweetie," she cooed at one, patting his little head.

The baby made a soft, frog-like song, happy and proud.

Mark’s heart melted.

Even Nolan had given up fighting it.

Mark had caught him more than once with a tiny baby curled up in his palm, snoring.

"...They are cute," he admitted. Mark smirked. "See? Told you."

And Mark’s favorite thing?

You, curled up in the nest, singing them a lullaby in your strange, haunting language.

The babies would float around you, making soft chirping sounds, slowly drifting to sleep.

And Mark?

Mark would just sit there, watching, realizing how much he loved this insane, beautiful, monstrous woman.

And his strange, perfect, tiny children.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[tojisteddy]

Photograph | the soft, mushy, fluffy shit with meanie!simon

Simon Riley who despises having his photos taken.

There’s a reason why there’s no pictures of him on file, something Price’s assistant is still too fucking adamant about getting their hands on. There were no pictures of him or his family around the house either, the few lasting pictures in a box locked away in another box in the basement.

But then there was you who had about 5 cameras laying around the house, always ready to take a picture of something.

You’d purse your lips, high pitched babbles leaving your lips to get Simons attention as if he was a baby, trying to get them to focus on the camera. With no hesitation, he’s playfully mushing your camera out of his face, or blocking the view of himself right when you got a good shot of him. And you’d chuckle through a groan, falling all over him like you always did, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“My mom still takes pictures of everything, so you have to be good ‘nd let me take my portion Si.”

“….mmm… Fuck no.”

But when the house is quiet, the dogs in their cages, and you’re deep in slumber for the night, he’s right there in the kitchen by the stove light. Hunched over the counter because of his tall frame, looking through the scrap book you so meticulously put together. Pages filled with pictures of you, off guards of Simon you craftily took, the dogs, little stickers, paper cut outs from magazines or things you wasted his printer ink on, silly miniature drawings, notes about when the pictures were taken, and those god damn the blurry photos you took of the older man. Face covered by his mask or his hand, in an attempt to hide himself—

Was it shyness? Shame? A mix of both, not wanting to reveal the scars on his face that’ll be stuck there for the rest of his life— those permanent proof of events that would be etched in his brain. He hated recalling past bullshit, it makes his stomach turn, his palms sweaty, irritated. He wasn’t used to it, not like he ever could, how much you really, truly cared about the brute.

How you saw the beauty in him, the tattered man that was Simon Riley— he couldn’t understand it.

But then he continued flipping through the book, there’s that photo you took while he was completely knocked out, bare chested, bed head of blonde hair showing of his body covered in tattoos and markings— the more than healed gun shot wound from an incident a couple years back on his left shoulder, the knife wounds, the burns— but you’re there.

Face buried in his chest, eyes smizing at the camera while your other fingers graced right at the mark on his cheek you always touched— content. Content with being with him.

Then another, you’ve got that stupidity cute smile on your face as Simons got your in a playful headlock, it makes your cheeks chub out like a chipmunk, curls covering your face and just barley— you could see Simons lips curved up— laughing at how dumb his baby looked.

Another, one that he took this time, and it’s shit compared to the the ones you take. But Simon adored it, you’re right on the hood of his truck, arm propping you up as you give him that classic smirk with one of his shirts you’d swore was yours, nipples peaking through the material. Fucking gorgeous, incredible being you were.

God damn it, you were his precious baby. Ghost’s heart swells because he’d be damned if he couldn’t continue seeing you taking those annoying photos and putting them together like it was some final award winning project. Simon would probably never admit it aloud, but you and those memories were his treasure, he’d do anything to keep it in his grasp.

a/n: ending is shit but whatever, no one’s reading this. But this being my first fluff(ish) post about simon, woah.

most recent masterlist

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[chrrific]

KISS-DODGER ♡ 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇’ 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 。

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝒊𝗩𝗔 🐇 ◟ refusing to kiss your boyfriend after a prank

( 𝖬𝑖𝖠 𝖢𝖠𝖱𝖠 ) enhypen ⸝⸝ bf ! sunghoon x f ! r O657 fluff whiny hoon agenda 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 profanity kissing skinship light flirting

★reblogs get you kisses

sunghoon swears he’s going fucking insane.

you had been ignoring him for the past, what, about a half hour now? and he was this close to exploding from lack of your attention.

it all began when he dodged your kiss when you came up to him earlier, just to tease a bit. the boy thought he’d give you the silent treatment for a minute, let you be pouty for a bit, and then give in and kiss you like the amazing boyfriend he is.

but instead, he’s the one being given the silent treatment now.

“baby, please, i swear i didn’t mean it! i’ll give you a hundred kisses to make up for it.” sunghoon whines, only to be met with complete radio silence from you.

tipping his head back onto the headrest of the couch, he groans as if you’ve told him with your silence he can never kiss you again, covering his eyes like he’s shielding himself from something horrible. “i think i’m dying,” he huffs, “i even see a light at the end of the white pathway. it’s so bright, gosh, i can’t see, y/n. would you like the love of your life to not be able to see?”

the over exaggeration in his words and tone have your lips twitching at the side as you shake your head, bemused. “one, that’s the ceiling light, and two, the last time i checked, you were perfectly able to see when you dodged my kiss.”

“so you can talk,” he mumbles, running a hand through his ebony locks. “but i must let you know, that not kissing your precious, sweet, and kiss-deprived boyfriend can be considered pure torture by some people.”

“those ‘people’ being you, i’d assume.”

sunghoon rolls his eyes with a quiet huff, before a mischievous glint suddenly replaces the utter misery that was just now set into his captivating brown orbs.

“i’d even get on my knees and beg for you to kiss me if you’d like.”

your brain short circuited.

“w-what? hoon!” you sputter. your jaw dropped open as a burning heat crept its way up your neck, finding its home on your cheeks and ears as well.

“oh my god, y/n, i did not know you were into that,” he cackles. “guess i’ll make a mental note of that for later events.” then, a wink. he fucking winks at you, having the audacity to be this cheeky when he knows you can just refuse kiss him.

“sunghoon park, i swear to god i won’t kiss you—let alone speak to you—for a week if you wink at me one more time.”

“but you wouldn’t, considering how charming and irresistible i am.” sunghoon retorts, and the confidence in his voice just makes you deadpan even further.

you turned face to him with a small sigh. “will you stop being insufferable if i kiss you?” he takes a moment and pretends to think about it, though he inevitably nods with a grin forming on his face.

his smiling lips finally meet yours when you lean in to join them, and he feels like he’s gone insane in the best possible way. the way your lips slot against his, their plump softness enveloping him in your taste, the slightest hint of cherry chapstick hitting his taste buds.

“you really wanna dodge my kisses again?” you ask, amusement lacing your question as your mouth ghosts over his, foreheads resting against one another’s.

“if you let me kiss you like after, then maybe i might just do it again.”

you flick his chest as a response, laughing when he winces slightly at the action: he just pulls you in for another kiss by the back of your neck, this time softer, more passionate than the last.

despite it all—the teasing, the pranks, the sarcastic banter—the affection caught between you is something that will never fade, but will forever seem to linger even in the hardest of times.

미키 : woah, two sunghoon fics on a streak TT i like this one a lot, so do not flop !!!

taglist. open requests. open

[worstgenerationloser]

Could you please do ace, shanks and benn defending their f s/o from a misogynistic man? I had to face one at work and he gave me the absolute ICK

,, Rushing to your aid! ''

Ace, Shanks, and Beckman x F! Reader.

Summary... how would your boyfriend defend you from a misogynistic man?

Contains... misogyny, mentions of harassment, depictions of bloody violence, and some slight fluff!

A/N: IM SORRY YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH THAT ANON💕 I hope since you sent in this ask the men have left you alone! If not I'll ward them away myself!! 🤺🤺

Portgas D. Ace

Ace doesn't register it completely, so at first he's confused on why this man is talking to you as if you were a baby (mostly because he's a dumbass)

Now, even if he wasn't aware the man was being misogynistic at first, he's still rushing towards you because there's literally a weird man talking to you the way you would to a little kid, and you definitely looked angry enough to tear off his head.

"Woah, what's happening here?" Instinctively and natural as breathing, his arm slips around your shoulders and his fingers move to gently graze your arm in an attempt to console you.

He doesn't like showing his temper much, but when people precious to him are involved, his angry heart bursts into flames. When the man speaks, his jaw drops out of pure disbelief. According to him, he was mansplaining how pirates operate to you. Which is weird, because Ace knows that you're definitely well versed in pirates... Considering you're his girlfriend.

He wanted to diffuse the situation, but it seems like this random needed a reality check.

"Hm... Good to know, but I'm sure it's irrelevant to her." His smile is wide and joyous, but the ominous shadow looming over his face is anything but.

"But she's clueless!", the man rambles on and bumbles about like a headless chicken, before he turns back to get one good look at Ace. Then it clicks in his pea-sized brain that maybe you know a bit more about pirates than him.

Ace looks a little scary when he's mad, you discover . But mostly cute.

"My girlfriend doesn't need to explain her knowledge to some random asshole who couldn't make a lasting impact on her life if he tried, you're way below her, buddy."

With gritted teeth, Ace tries to not light fire to the whole town, but only you seem to notice his body is literally smoking hot.

According to Ace, the guy ran a little too slow, and that's how he ended up naked covered in burn marks! The marines didn't believe him, though, and you two were left to flee.

"Can you believe the balls on that guy? It's not like you're unknown, either. Portgas D. Ace's kickass girlfriend! It's got a nice ring to it, eh?"

He nudges you a little too hard and sends you flying into a bush, but you appreciate the cute moments with him no matter how brief.

Red-Haired Shanks

Shanks learned many things during his time in the Roger Pirates, but one thing really stuck with him throughout the years. He can tolerate being spat on and kicked around, if his crew sees it as a threat then he's not gonna stop them from doing whatever it is they're planning, but he's not gonna ask them to go out of their way to deal with it.

But when someone disrespects his crew, and especially you?

Oh, he's pissed.

You think he doesn't realize at first, but he's keeping a very close eye on you two. He tries to keep his ass planted firmly into his chair per Beckman's request. Beckman is the mature one, and he's almost never wrong in the astute observations he makes. Despite this, Shanks has no self control and he's lobbing himself towards the bar where you sit.

Beckman shakes his head disapprovingly at his captain, because unlike him, Beck knows you can handle yourself.

The man in question harassing you seems to be a small time criminal with a bounty of 50,000... That doesn't deter Shanks, it might have egged him on even more because who does he think he is harassing you?

By the time Shanks has made his way to you, your harasser seems to have taken it upon himself to demean you for your appearance, pulling out all the classics like "bitch" "whore" , and "slut" to name a few. Shanks, of course, finds absolutely no amusement in this. I'm sure you can guess what happened next.

Your harasser tries to argue and degrade you a little more when Shanks steps up, not realizing how silent the bar has suddenly become. He didn't even realize the hundreds of eyes disappearing from him, not wanting to watch things unfold.

"You're drunk, I'll give you that one." Shanks barks out a laugh like he finds it funny, but up close you can see that gleam in his eyes.

Well... it's not like you could stop him anyways.

But you really wish he left the bar standing, at least. It certainly isn't doing good for his reputation as an emperor of the seas.

When Beckman scolds him as if he were a child on deck, he laughs like he'll forget about it in a day or two. But everyone knows Shanks will be doing it all over again in a heartbeat. He holds you extra close that night, trying to make sure your heart isn't tainted by the venomous words spat.

"I don't want anybody, big name or small, disrespecting people I hold dear to me."

His words are sweet while he whispers to you in bed... he's an odd man, but he's yours.

Benn Beckman

Two words. Broken. Bones.

Beckman does not play around with his girl, at all. He'll bash in heads day and night if someone even looks at you the wrong way, but he restrains himself because he's not a jealous young man anymore, so he likes to think.

Regarding everything else, he's cool as a cucumber, he prefers to let things wash over by themselves and only offers advice if he senses things will go astray. (as previously mentioned)

You're his girl, and a damn beautiful one, so he isn't surprised when some people try and scope you out, the same happens to him with many women, so why be so hypocritical about it? His heart is locked inside of yours for the rest of his life whether you want him or not, so he knows you won't run off with another no matter how much Shanks jokes about it.

If they're a little persistent, he might walk up to you and give you a few kisses so they get the message. But this man was definitely not "a little persistent."

Beck doesn't have a second to think of what he should do when he hears the utterances of vile comments slip from this man's mouth after you turned him down, because he's already right next to you quicker than his own head can wrap around. He's big, tall and scary, enough so to make someone shake with just a look.

"A grown man like yourself should know that ain't no way to talk to a lady." His voice is low, and he's talking nice and slow for your harassers ears only.

Beck heard it all, him hitting on you in an unceremonious way, all the way to demeaning you when you rejected him, spouting the same chewed up rhetoric that is "women are only good for bearing children" and whatnot. He can't let that pass no matter how capable you may be of handling it yourself.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" The man's words were proven to be a bad move before his lips could rest against eachother.

Following that, there was quite a sight. Somehow Beckman managed to twist the poor guy into some kind of abstract form of art, all bloody and fucked up with no more teeth left.

And of course he ushered you away after wiping his hands clean enough for you, because he's a gentleman, he didn't do it for himself, it was for you!

"M'sorry you had to see that, sugar." His whispers fill your head while he has you resting your head on his chest hours later, a few giggles coming from outside your bedroom door. Guess who?

"You know I won't let nobody disrespect you like that. You aren't mad, are you baby?" Beckman is a real sweet talker, so it's not like you could be even if you tried.

Plus, he looks super hot fighting.

END.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated! ❤️If possible, leave a comment too!

[chiumii]

the lamb and the wolf ~ dom! vampire! jake x sub! reader ౨ৎ .⋆。⊹ ♡

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 제이크 ] ☆ Sim Jaeyun, the popular yet somehow nerdy 21 year old at your shared university. All the girls swooned over him, claiming that he's the most perfect human being to have ever walked this earth. You, on the contrary, felt something off about him, had your suspicions about the blonde haired boy that started to rule your every thought, and he could sense such. of course he did! He was the one crawling into your brain and picking apart your skull in order to rearrange the puzzle pieces to fit perfectly isync with his. He was absolutely crazy about how you didn't pay him any lustful eye or tried too hard to come onto him, that was until he started yearning for you, every part of you in so many more ways than one. You were just as mysterious to him as he was to you, and it drove both of you mad. And he just had to do something about it before his precious little muse genuinely did go insane.

Word count: 14,000

Vampire! Dom! Jake x Sub! Reader. Bondage, blood kink, overstimulation, biting, scratching, slight cnc (reader likes it dw), slight manhandling, praise, degradation, fingering, slight hunter/prey dynamic, slight breath play, slight corruption

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This is more of a short story than a one shot and the reader has similar characteristics to me so it's a little bit of an oc. sorry. it's kind of a slow burn but oh well. Reposts and comments are appreciated thank you! ♡ - phoebe

"Sim Jaeyun and f/n l/n" the professor calls out. you look over your shoulder the same time Jake looks down towards you from the top of the room, your eyes fixated on each others for just a split second before you break eye contact just as fast as it appeared, turning towards your best friend who sits directly next to you. The psychology professor was arranging groups of people for an upcoming project. you look at your best friend, your lips sucked between your teeth as she giggles.

"don't laugh please." you say to in a groan. she shakes her head, her giggling dying down as she speaks

"he's really not that bad, I hear he's actually decently nice and charming. all that talk about being a fuck boy are all rumors from what I hear" you cock an eyebrow up at her words, a look of 'oh really' written across your face

"and how would you know that" you say when you go to grab your book bag and sling it over your shoulder, not yet standing up to move

"one of my friends is a friend of his, so I've hung out with him from time to time and he doesn't at all act like what people talk about. I might just be talking out of my ass but you know" she shrugs her shoulders before continuing

"I guess it's just his looks that everybody fawns over. You can't even deny how attractive he is" she speaks and grabs her bag, standing up to move to her group, leaving you to follow her actions and face the blonde haired man. you look at him and you really can't deny it, he is unbelievably attractive. his face chiseled perfectly, his hair framing his face in a way that extenuates his features. he looks at you, a smile appearing on his lips this time, inviting you over.

You return his smile out of fondness. You're not really the type to fall for looks, you want something genuine. Real feelings and love, so you've never had the opportunity to actually fall in love because a lot of people in this generation tend to follow down the path of hook-up culture that really wasn't designed for your heart.

I guess you could say you want an old type love, one where men weren't ashamed to talk about their feelings for a woman.

You walk over to your group of four people, the empty seat with your name written all over it sat directly next to the blonde. you take your seat and get out your MacBook, opening up your notes before resting your elbows on the table below you, your chin in your palms as you look over your group, your eyes finding jakes figure once more as his do you.

"I'm y/n, by the way" you say to your group and begin talking about the subject of your shared presentation due in three months. its a really big project that consists of the need for various statistics involving a psychological study. When you begin suggesting topics, jakes eyes pour into your movements when you speak, finding it quite cute how much you enjoy talking about your major. he inturrupts you, his voice cherry sweet as his tone cuts into you, your eyes finding his

"you know an awful lot about psychological studies and tests ran in the past, how do you know so much?" he asks genuinely. you smile at him because he seems to take actual interest in your knowledge, you begin to ramble, talking his ear off about how much you enjoy learning how the human mind works and why it works the way it does. the other group members listen to you as well, but not as intentely as Jake does.

"psychology is my major, ever since I was little I was fascinated about the way people operate and the explanation as to why they do the things they do, I guess its kind of like an extreme interest of mine that I decided to make into my life goal to study" you end your ramble, a small tint of red coating your cheeks once you realize you've been talking for over fifteen minutes. Jake's smile never falters at your voice

"you just answered my second question. you're quite an interesting one, y/n" the way he worded his sentence sticks with you, he's talking as if he was born at a different time because you have never, ever heard anyone talk the way he does. you shake your head and the rest of the period goes by in a flash, your group figuring out what to make your presentation on, finishing up on it being the root of different phobias and how they affect different people. its quite simple, but there is a lot of different types that you would like to go over.

"hey guys, I think we should exchange numbers so we can all get together outside of class to do this project" one of your group members says, you nodding your head and getting your phone out of your bag. Jake takes your phone before anybody else could, handing you his in return.

"here, its easier like this than having everybody read out their numbers" Jake says to you, typing his number into your phone. you nod your head in agreement and add your contact information into his device before the two of you switch. you take note of what he named his contact as while he exchanges his phone with someone else.

everyones phone gets passed around and you notice that he named himself "Jake" in your phone while "sim jaehyun" was his name in everybody elses. you take note with a small smile before you wipe it off of your face.

"I'll see you later" he says to the group, but only looking at you as he speaks, exiting the room shortly after, leaving you to tilt your head in agreement. The rest of your group pools out of the room as do you not long after.

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A buzz on your phone causes you to stop doing what you're doing, setting down your lipgloss on your vanity before picking it up to check the message.

It's from Jake, and he's asking if you would like to come study with him at a nearby cafe.

You nearly fall out of your chair when you realize you weren't hallucinating, quickly messaging him back a "sure", trying not to get too excited when you get dressed after deciding on a cafe and heading out the door. its not a long walk from your apartment, giving your legs a good stretch after spending hours in your bed studying other subjects for classes your enrolled in. you enter the cafe, your eyes automatically finding Jakes lean figure. he lifts his head up from his computer, sensing your presence enter the building as he waves you over. he stands up so you could scoot into the booth next to him, deciding it was better to see each others screens than have to turn them around every five seconds.

his toothy grin makes you smile as he looks at you, recropricating his fondness. the two of you get to talking about the beginning of your lecture project, and the more that he talks, the more you begin to realize how much he knows about experiments conducted in the past, his knowledge crystal clear and unbelievably accurate. you look at him in wonder, not understanding how he knows so much about things that have happened so long ago.

"how do you know all this stuff?" you ask him, cutting his sentence short as you look up at him. his glasses frame his face so well, and you can see why every girl wont shut up about him. he really is breathtaking.

he brings his bottom lip inbetween his teeth to stop himself from laughing at your question, the most heartwarming smile on his face. he pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and you take note of his eye color; dark brown.

"psychology is my major too, y/n. I also love learning about how the human brain works" the way he says 'human' makes your stomach churn, but you pay it no mind.

"you're really smart for someone who's only 21" you laugh at him. just as he's about to say something, a waiter with your drink comes over and goes to hand it to you. Without thinking, you lean over Jake, one of your breasts presses up against his arm gently and your hair gets in his face; he doesn't move. he doesn't want to move. you smell good.

so fucking good as you get closer to him. everything moves in slow motion in jakes mind as you're oblivious to the thoughts coursing through his skull. his eyes start to become heavy as time begins to catch up to speed. you thank the waiter and lean back on your seat, your body peeling away from his. a distasteful look clouds his face as he wants to grab you and pull you to press up against him again, but he controls himself.

you take a sip of your drink with a hum before looking at the man next to you, freezing at the look on his pale face.

"Jake, are you okay?" your voice rings through out his head and suddenly he's snapped out of his thoughts as he turns to you, his eyes still heavy.

"yes, yeah im okay" he says, trying to push a reassuring smile out to comfort you. you dont look away, concern laced in your tone

"are you sure? you dont look so good" you say, leaning closer to him. your hand raises before you can event think. the back of your hand comes in contact with his forehead and much to your surprise, he doesn't have a fever, its actually quite the opposite.

he's cold. almost freezing. you gasp and furrow your eyebrows. Jake takes note and quickly grabs your wrist in your hand, gently so he doesn't hurt you, and brings it down.

"I'm okay y/n, really" his smile is genuine this time. he's never had someone worry about him so easily before and he's never had someone talk to him about their interests, let alone his. ever.

your lips part as a small, shallow breath leaves your throat, your cheeks warming up. you take notice in the fact that his hand the same tempature as his forehead. you stare at each other before you feel jakes thumb gently caressing the skin on your wrist, breaking you out of your trance. you lift your wrist away from his hold, but not before your fingers lace around his in a small squeeze, deciding to do something slightly risky.

you pick up the glass and take another sip. you almost choke when you hear Jake laughing from above you, loud and clear. you set the glass down and look up at him, your lips in a full pout as you cross your arms.

"dont tell me you're one of those matcha haters." you tighten your lips and glare at his laughing. he shakes his head and begins to calm before speaking to you through giggles

"matcha tastes like grass y/n, how could you like that stuff" you huff at his sentence, kicking his foot under the table before turning away from him, his eyes being met with your back.

"oh y/n, dont ignore me, im only expressing my opinion. you can't be mad at meee" his hands move before he can process what he's doing, his fingers find your waist and tickle you.

your body spins around as a loud shriek forces its way out of your throat, a loud laugh following in pursuit. you shake in his hold, your palms desperately trying to smack his hands away as laughter fills the whole building.

"okay okay im not mad let me go" he stops tickling you, but his hands dont leave your waist, and you don't even realize it. he can feel your warmth under his fingertips and the blood coursing through your veins, your body and soul very much prominent and alive. it fills Jake with so many emotions.

"what do you like to drink then, mr. picky" he almost answers your question honestly, but he bites his tongue.

"something much sweeter than matcha" his tone darkens playfully and it makes you slightly lightheaded. You can now feel his hands on you, his fingers tightening around your figure, but you don't say anything about it, and you can't understand why.

Jake comes to his senses when you squirm under his hands ever so slightly. your body's pulse as well as your flowing blood being felt under his hands becomes quickly overstimulating, making him clench his jaw. he lets you go before muttering a quick

"I'll text you later" before speed walking out of the cafe, leaving you lightheaded and almost breathless. you walk home in confusion after spending the last few hours of your day with Jake studying and talking. you hear a distant scream a few blocks away, but that's normal in a city like this, so you push it to the back of your head once you enter your apartment for the night.

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"y/n..." a dark voice sings you name. you turn around in what appears to be an empty, dark space with no walls and the ground around you is filled with shallow water that leaves your bare feel cold.

"y/n" the voice echos, louder this time. your heart begins to pound in your chest, but you can't get your feet to move for the life of you. your breathing is heavy and it feels like you're about to be snatched up. you look around, no light, sound, or anything can be seen or heard in the weird universe you find yourself in.

That's until you turn your body around, finally getting your feet to move

That's when you see it: a figure with a blurred face stands a ways away from you, but you can almost see it clearly, carrying something

no, somebody.

Your freaked out breathing increases, but you stand your ground. you squint your eyes, making out the small drops of a red liquid stained the clothes its wearing, you can tell now its a man carrying a woman in a short white nightgown stained in the same red liquid that matches the color of his clothes, similar to your own night gown you sleep in every night. the mans face is blurry, but you can still see the red that stains his chin and neck, your eyes working their way down his figure to see his fingertips painted in the same, dark color. you can feel the grin on his face from where your standing. The woman doesn't move or make a sound. she's completely limp in his arms.

within the blink of an eye, he's standing in front of you, his face still blurry as the woman disappears from his hold

"be careful with who you trust" he whispers. the way he moved was so quick, it scared you into falling into the water below you, and suddenly you jump up out of your bed with a gasp. your hand clenches your chest as your heave for air. you shake your head and turn on the light on your bedside table.

You look around, scared out of your mind before getting the courage to get up and walk to the kitchen, getting a glass of water and chugging the entire thing before putting it down on the counter, leaning down to stretch your back.

"it was only a nightmare" you say to yourself, standing up straight and running your fingers through your hair. You walk into the living room to check the time. 5:30 am and your psychology class starts at 8:00 am. You decide to take a shower and make yourself breakfast instead of going back to sleep, you're too awake to do so anyways, the dream forcing you into being fully alert.

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Walking into class, now tired out of your mind from getting up so early, you set your bag down and sit next to Jake. you lean over the desk with your head in your hands, face buried in your arms as you let out a groan.

"are you okay" Jake puts a comforting hand on your back that eases you. you turn your head to look at him, your eyes tired while you nod your head. Jake doesn't believe you and cocks his head to the side, a questioning look sweeps over his face as he looks at you.

"I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep, I'm so tired." you say, not looking away from him, the cutest pout on your lips. Jake wants nothing more than to kiss you right then and there, but he holds himself.

"I know how that feels" he says, his face softening. class begins and you end up falling asleep for the entire two hours, Jake taking down notes for you. he watches your peaceful figure, your shoulders moving up and down gently as your breathing is calm.

You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back and the softest, sweetest voice lure you out of your sleepy state. you blink your eyes open as you realize Jake is the one coaxing you out of your little nap.

"hi sleepy girl" the nickname makes your heart swell in your ribcage as you look up at him with a smile

"how long was I asleep for?" you ask him, not moving. he chuckles before answering your question.

"the whole class" you sit up quicker than the speed of sound, looking around to notice the class packing up, the clock striking 10 am. you shake your head in disappointment

"you let me sleep through the lecture??" you ask him in a sassy tone without meaning to, but he doesn't take it to heart

"you needed the sleep, I didn't want to wake you. you looked so peaceful" he says, his hand on your back leaving. you look at your open MacBook, then back at him

"I took the notes for you, if that helps" he gestures at the screen and you look at the organized notes before your expression softens

"im sorry for having an attitude, I'm just kind of anal about taking notes, but you did them perfectly" you stand up and close your laptop, putting it in your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

"y/n, do you wanna hang out? we can study too if you want"

I just want to spend time with you.

you're glad he asked before you could, because you're not too sure you would have due to the fact that you were just too shy. you nod your head and walk out of the classroom side by side.

"where do you want to go?" you ask him as you begin to walk off campus. He shrugs his shoulders as he thinks, not really knowing where to go. you also think for a moment before the two of you begin talking in unison

"do you wanna go get food and then go to a park?" you ask him as he cuts his sentence short to listen to you. he nods his head

"that's perfect" he says as the two of you make your way to a cafe not far from campus. the bell dings, signaling to the workers that the two of you entered the building. Both of you stand in the short line to order, but you suddenly have the urge to pee.

"Jake, can you hold my things, I have to use the bathroom" you say. without needing any words, he grabs your tote off your shoulder and slings it around his. he smiles at you as you grip his arm gently without realizing it, walking off after. your touch lingers on his arm, even as he's ordering he can still feel your warmth.

you walk out of the bathroom after washing your hands to be met with Jake talking to another girl. She's beautiful; long blonde hair and a button nose, she's skinny and her clothes bring out her curves. she's holding onto Jakes arm, and before you could feel any sort of jealousy, he shifts under her hold uncomfortably, peeling out of her grasp with the fakest smile you've ever seen. you pause in your tracks, picking up on the conversation.

"You're so handsome, it's incredible" she says, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes at him. he chuckles and shakes his head. How could she not see the obviously pink tote bag littered with keychains and plushies on it? He clenches his jaw and musters out a "thank you"

"do you want to, I dont know, hang out? we could go back to my place?" she asks, eyeing him up and down. he shakes his head instantly, denying her invitation

"no thanks, im good. I'm actually here with someone" he cocks his head in your direction and she spins around, glaring at you. surprise takes over your body as you question how the fuck he knew you were standing there in the hidden corner without him even glancing at you. Your jaw slacks open in a quiet gasp as his eyes shift over to yours, not even needing to move his body or head to look at you. his stare makes you feel things you shouldn't. his eyes are telling you to come to him, so you obey, the both of them staring at you

You go to stand next to him shyly and Jake can't help but admire how obedient you are. he's not meaning to have such perverted thoughts about you at a time like this, but he can't help himself you're just too fucking adorable.

good girl

he thinks to himself. the girl huffs and walks away without a single word. you turn to face him

"good riddance, these girls have no shame" he says, smiling down at you

"you don't like it when girls approach you?"

"correction, I don't like it when they throw themselves at me" he says and before the conversation can continue, he holds up an iced matcha for you. you smile and look at it, then at him again.

"you bought it for me?" you ask and cup the cold drink in your hands.

"don't even think of paying me back" he says, still holding your tote as his now empty hand finds its way to gently grasp the small of your back, ushering the two of you out of the building and towards a non-busy park. You walk side by side through the cool, crisp autumn breeze. the golden, red, and brown leaves falling and crunching under your feet and the smell of the earth is calming. you take a sip of your drink and hum. Jake looks at you, admiring the way you enjoy the small things around you.

the both of you silently approach the grassy park and sit down next to each other. you set your drink down as he mimics your actions with your bag, putting it down next to him.

you lay down, your hair sprawled out on the ground but you don't care, you have to shower today anyways.

"its so nice outside, Its finally sweater weather, I can use my hoodies now" you say out in the open, not directly to Jake but at the world

"are you cold?" he asks you, moving to take his hoodie off before you can reply.

"a little, but its nice" before you open your eyes, you feel Jakes arms around your shoulders, ushering you to sit up as he helps you put his hoodie on. you take his hoodie as a kind gesture and put it on. its comforting, but not quite warm. you would think that his body heat would make the jacket at least a little warm, but its not.

it smells like him and your body begins to relax into the material of the jacket, feeling comforted.

"thank you, but aren't you gonna be cold?" you ask

"I don't get cold" you look at him, confusion written all over your face, but you take his words as a joke.

"ha ha, I guess you're just built different" you fake a sarcastic laugh at him and lay down again, Jake following after, laying next to you.

"do you have a girlfriend" you don't mean to be so direct, but his earlier actions confuse you, making you wonder if he just isn't looking for anything, or he already has a girlfriend. he turns to look at you, a serious look on his face as he speaks

"no. I've never fallen in love before and I don't plan to." he says as you turn to face him now, a little sad, but you listen to him with undivided attention.

"why?"

"everybody wants to just use me for my body. I don't understand it. not to toot my own horn but I do know that I am attractive, but im so much more than a handsome face. I want somebody to love me for me." he says and you become breathless, feeling the exact same way. you nod before you speak, looking deeply into his now hazel eyes

"I feel the same way. ive never met anybody who thinks the same way as I do apart from my best friend. I want to love someone and I want someone to love me, I don't want just sex I want-

-passion" Jake says the same word as you do. your face turns a deep shade of red. no other words needing to be said. his eyes lure you in dangerously close and suddenly you're daydreaming of kissing him.

kissing him with so much force and emotion it makes heat rise to your core, spreading throughout your body like fireworks.

"they're wrong about you" you blurt out as you keep daydreaming.

"I know" he says sadly. you can feel his emotions, as he feels yours.

"you're so kind, I dont understand how everybody can say such things" you chew the skin on the bottom of your lip after the words leave your mouth, worried you've said too much.

"you're too sweet to me" he's being serious. he's done unspeakably bad things, and he's dangerous. He's been telling himself to stay away from you out of fear he might hurt you as well because you're different than all the rest, but that fact alone drives him in more. you're like his muse. you're all he's been thinking about as of late, but no matter how hard he's been trying, he just can't stay away from you. he thinks of how badly he wants to crawl over you and devour you, show you how badly you've begun to take over every thought in his mind and the reasoning as to every action he's started making.

you've begun to drive him mad, and he's never wanted to take, taste, keep something to himself so badly.

his eyes shift color ever so slightly and you can almost swear they darken, his eyes getting heavy. however, you're not the least bit scared. you're intrigued.

you want to know what makes him tick. you want to know what he's thinking and why. his eyes flood into you, making you feel like your drowning in his stare. a coil starts to form in your lower abdomen, and you wonder how in the hell that's happened when he hasn't even hinted towards touching you.

"Jake" his name rolls off your tongue in a breathless whisper, almost like a hushed moan and its music to his ears. he hums in response, urging you to continue.

"do you think you could eventually fall in love?" you ask him, wishing he would give you the answer you would like to hear.

"I will, I can feel it." he says answering your question. he doesn't want to, but he feels himself falling for you ever so slowly, a ticking time bomb he wish he could defuse. he doesn't want you to be a part of his life because that would put you in danger, making you one of the most beautiful walking targets, and he would hurt anybody who even thought of laying a finger on you because of him.

but he doesn't want to let you go. the internal battle he's having with himself only grows with every passing second he's with you, and he's falling into insanity. with his slow decent into madness, yours follows not far after.

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this universe is a deep shade of red, and its dark. the cool water floods around your feet, making them cramp with how cold the temperature is. you've finally worked up the courage to walk around, wondering why you always find yourself in this familiar place every single night.

the only sound that echoes in the never ending universe is water rustling around, and your shallow breathing. it feels as though you've been walking for hours, if not days trying to find the answer as to why you've been brought here so frequently.

a scream makes you jump, whipping your head around as your heart feels like its going to leap into your throat and out of your mouth. your nails dig into your palms, attempting to ground yourself. you can see the familiar figure, holding the same woman in the white night gown, still stained in red.

you dare walk closer, tired of being played with like a game in your own dream world. you clench your jaw and swallow, hard. you begin to walk over with confidence, but all of your thoughts are drained from your body once you realize what's happening.

He's holding her in his arms bridal style, his knees digging into the wet floor as his face is in her neck. she's facing away from you, so you can't see who it is, but you can hear the moans of... agony, pleasure? you can't tell as they roll off her tongue and into your ears.

the water begins to turn red underneath the two of them, and all you want to do is wake up

wake up

wake up

please

but your frozen as you attempt to piece together what's unfolding before you. your jaw slacks open when one of his free hands slides under the slip of her dress, touching her in ways that make you feel tingly, now realizing her moans are ones of pleasure.

you gasp when he lifts his head up, his hair covering his eyes as he chuckles darkly. his face isn't blurred anymore, and you can almost just make out his face-

your hands fly to your mouth, trying to stop yourself from gasping even louder as he looks up at you, his mouth stained a with deep crimson red liquid that drips down his chin and onto his suit. a smirk litters his face as you can see the undeniably prominent fangs that stand out like a rose in a field of weeds.

"Jake.."

you shoot up out of bed, trying to understand what's happening. a loud bang makes you just about jump out of your skin and your window flies open, your curtains dancing in the night wind. you get up quickly and slam it shut before running back into bed and under the covers. your hands rake through your hair, pulling on it out of stress.

you just had a dream about Jake and he was.. inhuman. its not possible, it can't be. your hands move down to cover your face as you whine, realizing he wasn't just inhuman, but he was fingering someone, touching them in all the ways you wished he would touch you, and suddenly you start to think the most disgusting, vile thoughts of the man you've befriended less than two months ago.

thoughts ranging from kissing each other deeply, his hands all over you, touching your every nook and cranny you possess as he sucks deep, purple marks into your skin, his hands traveling down to the hem of your panties as he slips them to the side, sliding his fingers in and out of you ever so gently as if you were the most fragile little doll ever made

to him fucking you deep into the mattress, biting and grabbing you everywhere he could reach, his cock breeding you and engraving his shape into your body for all of eternity, marking you his as he carves his name into his creation, his little doll.

you feel disgusting as your fingers slip inside your underwear, dragging against your clit as you make yourself wetter at the though of Jake using you in every way possible. you slip down into the mattress as you begin fingering yourself, wishing he would come and replace your dainty little fingers with his long ones, stretching you and abusing your hole as if it were his own, and honestly, you wish he would come claim you.

"y-yun,,," you moan quietly, but much to your obliviousness, he hears your call, watching you from the darkest corner of your room, watching you unravel yourself just for him,, all because of him.

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"okay only two weeks until the project is due and we have to present, we just need to do revisions" one of your group partners says to the group. your head is in your hands, shielding yourself from the sun coming in through the windows. Jake puts a comforting hand on your back, luring you out of your almost-sleepy daze.

"are you okay?" he asks gently, his tone sincere. you turn your head to look at him, nodding with a small smile on your face. he looks at you as if he doesn't believe you, but doesn't push the issue.

"Ive done all my revisions, so im pretty much all done unless any of you need my help with anything" he says. you shift under his hand still rubbing your back.

"I'm all done too, ive been staying up late at night to get this done because I have other classes I need to focus on" you lie through your teeth. The real reason you haven't been getting sleep is because you have the same exact dream every single night, and it wakes you up at exactly four in the morning on the dot. its been almost three months now and you're starting to feel restless, and now with the new information that the man in your dreams is indeed Jake, you don't know how to feel. One thing you do know for certain is that you've begun to grow feelings for the blonde haired boy. The way he looks at you is alluring, and it the fact that the two of you have been hanging out almost every other day isn't helping your case. Whether it be studying for an exam, or watching a movie at home, you always find yourself with Jake as of recently. His presence is comforting, and you're beginning to become attached.

You feel gross for thinking it, but you've also been feeling a sort of urge with him. Thinking about how well he would fit inside you and how good it would feel. What kind of sounds would he make when he's fucking you. Would he moan, or keep quiet? Little to your knowledge, he's been thinking the same thing about you.

Would you writhe underneath him, or take his cock like the good girl he's come to be obsessed with. Would you whimper or scream? He wants all of you, especially the part he's most scared of taking.

You just smell so good.

He can't help but want to taste you. not only is your pussy making him want to do unspeakable things, but so is your blood. pure, innocent, and so full of life. your heart is also calling out his name without you realizing it, and so is his.

Even though his isn't beating or pumping blood throughout is body, he wishes it would beat just for you, all because of you. He still feels that red hot firework throughout his stomach and mind whenever he's around you, and all he wants to do is hold you and tell you how badly he craves you, needs you, wants you.

Your mind, body, and soul he wants to take for himself.

"lets go back to your place so you can nap, okay?" he says into your ear and you nod quicker than you can even think. He packs up his back as well as yours and carries them out of the building the four of you decided to study in for the day and head over to your apartment.

"y/nnnn" Jake says, throwing his head back as you look up at him through your eyelashes, you don't say anything, but pout instead.

"y/n please" you shake your head no, the pout not faltering.

"if I watch this with you, can you at LEAST let me teach you how to play Fortnite. All my friends are ass at playing" you groan, throwing your head back now.

"please please please please please-"

"FINE oh my god I just wanted to watch twilight for fucks sake you can teach me" you throw a pillow at him from your position on the floor before turning around to plug the dvd into the dvd player. you hear Jake snicker from behind you. you whip your head around with a glare, your lips sucked between your teeth.

"why on earth are you using a dvd player" he laughs.

"i'm going to strangle you." you say seriously, but Jake takes it as a challenge.

"oh yeah?" he spreads his legs apart slightly, manspreading on the couch as his arms are folded behind is head, and the way he's looking at you makes you feel hot and heavy, quickly.

"I'd like to see you try" your cheeks heat up, but you decide to stand up and charge at him anyways with a laugh. you jump onto his lap and your hands find their way to his neck, attempting to choke him out, but he grabs both your wrists in his one arm and flips your back onto the couch below you, hovering over your body.

suddenly, this game isn't funny anymore, as your thighs clamp down together as his face is only a couple mere inches away from yours. your lips part as you let out a shaky breath. you clasp your thighs together and Jake can smell the arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jake" there you go again, saying his name in the most beautiful, breathless and airy way possible. he drops his head down and shakes it, trying so hard to control himself.

"fuck,,, y/n.." he says quietly and you hum. he's eyeballing your neck, his own arousal and lust just about clouding his mind before a harsh knock scares you, making you jump in his hold. your arousal is stripped away from you as you turn towards the door.

"pizzas here" is all Jake says before letting you out of his grasp and heading towards the door, pulling out his wallet and saying for your pizza. you lay there while he's paying, trying to figure out what the hell that was. you felt so extremely turned on and Jake looked at you like he wanted to either kill you, or fuck you until you were completely braindead. You sit up as he puts the pizza on the living room table and the movie starts playing when you hit play on the remote.

The two of you watch in comfortable silence as you munch on your second slice of pizza.

"That's not how vampires actually are" he blurts out randomly. you turn to him and tilt your head in confusion

"what?" you ask him, swallowing your bite and putting the crust back into the box.

"not all vampires have powers, only the strongest of the strong have powers. its actually rare for a vampire to actually get their own individual powers, they're just fast and strong" he says in a matter of fact tone and it makes you wonder. It's odd how much knowledge he has about this sort of thing and he's talked about it before in front of you whenever you talk about mythical creatures.

"how do you know that" you look at him, turning your body to look at him fully as the movie becomes background noise.

"the internet is free, silly girl" he covers up his knowledge and shifts his gaze towards you, the movie pushed to the back of both your minds.

"that could be true, but we dont know for certain because its not real" you say trying to comfort yourself. Jake rolls his eyes with a small "sure" before smirking at you, leaning in towards your frame.

"what..." you say, leaning in the opposite direction. his hands come to either side of your legs, trapping you. one of his hands places itself on your waist and in less than a fraction of a second, he's ticking the life out of you as you scream for mercy.

"Jake pleaseeee let me go- pl- Jake please" you scream at him while laughing, writing under his fingers.

"nuhuh, you asked for this" he laughs with you and your hands fling up and around his neck, shaking your head from side to side. he stops ticking you and looks down, a smile still on his face. he collapses to the side of you after a moment of staring, and pulls you into his body by your waist, your head on his chest. your body relaxes into his hold and you nuzzle your face into him. this is the closest the two of you have gotten, and now he's finally holding you in one of the ways he's craved for what feels like eternity, and you could basically say that.

He's waited for someone like you to come around for hundreds of years, never being able to fall in love in the centuries of being on this earth, and he can't repress his feelings anymore as you fall asleep in his hold. Your steady breathing and the beating of your heart bring him comfort that nobody, and nothing else ever could. he kisses your forehead gently before groaning to himself.

He is so fucked.

he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes as he breathes in your scent, his arms around you tightening as if that would help protect you from all the evil in this world, including him.

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"Guys we got an A...." one of your group members says with a huge smile. you squeal and jump, giving your group mates a high five before Jake is pulling you into him from behind, giving you a huge hug.

"I knew we could do it, we're all way too smart for this class anyways" Jake says to everyone

"it helps that we had the smartest girl in school on our team too" he whispers in your ear as a deep shade of blush coats your cheeks. you turn around and slap his chest with an eye roll.

"be quiet" you shake your head and wave off your other, now past group members as they walk out of the class for the end of the semester.

"lets celebrate, wanna go get something to drink and go to the beach?" Jake asks and you look at him like he's crazy.

"Jake it's almost winter, what on earth are we gonna do at the beach?" you ask him, not quite rejecting his idea. he grabs your tote bag and slings it over his shoulder.

"I just want to look at the ocean and walk around, you don't have to come if-"

"No I want to, lets go" you grab his wrist interrupting him, dragging him out of the classroom and towards the campus cafe. The wind is chilly a sit blows your white maxi skirt, the hoodie Jake let you borrow a couple months ago keeping you warm. you turn to look at the blonde behind you before looking at him in surprise

"how are you not cold" you motion to the thin black t-shirt he's wearing. he shrugs his shoulders and pulls you to walk next to him instead of in front.

"I don't get cold often, remember?" he says, making the memory of him telling you that before front in your mind.

"oh yes I remember now, are you sure you're not cold?' he nods his head and looks to you with a reassuring smile before opening the door to the cafe, holding it open for you as you trot inside. you order a hot chocolate, offering Jake something but he declines.

The cafe is pretty, the walls a nice pretty green color with fairy lights littering the walls around you. it's not super busy especially for it being the middle of the day. Your drinks are finished and the two of you walk to the beach, not too far from the college. you grab his cold hand and lace his fingers with yours and urge him onto the sand, the water crashing down and meeting with the small grains to make a beautiful sound.

"its been so long since ive been to the beach, ive been so busy" you say and breathe in the salty air, and finish your drink, throwing it away at a near trash can and you start walking along the beach, avoiding the ocean water to not get your shoes wet. Jake follows you, walking a couple feet behind you.

Once you realize he's behind you, you stop and turn around to face him, questioning why he's walking behind you and not next to you. He stops in his tracks too, watching your body. Suddenly, an idea hits him as a shit eating grin makes its way to his face and you get the urge to run, watching the gears in his head turn. You spin around without questioning it and run away from him, and he takes off after you. You laugh and turn your head noticing how close he's gotten in such a short amount of time. You scream and pick up pace, but much to your avail, his arms wrap around your smaller frame and pick you up in the air. you kick your feet trying to get out of his hold, but he's strong, keeping you in his arms. He spins you around and throws himself on the ground, your body falling on top of his with a squeal.

"oh my god Jake, didn't that hurt?" you laugh and he shakes his head. you rest your chin on his chest as he lays in the sand, admiring how perfect his facial structure is. the way his blue eyes

blue eyes?

glitter in tune with the crystal ocean water. he brings his hand up to you, pushing the stray hairs out of your face and behind your ear. you shift on top of him and he feels every inch of your body very quickly. the way you smell is overwhelming and the way your warm, beautiful body is pressed against him pushes his senses into overdrive. his eyes change from blue to a deep red and within the fraction of a second, he's pushing your back into the sand with a small yelp coming from you, his face is in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply through his nose and out of his mouth. you whine, shifting uncomfortably underneath him as you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers finding his hair.

"Jake..?" you call out to him, but he doest hear you as he bites down on his bottom lip, hard as an attempt to control himself. he groans into your skin and it sends vibrations throughout your body. one of his hands is on your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin, but you can't feel it.

You pull his head up to look you in the eyes, but when you see him, your lips part and you become breathless.

Hes so incredibly handsome, but he looks like he's in pain. his nails dig into your skin and you yelp, tightening your grip in his hair without realizing, making him moan and fall into your neck again.

"j-jake?? are you okay?" your worry makes him want to split you open and fuck you right there in the sand, but he can't. he wont hurt you. He shakes his head and tightens his grip once more before letting you go gently, standing up and looking down at you, a harsh look in his eyes as he speaks.

"I can't y/n.. I can't- fuck..." he cocks his neck away from you and walks away, so quickly it's almost as if he disappeared. you lay in the sand, awe struck and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. you lay there for a few minutes, wishing he would come back, say something- anything to you. your suspicions grow with every passing second and before you could let your mind go into overdrive, you get up and brush the sand off. on your walk home, you try and think of something else, anything to take your mind off the raging, burning hot pit in the bottom of your abdomen. you bite your lip so hard, it starts bleeding when you approach the door of your apartment.

You slam the door behind you and lock it. you throw off your clothes, suddenly feeling hot despite the cold weather. you get in the shower, trying to wash yourself clean, but no matter how many pumps of body wash you use or how red you scrub your skin, you feel dirty.

Does Jake not want to be around you because he figured out you have a crush on him? or even worse... you want him to use you? fuck you? you groan and throw your loofa on the ground and turn off the water.

after getting dressed and drying off your hair, you think about what to eat for dinner, but instantly feel nauseous at the thought of eating, so you just turn on the tv to distract your brain, but the phone on the corner of the table is calling your name.

You stare at the device before scooping it up to see if Jake texted you.

Nothing.

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The red universe has now become your second home as you find yourself here once again. the water isn't as cold as it normally is, it's actually quite warm. you clench your jaw with an eye roll and begin to walk around, looking for the familiar blonde boy and the mysterious woman in white.

it feels as though you've been walking around for hours before your eyes land on the familiar scene, only this time, its clearer.

he's once again on his knees with her in his arms, his hand is slipped under her night gown, her moans echoing off the chambers of your skull, a pang of jealousy hits you straight in the heart as you scowl.

he lifts his head and turns to you, the blood of the woman staining his lip and clothes, the same black suit has undertones of red and you tense at the eye contact. his fingers work faster inside of her as she turns her head, looking dead at you as you gasp.

All these nights of waking up with your clit pulsating and your mind as tired as can be finally all make sense as you look at the woman

a perfect mirror

its you

"no,,," you whisper

"oh yes" he chuckles darkly, and you go to turn your head because when he spoke, the voice wasn't coming from Jake himself, but from behind you.

when you turn your head, your body freezes as you're now on the ground exactly where the mirrored version of you was and you moan loudly at the quick ripples of pleasure that flow throughout your body, caused by jakes fingers working inside you, pumping your walls as you become as wet as the ground beneath you.

you turn your head to look at the man above you. his eyes are a deep, vibrant red and even though its dark, his pale skin is shimmering as if you're in a room full of lights.

"Jake.." you whimper to him, his eyebrows pinch together and suddenly he looks like he's in pain, giving you the same exact look he had given earlier at the beach.

he lowers his head to your neck, and bites down.

Your moans pick up volume as they fill your dark room, the moonlight cascades in through your window as jakes silhoutte is illuminated perfectly, his shadow pours down onto the bed where you moan his name in your sleep so prettily.

You fling yourself out of sleep, sitting up with heavy panting, your chest heaving up and down. Jake looks at you as you awaken, his figure looming over you as he stands at the foot of the bed. you feel anothers presence and decide to look up and that's when you see him. his eyes are as red as they were in your dream, and there are prominent eye bags that soil his perfect skin. the spaghetti straps on your white nightgown fall off your shoulders and your hair is a mess. with parted lips, you breathy call his name, but he doesn't move, nor does he speak.

"Jake please..." you call again. he bites his lip and shakes his head.

"I can't.." his pained voice responds finally after your plea. you feel your eyes burning and your clit is throbbing more than it ever has in your life, your forehead is starting to get glossy as sweat begins to rise on your skin. you shake your head, not understanding the meaning of all of this, the dreams, him running away, why he's so cold all the time but can't feel it, his eye color changes, why you've never seen him eat, or drink.

Why can't you read him?

"I don't understand, Jake please" you whine at him and it drives him crazy, falling head over heels once more. his hands make their way up to his hair as he tugs on it out of frustration.

"I'm in love with you y/n." his words vibrate your body, your eyes widening when you understand them.

"but I can't be with you."

"why?" you cry out to him, begging him to do anything, touch you, hold you, feel you. you need something, you need him more than anything.

"I can't hurt you. I wont do it." he turns around looking out of the window, and for the first time in his pathetic life, he feels his eyes sting, his thirst increasing with every passing second.

"I want you, please. you could never hurt me, I don't want you to go, Jake I-" you cut yourself off as he turns towards you, his hands dropping out of his hair to dangle by his sides.

"I love you" he scoffs, not believing you.

"you love a person who kills people in order to survive." you shake your head in disbelief, knowing this would come sooner or later.

"you love a person who has been resisting the urge to take you since the first moment he's laid his eyes on you, y/n." his voice is dark but somehow sweet. you shake your head again, denying his words.

"you love a monster."

"you're wrong. I love you Jake, I love Sim Jaeyun, I need you please- please don't leave me" you squeak out the last bit of your sentence. your eyes pleading him to stay. the arousal only growing stronger the longer his around you and he can sense it.

"I don't care that you're a vampire, I don't care about any of it I just need you, im begging you Jaehyun. stay with me, please. I can't imagine myself without you I dont want that" you get up on your knees, crawling over to his body that stands near the edge of the bed. his lips are parted, giving you a full view of his fangs that you've never ever seen before.

if he had one, his heart would have been shattered in his chest with the way you're looking at him; worried and completely heartbroken. he would rip it out and gift it to you on a silver platter if it meant he could be with you with no risks. so the venom coursing through is veins at rapid speed replaces his heart. he's never felt hot in his life up until this moment, where the woman he's been waiting for for centuries is begging for him. his eyes hold pain as they meet yours.

His hand moves up to grip your chin softly, ghosting his fingers along your skin before cupping your cheek, caressing your face with his thumb.

"I won't hurt you y/n. I can't.. imagine having an existence without you in it, but I refuse to cause you any pain. I wont do it" his voice is stern, a single tear falling from his eye and down his cheek in frustration. you want him to understand how badly you need him.

"you could never do such a thing, please, im begging you please don't leave me.." your eyes reassure him. it takes a moment of silence and a lot of thinking before he speaks, finally giving you an ounce of hope.

"if I stay here with you, y/n, you'll never be able to leave. you're life will forever be different. if you want me to stay, you'll be marked as mine, permanently. do you understand love?" he gives you the final opportunity to back out, and some sick part of him hopes you will stay. you nod your head in his grasp, but that's not enough for him.

"words, sweetheart."

"I want you and only you in this lifetime, and all the ones after, I promise. I'm yours" you say in a whisper, and that's exactly what Jake wanted to hear. he bends down so his face is right in front of yours

"I love you" he says quickly under his breath before his lips capture yours in a deep, heated kiss. giving up on the last bit of restraint he had. this kiss was one filled with so much desire and longing that it makes you whine into his mouth, and he happily swallows it. his free hand moves to the outside of your thigh, and before you realize, a flip switches in Jakes mind as he's picking you up by the bottom of your thigh, his huge hand swallowing you as he pushes you up farther on the bed, pinning you down. his teeth scratch your bottom lip as your teeth crash against each other. your hands fly to his hair, gripping on his blonde locks to keep you from floating out of your body. his hand then moves towards your knee, spreading your legs apart.

His hand slips up the silk of your night gown, his fingers met with the flimsy lace fabric of your panties that are soaked through and through. he growls lowly before he speaks

"you drive me so. fucking. insane." is all he says before pulling the fabric to the side and dipping his freezing fingers in your wet folds. you break the kiss as your eyes fly closed, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins as he rubs concentrated figure eights on your slit. your mouth slacks open in a perfect 'o' shape. Jake takes this opportunity to dip his face in-between the skin of your neck and shoulder, sucking the prettiest shade of purple into your soft skin. he can now hear your blood flowing.

he licks a stripe up the junction of your neck and collarbones and towards your ear, biting down on the lobe which causes you to arch your back into him. Jake takes this opportunity to plunge two long fingers into your tight cunt, and he chuckles at how tight you squeeze his digits. you turn your head to face him and he detaches from your neck, looking down at you.

your face buries itself into his neck, finding comfort in his cool skin against your hot face. your moans muffle against him as you flutter around his fingers deep inside of you.

he curls his fingers up, grazing your sweetspot perfectly and you moan his name rather loudly.

"let me hear you my darling" you detach from his neck and open your eyes, looking into his red ones as your parted lips moan his name in the most sinful chant he's ever heard. his fingers twist and curl into you faster, making your hips buck up into his palm.

Jake sits up and uses his free hand to push your hips down into the mattress, keeping you from moving.

"stay still" he commands, and you obey. Jake slowly sinks down onto the bed as his fingers pull out of you. you whine in protest, but quickly hush your mouth when he pulls your red lace panties down your legs with his teeth, his fangs on full display. you clench down on nothing at the sight and he sees this, chuckling darkly.

he throws your legs over his shoulders as he pins your hips down with one of his hand, the other coming to trace the slit of your pussy, gently rubbing a circle around your clit every time he makes his way back up. you groan in frustration after a minute passes, but that's quickly cut short as he forces two of his digits inside your pussy, curling upwards instantly to scratch your g-spot. you attempt to thrust your hips forward, but are met with the rough forcefulness of jakes hand keeping you pinned to your silk sheets.

his teeth graze your clit, his hair in his face making you feel the coil in your stomach form. you yelp when he bites down, sucking afterwards to soothe the pain as he begins to eat you out. his tongue is fast against you, the sweat forming on your body creates a beautiful glow on your skin and Jake can almost swear that you walked straight out of a painting. the most beautiful painting ever created. the moonlight cascades down over his figure, his jawline sharp as it moves when he laps at your cunt like a starved animal-

-and that's exactly what he was. your legs wrapped around him in a desperate, failed attempt to suffocate him as you squirm underneath his tongue. fast, wet, and cool as he fucking you from the inside out. his fingers splitting you open as they work inside you. your walls squeeze him tight and he wonders how you'll ever be able to take his cock.

"y-yun,, m'- ffuck" you moan out to him as you grip the silk sheets on either side of you. Jake can't get enough of how sweet you taste. the perfect girl having the most perfect taste, what more could he ask for? He groans into your pussy, his fingers pulling out of you to wrap around your legs, the hand on your abdomen mimicking the others actions as he pulls you into his face. if he could breathe, he would be suffocated. a part of him wishes he could be suffocated because this right here is the closest he's going to be getting to heaven ever. especially with the sinful thoughts that have collected in his head since he met you. he's the devil himself when it comes to you.

You gasp at his actions, gripping his hair tightly between your fingers and grind onto his face. his long tongue fucks itself into you, pulling out to lick, suck, and bite your clit at a perfect rhythm that has your back arching and Jakes name dancing off your tongue creating the sweetest harmony that fills his ears. your juices spill out of his mouth, much to his dismay, and down his chin and onto the bed, soaking the sheets under your ass. your legs shake in his tight grip, your grinding onto his face becomes sloppy as your moans become whimpers. your pussy flutters, and Jake takes note of this. His eyes watch you as he tips you over the edge, spilling all over him as he brings you to your first orgasm. you cream around his tongue as you squirt liquids everywhere. your breathy whine of his name makes his eyes roll into the back of the head with a groan that sends vibrations throughout your body starting at your cunt. he helps you ride out your high, slowly licking and sucking your clit to comfort you on your way down.

you collapse onto the bed as he stands up at the foot of your bed and you hear a click. his belt coming undone as you sit up on your forearms, eyeing him. You're breathless as you stare at the man before you. his eyes glow a deep red and the moonlight hits him perfectly as he takes off his belt in one quick motion, holding it in his hands staring at you.

"so pretty..." you say under your breath towards the creature before you. he chuckles at your words and throws the belt above you on the bed. you go to turn and look at it, but the feeling of his hands wrapped around your ankles prevents you from doing so as he yanks you down to the foot of the bed where he stands. you yelp in surprise as you're face to face with his chest. he grips the base of your jaw in his huge hand, forcing you to look up at him.

"I wan'.. to... want.." your words trail off, not knowing how to word what you want. he tilts his head to the side and brings his hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek

"tell me what you want baby" his thumb caresses the soft skin, comforting you.

"I wan' you to... taste me..." you whisper and his ears perk up. he sighs, shaking his head.

"oh honey, I wish I could. I really do... but I can't.. I'll hurt you.. I'll lose myself" his hand entangles in your hair, massaging your scalp softly. you whine, shaking your head and furrow your eyebrows. you look up at him and place your fingers in the loop bands of his pants.

"please, yun.. please please please I want you to, need... please plea-" he quickly forces your nightgown above your head and throws it in the corner of the room to be forgotten before his hands find your hair again, yanking it back as you interrupt yourself with a loud scream at the pain. he forces your back down onto the bed as he reaches above you to grab his belt. he ties your arms above your head and around the bed post quicker than you can contemplate. he stands back up at the foot of the bed, watching you squirm under his gaze. he laughs at your helpless figure, finding it way to amusing how easy it is to get you to submit to him.

"you look so cute when you squirm around, my dear" he says unbuttoning his suit jacket and sliding it off, revealing the silky dark brown collared button up. he tilts his head at your whine as he unbuttons the dress shirt painfully slow, sliding it off of his arms to reveal his pale skin and toned body and your mouth waters. he slides the silky material off of him and shoots you a toothy, shit eating grin. one full of lust that makes your thighs clamp together. he unbuttons his dress pants and unzips the zipper, so slowly as if to taunt and tease you.

he slides his pants down passed his ankles and kicks them away, his boxers shielding you from seeing what you want the most. you whine again, signaling him to hurry. he shushes you and pulls his boxers down. his cock springing up to slap against his abdomen, precum leaking from his pink tip. he's huge. long and girthy as you wonder how the fuck that was going to fit inside you. everything about him is perfect, and he just now proved that to you. he crawls over your small frame, his hands enveloping your waist as he caresses your bare skin. the cold air hits your nipples, making them perky and hard, goosebumps littering your skin.

Jake takes his fingernail and presses it against your upper hip on your stomach, his eyes never looking away from you. before you could realize what was happening, he scratches you, hard. you let out a soft yelp at the sudden pain, blood trickling out of the fresh wound and slowly down your hip bone, pooling on your skin. he does it again with his other hand, above the other hip. you yelp, arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach once more and Jake can smell it. his eyes widen as he continues to look at you.

"god, look at you. such a messy, disgusting girl. you're enjoying this hmm?" he says before he cuts you open again. you moan at his words and the pain. your face heating up in embarrassment because what he said was true. you feel hot tears in the back of your eyes you feel so embarrassed, but in a good way. he takes note of your glossy eyes and pouts at you.

"no need to cry sweet thing, ill take care of you." Jake leans over you and kisses your tears away. his kisses trail from your cheeks, down your collarbones and in-between your breasts and down your stomach. he smells your blood before he looks at it, so close that he can basically taste it. his hands find your waist as he holds you in place, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick the smallest bit of blood off your stomach. His mind goes into overdrive as white hot pleasure rips through him. you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, and it makes him want to suck you dry as you struggle underneath him. his grip around you tightens as his long tongue licks up your blood from one of your wounds completely, his lips latching around the cut as he sucks. your walls clench around nothing as you pull at the restraints around your wrists.

he groans into your stomach, your sweet taste covering all his senses as he moves to lick another fresh cut. the way you taste, he will never ever need anything else ever again. nothing could amount to you. you grind your hips into his body as his mouth moves to the final wound, licking it clean and when you look down, surprise overwhelms you as the deep cuts he made are completely healed up scars.

as you look into his eyes, you see Jake for exactly what he is; a vampire. that doesn't scare you away, however it turns you on even further. he quickly pushes himself above you, his lips crashing against yours as he bucks his hips into you, his dick pressing against your heat but not quite going in. you whimper into his mouth, a plea for him to fuck you. you can taste blood on his tongue as you grind against his length, begging him, needing him to use your body.

so that's exactly what he does.

He grabs his cock in his hand and presses it against your entrance, pushing his tip inside of you. you hiss at the stretch, tugging at your restraints. you whine from underneath him. his face finds its way to kissing your neck, littering your skin with his lips. he pushes his dick inside you slowly before bottoming out, his balls slapping against skin.

"so tight, so good baby,, feels like fucking heaven" he says, taking his cock out before pushing it back inside you, his tip instantly kissing your cervix in the sweetest way possible. you scream in pain and pleasure, his dick filling you up perfectly. he lifts his head from your neck so his lips ghost over your skin, breathing hot air on you making you shiver, goosebumps rising to your skin. you squirm in his hold, his hand coming to your waist to hold you in place as the other comes to grip the headboard above you.

His thrusts start off slow and gently, making sure you keep up with his rhythm. your walls flutter around his cock, driving him up the wall before his pace increases, thrusting into you faster and faster, the breathing on your neck giving you chills now as he moans into your neck. your boobs jiggle up and down with every thrusts while your moans begin to sound broken as you choke them out.

Jake licks your neck, making you moan even louder than before and you finally feel scared for the first time, wondering how it's going to feel when he finally sinks his fangs into you. will it hurt? you don't know, but you can't wait to find out. your legs shake and thrash around, and your jaw slacks open in a perfect "o", inhumane sounds spill from your lips as you beg for something you're not even sure of.

Jake growls against your skin, the grip on your waist increasing until his fingernails break the skin of your hips. the smell of blood hits his overdriven senses and he finally bites.

as he sinks his teeth into you, a blood curtailing scream is ripped from your throat, white hot pain shoots down your body in ripples as he sucks the blood out of you through your neck. you kick your legs under him, not sure if you're trying to get away, or make him chase you.

your scream of pain is replaced by pleasure as his venom spreads through your veins, your entire body feels like its on fire and you've never felt so good in your entire life. you pull at the restraints as you shake in his hold. his hand on your waist wraps around your back, pulling you into his body as he thrusts up into you.

Everything becomes too much and you can feel every inch of your body. even with jakes arm wrapped around you, you arch your back somehow closer into him, trying to fuse your body into his, wanting nothing more than to feel complete. you press into him with all your strength, wishing hard enough that you could intertwine your body with his own in order to finally feel as if you were one. he wasn't close enough even though he was all over and in you, spreading through you like ice. you want nothing more than to be whole with him in every way possible.

your pussy flutters around him as the knots in your tummy begin to unravel. your moans change and Jake picks up on it, noting how your body starts going limp in his hold. With much force, and an internal battle, he detached from your neck, moving his face to look into your eyes.

He looks handsome, your blood dripping down his chin, his lips stained the most beautiful shade of red. you being painted all over him.

"Let go baby im right here, I got you" is all he says before you let go, Jake being the one to catch you when you fall. the way you clench around his cock milks him dry as he cums inside you. the both of you orgasm in unison, your mixed fluids coming to hit the bed beneath you. Jake fucks you through your orgasm, it's not enough. he's not close to being done with you.

you harshly tug at the belt, your wrists feeling raw. you need to touch him, bring your sweaty body closer to his. He takes notice of your begging face and the tugging at your bonds. you look at him with teary eyes as he gives you a genuine pout. his thrusts not faltering as you feel another coil in your stomach begin to form.

"please, please please please please" you beg him before his arm unwraps itself from your body, undoing the belt in one quick, swift motion. he throws it across the room as it lands on the ground with. a clank. your now free hands fly to his back, your fingers digging into his skin, pulling him closer.

He kisses you deeply, your blood smearing on your face now. he bites your lip with a groan before rolling his eyes. His hand grabs your hips and forces you off the bed, his dick slipping out of you. Jake flips you over on your stomach as he moves behind you on your knees.

One of his hands grips your throat and forces you to sit up, your back pressed against his front. he bends his head down to your ear and whispers sinisterly.

"who owns you, pretty girl?" he asks and you gulp.

"you do" you answer and he smiles.

"that's right darling, such a good girl hmm?" he says. his cold body feels good against your burning one. its like you were made for each other. the moon and the sun, water and fire, two halves of the same whole.

He likes your neck, the one that has yet to be bit. you shudder at the feeling of his tongue on his skin before he gently nips you, the smallest trail of blood rushes down your neck, collarbones and down your breast.

His free hand snakes around your body, pressing two fingers against your clit, rubbing circles on your bundle of muscle. you moan, pushing your back against him. Jake licks the blood on your neck before biting down harshly. Another scream exits your throat as you jump, trying to get away from him, but your attempt to run is unsuccessful as he presses your ass against his dick, his strength overpowering you. the hand on your throat squeezes tighter, making you light headed as that overwhelming and familiar feeling of icy pleasure goes off in your body, spreading quickly once again and you're a moaning mess as you fall apart in his hands.

your body starts feeling like jelly, so Jake unlatches his mouth from your neck and pushes you down on your stomach, your hips hitting the soaked bed beneath you. His body crawls over your limp one. his arm snakes under your body and around your breasts to grip your neck once more, his other hand forces your thighs apart before grabbing his hard cock in his hand and pushes it inside you.

Your quiet mewl fills jakes skull as he groans at your sounds spilling from your mouth. his dick pushes against your sweet spot that has you a moaning, pathetic mess underneath him. your fingers lace inbwetween the bedsheets as you fist them in your palm.

Jakes thrusts are relentless, fucking himself inside you at an animalistic pace. the two of you are so disgusting and messy, the smell of copper and sweat leaks through the walls. you can feel is breath against your ear again as he moans into you, his sounds have you clenching around him, fluttering like an innocent little butterfly as you begin to lose all train of thought, your eyes beginning to look dead as a trail of drool exits from the corner of your mouth.

"aww, my precious angel, you look so adorable when I'm fucking you dumb" he coos at you, his teeth nipping at the skin of your neck behind your ear. you take his words with a clench around his dick, making him moan loudly. his grip on your throat tightens as does the one on your hips.

"takin' my cock so well, its like you were made for me pretty" his teeth sink into you one last time as he drinks your sweet liquid, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins once more as you become overstimulated with everything around you. your body attempts to crawl away from him, but he doesn't let that happen

"s' too much, can't, please I can't" you beg, hot tears spilling from your eyes as saliva drools out of your mouth. he chuckles at your attempt to run

"you can take it sweetheart, doin' so good for me baby, you can do it" he says, his venom causing you to spill over the edge as his hips snap against your ass ruthlessly, fucking you into the mattress that you wouldn't be surprised if there is an outline of your body engraved in the plush material. you're also pretty sure the skin is red where his hips meet the flesh of your ass. you mewl as broken sobs fill the room along with the sound of skin slapping. the knot in your stomach snaps as you're creaming all over his dick, milking him dry as he shoots ropes of cum deep inside of you. his head falls onto your shoulder as he preps your skin in kisses as you come down from your conjoined highs. your bodies interlaced for all of time with the way he's marked you in more ways than one.

you're his and he's yours.

your eyes close as sleep overwhelms your mind as your breathing steadies. Jakes venom starts to exit your blood stream, making you unbelievably tired. Jake kisses your shoulder blade once more before you fall asleep.

"goodnight, y/n" is all you hear before you pass out in his arms.

.¸¸.♡.¸¸.☆¸.♡.¸¸.☆.¸¸.♡.¸

When you wake up, it's still dark outside, meaning you've only been asleep for a little bit now. you sit up and look around. the bed is clean, there are no marks on you from what you can see, and you're dressed in your white nightgown. your mind instantly goes into panic mode, worried that everything that happened between you and Jake was a dream. Your head fills with anxious thoughts before you lift your eyes to the window across the room, seeing Jake's silhouette cascade through your room thanks to the moonlight. you sigh to yourself before standing up out of bed, but you almost collapse onto the floor with how week you are. Jake hears your struggle and turns around, noticing you awake, he walks over to you, embracing you in his arms gently.

You look up into his now dark brown eyes, admiring how handsome he looks in this exact moment, your pupils dilate and Jake swear he can feel a pang in his chest. you wrap your arms around his neck and bite your lip anxiously, not knowing what to say.

"what's the matter my love?" the nickname calms you slightly, putting your thoughts together before you speak.

"that wasn't a dream... right..?" you ask shyly and Jake smiles at you.

"it was very much real baby" his fingertips trace the beautiful purple and red marks on your neck, and the bite scars that follow along with it. you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. his hand cups your cheek and you lean into his comforting touch, closing your eyes. your mind goes against you as begin to overthink again, worried that he would leave you now that you know everything. as if he read your mind, he speaks.

"I've waited centuries for you, y/n. I'm not letting you go." he says before kissing your forehead.

"you're mine" he kisses your nose

"and I'm yours" he brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your palm

"forever"

[formulaonecrumbs]

OKAY LAST ONE (probably not actually) reader getting off on oscs thigh because after surgery she’s technically on a sex ban

-🧸

takin’ what you need

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: reader craves closeness and release after surgery and finds comfort with oscar.

warnings: soft smut, thigh riding, post-surgery recovery

A/N: READ: i’m publishing (or trying to) a bunch of requests ive gotten but there IS a lot, so i’m sorry if i don’t get to urs in time. i’m not going in order but by what i feel i can write the most for or come up with the most for!!! i will get ur request out tho, i promise i’m not ignoring any of them my loves. i saw this req and it was the first i had to write cuz thigh riding might be one of my fav smutty things to read. low-key this turned ME on so i hope it has the same affect for u 😚 I LOVE U ENJOY, SWEET BABY!!! ❤️

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

you weren’t supposed to be doing anything. doctor’s orders — strict ones.

no sex. no heavy lifting. no stressing your body. no anything, really.

but the thing was — your body didn’t understand patience the way your brain did. it ached for oscar. ached for the way he made you feel safe, warm, whole.

so now you were here, crawling quietly into his lap while he sat up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, glasses slipping down his nose.

he smiled when he saw you, tired but so full of love.

“hi,” he said, voice soft from sleep. “what’s all this?”

you didn’t answer at first, just tucked yourself into him, curling up, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your thighs trembled slightly, the way your hands clutched a little too tightly at his shirt.

he noticed. of course he noticed. he set his phone aside immediately, his full focus turning to you.

his hands found your waist, slow and careful. “what’s wrong, baby?”

you shook your head, biting your lip, embarrassed. it was stupid. selfish. but you just missed him so much. you missed feeling something that wasn’t pain or weakness or nausea. you missed being close.

“can i just…” you mumbled, eyes dropping, heart pounding. “can i sit?”

he tilted his head, confused, but nodded immediately. “course you can. anything you want.”

you swung one leg over his lap, straddling him, and the second you settled your full weight onto his thigh, you almost whimpered. the pressure. the heat. it was exactly what you’d been craving, even if you hadn’t known it until now.

oscar’s hands tightened reflexively at your hips, a soft grunt escaping him when you moved, your core pressing against the firm line of his thigh.

he stilled.

you stilled.

the air between you shifted, thickened.

his thumb rubbed slow circles into your hipbone.

“baby,” he murmured, so, so gently. “you sure?”

your face burned. you pressed your forehead into the crook of his neck, hiding. “please,” you whispered, voice so small it barely made a sound.

oscar kissed your temple, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head like you were something precious.

“okay,” he whispered back. “i’ve got you.”

he didn’t move — didn’t force you — just let you set your own pace.

you rocked forward carefully, experimentally, and the friction against your clit made your whole body shudder.

a broken noise slipped from your lips, muffled against his throat.

he pulled you closer. “that’s it, angel,” he breathed. “take what you need.”

you moved again, grinding down onto his thigh, letting the soft cotton of his boxers and the strength of his muscles do all the work. he flexed under you, giving you more to push against, helping without overwhelming.

your hands twisted in his shirt, nails scraping lightly across his chest, and oscar only held you tighter, guiding your hips with slow, steady pressure.

you could feel the tears pricking at your eyes.

the heat building in your stomach.

the overwhelming tenderness of it all — being allowed to fall apart in his arms without shame.

“you’re so good for me,” he murmured, peppering kisses across your hairline. “so pretty. my sweet girl.”

you whimpered, grinding harder, chasing the rush, the release you’d needed for days.

your thighs quivered around him, muscles clenching, breath coming in broken gasps. oscar whispered encouragements the whole time, anchoring you, loving you through it.

and when you came, it hit you like a wave — overwhelming and blinding and so, so relieving. you sobbed against him, body going slack, heart hammering painfully against your ribs.

oscar just gathered you closer, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, cheeks, eyelids.

“i’m so proud of you, baby,” he whispered. “you’re okay. you’re okay. i’ve got you.”

you stayed like that for a long time afterward — tangled up in each other, safe and warm and whole.

he pulled the blankets over both of you, humming softly under his breath, stroking your back until you fell asleep against him.

and even then — even when your breathing evened out and your body relaxed — oscar stayed awake, keeping watch over you, loving you quietly like it was the only thing that ever mattered.

THE END :>

[sweetimpurity]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ day 16!! more bodyguard!Miguel hehe! cw: loss of virginity wc: 2k not proofread if none of this makes sense, it's not my fault, I'm sick haha love ya!˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

This is not what Miguel was hired for. He was hired to protect you, not fuck you. And yet here you are, your bare legs spread out over his lap as you stare at him with pure innocent eyes and pink puffy perfect lips. But you're so eager. He knows you’re tired of feeling so young and innocent. Knows you've been craving something like this, something to make you feel alive and like you have control over what makes you feel good. He wants to make you feel good. He knows you're a virgin, knows that you don't know what to expect. But he wants this to feel good for you, so badly. And the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, he couldn’t hurt his perfect, innocent girl. 

His hand is gentle on your soft fleshy thigh, moving upwards to where your thigh meets your hip, squeezing the joint slightly with his thumb and fingers. If you weren't so precious to him, he’d be more rough. He’d grip his fingers into you flesh and probably grab you hair, pulling you head back as he fucked up into you hard and fast, making you cry with pleasure. But you're his angel girl… the one person that he knows deserves all of the gentle loving he can offer. 

He’s not used to this. He’s older than you by a few years, he’s had his fair share of sexual experiences and one night stands. But you're so pure, he almost feels guilty about it. He’s partially responsible too… following your father’s orders and keeping you away from every man at every dinner, every business party. He told himself he’s just doing his job and to a certain extent that is true. But it made him angry to think about… thinking about some random man getting to hold you and kiss you. A stranger loving his sweet girl. 

He just hopes he’ll be enough, and it almost pains him to know he’ll be stripping you of that purity tonight. 

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, running his fingers down your cheek and to your neck, pulling you closer to kiss your throat, suckling at the skin and making your heart beat faster. You can only hold onto his broad shoulders, clutching onto him like a lifeline as he positions himself between your thighs. He’s warmed you up, kissed every inch of you. And all that’s left is for him to be inside. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks seriously, looking in your eyes. “No…please…” You whisper, seeing the nervous expression creeping up on his face now. “I don’t want to hurt you…” He whispers. You smile softly at him. “I know…”  

Without another word, your faces inches away, gazing into each other's eyes, he slowly pushes into you, pressing in with the pad of his thumb, moving so slowly to ease himself in. Your eyes flutter shut, face contorting with discomfort, but you try not to show how much pain you're in, even though you feel like you're being split in half. A strained gasp leaves your lips and his eyes scan over your face. “It’s okay baby… it’s gonna be okay…” He pushes himself deeper into you, trying to ease you open and a louder whimper leaves your lips, clutching his shoulders firmly, fingers digging into his shoulders. When he hears it all the alarms go on in his brain, the alarms he’s been fine tuning for the past few years to know when you're not okay. 

“I’m gonna stop.” He mutters, moving to pull out, to stop the pain he’s causing you. But your arms tighten around him. “No… please… I’m okay…” You breathe out, trying to take deep breaths, the burning pain slowly fading into a dull ache. “I want this…” You tell him honestly, nuzzling your face into his neck. He wants to give you what you want. He kisses your cheek gently a few times, this being his only way to numb some of your pain. Hovering over you, moving his hips very slowly, listening to you gasp and sigh but also becoming overwhelmed himself. You're so warm and tight, and you feel so good. 

Miguel tries his best, feeling you cling to him so tightly. His fingers going to your clit to try and aid the process. Aiding the ache and trying to make you feel good. 

“Fuck-” He sighs as your legs wrap around his waist, bringing every inch of him to be buried deeply inside you. “Baby-” He moans, his eyes shutting tight, his head dropping down to your chest as he’s now in the spot he was worried he’d end up in. He’s over you, slotted between your trembling thighs. And he can’t hold it back. His breath hitches in his throat, his invincibility seeming to crack and it’s all because of you. You're the only person who could get him this way. 

“Please Miguel…” He hears you moan, pulling back, looking deep in your eyes and he can’t help himself. He thrusts into you to the hilt, filling you up all the way and it’s almost too much for him to handle. Hearing the whine at the back of your throat as he stretches you out on his thick girth. Panting for breath he tries to keep it slow but you feel so good and you just keep begging him for it. His strokes quicken, fucking into you faster now. Your breath gets caught, jaw dropping and he moans your name in your ear, fucking you hard and quick, pushing you up the bed slightly. His lips part in heavy breath, feeling himself overcome with lust, watching your face and he can’t tell if you are lost in pleasure or pain, but he can’t bring himself to slow down. 

“Angel… oh baby…” He moans loudly, dragging his thick cock through your tight velvet walls. 

After a few seconds your face finally turns to one of pure pleasure, your eyes rolling up into the back of your head. “Oh.. oh Miguel….” You moan helplessly and this only makes him go faster, making you squeal and squirm but he makes you still with his strong arms. Strained gasps mixed with moans escape him as he feels himself nearing the end, and he can tell you're close too by the sound of your moans and the way your muscles spasm around him. His fingers go to your clit, rubbing his thumb soothingly into the nerves as he tries to bring you to the finish. 

When you feel that burn in your stomach, your hand presses to his abdomen, unable to tell him with words what you're feeling. Not even knowing what you’re feeling. You’ve never felt it before. Your breath becomes heavier, a helpless whimper following every exhale, and his hand clasps over yours on his stomach. Soon your back is arching into the pillows, moaning as your muscles pulse around him in rhythm, gushing on him and letting the foreign feeling take over. This must be what it feels like. 

He moans at the feeling and dips down over you again, wanting to be close. He kisses your throat a few times before pressing his cheek to your shoulder, breathing hot onto your skin as he releases deep inside you. Filling the rubber. The condom was a necessity, although he can’t help but crave the feeling of pumping you full and raw. 

The room is filled with panting breath as Miguel lets some of his weight rest on top of you, both of you coming down from the high. He can’t believe he just let that happen. He just couldn’t help himself, you felt so good and you were moaning his name so sweetly, it just felt right. But that was more rough than he was intending, more rough than he thinks you deserve for you very first time. 

“Are you okay?” He pants, trying to catch his breath and looking down at your rosy flushed cheeks. “Yes, I’m okay…” You smile at him and he’s glad to know you're alright and you're not upset with him for getting lost in the moment and losing control. Resting on his elbows over you so he can be close, wanting to make sure you feel loved after the fact. “That was too fast…” He smiles wide at you as he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear. In response to this you smile, laughing softly. You're not mad, you're actually feeling really happy. “I’m sorry, angel…” He laughs quietly, kissing your hot neck and your ruddy cheeks. He watches your face with a big smile as you giggle beneath him. Your shoulders bouncing up and down and your chest pulsing with soft adorable laughter. He’s so happy to see you happy and he can’t help but smile. 

“Good, baby?” He smiles, wanting to know how you’re feeling, what’s going on in your mind. “Good… so good, Miguel…” You whisper. A swell of pride blooming in his chests. 

Your hands go to his chest, looking in his eyes with a softer smile as he leans down to kiss your lips. You're almost sad that it seems to be over. Wanting the feeling to last forever. He runs his lips over your cheek before lowering himself down even closer and letting his face dip down into the crook of your neck. Your hand goes to the back of his neck, running your fingers through the curls at his nape. You just want him to kiss you for a little while longer. You don't want to be without his warm skin on you and his hands holding your body.

With his face in the crook of your neck and your hand in his hair, he begins to move within you again. Very slowly this time. You were not expecting it, and he could tell from the gasp that filled your mouth the second his cock thrust through your sensitive walls once again.

Immediately you both reacted to the feeling. With both of you feeling sensitive now, all you can do now is hold each other tightly and breathe. His heavy breath fanning your neck and chest and your soft moans filling his ears as he fucks you slow and sweet. This was the feeling he wanted to give you. This soft, squishy, full feeling. 

His arms are cradled around you as he pumps you full of his inches. Holding you so close and safe and secure. Nuzzling against your neck.

“I love you…” 

His heart flutters when he hears those words fall from your pretty lips. He’s hopelessly in love with you, willing to give you any and every part of himself. “I love you too…” He whispers, lifting his head to look in your eyes with a smile. And when he says those words to you he can feel himself reaching his own high. Humming as his head falls back down into your neck and his hips quicken. You can’t help but moan, clenching around him repeatedly, causing him to moan into your skin right next to your ear. “Oh baby… oh.. oh angel…” He moans breathlessly, his deep voice causing your stomach to flip, pushing you over the edge into oblivion. 

This release is sweeter. Miguel pumps into you through your orgasm as you whimper under him, your fingers digging into his shoulders and your chest rising up, soft breasts pressing up against his chest. With one final push Miguel is once again finding his release and you can feel the warmth of him spilling out inside. 

“Mm-uhh” You whimper and your head falls back into the pillows. Miguel tilts his head so he can watch your face and he smiles watching you come undone once again. “So pretty baby…” He says along with a slew of praises as he kisses your jaw and throat, halting his hips and letting you come down from your climax. 

Soon the two of you drift off to sleep in each other's embrace, not knowing what the future holds. Especially with you parents coming home from a month-long business trip tomorrow. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[dexthtoyounglings]

Double A Misfit

Lucien x Reader Fluff

Summary: It's a snowy day in Velaris, yet you can only think about the Autumn Court male who burned a fire in your blood.

Warnings: mutual pining (can someone tell me if I'm using this term correctly idek)

A/N: This is my first ever ACOTAR piece. I'm a bit nervous about this because I knew I wanted to write, but there was nothing in my brain really.... yeah. Also, I know this is way past the holidays, but it's snowing here so.

•--•

Gentle. The fall of the snow outside of your window was gentle. The snowflakes laid soft kisses on the ground, crowding together, a family reborn into foreign membranes. It was beautiful, a symbol of the changing seasons, uniquely precious to Velaris.

You watched alone, a fire burning in the hearth in front of you. Fire licked into the open air, searching for something to embrace its heat more closely. Though the beauty of the cold drew you in, your heart seemed to cry the same way that the fire did. Warm bodies felt cold when lonely, as yours did.

It struck you then, the same way your yearning did every winter. An intense want for the same thing your friends had. You had considered that you were simply the problem, that you never could stick anywhere. Even Amren, cold and caved in when she wasn't content, seemed to inhale the same love that everyone else did, breathing it back out into the group.

Yet, somehow, you never stuck the same.

Maybe that's exactly why you sat here, watching the snow, sympathizing with the fire, while a pile of presents sat on your table. Wrapped with a delicate hand, a bow placed on top of each, and his name written in cursive on a tiny sticker.

He left tomorrow for the Spring Court. He left tomorrow, for Tamlin, that kindness in his heart unwavering. He showed that same, gentle kindness towards you, a clone to the fire that reached out it's fingers. When his hands touched yours, a warmth spread, yet a soft chill soothed deeper than surface level.

Lucien was a dream. You had decided that the moment you met him. The hard lines of his face, cut from cinnamon and bark, yet structured through the very sun which tanned his skin. The plains of his face, sharp, but also smooth like a baby blanket. His eyes, soft in every nature, sucked you in, leaving you breathless.

Gods, everything about him was made with a precision, one that was built to make you fall to your knees.

The knock at your door was enough to startle you to your feet, brushing off the size-too-big brown sweater you wore, sleeves threatening to swallow your hands with every movement. Your blush seemed to glow brighter, ashamed at being caught in a daydream.

Socks slipping as you started for the door, you combed a hand through your hair. It wasn't usual that you were greeted so late at night.

Opening the door, a stinging cold burned at your eyes, brushing past your legs with the irritation of being denied entrance. If you didn't know any better, you would've thought the wind was trying to sweep your visitor inside as well. "Trying" ended up being a fleeing word, the lanky body standing in front of you allowing himself in before the cold could nip at your limbs any longer.

You sent out a 'thank you' to the wind, a howl against your window its only response.

"Lucien," you breathed, shocked at his sudden appearance.

He smiled at you, warming the room with the shine of his teeth. The light from the fireplace cast an orange hue onto his honeyed skin, your heart skipping a beat, every feature hightlighted by the cast shadows. The straight edge of his nose, the way his lips spread over his-

"I was thinking about you," he remarked, unlacing his boots with a calm fluidity, "I wanted to stop by before I left tomorrow. Didn't need you missing all my greatness."

You rolled your eyes, hearing the obvious smirk in his tone, even with his head down.

You stepped back to watch him, unlacing the other boot and kicking it off, standing themselves at attention on your door mat. He shrugged off his coat, revealing a green turtleneck which hugged his arms, alluding to the lean yet broad nature of his chest, tucked into black dress pants. His hair, a glowing shade of red, still had snowflakes in it.

He ran his hand through the front part of that sea of autumn, shaking off some of those flakes. You watched, lips pressed together, keeping composure as he took a few steps before plopping himself down on your couch.

It never failed to shake you, the way he was so comfortable in your place of rest. It spread a heat through you all the same, like the flames were reaching for your heart at his mere existence.

Out of everyone, he had always shown interest in your space.

In you.

You walked over, not noting the way his eyes watched you intently, sitting beside him. His one legs was stretched out across the cushions, forcing you to lift it up, scooting underneath and allowing it to rest across your lap. You never touched people much, though it was not foreign to be physically connected to Lucien.

It was a problem, as it was also a blessing.

"Usually you're happy to see me," he teased.

You rolled your eyes, again, "I am happy to see you, that doesn't mean you aren't obnoxious."

He relaxed a bit, arms spreading over the back of the couch, "There's that little spark."

A silence took over the room. It was familiar, recognizable. Except, this time, it snuck into each breath a little differently, like a hint of something else existed within that silence. Your eyes looked anywhere but his, but his laid on you, drinking in every ounce he could get.

Your fingers twitched, reminding you of the icebreaker that existed right under your nose. You snatched up the pile of presents, setting it on the leg that was laid out on your lap.

"I have presents for you. I meant to find you before you left for Spring, but I... lost track of time."

Lucien breathed in deeply, starting at the three boxes. For him. He moved his leg off your lap, at attention, sitting in a stance that was more serious than the previous. Summoning those he had left at his house in self-consciousness, presents with a shiny yellow and auburn paper sat in his own lap. Your name written on every one.

Surprise played on your features, not expecting gifts from him. You should have guessed in the end, knowing Lucien and his heart. He always looked out for you. He was one of your kind; a stray without a definite home. A wanderer that made a name for himself, as well as a family.

"You first," you whispered, handing him the top present.

Lucien held it, lithe fingers finding purchase in the folds of the present, ripping the soft silver paper, revealing a small box. Lifting the lid, there sat a broach, a deep brown with hues of orange, reminiscent of his own mother's eyes. You knew, having been lucky enough to see the woman that shared such a love for Lucien as you did. Yet, the love you gave was on another level deeper than hers. Hidden and deep-seated, thriving just to be near him, begging your hands to grab him, have him in any ways tangible.

"It's beautiful," he breathed, looking up at you, russet eye reaching out like a siren call.

"There's more," you nudged the next one towards him, blushing at the close attention he paid to every movement.

Setting aside the box that held the broach, he resumed, tearing into the present, met with another plain box. He took it apart, mechanical eye whirring with excitement as his human one flashed excitement.

"A cloak. Gods, how did you know this was the one I wanted?" he asked, smiling wide, "I just saw this in the shop the other day."

You smiled, body curling in on itself at his joy. You pushed the last one to him, feeling bad for interrupting his joy, but shyness crept in at his reactions.

Behind the layer of wrapped paper was a large shoebox, thick cardboard, without detail. He opened the lid, pushing aside the paper that surrounded what was hiding beneath. Boots. A pair identical to the ones he had complained about having to throw away months prior. They were specially designed in the Spring Court, which pushed you to travel and meet with the maker. It took a while before you had heard news of success from the man, but it came nevertheless.

You remembered his face when he realized he would have to get a new pair. You swore at that moment you had never seen a look more devastating. A vow you made yourself; you would never allow him to look that way as long as you could help it. So you left the next day, using diplomacy as your excuse.

Lucien's eyes flicked to yourself, full and beautiful. His soft, burnt umber eyelashes framing them in such a damning beauty you knew for him to die, that beauty could never exist again. Glossy, he blinked away moisture that filled the orbs beneath.

"Where did you get these?" he asked, exasperated.

You blushed. "I had them replicated. The shoemaker was flattered that they had been so well-loved."

He released a shaky breath, striking your heart all the same.

"How do you expect me to live up to these?" he asked, a shy grin taking over his face, "My gifts seem pathetic."

You shook your head, chin low, "I doubt anything you give me could seem 'pathetic.'"

His eyes captured yours again, taken from the sight of his boots. You felt important when he looked at you, like a flower in a glass case, protected and yet shining through.

He set down his boots, as if they no longer mattered, attention fixed as he placed a present in your lap. Your hands tore through, savoring the intricate design and the time placed into wrapping these. Had he thought of you the whole time, like you did while wrapping his?

Except, you had thought of him the whole time you spent wrapping everyone's gifts. You never seemed to stop thinking about him.

Similar to the one that had held his cloak, you unboxed the one in your lap, peeling back paper to see a soft cream sweater. But, holding it up, you gaze at the design. A running fox, knit in the top right of it, directly above your breast, the back holding a similar design, yet the creature sitting upright. The soft texture almost made you angry, knowing it wouldn't be appropriate to wear it every day.

"Lucien."

He hummed in response, questioning your call of his name.

"It's so beautiful," you looked up at him, love seeping from your pores.

His whole face went a shade deeper, pointy ears pulling back. He had no words, handing you another. You opened it with the same grace, finding a small box, one that left you clueless as to what it could hold. You looked up at Lucien, seeing the way that he chewed on the skin inside his cheek. Lifting the lid with a small shake, the bottom half fell into your hand, gaze drawn to the necklace inside.

You couldn't have guessed how much Lucien made from Rhysand weekly, but with his frequent absence, you imagined this cut a chunk. A gold, dainty chain trailed down to what was centered; a teardrop pendant, a diamond shining in the center, refracting the dim orange light that consumed the room. Paired with it were earrings, each with a matching teardrop shape that hung off the ear. They were-

"Gorgeous."

Lucien shifted, adjusting his hands only to rub them up and down the black of his pants. "Feyre had to help me pick them out."

You smiled to yourself, catching his stare. A nervousness that you didn't catch much darkened his cheeks.

You quirked an eyebrow, "Is everything okay, Lucien?"

He avoided your eyes, taking a deep inhale, his chest expanding with the breath. Watching it fall back out of his mouth, he began to speak.

"Y/n," his throat caught the way your name came out. He tried again, "Y/n. I have been... meaning to tell you this for quite some time now. I-" he took another deep breath, looking into your eyes.

"I have loved you since the very first moment I met you. The grace of knowing you fell upon me like a sword I had no choice but to use. Everything you are, and everything you have grown to become has enchanted me so deeply I don't feel I have the capacity to hold it in much longer."

Your jaw fell slack, watching as the stars in his words, in his posture, and in his confidence fell in line, brightening the world you had known.

"I can't breathe knowing you're not mine, but I know if you requested it say so, I would try to shed that part of myself to make you happy forevermore. To separate from you after every interaction is like tearing myself away from my very own soul. I do not think I can bear it much longer; the pain of not having you. I am yours, as wholly as I am my own," he bowed his head, "Without you, I feel half of myself has been lost to whatever Gods demanded you be created. And to be with you here drives me crazy, to know that I cannot hold you in my arms and share you with myself the way my body begs. I need you, and I have grown to known this. I need you deeper than just a friendship, than just a lover. I need you, in this deep string that tugs at my heart, pulling me till I come home; till I find you."

You felt it then. You had always felt it, but it had been muddy, confusing, and had misled you so many times. That fog cleared now, your mind registering exactly what it was -- that glowing golden string, existing only to keep Lucien tied to you.

It made so much sense, cleared out your mind and filled it with every memory and dream you had associated with the male in front of you.

It must've been what launched you at him as well.

Your hands cupped the face of your mate, bringing your lips to his own. Like a mould crafted to fit your own, your mouth fit like a missing puzzle piece. Smooth, warm lips embraced your own, sharing a dance that seemed to spill a power into that bond, its glow burning brighter than the sun in which Helion commanded. Every movement was met with a hunger, one emerging from the years it took you to survive the Autumn Court in which you had met and find him in the Night Court in which you not resided. Centuries of waiting, of reaching into the darkness beyond your eyelids and finding him without his casual heat.

You pulled back, slow as you let your lips cling to each other, forgetting to resist the urge to plunge back into him as you pressed another kiss to his mouth. You lost your mind in that cavern between you, balancing on that rope, folding into each other.

He murmured against your lips, "Y/n."

You only allowed yourself enough space to separate your mouths, resting your forehead against his. Your thumb stroked the scar that cobwebbed under his left eye, capturing you in it's lure.

"Lucien. I could never deny you," you closed your eyes as you nudged your nose against his, reopening them, "I have loved you; this whole lifetime, I have loved you. Even before I knew of you, I loved what you were."

He smiled, a giddy, childish smile, caging the air in your lungs. A new vow, here and now;

Gods, you'd do anything to see him smile like that again.

•--•

[moonriseoverkyoto]

warnings: suggestive content, nurse and medic are the same thing on a military base, mentions Gaz sleeping around, slight nods to a power dynamic and possible degradation kink, sexual innuendos, and Gaz getting turned on by a strong woman. MDNI

Pt.2

Kyle “Scrub Seducer” Garrick being head over heels for the new medic on base who doesn’t react to his charms. In fact, she’s disgusted by him. Sure the man has had challenges in the past with other medics but nothing he couldn’t fix with a few whispers of sweet nothings and a flash of those pearly whites. Until the seemingly unstoppable charm of Gaz finally met the immovable object of you.

Kyle “Scrub Seducer” Garrick first met you as he curled up to the medic station. He noticed you immediately because, to be frank, you were probably the only medic around his age on base that he hadn’t slept with by now. You were hunched over at the med station doing notes for yet another soldier who died too young, too fast, too tragically.

Kyle “Scrub Seducer” Garrick had this routine down to a beat. He’d smile, flirt, and read the file. To him these flings for intel and sex meant nothing but a foot in the door next time and somebody to keep his bed warm when he wasn’t deployed. No matter how respectful he was, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick was a fuck boy. A medic munch, one could even say.

Except this time when Kyle “Scrub Seducer” Garrick showed his pearly whites, he realized you hadn’t even glanced at him yet.

Kyle “Scrub Seducer” Garrick thought you were just having a bad day. He could fix that riiiiight up for you, baby girl. Just let him get a peak.

“Hey sweet thing, so I was hoping to be able to peek at that file of yours-“ the clicking of your tongue cutting him off quickly.

“Not happening.”

“It’s not for anything bad, I promise you, gorgeous. Just curious about a friend”

“You can’t promise me shit, Sergeant, except stolen information and a waste of my time”

The man leaned over, letting his voice drop a little, “Oh I could give you a good time, if you gave me that file right there in those pretty hands of yours-” The orange file was suddenly rolled up and used to pop him right on the nose. Your fierce gaze piercing as if you were looking right through him.

Kyle “Scrub Seducer” Garrick swore his knees were gonna give out at the intensity of your tone, the venom dripping as you spoke.

“Sergeant, you have a reputation for being beautiful, you know that? But you know what’s more beautiful than you?” a false sense of sweetness almost lulled his lashes to flutter.

“Besides you, I’m not sure there is nothing on this planet more beau-”

“The thing more beautiful than you is HIPPA, baby boy. Look it up. Maybe try doing your own research that doesn’t require my badge, my precious patients, or my job.” You snapped. The man jolting as you slammed the file cabinet shut and locked it loudly. Then you walked off, your hips swaying as you disappeared from his line of sight.

The Sergeant didn’t even mind all the shit that Johnny and his Captain gave him when the man walked back empty handed, a once in a blue moon occurrence. Especially with his brain all fogged up and his pretty cock half-hard in his trousers at the image of your cute hips storming off in those scrubs. His ears still burning with a dusty pink at how you had called him pretty boy with such a stern tone.

Author’s note - I’ve been watching scrubs and I love the relationship of Turk and Carla. So I thought, why not make Gaz be a love sick puppy for the one woman who doesn’t want him on base

Requests are open!

Masterlist

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I’LL SPEND FOREVER WONDERIN’ IF YOU KNEW…

touya todoroki x reader

you first met touya in winter. similarly, you fell in love and said goodbye in winter. now when the snow falls, he thinks of you.

part 1/2

inspired by enchanted

there he was again, early morning. sekoto peak on a brisk, winter evening. just shy of 8 years old, with fire blazing valiantly.

around others, he’s used to forcing laughter and faking his smiles. he hides that inter turmoil well, determined to carry the mantel of endeavour’s firstborn son. but just because he carries it well, doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy.

he’s in this same old tired, lonely place. the trees act as walls on insincerity, isolating him on this hill. his flames are controlled, ignoring that slight pain he feels in his palms when the red and oranges shoot out from his hands. the winter chill helps to keep him cool. he doesn’t need a jacket, anyway.

the snow drowns out most noises, as do most winter days. but he still catches the sound of soft, padding footsteps crunching in the snow.

all of what he’s feeling vanishes when he sees your face.

its rare, seeing someone his age. two kids, shy and precocious in the middle of winter. he’s the first to speak.

“…what are you doing out here?”

“i could ask you the same thing.”

kids are brats.

he huffs, his breath visible in the contrast to the cool air. “well, i asked you first.”

“going for a walk.” you hum, moving closer to him. you take not of the several burns on the trees, black and withered.

you can’t help but notice his lack of a jacket, though he seems unbothered by it. you’re here, mittens, jacket and scarf keeping you warm, while he’s in nothing but a thin sweater. “aren’t you… y’know, cold?”

he smiles, proud. “no. i have my fire.”

and he’s proud to have it, even if it will inevitably kill him.

but you two are kids, and neither of you know that. in your childhood brains, the only thing that matters is whats in front or you. so you spend the rest of the day chatting, walking around the seemingly enchanted forest. snowball fights turn into snowmen, and eventually graduates into laying in the snow, making snow angels.

“i like winter.” you hum, staring up at the snow tricking onto your face. “most people hate it. they think its cold, and wet, and dark.”

touya stopped moving for a second. he hummed and considered your words. he had heard people he knew in the past speak like that, namely his younger siblings that craved warmth.

"maybe they just don’t like snow." he says quietly, shrugging while drawing random lines in the snow. "you like it, though?"

you nod.

“for all its coldness, theres tenderness in winter to. the sky is light and pink when it snows at night. its quiet, and still.”

theres a certain secrecy to this moment that he feels when he hears your words. childhood friendship is a precious thing, something you never get back. the heroes and the villains of the world don’t matter, and anything important is reserved for a later time. right now, blanketed by snow, touya made one true friend. how enchanted he was to meet you.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

years pass, and you and touya are thrust into adolescence. his hair has changed, now a frosted white that matches the current season. you’re walking home from school together, though he’s got his hands shoved in his pocket like a little kid. not because he’s cold, but because he’s frustrated.

he’s taking his time, pacing back and forth. he almost doesn’t want to return home. thinking about it makes him clench his fists, the annoyance he felt quickly morphing into anger. when he’d come home, he’d be met with all that pain, all over again. the thought of his father focusing all his energy and attention on his little brother, all because touya wasn’t "good enough" to be his successor, was haunting. its what kept him up at night.

“it’s just not fair.” he mutters, and you instantly know what he’s referring to. “all that work… for what? he doesn’t even know i exist.”

words fail at times like this. you could tell him that its not true, but it is. you could tell him not to care, but he still will. you could tell him that you love him… but would he listen?

so instead, you opt to hold his hand. your fingers are cold against his naturally warm ones. you pretend not to notice the rough texture of his palms, evidence of his training.

the snow begins to trickle down again, falling like a crown on your head. tonight, you’re sparkling, and he doesn’t want to let you go. turquoise eyes look at you, wonderstruck as your nose begins to turn that winterish shade of pink. he almost blushes when he sees you tightening your scarf, forgetting he’s supposed to take you home.

“i just,” you sigh, taking both his hands in yours so you can both see the damage beginning to fester on his skin. “i don’t know. i don’t want you training too hard. it’s hurting you, i can tell.”

“i-its not.” he lies, breath visible in the winter air. he tries his best to hide the wince in his eye when you rub your thumbs up and down the burns on his hands.

“i just… i don’t wanna lose you.” you say.

he doesn’t wanna lose this either. you, and him, standing in the winter. he prays that this is the first page, that this is only the first of many winters he hopes to have with you.

“you won’t.” he smiles. “i promise.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

you learn about the accident not through the news, or through his family, but rather through seeing the eruption of blue flames on the hill where you two met.

at first, you cried every day. you prayed that he’d wake up, that this isn’t where the story line ends. seeing him laying there, as the years go on, and as the snow falls inevitably, felt unreal.

its been a lonely 3 years without his sassy remarks and his warm hands. you can still feel that warmth, even in his coma. you hold his hands as his body lays there, the only indicator of his survival the beeps of the heart monitor.

his burns are so much more apparent now almost purple against his pale, snowy skin. he doesn’t know it, but you’ve visited him everyday since he first arrived. through every summer, spring, autumn through every god damn winter, you’ve been here.

you’d whisper things he’d never hear, eyes occasionally wandering to the snow falling outside the winter. its a reminder of how much time has passed, how much you’ve lost without him.

and though you don’t know it, he’s mourning it as well. he’s forced to hold back his words, like he’s leaving too soon.

selfishly, he hopes that in these three years, you haven’t fallen in love with someone else. that you don’t have someone else waiting on you when you leave.

its the opposite, actually. you don’t have anyone waiting on you, when you’re waiting on touya to come back.

normally, you’re alone in his room. so you almost don’t catch when the door opens and closes behind you. at first, you think its just a nurse checking in. but the silence makes you turn your head.

shes got the same hair as touya, snowy white. but her eyes are this grey color that you can tell once sparkled. shes just as confused as you are, even when you stand up from your chair but still continue to hold touya’s hand.

“i-i.. sorry. i’m just visiting.” you say, like you’ve committed a crime. you haven’t done anything wrong.

she shakes her head, taking a few steps closer and assuring you its okay. the fact that you’re so close to her son, holding his hand isn’t lost on her.

theres words she wants to say as well, words that fall on deaf ears. you wonder why its only her visiting.

“i’m sorry, dear.. who are you?” she brakes the silence, realizing she isn’t actually sure who you are. how would she know anyway?

“i’m his friend.” you say, quietly. “[y/n].”

she nods, though she wonders how she didn’t know that. her first son, the first love of her life, had a friend close enough to visit and hold his hand even through this period of winter.

if anything, she’s grateful for it.

theres a few more beats of silence, before she speaks again. her voice is quiet, but her pain speaks volumes.

“i tried to stop him.” she says, staring at her son. “i… i didn’t want this.”

its enough to bring tears to your eyes, nodding understandably. “me too.”

and theres that moment of understanding between the two of you. like snowflakes falling onto the same patch of ground, you both knew that this was inevitable. eventually, touya’s fire would consume him. eventually, he’d burn too.

theres nothing you two can say to make this better. so you sit there in comfort, winter silence before eventually saying goodnight.

you leave, quietly accepting that you’ll be all alone.

and the next day, he wakes up.

[tavs-adventures]

Ascended Astarion X Reader

…

Synopsis: A year had passed since Cazadors death, Astarions Accession, and the defeat of the Elder Brain. Of course, that year came with one too many problems, allowing the now true vampire to get away with too much after your party disbanded and spread across FaeRun to handle their own business. Now, it's up to you to approach Astarion your ex-lover with an offer. Hopefully one he can't refuse.

You were tasked by the city officials to seek the cause of the heavy fog engulfing Baldur's Gate and put a stop to the countless murders that were happening alongside it. You weren't sure of the cause yourself but all things considered Astarion wasn't doing the best job with keeping a low profile. The now ascended vampire Lord of the Crimson Palace, as well as your ex-lover got a bit too close to the sun so you were called in for damage control. Hoping to either stop him or find the true cause of these random and rampant murders.

After some careful decision making you decided to confront him in his Palace. No asking, no formalities, no invitation.

As you enter the Castle grounds walking past the now destroyed gate and push past the spawn casting holy light they hiss. Glaring they back away from you, unable to touch you. You doubt Astarion would let them touch you regardless. He always loved a dramatic entrance.

Storming through the castle stopping in his precious throne room you finally find him. Lounging on a golden throne in the middle of the space, his gaze burned through you as you came forward to speak.

"Astarion." You greet, looking less than amused as you dust yourself off. Wyll was busy with his Duke duties and the killings were becoming too much so you were sent to handle this issue. Ever since his Ascension so much had changed. But not so much that Astarion wouldn't listen to you. If anyone could make him change his mind it was you and everyone knew it.

"... (Y/N)." He replied boredly as he looked at his nails than at you. His tone remained cool and disinterested though he was attempting to hide a smile that threatened to appear on his face. His chin rested on his hand as he shifted turning his focus solely towards you. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being visited by you…” His eyes trail the hallway behind you and for a moment he seems to be having a conversation. His lips which had been fighting a sly smile curl into a satisfied smirk. “alone..?” He finally finishes his red eyes taking in your form with interest as it clicks that his old friend is truly there with no backup. While that look should scare you, it didn't. Despite everything you knew Astarion would never really hurt you.

"I was hoping we could talk like the old friends we are and come to an agreement. If not, this will become less Civil." You state taking a step forward. He hums crimson gaze remaining locked on your form.

Astarion after a moment to let the words settle chuckled more than amused from your statement. You're sure he was thinking how you were always the diplomat, always wanting a peaceful solution. He often commented on your more calm methods which drove his sanity and patience to no end. Even before his ascension he truly struggled with the idea of humanity, of kindness.

"Hah, you think you can come to me, in my palace, my domain, and demand me to listen to you?" He chuckled darkly, standing up from the throne. As he loomed over you, his steps were silent. His presence domineering. He walked closer to you but you didn't stand down, eyes staring back at him refusing to bow to his whims. "I know your game, darling. You think you can sweet talk me, with your pretty little words. But I'm not the weak spawn you know from all that time ago. You have no power over me.” He states firmly stopping only a foot or so away from you in all his vampiric elegance.

You could reach out and touch him, he was so close and so you do.

A small smile reaches your lips as your hand lands on his chest. He was taller than you, not that you ever minded. "Really?" You hummed not at all afraid as he tried to be imposing. Your stern attitude faded, replaced with a coy playfulness that always got you exactly what you wanted from him. "You don't still want a pretty little consort?" You question teasing him, your hand becoming two fingers as you walk your hand up his chest.

As Astarion stiffens under your touch clearly not expecting that he suddenly smirked, willing to play the game. Pressing himself closer your hand moves from his chest and instead reaches up to brush against his cheek. Astarions eyes widen at your bold move and as you smile softly you know he wasn't expecting this. "I did miss you Astarion. Was all of this to get my attention?" You question in a teasing tone a mischievous look in your eye as you tilt your head and flutter your lashes.

His cheeks flush ever so slightly and his eyes focused on you with an intensity that would leave others trembling. He was completely caught off guard at your words; your affections. Astarion had expected you to simply grovel for your precious city or to immediately get on with your demands. Yet here you were, after all this time teasing him and touching him so tenderly. Lovingly. Like you once did. And here he was leaning into your touch realizing how much he missed it. How much he missed you.

Astarion realizing what you're doing hissed in frustration. He grabbed your wrist, his grip tight, but not painful as he forced your hand away from his face. "Don't play coy with me. We’re both smarter than that.” He warned.

"I'm being truthful!” You protest feigning innocence but if you really looked at your behavior, analyzed your words, apart of it wasn't acting. You did mean what you were saying. You missed him. “I did want to visit you! You never invited me to any of your fancy balls and you never gave me a proper Summons. I'm not much of a party crasher but then people's safety became an issue." You hum before pausing. Grabbing his hand again you smile at Astarion with a knowing look. "No Ring despite your many suitors. Are you waiting for someone?" You question.

Astarion allowed you to grab his hand. Despite having the ability to pull away or harm you for touching him he was completely enraptured by you, by the way you toyed with him.

"Many suitors, yes, perhaps." He replied, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance, but there was a pang of… was it jealousy? Irritation. You saw a brief expression depicting his real emotions before he hid behind a mask of indifference. He hated himself for feeling anything about you but here he was and there you were. Feeling. He gritted his teeth and you just smiled, making him huff. "None I would consider keeping, at any rate. And certainly none with your… charm." He finally settles on, his crimson eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You hummed before glancing backwards looking around his empty throne room that gradually transformed into a ballroom. Your hand was still holding his and you couldn't help but really take in the beauty of this place, dragging him slightly as you walked away.

Astarion had completely restored the once in ruins castle. Cazadors palace was no more, no this was the Anuncins Crimson Palace now and it was beautiful, truly a work of art. Of course you expected nothing less from Astarion and his lavish lifestyle.

The spawn now a true vampire always did have a taste for the finer things in life. And despite being terrible at planning once upon a time he gained confidence when he Ascended and that confidence led to plans that were now more than ambition and ideals. Astarion always was smarter than people gave him credit for.

"You owe me a dance." You state pulling on his hand to drag him further on the dance floor as you give him a playful look.

Astarion's lips curled into a smirk as you spoke. He was clearly amused by your demand, and yet watching him closely, he had no intentions of saying no.

"Oh, I do~?" He asked, though he was already leading you to the center of the room. One hand was at your waist, as the other one held your hand. "And who do I owe it to Lordship…?” He questions wanting a last name, wanting to know if his favorite party leader ever settled down.

“An old friend.” You hum and he smiles tilting his head.

“just a friend?” He questions and you swallow changing the subject.

"... 7,000 souls was a steep price to pay Astarion. But I hope you know that isn't the only reason I felt like I had to leave. I still care about you, I always will." You state firmly as he begins to dance with you. His grip tightening slightly as he thinks about you slipping through his fingers again. "I'm a little frustrated you stopped all communication you know. I sent letters asking how you were, wanting to know if you were doing okay. I asked your thraals if I could have a meeting with you whenever I was in town, but they always denied me." You state pouting at him.

Astarions brows suddenly furrowed as he almost stopped dancing. His eyes hardened, seeming to process something. Letters? Meetings? Observing his face you realize that was news to him.

“You don't exactly have an address.” He finally responds, his calculating gaze never leaving you as you dance together.

"You know I've never been one for Nobel Life. I prefer the Nomadic and Adventurer life style. I agree I moved around a lot but you could've found me. A Ball would've been nice. I've always loved to dance and I've always loved to see you happy." You hum softly smiling as he spins you.

Astarion's eyes narrowed as you said this, his mind racing to think of a reason for why he hadn't received any letters. Could someone be… preventing him from seeing you? His spawn were connected to him, but they had free will. Astarion wasn't Cazador. Studying him his grip on you became tighter as you continued to dance. Your eyes glanced at the sudden death grip and he only relaxed when you mentioned how you preferred the life of a nomad and adventurer. Old memories seemed to spark in his mind.

"Yes, I do remember that. No doubt you were traipsing across the countryside, getting yourself into trouble and endangering your own life while I was here surrounded by finery and luxury.” He hums his gaze soft as he takes in your visage.

"I'm still here!" You respond a smile on your face before you squeal as Astarion spins you suddenly. "This is hard without music. I'm lost on the steps-" You giggle as you catch yourself from stumbling and Astarion hummed bringing you closer to nuzzle against your exposed neck.

He chuckled as you squealed, his grip on you becoming tight and possessive once more. His nose nuzzled your neck, as he took a good whiff of you, taking in your natural scent. You could feel the longing in his touch, the need in his body. He wanted to bite you so badly…

"Lost, you say?” He whispers against your ear. I'm surprised you remember the steps at all. I thought I remembered having to correct your footwork every few seconds and how you stepped on my poor shoes." He teased, trying to get a rise out of you.

"I've already said sorry! I was drunk and was trying to impress you!" You retort before giggling as Astarion dips you. "You are doing the dance wrong on purpose to get a rise out of me." You observe before lightly smacking his chest. As you laugh he pulls you to your feet and spins you again. "Your trying to make me dizzy!" You complain but it's clear from your laugh you're having fun. Despite the danger you did miss Astarion.

Astarion laughed with you, continuing the dance as he spun you once more, before bringing your body as close as possible to his chest. "Now, why would I try to get a rise out of you?~" He asked, feigning innocence.

He was very much taking advantage of this opportunity to hold you close. Too close perhaps.

As he gazed at you longingly you swallowed. It had been so long since he'd felt your body against his. Something in his eyes told you it had been too long- and that he wanted to savor every second of it. He was certainly being touchy.

You smile and lean against his chest. Putting your shoes on top of his so he can hold you and glide the two of you across the ballroom floor you decide to let your worries fade away for now.

He pulls you closer, still keeping the guise of the dance as he leaned down to nuzzle against your neck again. Astarion took a deep breath in, taking in your scent, your warmth, and the flutter of your pulse against his lips. He had missed all of this far more than he was willing to admit. And maybe you were the same.

His lips were pressed delicately against the skin of your neck, and he could feel your shuddering breaths against his chest each time he exhaled, but he was hesitant to kiss you, to taste you.

"Stari?" You question a slight laugh to your tone.

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, his face shifting to bury itself within your hair, enjoying the closeness you shared more than anything else.

His hand moved lower, from the small of your back to just above your hip, holding you tightly, afraid of you slipping away…

His lips hovered over your neck again, almost touching your skin as he waited for you to speak. His fangs were out, and they itched, begging to sink into your soft, supple skin.

"I missed you..." You whisper softly before hiding your face in his chest. "I really really missed you..."

"I missed you too..." He mirrored back softly, as his arms wrapped tight around you, holding you as close as he could. His hand reached up, to cup your chin and gently lift your head up to look at him.

He was staring into your eyes intently, studying every little detail of you that he could. Memorizing it all. "You can't imagine how much I've missed you... My darling.” He purrs softly.

As his lips press against yours, the dancing stops and your body goes limp in his hold, melting into his touch. You lower your guard...

Before you can realize what he's doing and stop him Astarion takes off the amulet protecting you from his vampiric enthrall powers. As you pull away from the kiss your eyes widen and you make a desperate grab for the amulet. It was a gift from Gale and Wyll to keep you safe during the negotiation with Astarion. Something that made it so the vampire couldn't enthrall or mind control you. "Stari-" You whine and he hums wagging it infront of your face.

As he removed the amulet from your neck, the look of surprise, perhaps even fear that flashed within your eyes, was something he couldn't help but enjoy.

"Sorry darling, did you think I wouldn't have a way around such.. protections?" He asked mockingly a smirk plastered across his features.

He ran his thumb across your cheek, his touch gentle, his motions almost loving as he stared into your eyes. Now that you were under his enthrall he was going to make sure you'd stay that way this time.

As he tucked away the amulet his other hand which had been tangled in your hair moved to your chin. His grip was tight as he forced you to look upwards at him but not bruising, never bruising.

His gaze was intense and his pupils blown wide at having won. He could see the pulse on your neck as your words really sunk in. You missed him, you really missed him and now he had you…

"You should have never left in the first place~" He said softly, his tone mocking as it was his turn to tease you. As he leaned down and placed a soft, fleeting kiss on your forehead a shiver traveled through your body.

You had never truly seen him like this. Sure, he was commanding in bed, but he was never in complete control, you always had some agency and say in what happened.

Now, you stood completely powerless against him. And the way he stared down at you, a smug smirk on his face, was making your heart beat faster for the first time in a long time.

His lips met your forehead in another gentle yet mocking kiss, as if telling you that he had you wrapped around his finger.

"Astarion-" You grit through your teeth.

"It's your turn to listen love." He hums softly playing with your hair.

Astarion smiled at you, his hand twirling a lock of your hair, as he regarded you with mock sympathy. "... Now now darling, don't start complaining. You should have learned your lesson by now." He hums seeing your pout.

He leaned down, his hand at your chin, forcing eye contact as he whispered in your ear. "You are mine now. No more leaving.” He states. “No more leaving my sight. No more disappearing and getting yourself into trouble. No more not knowing where you are. I'm going to keep you here, by my side, where you belong.” He finishes before pecking your lips.

"Astarion." You repeat through grit teeth fighting his control and he paused. His Darling had a fight in them others didn't. He'd give you that. He continues playing with your hair but he doesn't ask you to stop talking. He's clearly curious to see what you'll say. "You want me? I want you just as much. You can have me." You state grabbing at his shirt. Astarions eyes widened slightly surprised by your boldness. "But we need to talk." You beg your hands tightening their grip.

Astarion's composure faltered for a moment, as you words hit him. He hadn't expected you to be… forward about this. You were supposed to be begging on your knees for him. Not…

He regained his composure quickly enough, though. He was the one in control here, and he made sure his voice reflected that.

"Talk? Oh my dear, that's the last thing we need to be doing right now." His hand moved from your chin, to grab your wrist, gently yet firmly, intending to take you off somewhere more intimate and private.

"STOP. Listen." You hiss and Astarion pauses. "I love you. So Listen." You beg making him stiffen.

Astarion's expression hardened for a moment, as you suddenly snapped at him, ordered him to listen, to stop. He had meant to lead you away, but now he stood still, listening to your words.

"…Very well. Talk." He replied, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to be noticeable, a show of power.

You took a deep breath, it felt like a heaviness in your chest had lifted. Like you were no longer trapped.

Your eyes widened as you looked up. Astarion hummed and moved some hair out of your face. His red eyes focused on your hair as he played with it. He had dropped the enthrall. You had his attention.

Astarion smirked as your eyes widened, his fingers running through the locks of your hair, a casual gesture, almost… affectionate.

"Well, my darling, you have my attention. Make sure that whatever's on your mind, you're very clear about it." His voice was low and smooth, his gaze fixed on your face, studying your expression with his calculating gaze.

"I don't care that people are dying. I understand you and your Spawn need to feed. But Astarion it's Fathers, Mother's, Children." You state quickly and Astarion stiffens.

Children? That was obviously news to him. He forbade his spawn from touching kids. Astarion's expression darkened at your words- at the mention of children. "What?" He questioned, his voice low, an almost dangerous tone to his words. "Spawn are forbidden from drinking from or taking children." He said slowly, his grip on your wrist tightening at theaccusation.

He was more than aware that most people thought of him as a monster, and he'd never cared all that much. But the idea that his spawn had gone against his direct orders…

"Astarion. Children and Orphans. Young ones are going missing. If they are in the orphanage they are safe. But if they are on the street, especially at night, they're going missing." You explain softly. "Wyll and I have a deal for you. Please consider it or it will be war." You beg your hands gripping his suit tightly. "I dont... I don't want to lose you." You plead tears appearing in your eyes at the thought.

Astarion's expression remained grim, his frown deepening as you spoke. The thought of children, of children being targeted… it didn't sit well with him. But he felt a sense of anger at the thought of a deal, of a negotiation.

"What kind of deal are you talking about?" He asked, his voice still low- but there was curiosity now, a hint of intrigue, despite his anger in their interference.

"Either the spawn conversion rate or spawn drinking rate is too high. People are dying in numbers Baldur's Gate can't keep up with.” You state.

Astarion let out a frustrated huff, his grip still tight on you wrist, though he wasn't hurting you - he knew not to, in this situation- but he was struggling to control himself. He would not be threatened.

"What exactly is the 'deal' being proposed, then?" He asked again, his eyes boring into your, demanding a more concrete answer this time.

"You are an important part of Baldur's Gate now. The Crimson palace keeps half the economy in Baldur's Gate going with the number of people you hire and the trade and exports you bring in."

Astarion raises an eyebrow at your words, his initial annoyance slowly shifting towards curiosity. It was… an interesting point. One that he hadn't been expecting.

"And what would this 'deal' involve on my part?" He asked, his expression softening slightly. "Money? Slaves? What's the price?”

"Wyll wants an exact number of your spawn and your workforce. He would like names to match with the dead so he can send letters to families and proper compensation. I know you give your spawn traditional burials and compensation for their deaths. I know that you're not your old master. That when you overdrink and kill someone money appears on their families door. That the body is properly taken care of. You're not as cruel as you pretend to be." You say softy and Astarion stiffens.

He huffs at the accusation of being kind but a small part of him knows your right. He nuzzles against your warm neck trying to soothe himself. Your warm body and gentle pulse is a balm on his otherwise injured ego. Despite the stakes your heart doesn't race. You still aren't afraid of him and he's glad that after all this time you trust him.

Astarion remains motionless for a moment, his chin resting atop your shoulder. The idea of providing exact numbers felt like a weakness, a show of vulnerability. For a moment, he wanted to refuse, to take offense at your request. But he couldn't. Not when you were standing there, being so… understanding. Your warning, your trust, it had gotten to him.

"Very well." He said, with only a hint of reluctance in his voice. "I'll provide a list of the spawn, as well as the deaths.”

"I want whoever drank from the children dead." You add softly. "Whoever killed them needs to be on trial for their crimes." You add. “You typically punish your spawn as they are your people but whoever did this. I want them.”

Astarion let out a low, growling groan. Dealing with spawn was like herding cats as it was, and the thought of a trial… it felt like an unnecessary hassle. Just a political game. And not a fun one.

"Very well, I'll have the offenders identified and... dealt with." He grumbled, the anger slowly fading into resigned acceptance. It was a fair condition - as much as he hated it.

"Now I want to discuss ethical blood letting and donation." You shift the conversation to the actual deal part. What Astarion gets from agreeing. "That's what Wyll and I are willing to give you in exchange for all this information and corporation." You state gaining more confidence now that you felt like he was truly listening.

Astarion lifted his head, his expression intrigued, listening intently as you spoke. The mention of blood donations was… unexpected.

"Oh, do continue- I'm very curious to see how you think this will work." He said, as a sly smirk made its way onto his face.

"I've done the math with Gale and Wyll. Criminals are typically hanged in Baldur's Gate. There's almost a hanging a day. Same on the Sword Coast in various cities. Your spawn may feed on them. You can keep them alive in your dungeons or drain them in one go if they have the death penalty. Criminals will be delivered directly to you. It will make crime go down, it will save innocent people from being killed. Those that have sentences and are staying in jail will give up blood once or twice a week to not exhaust or kill them. They'll be fed exceptional diets and will exercise to keep their blood healthy and clean of disease. If you have a more expensive taste Nobles have offered to trade blood for favors. It's dubious but far more ethical than random murders." You offer

Astarion hums, contemplating the proposal. His fingers brush against your cheek as he stares into your eyes. It was... not terrible, he had to admit. Criminals and prisoners being given as food... it was not a bad idea.

"And the Nobility? What is their idea of a 'favor' exactly?" He questions curious his thumb brushing your bottom lip.

He didn't trust the nobles as far as he could throw them and he doesn't believe they'll make good on their word to give blood.

"Land extensions, tax breaks, laws being passed." You explain. "Wyll will be overseeing that project. The size of the favor will depend on the longevity of their donation." You add. "Basically, we're creating a new currency. One of blood rather than Gold. Does that make sense?"

Blood debts was a new one. Astarion signed feeling your warm flesh under his cold touch. He had been rather sloppy with his spawn conversion as of late and he knew it'd bite him sooner or later. The amount he was creating… making a more accurate account of his growing number of subjects was an imposing task he had been ignoring. One that now seemed appealing considering this system would make sure they were all fed without allowing them to go feral on the streets at night.

But there was something else he wanted.

Astarion's lips curled into a small smirk as you explained your idea. Blood debts... it was a unique idea, and one he could certainly see it working.

"You know love, you're quite smart when you want to be." He said, as his thumb brushed your lip again. "There is only one small, additional detail I'd like to add.” He purrs, leaning in close.

As he smirked down at you, you rolled your eyes. "Yes Astarion?" You question already knowing what he'd ask for.

He hummed softly, amused at your annoyance, before gently brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His touch still surprisingly gentle, almost sensual.

"Oh, you already know what I will say darling." He hums, his smirk widening into a devilish grin. "I was serious before. No more going off on your own little adventures. You'll stay here with me, where I can keep an eye on you at all times.”

"I want to be your official consort and I want to oversee the prisoner project." You state firmly. "Or no deal.”

Astarion's smirk faltered for a moment at your declaration though he quickly regained his composure, his gaze hardening slightly. He hadn't expected you to demand something like that in return - to try to negotiate with him so boldly. And yet it wouldn't be you if you didn't. His finger tapped your lip.

"Oh, you're quite the little negotiator now, are you? It's adorable, really." He purred his tone slightly mocking, but with a hint of genuine... fondness? "Fine. You may oversee the prisoners. But don't think that means you can go running off on any adventures when I'm not looking.” Astarion states. “Wyll can come here, you won't be leaving the castle or going back to sword coast. You'll stay. With me.” He hummed his lips hovering over yours as he went to kiss you. You frown not done yet before you lean back to keep him away for just a moment longer.

"As your consort you'll turn me then?” You clarify. “I don't want to be a thrall Astarion. I'd rather be dead than just another pawn in this game you play. A body you use. You will make me a True Vampire, if I'm your consort I'm your partner. We'll be committed. There'll be a vampire bride and vampire rites ceremony. There's no going back. Things will change." You list your demands staring in his eyes as he looks at your lips.

Astarion chuckled softly at your words, a smirk still plastered across his face. He'd known this was coming, had thought about it often before. He'd even rehearsed his response.

But you were so adamant, so demanding, and he couldn't help but find it endearing.

"So you want to be my partner, my darling consort for all eternity ~" He purred, moving closer, pinning you against his body. One hand was planted firmly on your back as you were dipped slightly. The other hand rested on your chin forcing you to look directly at him as he leaned in. "It's quite the commitment you're asking for~”

As he smirked down at you, you rolled your eyes. But there was a fondness in them, a gentle playfulness in the action rather than true annoyance. As his hand moved from your chin to your cheek you melted into his touch. You tilted your neck slightly giving him an open invitation. "I know exactly what I'm asking for. Are you willing to give it?" You question.

He smiled his lips centimeters above yours. When you leaned in he finally closed the distance giving you a proper kiss. The feeling made your body tremble. Melting into him, into his hold, a warmth started in your chest that spread throughout your body. As Astarion pulled away his lips left a soft trial of kisses to your neck until he paused over your jugular.

His lips hovered. He was close enough he could smell your blood, feel the subtle thrum of your pulse against his tongue. You were taunting him, teasing him, and he loved every second of it.

"Am I willing to give it?" He breathed, his nose nuzzling against your pulse point, as he held you tightly in his arms practically drooling. "Oh my darling, for you, I'll give you anything you want.” He promised.

You nodded and that's all Astarion needed. The bite was more painful than you remembered and you whimpered slightly as his fangs sunk into your neck. But despite the adrenaline from the pain you felt completely safe in Astarions arms. He wouldn't harm you. And that painful sensation slowly turned to euphoric bliss as you realized that.

Astarion's arms wrapped tight around you, holding you close as he fed on you. Your blood, your scent, your taste... it was all just as he remembered. Just as addictive as the first time he'd fed from you. How he missed it while you were away.

As your blood filled his mouth, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of possessiveness as he held you in his arms, as your life essence flowed within him, bonding the two of you. He was feeding on you... and he'd never let you go.

As your eyes fluttered from how much he was drinking Astarion pulled away gently kissing the wound as you collapsed in his arms dizzy from the blood loss and pleasure. As he smiled down at you he returned your necklace. He was only half being serious when he took it earlier. If you were staying he supposed he didn't need to keep it.

He softly kissed his bite mark on you. You wanted a Vampire Bridal Ceremony and a Vampires Rites Ceremony.

He'd keep you human until then. Feed on you a few more times and really savor your sweetness until you were turned like him.

"Stari..." You mumble softly your vision slowly fading out.

Astarion caught you as you nearly collapsed. He held you tight in his arms. There was something almost... tender about the way he held you gently, as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Surrounded by all this opulence and his only waking thoughts were always of you.

His lips placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as you murmured his name in your dazed state. "Hush, my darling. Rest now." He said softly. "I'll take you back to my room and keep you safe. When you wake up we can... discuss the ceremony and our future.” He promised.

As he shifted you to cradle you against him you hummed content. "I missed you..." You repeat fading into unconsciousness the bite mark now feeling numb as the pain slowly melted away.

Astarion's heart fluttered at those simple words. He smiled and adjusted you as he held you tightly in his arms. Hearing you say that you missed him... after he'd spent so long wondering if you ever wanted to see him again... it was like music to his ears.

"I missed you too... my darling consort." He gently cooed before he carried you through the halls of his palace, headed towards his and now your bedroom.