#honey and firelight

[werefeathers]

i need to make sound designs for them but for now have these concept sketches (bad camerawork. sorry)

hello flumblr! i'd like you to meet my two current flpcs: madison vinyls (tentative name) and the veil-shrouded vermin! (vermin is not literally a rat but. id like to think they resonate heavily with them)

madison, previously named jamison, was a bohemian but got bored of that lifestyle and is now trying out being a revolutionary (she will also eventually get bored of this). i'm planning on developing her correspondence and red science studies, but for now she's a silverer. says it reminds her of her bohemian days. we've got ourselves an up and coming mr cards.

vermin has a newer account (good lord, they're still making their name) but i have an idea of what they'll look like where madison is. also, they're my seeking alt (haven't begun smen yet). the funniest, most peckish ratkin around town, currently seeking (ha) a very large diamond. i imagine monstrous anatomy is very important to them.

[kai-keda]

Red Son is not blind. As an expert at suppressing his own feelings, he can tell without much effort what MK is holding in. But knowing is only half the battle. And Red Son wants nothing more than to see that infectious smile again.

Or

Kai was reminded of the honey scene from "Akatsuki no Yona" and got a totally normal and not at all emotionally driven urge to write out a spicynoodles version of it

[pseudowho]

Ditch the Party

Nanami Kento hates parties; but the drinks? They make him...bold.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Nanami Kento is a horny drunk, just regular old smut here

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"Just...promise me you'll behave tonight," you beseeched Kento as you pressed your earrings into place. You saw Kento lean back into the bathroom on his way out, bristling, indignant. Your nose twitched in amusement as he caught your eye in the mirror, looking stern.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied stiffly. You scoffed.

"You absolutely do," you countered, turning, your hand on his chest. Looking him up and down, in a slim black suit and burgundy shirt, tie-less, you felt outdone.

As you leaned back on the bathroom counter, Kento's eyes had a naughty twinkle as he leaned down towards you. Your eyes narrowed with a smile of warning, and you pressed one finger to his lips. Tapping his nose as he opened his mouth to bite your finger, you reminded him.

"Come on, big guy. We'll be late. The taxi guy's probably sick of waiting for us." You slithered past Kento, feeling his fingers brush your waist for the barest of moments, as you gripped his hand and pulled him towards the door.

In the taxi, Kento gazed at the city lights, considering his life choices; "Why are we going to a party this evening? We don't even like parties." You laughed, reapplying your lipstick in a mirror.

"We don't, it's true. But it's a big birthday for my uncle, and we promised," you wheedled. Kento grunted his disapproval beside you. Your eyes narrowed at him again; "And, it's a family friendly event, so..."

Kento looked at you again, innocent but challenging. He let your statement hang; this time, it was you who was bristling, indignant.

The party had already begun by the time you arrived; held at your aunt and uncle's home, a warm orange glow and thrum of conversation spilled out from the kitchen to the garden, deep green hedges flickering with torchlights and tiny twinkling fairy lights. The music was low, the conversation easy and audible above it. A barbeque puffed out woody smoke. Drinks were flowing freely. You sighed as you approached, relieved.

"See? It's the good kind of party," you pressed, squeezing Kento's hand reassuringly. He sighed, unable to argue with you, reassuring you with a gentle smile that you didn't need to babysit him all evening for fear of him having a dreadful time in the company of others.

While Kento headed in to fetch drinks, you greeted family and friends. Kento returned soon after, with a large gin and tonic for you, and a larger whiskey for him. He slipped an arm firmly round your waist, pulling you flush to him as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

The night wore on, the conversation lubricated by alcohol, and small, tipsy groups milled around the garden fires. As food was served, an elderly aunt approached, and asked Kento how he was enjoying the meal.

"It's delicious, thank you," he replied low and smooth before leaning into your ear, whispering, "it almost tastes as good as yo--"

"I'm sorry, dear?" Kento leaned up, all smiles to your elderly aunt, as you blushed from your ears to your toes.

"I said, it tastes almost as good as your cooking, auntie," he lied and she chirped, flattered, patting him on the arm with a smile. Your auntie headed away, and you spun to Kento with a look of warning. He completely ignored you, honeyed eyes glowing in the firelight.

Eyes narrowing at him, you headed over to the table to fetch Kento a glass of water, and almost immediately felt him cage you against the table from behind, his sculpted shoulders leaning past you to rest on his knuckles on the tablecloth. You felt his warm, whiskey breath against your neck.

"We could always bend you over this table," he murmured, as you felt a throb of lust in your belly, "and see how hard we could make it shake." As you spun, still caged by Kento's arms, a family friend approached just beside you and offered you and Kento an uncertain smile. Kento plucked your hair clip off the table from behind you, holding it up with a cunning smile.

"There it is, darling," he said warmly, the family friend now less uncertain, "I told you we'd find it." The family friend left, and you hissed up at him.

"Kento. Behave." He fixed you with a look of faux-innocence as he stood, finishing his whiskey.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, smiling at your uncle, wishing him a happy birthday as he passed, and then leaned over you again, pulling you close to his chest as he rumbled, eyes hooded and glinting, "but then, you never do make much sense when I'm fucking you until you can't see straight."

You groaned against his chest, hand over your eyes, mortified. You heard your aunt gently asking Kento if you were alright.

"She's fine," he chuckled, "can't handle her drinks, I think." Your aunt cooed, sharing a joke with Kento, and you gaped up at Kento, who accepted another drink from your uncle, utterly shameless.

"Kento," you hissed again, "you are just a--"

"Menace?" He rumbled, ghosting his lips over yours, whispering, "I could be. Just give me a bit of time, and something to tie you up with, and--"

Your mother came over, greeting you both, and you were forced to play drunk, you were so flushed at this point, babysat by Kento as he rolled his eyes fondly at you and made small talk.

Kento slipped his hand lower and lower behind you as he talked with your mother, and you felt his long fingers trace your thigh, surreptitiously climbing upwards beneath your skirt to graze your arse, before creeping round again and you felt his fingers brush softly against your fol--

You squeaked, jumping, your drink sloshing over your toes. Kento flapped a hand above your head.

"Just a moth," he reassured you and your mother. Your mother gave your burning cheek a kiss. Kento waited just long enough for your mother to leave, before looping an arm round your waist, pulling you into the shadows, behind hedges further down the garden. You squeaked with alarm. Kento drained both of your drinks, and unceremoniously abandoned the glasses in a bush, before pulling you onto a sheltered bench by your uncle's koi carp pond.

You were thrumming with embarrassment at this point, and leapt off the bench, mortified by Kento's utter shamelessness and alcohol-loosened tongue, ready to chew him out...but...

Kento sat on the bench, legs spread wide in his tight black trousers, thick, toned arms stretched out across the back of the bench. He looked deeply into your eyes, chiselled face dramatised in the shadows. Slowly reaching a hand out, he pinched the top of your skirt, pulling you in between his spread legs, strong and determined.

"We don't like parties," he toned, low and sultry, as you were pulled into his lap, "but we do like it when you ride me until our clothes are ruined."

Kento grabbed your thighs, forcing your skirt up to your waist and parting your legs around his lap. He hesitated, changing his mind and lifting you off him briefly. With no argument, he stripped off your underwear, pressing it to his nose and breathing in with a groan and a shiver, eyes closed in ecstasy. You hissed to him again, terrified of being found, arse and pussy open to the world--

Kento pulled you back down to straddle his lap again, sinking his hand into the back of your hair and tipping your head back as he ran his tongue and teeth against your throat.

"Nobody else will be able to see that wet little pussy of yours...if it's as close as I want it." Slipping two fingers between your legs, Kento rubbed your clit in tight little circles, and you felt hard and fast pangs of pleasure through you as you trembled, gripping Kento's shoulders desperately.

"Someone will hear, Kento--" he bit your neck in warning, squeezing your arse hard as he moaned, shivering as he continued to press hard against your clit.

"Well then be quiet, my love." You mewled, muffling your face into his neck, quaking as his clever fingers dragged you to orgasm, stimulating you hard and fast until your thighs shook, and his hand was wet with your arousal.

Kento's eyes were dark and determined now, single-minded as he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, solid and weeping pre-cum against his belly as he stroked it, lubricating himself with your cum. Locking his arms behind your back, he lifted you and slammed your sensitive pussy down onto himself, bottoming out immediately.

You shrieked, and Kento clapped a hand over your mouth, nipping your lips as he shot you a lustful, playful look. Hands then locked behind your hips again, he lifted you up and down with wet slaps, immediately seeing stars with the relentless pace, chasing your pussy with his hips as he bucked.

You gasped, breathless against his neck as his cock bullied into you, pliable and shaking as Kento groaned into you, unashamedly loud-- "harder," he insisted, increasing the pace with his hands clenching the fat of your hips, "harder."

His mouth pressed to yours, kisses hot and smoky with whiskey as he nipped at your bottom lip, his groans deep and guttural as he felt your pussy clench around him while you held onto his lapels, mewling, tipsy, completely fucked senseless, as promised.

Feeling the trembling of your plush walls around him (the nerves of his cock already electrified by the alcohol) had Kento reeling  and he came, whimpering into your mouth as he ground your hips against his, bottomed out and warm shots of cum spurting directly against your cervix.

You both shook, tangled and sweaty, spent, while Kento chuckled and you slapped him on the chest. You heard voices approach; your uncle, excited to show someone his prized koi carp.

Kento threw you onto the bench beside him as you yanked down your skirt, and Kento zipped himself up, putting an arm around your shoulders.

Your uncle arrived, "Oh, hey kids! Enjoying my carp-- whose are those?"

Kento coughed delicately, eyeing your forgotten underwear at the side of the pond; "No idea," he said, coolly, "they were here when we arrived."

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Infiltration, Chapter 5: Breaking Point, IS coming this weekend as promised...but in the meantime

[starsallalight]

Tag drop; Ships 3/?

[cambion-companion]

Knot

Alright, it was put in my head that devils knot when mating/having sex. So...had to write this little ficlet.

Raphael x f!reader/Tav | SMUT | 18+ only

Scorching tension, the aching coil of your muscles as they stretched and clenched to accommodate him. Your fingers sought purchase, something to tether you to reality as ecstasy rocked with every thrust.

“Raphael.”  His name tasted like honey, burnt like whiskey upon your lips.  Your tongue felt leaden as he claimed your mouth, swallowing your pleading as he claimed you.

Amidst the haze and the heat, you noticed what a mess you were making of the cambion’s lush bed. “The sheets…”  You murmured, attempting to sit up and regain some semblance of control.

Your hair stirred in the rush of wind the sudden beat of his wings created, the leather appendages stretching wide as Raphael pushed you by the throat back against the mattress. “Are replaceable.” Raphael’s sharp claws dug against the tender flesh of your thigh as he dragged your body closer to him, drunk on the sensation of you so pliable and wet around him. He grinned down at you before a rumble of pleasure dragged from his throat. “So willing, little mouse.”  He leaned over, the skin of his wings turning the ambient firelight into a red haze. “Take all of me.”

Your eyes widened, feeling the flush of heat and heady lust his words aroused. Your body became taught as a bowstring seconds before the kill, his name spilling from your panting mouth, sweet to the taste.

Raphael fought to keep composure, failing spectacularly, burying himself deep within you, his sinful orisons of pleasure echoing your own cries. You felt his seed spill, the painful heat of it overshadowed by the pleasure as your body drank him in.

Your skin stung and broke as Raphael’s teeth pierced where your shoulder and neck joined, marking you as his own outside as well as within. He continued rutting into you, stretching you as the infernal knot took hold. You whined and he silenced you with his fingers pushing into your mouth.

Hellfire eyes found yours, your foreheads pressed together in a semblance of twisted intimacy as you nearly choked on his long digits. “Good, little one. Take me.”  

You wanted nothing more than to give in. To whatever end. Pain and pleasure mixed, your whines muffled around his fingers until he withdrew them only to replace the void with his lips and tongue. He was anchored inside, the languid thrusts of his hips sent spasms along your spine as Raphael pressed your legs down against your chest.

The two of you remained interlocked, twin flames made one, until Raphael was satisfied you’d been properly mated.  When he finally withdrew, he dragged a single nail down your chest to your navel, pressing almost until he drew blood over your womb. His tail flicked against your side as he gave you a lazy, self-satisfied smile. “You’re the image of sin, my dear.”  His palm flattened against your abdomen possessively. “Now, go clean yourself.  I will join you shortly for a thorough examination of your progress.”

[dogbites-puppylove]

Apple seed cyanide

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Joker x reader, Yandere! Harley x reader (platonic)

If you want the honest to god truth, Harley knew that the Joker was spewing saccharine filth from the start when he reached out with promises of a sweet little life, one with a darling family of their own. She knew because, after years of watching him pant after the trials of Batman, she saw he had no room other than his obsession left in his heart. But like a moth to firelight, she flutters dutifully back into his arms attracted by promises already broken

Imagine her surprise when shes greeted at the door with a bright smile, almost sane enough to trick her. He ushers her in with a sweet note in the air and a “surprise waiting for her” in the living room. Bound and gagged a couple is crying out on the floor, shaking their hands in a pathetic plea, and attempting to crawl away, and usually, Harley would be all for making a joke or two, but instead, all she can see is you. Your little presence floods all of her senses, sitting perfectly pacified on the floor. Behind her, she's aware of her partner's sick laughter, but she can't shake off the trance she's in.

You couldn't be older than 3, still without proper motor skills and a morbid curiosity stopping any critical preservation instincts that might have had you crying. This becomes more evident when instead of screaming, you giggle as the clown prince of crime crouches down to haul you up into an embrace, even bouncing you up into the air a few times to pry out more laughter. She can barely hear the shrieks of your old parents as the Joker finally deposits you safely into her arms, and as she cradles you close to her chest that aches for you. It's a physical hurt that almost overwhelmed her, the need to crawl inside you and live there, or for you to do the same, and it is in a stranger's house that Harley falls in love again.

“Sweet as honey ain't they?” the Joker coos and cackles at you, waggling a few fingers in front of your face, grinning even wider as you grab at them. “Full of curiosity that one is, a real riot!” but Harley can barely hear him much less acknowledge him past the roaring of blood in her ears. Her heart beating out of her chest she thinks it might just spill open to accommodate the organ trying to crawl closer to her darling. For the second and last time in her life, Harley is chained and leashed to another's will, a fate of coming to their beck and call, your will, her darling wrapped perfectly in her arms.

To the Joker's credit he does love you, or as close to love as he can get. He hushes your cries, indulges you in sweets behind Harley's back, and she's even caught him humming silly little tunes as he dances with you wrapped up in his arms. You bring clarity to him, a surety in his life that he doesn't feel unless pulling Bats along in another joke. You were going to be his perfect legacy, proof that he cannot truly die, you're a part of him in this way. Of course, you’d need a quick little dip into a vat of toxins to truly make a perfect legacy but you needn’t worry, he still loves you. You just need a little preparation first.

Every week he takes you on little daddy-darling outings, he tells Harley your going around to sightsee, and he lets you play a lot of fun games until the sun sets. And he's truthful because his warehouses are far and in between, and every mutilation he leads you so lovingly through is a fun little joke. His little comedian, hell coo as he leads your hand tightly clasping a knife against the throat of one of his own boys who had tried to run. Isn't this fun sweetheart?

He underestimates, however, just how devoted Harley is because while she was fully delusional when they had first gotten into a relationship Harley cannot spare you as collateral damage to her own fantasies. She is painfully grounded as she takes in everything about you 24/7, your expressions, words, actions anything she can she takes to covet away in her mind forever. As much as she is a monster she is your mother and she loves you, you are anything she's ever had and everything she'll ever have. He doesn't realize that she obsessively checks over you, even spotting the smallest flecks of blood, how when she kisses you goodnight she can see the thin sheen of apathy take hold of your gaze.

The final straw comes in the form of a huge argument, she comes home early from work eager to see her little baby, when she finds the Joker cooing into your ear, goading you into doing your best as your hands wrap around a familiar gun. Like the devil on her shoulder, she can't even scream as you pull the trigger, eyes momentarily twitching but no other expression as your former parent's brains paint the windows. And she realizes as you turn around to smile at her sweetly with blood on your teeth and tears that seem so foreign streaming down your face that you need to leave, she has to get you away.

That night she takes you, just 9 years old, and runs. She has no real destination, just a desperate notion to get away, to save you from all that she knows the joker is trying to make you. She can't, she can't let you go through what she knows will force you into the type of person you never wanted to become. Because she can see herself in the mirror and can mourn normal happiness and stability, and she has watched the joker bleed himself dry until he has nothing to himself but an old laugh track repeating over and over again. It's a life of agony and you don't deserve that, not you, never you.

Of course, her body ends up leading her to Ivy’s place, and the woman can only stare in shock as her best friend who had gone radio silent all those years back collapses at her door holding a kid so close she might be trying to meld into one. “Please, please not my baby” Harley begs and any anger that Ivy could have had melts.

For a while it's paradise, the Gotham sirens all corralling once again in their glory, and with their very own new member, you. Selina takes to you quickly, cooing about how her kitten is just the most clever thing in the world as you quickly work through her little trips. (Privately she will worry to Harley about the lack of awareness you have for your own health, the way your eyes glaze over when a plan takes place, and the brutality you exhibit.) Ivy also takes to you quickly, teasing you with little nicknames (how can you be a sapling when you're a human?) and she teaches you how to nurture, how to care for plants and love them as they deserve. (And she will confide to Harley how you seem to take to poisons particularly well, how you are able to craft things more disastrous than she can dream, how your curiosity always leans to the morbid.)

Harley herself takes great energy and care into trying to undo what the Joker has done, it's laughable how Gotham's greatest villains all sit in a circle every week and preach about morals and empathy. But to their credit, it works, and though you may not be able to feel the full existence of motion, though you can't seem to feel it as deeply as others your heart still throbs with what must make you human. You learn consequences and cling with desperation to these little lessons that prove you aren't your mentor. (not father, not anymore)

And yet Harley can still see how your apathy takes hold in the face of curiosity, how you prefer crowbars over teddy bears, and how despite your hardest efforts empathy is always a little too easy to push away in favor of hard-earned apathy. (and she knows, she knows that as long as that bastard is still out there doggedly searching the ground for you, you won't ever truly be safe) so she makes a deal.

The phone rings and Bruce can only raise an eyebrow at the untitled phone number, he doesn't make a habit of giving out his number so uselessly so after the third ring he picks up.

“Hello? This is Bruce Way-”

“Hey Bats.” Alarm shoots through the roof at a voice he hasn't heard in years, and yet still so closely relates to his arch-nemesis.

“Harley? How did you get this-”

“Listen, listen I know it's gonna sound real bad but I- I need you to hear me out. A favor, I need a favor. I'll go back to Arkham, stay there for the rest of my days but, I” she breathes and it's far too shaky for the woman he knows her to be. “My baby” she sobs “You gotta keep my baby safe, he's out there Bats and he won't leave em alone as long as their alive.”

Through his confusion, Bruce manages to calm her down, and wrangles a short story out of her, how she and Joker had played family until she couldn't bear to see you break anymore and how she knew that she alone couldn't keep her darling safe. And maybe it's the boy staring at the corpse of his family in Crime Alley that speaks instead of himself but he finds himself reaching out to help. (he can't let another family split, not when he can help it). As long as Harley doesn't kill, no more lethal tactics, and as long as she reports everything she knows about joker, and works with him against him, she can stay outside of Arkham walls. And as for you?

Your tenth birthday hits and Bruce Wayne steps into your living room with a strangely calculating gaze and a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N? Ah, nice to meet you officially, my name is Bruce Wayne, and ill be your foster family.”

Author's Note: Another reupload. ALSO! I HAVE GOTTEN THE ANON ASKS!! I AM JUST A SLOW WRITER I’LL GET TO EM I PROMISE!!

[alwaysmicado]

keep you warm

1.3k | Joel Miller x f!reader

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy Summary: You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always. A/N: This fic is a bit different from the things I've posted so far and it was so much fun to write. I put my heart (and tears) in it and I hope it will bring you as much comfort as it did me. 🤍 masterlist

There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights. - Bram Stoker, Dracula

The car engine growls softly as it cruises down the winding road, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of autumnal hues.

Joel has his hands placed firmly on the wheel as he glances over at your sleeping form, your silhouette painted in the warm glow of the sunset. The air inside the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the weight of your continued journey hanging in the atmosphere.

As you navigate through the autumn landscape, daylight begins to fade, casting long shadows that sway with the curves of the road. Joel steals a glance in the rearview mirror, squinting against the diminishing light. The forest on either side of the road stands like a wall of rust and amber, a silent observer to your passage.

You stir in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips. Joel reaches, caressing your cheek gently, tracing a promise with tenderness he thought long gone. 

Until he met you.

A few miles ahead, Joel spots a fitting spot by the edge of the forest. He eases the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine hums into silence, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the fading whispers of the day.

“We’re here, darlin’.” 

Your eyes flutter open to Joel’s soft touch, his hand brushing away the remnants of sleep. You both step out, the cool evening air enveloping you like a gentle embrace.

Setting up camp unfolds as a familiar routine. Joel sparks a small fire, the flames dancing in the encroaching darkness. The scent of burning wood mixes with the crisp fall air, creating an ambiance that is both comforting and hauntingly beautiful. You arrange your sleeping bags near the fire, a makeshift sanctuary in the wilderness.

As you sit by the fire, the warmth casting a soft glow on your faces, Joel pulls out two cans of beans and some beef sticks. You eat in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire punctuating the stillness.

Yet, Joel can’t help but notice the subtle changes in you—grimaces and absent-minded belly rubs.

He sets his half-eaten bowl down, a subtle tension settling into the contours of his expression as he watches you closely. “You ain’t lookin’ too good, honey,” he notes, his voice laced with concern, slicing through the ambient crackling that reverberates in the air. “Somethin’ not sittin’ right?”

Gazing at Joel across the fire-lit expanse, his weathered face bathed in the flickering glow of the dancing flames, your heart swells with love—and dread.

You clutch your belly as you double over, a sudden, strong wave of nausea overcoming you. Startled, Joel’s eyes widen, but he reacts instinctively, abandoning all else to rush to your side.

With a tender urgency, he crouches beside you as you vomit, his hands moving intuitively to cradle your back. His voice, usually rugged and steady, softens into a soothing cadence. “Easy now, darlin’,” he murmurs, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m right here.”

Your body tenses with each convulsion, tears mingling with the involuntary heaves, but Joel’s steady hands and reassuring words calm you.

As the waves of nausea subside, he eases you back, offering a makeshift cloth to wipe your mouth. His gaze holds a blend of worry and tenderness, the firelight flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies, a crooked half-smile playing on his lips. “We look out for each other, remember?”

Nestling closer to the warmth of the fire, Joel wraps a comforting arm around you. The quiet forest listens, an unspoken witness to the vulnerability shared beneath the starlit sky.

“You gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on?” Joel asks, his voice a gentle yet firm prompt.

You swallow hard and nod weakly, lifting your head up from his shoulder to meet his gaze. His brow is furrowed as he searches your watery eyes for answers. “What happened, darlin’?” he asks, wiping away the lone tear that is tracing a delicate path down your cheek.

The unspoken secret sits heavy within you, a silent burden that has been shaping every whispered conversation and stolen glance over the past few weeks. Each passing day deepens the weight, a constant companion in your shared journey.

The fear of Joel’s reaction, the uncertainty of the world you are living in, and the vulnerability of bringing innocence into chaos weave a complex tapestry of emotions, a heavy cloak draped over the anticipation of a new life.

You have never been more terrified. 

“Joel, I–” your voice is shaky and you need to gather all your strength to not break down into a million pieces. “I think I might be pregnant.”

The revelation hangs in the air, momentarily freezing time. Joel’s eyes widen, a mosaic of emotions crossing his face—shock, concern, disbelief, and then a surprising warmth.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Pregnant?” he repeats, his voice softer now, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Mhm,” you sniffle, your vulnerability echoing in the quiet night. “I swear I wanted to tell you before, I just–” you hiccup and wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m so fucking scared, Joel.” You look into his warm eyes for reassurance, your lip quivering, your whole body trembling with anxiety.  

Joel’s expression softens further, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he puts his hands on your arms, his eyes boring into you. “It’s gonna be alright, darlin’.” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, the firelight casting a comforting glow around you.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

As Joel’s reassuring words wash over you, a tangible weight lifts from your shoulders, carried away by the currents of relief. You allow yourself to breathe out a heavy sigh and let your tears run freely as you cling to the man who has saved you in more ways than he will ever know.

In this moment, beneath the vast canvas of the starlit sky, you find solace in each other—a fragile yet resilient hope kindling in the midst of your endless journey. 

Later, as you settle into your sleeping bags, Joel’s arm draped protectively over you, you feel a surge of gratitude. The warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours creates a safe haven, momentarily replacing your fears with the undeniable comfort you both find in each other’s arms. 

“Sarah always wanted a little brother or sister,” Joel breaks the silence with a murmur, his warm breath ghosting your neck. “I wish she could be here to experience it.”

“I’m sure she’s going to look after her little sibling,” you whisper with a soft smile on your lips, tears silently pooling in the fabric of your sleeping bag. “Just like she’s been looking after you all this time.”

“I’ll do everything to keep you and our child safe and warm, my love. I promise.”

In the quiet cradle of the night, you drift into sleep, the rustling leaves and the forest’s whispers weaving a lullaby for your dreams.

Joel tenderly places his hand on your small bump, whispering promises to the precious life growing within, his words a secret shared with the quietude of the night. 

He lifts his head to look at your face, a soft smile gracing his lips as he cherishes the serenity painted across your features.

“You are the light of my life.”

[mintmatcha]

MONSTER FUCKING

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

The night continues with Obsidian.

cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation

PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)

a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3

He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn. 

It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.

The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.

Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.

“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.

Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.

“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”

The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.  

Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.

“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed,  “I heard how you… scolded her.”

The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.

Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.

“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted. 

“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.” 

Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”

“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you.  “Anything for you.”

You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.

“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth. 

“Ask your questions first.”

Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.

“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”

He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.

“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”

“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him. 

Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.

 “Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”

His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle.  “Malleable.”

When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.

Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.

The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.

Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.

“My fawn,”  he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”

His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.

“People are going to hear you,” he continues,  tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast." 

That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent.  Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.

"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"

Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him. 

"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."

 The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.

"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"

He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?" 

Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.

Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride. 

Another tug on his horns pauses him. 

"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him. 

"Are you alright?"  Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"

You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked? 

The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.

"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-" 

"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."

His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you. 

"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"

Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.

"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"

He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts. 

“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.

"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"

"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"

You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself. 

The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.

 Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too. 

Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.

You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces. 

"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"

Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed. 

 "Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"

Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.

Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.

Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-

Until the drop hits. 

You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-

"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back,  "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"

A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.

“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--” 

You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”

“No,” Common slips from his mouth,  “Not yet.”

The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable.  Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.

You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine. 

“‘m gonna pass out,”  you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.

“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”

With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?

No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze

In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.

Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused.  You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-

Oh. 

Oh. 

Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.

You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention. 

You settle for the next best thing. 

With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it.  It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.

It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.

The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.

“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.” 

You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone. 

"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”

There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.

“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-

Sleep overtakes you.

The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.

Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement. 

It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.

By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.

“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”

Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.” 

"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."

"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."

"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."

Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"

“She awakes!”  Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”

“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.

“Did you bathe again?”  Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”

You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.

“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…

The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.

“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.

“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”

Oh, that rascal.  His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.

“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”

“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have sleep strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”

A swift kick to the shin silences him.

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 11

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian and Y/N spend their first few days in the Cabin by the Illyrian Camps where the two spend time getting to know each other and overall being the most adorable couple. Also Flying, cooking lessons (Interrupted) and lots of cuddles and sass.

Content Warnings: The mention of a Safe Word being ignored (Not by Cassian), Wing Clipping, and cliffhanger

Word Count: 5.2K

Unwavering Presence Masterlist ACOTAR Masterlist Chapter 10

Reader’s POV

I was finally kissing him. His mouth was soft and gentle as it was pressed against mine. His hands lowered to the swells of my ass, and he grinded against me eliciting a gasp. Cassian took advantage and slid his tongue into my mouth. A moan escaped my lips, and the general’s hand moved up to my hair yanking the tie holding my braid in place. I break away from the kiss and shake my braid out as my hair falls in loose waves.

Cassian’s honey-soaked eyes lock on mine as he runs his fingers through my hair, I closed my eyes as he massaged my scalp and hummed, “You are a beautiful little thing.” He murmured against my skin. “Absolutely, beautiful.”

Stupid Whore Xavier’s voice rang out in my head.

His free hand slid up and snaked groped my breast, twisting my sweater clad nipple, “Cassian,” I moaned out Xavier’s words falling away.

He growled in my ear as he continued his massaging my breast, “I’ve been aching to hear you moan my name, Princess. Do it again.”

I tilted my head back and sighed, “Cassie.” I whimpered as he nipped my ear giving me love bites down my neck.

He chuckled, “Cassie, huh?” I meet his eyes and there is amusement there, “I don’t hate it. In all my life no one, ever really called me that.” He kissed my collar bone until he reached my bared shoulder, breaking from my nipple he slid his hand down over my thighs, “Where did you find these?” He snaps the elastic from my sock falling right above my knee.  

“I found them shopping. They keep my legs warm.” Heat crawled up my cheeks as he nibbled my shoulder, “I have a red pair.”

Cassian pulled his face away from my bare skin, his lips tilted upward slightly on brow arched, “Do you, now” I nodded. “Will you wear them for me?” I nodded once more, and he grinned, and he was beautiful as he slanted his mouth over mine.

It’s nice that Cassian found a new plaything. Mor’s voice echoed in my mind.

Remember you’re nothing but a toy. My own plaything.

Cheap whore, whore, whore.

“Hey, Hey, Hey. What’s going on, Princess?” I blinked and met with Cassian hands on my cheeks, his face furrowed with concern, “Did I hurt you?”

I gripped his wrist and shook my head, “You didn’t hurt me.” I bite my lip to prevent it from trembling. The words swirled in my head. “Am I going to be your plaything?” I closed my eyes to not see his reaction, afraid of what he might say.

The pads of his thumbs swipe soothing circles on my cheeks, taking away any tears that fall in their path. “Y/N, I need you to look at me.” I shook my head, “Baby, please look at me.” I gave in and met his gaze, “There she is.” He gave me a small smile before it fell again. “What makes you think that I see you that way?”

“Mor said-“

Cassian pressed a finger over my lips, “Mor says a lot of things. A lot of stupid. Fucked up things. Most of the time she’s wrong.” He sighed, “Is this about the ‘Plaything’ comment?” I bit my lip, “She was being cruel, you didn’t de-“

“She was right.” I blurted, pulling gently his hands from my face. “Cassian, I am just a plaything.” I tried to slide off his lap, but he was quick to loop an arm around my waist.

He began threading his hand through my hair, “Who made you believe that?”

I looked at the fireplace and the flames and slid out of his lap. This time he let me go, creating some distance between us. “No one important.”

Cassian turned to face me his wings flared slightly, “Liar.” I met his gaze, his hazel eyes a dark amber color against firelight crackling in the hearth, “Was it the same person who gave you those scars about your back.” I nodded, and he pressed on “Would that also be the same man who took you a few days ago?”

 I nodded and pulled my knees to my chest. “Feyre knows I had a lover. She doesn’t know the dynamic or how long we were together for.” I looked back at the flames.

A rag was stuffed in my mouth and my hands were bound by silk ribbon hanging over the sofa, as there was another whack of the paddle against my ass. “Who’s a Naughty Girl. I told you; you were to warm my bed last night. Yet you were nowhere to be seen.” Xavier’s words rang out in my ears.

My response was muffled through the rag. I had to get home to my sisters to bring home the money I had just earned. At this point they had noticed I would be gone periodically and knew when I came home there would be money in my pocket. No one asked, I never wanted to talk about it.

My ass was sure to be read and bruised by his vicious swings. He began to knead the tender flesh causing me to cry out through the gag. He hummed please as he stuck a finger in my entrance.  “You’re basically dripping, doll.” He stuck another finger and began aggressively pumping his fingers causing me to scream out. He clamped a hand over my mouth, the rag pushing farther into my throat. “Shhh, if it’s too much you can always use that word, we agreed upon you remember?”

I nodded my head as my eyes rolled as his thumb found my clit, I moaned, and his fingers suddenly withdrew, and I cried as the paddle whacked my core. Tears and snot were running down my face, and he whacked me again and I whimpered. I screamed through the gag, “Red, Red, Red.”

There was a pause, and another whack to my core and my voice gave out from screaming, all that was left was whimpers and sniffles. “Don’t you know, slut, bad girls don’t get safe words.”

Cassian’s hand gripped mine and I blinked looking back at him, his eyes gleamed with concern “Where did you go?”

Tears welled in my eyes, “No where.”

Cassian slid closer to me and pulled me back on his lap. His hand gently gripping my thigh. I tucked my head into his neck, “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to tell you. I just don’t know where to begin.” I bit my lip a question on the tip of my tongue, “Have you ever had to use a safe word before?”

“I mean I’ve never had to use one, but I’ve always established one with my partners.”  He tugged my shoulder, and I sat up so he could meet my eyes. Why?”

“Xavier, told me that if things got to be too much, that anything we did would stop, but I only used it once.” Cassian held me tighter to prevent me from trembling and I leaned into his warmth. “He told me bad girls don’t get safe words.” A tear escaped and cascaded down my cheek, “And he kept hitting me with the paddle. When he was done, he just left me there tied, a rag in my mouth that had was soaked with saliva, tears, and snot, I’m sure. I felt worthless.

Cassian’s siphons flared and, in an instant, he has set me in a position where I had to face him, ire held in his stare, as he gripped my face with both of his hands, “I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he stroked my cheek tenderly, “Safe words are meant for your protection, always. No matter what the scene is, no matter if it’s a light hair tug, you say the word and your partner stops everything immediately.” He furrowed his brow and thought about his next words, carefully, “Sweetheart, you were assaulted.”

I warily pulled his hands from my face, “No, he wouldn’t have done that. He loved me.” Pity filled Cassian’s gaze making me sick, “I would have known if he had, wouldn’t I?”

Cassian placed both his hands on the couch placing them near my sides making sure not to touch me. “You didn’t know better. He spun his webs knowing you were innocent enough to trust him. That’s not your fault. You used your word the way you were supposed to. He took advantage of your lack of knowledge for his own sadistic pleasure.”

I shook my head, “No, I would have known.” Cassian’s face crumbled and rage began to boil over. Cassian stood and took a step back as if he knew and I lunged for him, punching my fist into his chest. “He wouldn’t have done that he loved me. He told me so. I was bad, I disobeyed, I deserved my punishment. He did it because he loved me.” Cassian hadn’t moved to stop me from pounding against his chest. “I wanted it.” My punches became weaker.

Cassian sighed, “You have good instincts, baby, there was a moment deep down where you knew it was wrong. That it had turned more sinister than that. It’s why you fled them. I don’t think you wanted it.” Cassian kept his hands to his sides allowing me to take my rage out on him, knowing he could take it.

“It can’t be true. I would have known if I was taken advantage of,” I scrunched my eyebrows, “Wouldn’t I?”

Memories flooded to me of all the times when I craved Xavier to hold me or cuddle me after an intense moment between us and he refused to leave me there as if I meant nothing. Moments I laid bare on the concrete longing for someone to care for me to be met with emptiness.  Xavier’s words of love and adoration were hollow compared to the sweet gestures and comfort the male in front of me provided. “Oh gods.” I whispered and I seized my punches as my hand covered my mouth to muffle the sob. My knees felt weak, and my stomach churned the dinner wanting to come out, “Oh my gods.”  My knees gave out, but Cassian was there clinging me to him as the dam collapsed. “Cassian, how could I have been so stupid?” I sobbed uncontrollably.

Cassian slowly brought us to the floor and began stroking my hair, “You are not stupid, Princess,” He kissed my brow. “You didn’t know, your innocence and your kindness were taken advantage of and exploited.”

I whimpered, “I just wanted to be loved and cared for by someone.”

“I know you did.” Cassian cooed and he softly rocked me as my broken sobs escaped my lips. “I’m here, sweetheart, let it out.” He held me and whispered sweet things in my ear and peppered my head with kisses. I lifted my head to look into his eyes. He swiped hair from my face but didn’t loosen his grip on me. “What do you need, Y/N?”

I looked at him and grazed my fingers against his jaw, “I don’t know.”

He gave me a soft smile, “How about I braid your hair and we’ll go from there.”

I returned a small smile, and he moved us where I was positioned in between his legs as he sat on the couch. He ran his hands through my hair and with great tenderness, he began to plait my hair. We were silent for a few moments. I let my eyes close as he tugged my hair to manipulate it to how he wanted. “When did you learn to braid hair?”

“When I was young, I let my hair grow and was frustrated when it would get in my face. My mother showed me how to arrange it where my hair wouldn’t get in my way.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “She let me practice on her hair all the time. Was so proud when I mastered it.”

“That sounds lovely. Where is she now?”

Cassian’s fingers paused, and he cleared his throat, “She died. A long time ago.”

“Cassian I’m-“

“I am about ready to remove ‘I’m sorry’ out of your vocabulary.” I bit my lip as he continued braiding. “You have nothing to be apologizing for, not one thing. I know humans give condolences for when a loved one dies but it’s been over 400 years. You also do not need to feel guilty or shame for what happened to you, Baby.” He kissed my temple.

“How is it you know where my thoughts are leading me before I do?” ‘

He tied off the bottom of the braid. “I don’t. I do know that you take on the burden that you are the cause of all the pain you have in your life.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest, “Is this, okay?”

“Yes,” I murmured leaning my head onto his arm.

“What can I do to help you?”

“Can you just hold me?” I asked.

Cassian slid down to sit against the floor with me. He leaned my body against his chest, he grabbed the wool blanket from the arm of the chair and wrapped it around us. My Head moved from his arm to his chest as his arms enveloped me in a warm embrace. He began to hum it lulled me until I was sound asleep in his arms.

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of breakfast I walked over to the kitchen with the blanket wrapped around me. Cassian looked over to me, “Morning, Sunshine, we have a busy day ahead if you’re up for it?” He handed me a plate with eggs and bacon and kissed my cheek.

I sat at the table near the window, “What is on the itinerary, General?” I began to eat and the burst of flavor that exploded in my mouth made me moan. “Please never stop cooking.”

Cassian laughed as he sat across from me, “Would you like to learn?”

I stopped mid bite, “To cook?” He nodded, “I would love that.”

Cassian gave me a toothy grin, “Alright, you and me dinner tonight.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, “What about the rest of the day?”

Cassian swallowed, “If you’re up for training, we can go to one of the camps to do so maybe stop in the village for a bit. Does any of that sound good for you?”

I smiled, “That sounds lovely, Cassian.” We continued eating and I looked out through the window and looked out at the snow. “Wow.”

“You have never seen snow before?”

I took in the sights of the evergreen trees that held snow on the tops of them a bird circling for food. “I have, but for the first time I don’t have to worry about where my next meal would be. Or whatever sadistic game Xavier wanted to play. Though I, managed to leave right before we were in the heart of winter.” I looked at back at the general, “No, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Cassian stood up and grabbed our plates, “Go get dressed.” He pressed his forehead to mine, “You are a strong woman, Princess and I am so proud of you.”

I reached up and kissed his nose, “Thanks, Cassie.”

He placed the dishes in the sink as I made my way to the room to change into my leathers. Once we had both changed, he picked me up and flew us out to the training camp. There were cabins lined up all along the camp and there was a center where there were various places for the soldiers to train. Once we landed Cassian set me down his hazel eyes gazing across the camp and he growled, “What’s wrong?”

Cassian’s jaw flexed, “None of the women are out here training.”

I furrowed my brow, “Are they supposed to?”

“They are supposed to have the choice to do so.”

Before I could respond a male approached us, he was not nearly as tall as Cassian, but his wings were flared out. “General, what brings you to our humble camp.”

“I am training one of the Human twins who saved Prythian.” Cassian’s wings flared in response and his wing curved around me and blocked the winter wind. He looked to me, “Y/N, meet Lord Devlon, he is in charge of Windhaven.”

“Ah couldn’t be bothered to bring the one that was turned high fae. I mean its insulting to have a female here in leathers anyway. But you bring human filth here.”

I leaned closer to Devlon and sniffed the air. “Interesting?”

Lord Devlon sneered, “What is?”

I gave him a saccharine smile, “I smell a mediocre male, with a complex. May want to get that checked out.” Devlon’s face turned red with anger as Cassian guided me to the training ring before the Lord could retort anything.

As we walked to the training ring there was a solider who spat at Cassian’s boot, “Dirty, Bastard.”

I paused slipped out of Cassian’s grasp and walked toward the soldier, “Excuse me.” The male turned to me tucking his wings tightly, “Is it standard practice to insult your superior officer?”

He snorted, “He’s barely a General, he is a low born bastard th-“ I wound my hand back and punched the soldier in the nose.

“Have some respect on your superior officer and be grateful he has an easier temperament than mine.” I was about to walk away and then I turned back, “Also, your Cassian’s soldier, you should of saw that hit from a mile away.”

The male wiped the blood from his nose, “You filthy human whore.”

Rage bubbled to the surface, and I was about to lunge forward when I was hoisted up and thrown over Cassian’s shoulder. “You’re trouble.” Cassian chuckled.

“They shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s not right.” Cassian remained silent as he put you down, “You deserve respect, Cassian.”

Cassian’s eyes turned glassy, and he cracked his neck and cleared his throat, “Alright, Trouble, now that you have managed to cause a stir in the  camps in the first five minutes of being here, get in first position I am going to have push you hard, make an example out of you.” Cassian smirked.

I beamed at him and got into my fighting stance. “Do your worst, General.”

For an hour Cassian did just as he promised. He pushed me hard focusing on my combos and I began to swing my fist that Cassian was quick to dodged and pinned me down.

I ran down the hallway trying to hide from Xavier. He wanted to play a game of hide and seek.

“Gotcha,” Xavier grabbed me and pinned me against him tightly. He nibbled my ear as he slammed against the cold brick. “So delicious for me.” He smacked my ass and I whimpered, what was once enjoyment made me feel vile and simply someone he could use.

Get Off

Get Off

Get Off.

“Get off,” I screamed as Cassian released me and I fell to the ground the snow-covered ground keeping me present. My breathing quickened as my pulse pounded in my ears. “Inhale, Y/N.” Cassian knelt beside me I did, “Good, now let it out.” I exhaled and I closed my eyes focusing on his voice. “We’re done for today.”

“Okay.” I whispered.

“You did well. I think that is cause for celebration.” I looked at him and quirked my brow, “How bout we go flying?”

Xavier’s POV

After two days I had finally reached the blasted wall. Stepping through the magical barrier that separated our lands from the land of the Fae. I took a steadying breath and stepped in and grabbed my bow and arrow ready in case of an impending attack. I remained vigilant as the scenery began to shift, into spring which wasn’t due for another few months. My brow furrowed, The Spring court then. I was about to reach a clearing when there was a giggle to my left.

Wasting no time, I drew my weapon to the sound and found a female in blue robes, her blond hair cascading down to her amble breast, her hood laid atop of her head along with a jeweled circlet. “You are far from home, sir.” She purred slowly walking toward me.

“I am here to retrieve the love of my life. She was taken.” I steeled my spine ready for her to pounce.

“Ah care to whisk her away back to your lands?” She got close to where her blue eyes had a gleam on them, she was a beautiful creature.

I lowered my weapon slightly, “Actually, I had another plan in mind. I need the King of Hybern’s help.”

Her grin turned sinister, “You have come to the right place then, I am Ianthe, High Priestess of the Spring Court. I also am a subject for the King. Now tell me who was the woman that was stolen from you.”

I put away my weapon and extended my hand. “I am Xavier, and I’m looking for Y/N Archeron.”

Reader’s POV

I looked down at the edge of the mountain Cassian brought us to. “I’m not sure about this, Cass.”

“Princess, you have flown with me before. I am not going to let anything happen to you.” Cassian leaned against me to speak over the howling wind.

“Well, I’ve never looked down the side of a mountain before.” I pressed against him.

“I’m going to grab your hips to get you in the position, is that okay?” I nodded and his hands pressed down onto my hips, and he shuffled me in front of him. He wrapped his arms protectively around my torso and my heart pounded. “If you want to be put down, just tap my hand three times.”

“Okay, I am ready.” I took a deep breath and as I exhaled Cassian pressed forward and we took to the skies, my eyes instantly shut. As we are in the air Cassian hooks his feet around mine to keep my legs straight like his. Cassian used his siphons to block some of the wind. He pressed his head close to mine, “Go on, Princess, Open your eyes.”

I opened my eyes, and the sun was glinting over the snow-capped mountains, and against the tress. The river running through the forest was sparkling and I could see an elk family running through the forest. I would ask Feyre to paint this if she ever decided to paint again.

The wind that broke through Cassian’s barrier kissed my cheeks and somehow the emotion became overwhelming. I released my grip on Cassian’s arms and spread them out like his wings and let out a whoop of joy. Cassian laughed and I joined him, and he banked left, and I let the wind fill my lungs. “Do you trust me?”

I nodded to him, “Yes I do.”

“I’m going to let you go.” My pulse sped up and I nodded. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” He let me go and I began to free fall.

I closed my eyes and smiled as the wind wrapped me in a cold cocoon. Everything that has happened in the last few months, and all my fears and worries ebbed away. Tears began to slide down my cheeks and strong arms enveloped me, and Leather and Sandalwood took over my senses. I wrapped my arms around his neck, “How was that?” He whispered.

I met his honey flecked eyes, “Freeing.” I looked at his mouth and back at his gaze, and I leaned in and kissed him.

Later that evening I changed into a black over sized sweater shorts underneath and the red thigh high socks and came down to see that Cassian had ingredients for a stew on the table. He looked up and smirked at the color selection. “Well, don’t you look like a vision.” My hair is a loose bun.

I rolled my eyes, “Hush, this is comfortable.”

Cassian motioned his finger for me to come closer. I made my way over to him and he smiled, “We are making soup today.”

“Perfect, where do we start, General.”

He opened his mouth to begin his instructions when there was a knock on the door. Cassian had a confused look as he opened the door.  A young male whispered in Cassian’s ear and I watched the color drained from Cassian’s face. Cassian turned to me, “I’m sorry Princess, I need to go to the camps.” He closed the space between us and pulled me in for a kiss. “I will be back as soon as I can.” He kissed my forehead and then he was out the door. Leaving me to put the ingredients for dinner away.

Cassian’s POV

I landed in the camp and the metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils. The soldiers parted ways as my siphons blazed. I stepped into the tent to the whimpering girl, and the men towering over her. “Step. Away. From. Her. Now.” The men all froze but slowly backed away.

I knelt to the small female, “Hey, beautiful.” I whispered, as the litter girl met my eyes, her green eyes glistened with tears cascading down her tanned skin. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“Everywhere, General.” She hiccuped.

I level her a warm smile, “None of that General, nonsense. I’m Cassian.” I think on what Y/N called me the night before, “You can call me Cassie though.”

She sniffled, “I’m Grace.”

I smiled, “Grace is a beautiful name, I have to get you to a healer, is it alright if I pick you up.” She nodded and I lifted her up cautiously to not disturb her shredded wings and she held onto my neck tightly. “Please note that the consequences for this will be doled out first thing in the morning at formation. Understood.”

The group of males muttered, “Yes, General.”

With that I took the child to the healer and held her hand as the healer tried to mend her wings. “Cassie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Is it true you brought a human girl here?” the girl asked with a gleam in her eyes, filled with wonder.

“I did. Her name is Y/N.” I smiled.

“Could I meet her before you head home?”

“I think she would love to meet a warrior as strong as you.” I winked at her, and she giggled. The healer gave her a tonic that helped her fall asleep. “I was too late, wasn’t I? I asked the healer once the girl fell into a deep slumber.

The healer nodded, “Not by much, but the damage was already beginning to mend them useless. Unless I re-open her wounds there is nothing to be done.” The healer put her hand on my shoulder, “You did what you could, General. Go home. We’ll be here in the morning.” I nodded. I held the girl’s hands for a few more moments after the healer stepped away before I went home guilt consuming my body.

When I walked in, the warm glow of the fire greeted me along with Y/N’s scent of Jasmine, Vanilla, with a hint of Lilac. I walked over to see she was curled with a book in her hand. She looked up at the sound of my boots and frowned when she saw my hands. Putting the book down she sat up from the couch and moved towards me. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head, and she looked through me as if she could see what was eating up at my core. “Come General,” She gripped my bloody hand. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

I let her lead me to the bathroom and she ordered me to strip as she began running a bath. I obeyed blindly and placed myself in the tub making sure that my wings were not getting caught. The warm water seep into my sore bones and I released a groan. “I need you to dunk your head for me,” her voice soothed the ache in my chest, and I dunk my head in the water.

I lifted my head back up and Y/N began to massage my scalp with soap. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she cleaned my hair.

Sighing I mutter, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, dunk your head in for me, Darling.” I did so again for her, and she was about to grab a rag from the other side of the bathroom when I gripped her wrist. “Join me.”

“Cassie,” she started but I interrupted her.

“Princess. Please.” I looked up at her and whatever she saw in my face had her complying. She stripped the sweater, shorts, and socks she wore, and I grabbed her hand as she stepped into the tub. She was trying to turn to where her back would be to me, and I stopped her. Without needing words, she understood what I wanted but she still grabbed the rag and soap.

I gripped her bare hip on my fingers as she washes my chest. I watched her as she focused on the task she was doing. Her eyes gaze up to my wings. “Can I wash your wings?” She asked.

I nodded, “Just be gentle they are sensitive.” She took the rag and using my chest as leverage she reverently washed my wings. I guided her through which parts were more sensitive for her to avoid and she listened, making sure I was always comfortable. She moved to the other wing, and I wrapped my arm around her waist pressing her breast against my chest. I kissed her collar bone, “Thank you, Princess.”

She hummed in response and continued washing my wings. When she finished, she lowered herself and she focused on washing the blood off my hands and proceeding to massage my palms as she went along. “I don’t need to know the details of what happened to know that this wasn’t your fault. She looked up at me with her gorgeous eyes and I cupped her cheek.

“How do you know where my thoughts are leading me before I do?” I asked, quirking my brow.

She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips to mine, “You think similarly to me.”

“Kiss me again.” She smiled and did just that.

Xavier POV

The High Lord of the Spring Court was not what I anticipated, his hair was disheveled, and his eyes held a vacancy that made a shiver run down my spine.  He sat on his throne as if his mind was far away. His red-haired emissary was scouring the lands for his soon to be bride. “When is she getting here?” I glared patience waning thin.

Ianthe squeezed my bicep, “Relax, she needed a few days to get here and make sure she could sneak away undetected.

The doors opened and a figure in a dark cloak approached the red silk of the female’s dress peaked through as did the blonde tips of her hair. She lowered her hood and her brown eyes gleamed with mischief, “So I hear you’re looking for Y/N Archeron.”

I gulped, “I am.”

“Well, let’s not waste any time, my name is Morrigan, you may call me Mor. Let’s begin, shall we?” I grinned and looked back at the high lord who kept his expression blank his eyes distant as if he could see his bride in the tree line.

Chapter 12

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[moonselune]

I have had a thought.

I was playing bg3, making a sorcerer tav and I saw one of the options was draconic bloodline and it gives your scales on your face.

I thought it was really cool and I was wondering if maybe you could write something about how companions (mainly astarion and halsin) would react to tav having scales. Like imagine when they first met tav covered their face and then boom! Handsome man with dragon scales.

What do you think about it? TOODLES

Draconic sorceror is literally one of my favourite classes and I love to think what the companions would think of the scales (they would all love them)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

When you first met Astarion, you were prepared for the usual reactions: curious stares, uneasy glances, or the rare, but always tiresome, gasp of surprise. After all, dragon scales covering your face were not something most people encountered in their daily lives. The faint, iridescent sheen that danced across your scales in the light often drew attention, and not always the good kind.

But Astarion’s reaction was different. When his eyes first landed on you, there was no trace of fear or discomfort—only fascination. His gaze lingered on your face, his lips curving into a sly smile as he approached you with that effortless grace of his.

“My, my,” he had murmured, his voice low and smooth as silk. “Aren’t you a sight to behold? I’ve seen many things in my time, but nothing quite like you.”

You remember the way he had reached out, as if asking for permission to touch, his fingers hovering just above your skin. When you had nodded, slightly surprised but intrigued, he had traced the contours of your scales with a delicate touch, as though they were made of the finest glass.

“Beautiful,” Astarion had whispered, almost to himself. His eyes had been filled with something akin to awe, and you had felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with your draconic blood. “Absolutely captivating.”

As your relationship deepened -and you became able to trust his honeyed words once more, you found that Astarion’s fascination with your scales only grew. He loved to explore them with his hands, his lips, and his words. On quiet nights, after the day’s battles and struggles were behind you, he would often lie beside you, his eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that made your heart race.

One such evening, you were lying together in your tent, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the walls. The camp was quiet, the others having settled in for the night, leaving you and Astarion in the comforting cocoon of each other’s company.

Astarion’s head rested on your chest, his fingers lazily tracing the lines of your scales. His touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were committing every inch of you to memory. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours, a small, affectionate smile playing on his lips.

“Have I told you how much I adore these?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper as his fingers continued their journey across your face.

“Once or twice,” you replied with a smile, your own voice tinged with amusement. But the truth was, hearing him say it never got old. There was something deeply comforting in the way Astarion admired this part of you that others had often feared or found unsettling.

Astarion chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw where the scales began. His lips were soft, cool against the warmth of your skin, and he took his time, moving slowly along the line of your scales, kissing each one with care.

You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, a deep sense of peace settling in your chest. His kisses traveled up your cheek, his breath warm against your skin as he continued his slow exploration.

“You are truly magnificent,” he murmured against your temple, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “Every time I look at you, I find something new to fall in love with.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to gently run your fingers through his silver hair, the strands slipping like silk between your fingers.

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, your voice full of emotion. “Because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Astarion pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and something deeper, something almost possessive.

“You won’t have to,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m not going anywhere, my dearest dragon.”

He leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, his mouth warm and insistent against yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a silent promise that echoed the words he had just spoken. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the tent.

“Now, let’s see if I can find any more scales to admire,” Astarion teased, his playful grin returning as his fingers resumed their exploration, trailing down your neck and across your shoulders. You laughed softly, the sound filled with both amusement and contentment.

“Take your time,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

When you first met Halsin, you could feel his gaze on you the moment you walked into the camp. As a draconic sorcerer, you were no stranger to stares—people often found your dragon scales captivating or intimidating. The scales that adorned your face were a visible mark of your draconic heritage, shimmering with an iridescent hue that caught the light in ways that made them almost seem alive. But Halsin’s gaze wasn’t one of fear or unease. No, his eyes were filled with something deeper, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

Halsin was a man of nature, someone who revered the natural world in all its forms. When he looked at you, it was as though he was seeing a rare and beautiful creature, something that had been crafted by the hands of the gods themselves. His brown eyes, warm and earthy, followed you with a mixture of admiration and a hint of something more—a longing that he tried to suppress, not wanting to come on too strong.

It wasn’t long before the two of you grew closer, your connection deepening with each passing day. Halsin’s reverence for nature extended to his reverence for you, and as your relationship became more established, he no longer held back his admiration for your unique features.

One evening, you were sitting together by the campfire, the warmth of the flames casting a soft glow across the camp. Halsin sat beside you, his large frame a comforting presence. He reached out, his hand hovering near your face, and you could see the hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still unsure whether you were comfortable with such an intimate gesture.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and full of respect.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Of course, Halsin.”

His hand, large and calloused from years of working with the earth, gently cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed against the scales that covered your cheek, and a shiver ran down your spine at the tenderness of his touch. Halsin’s eyes were locked onto yours, his expression one of pure adoration.

“Your scales,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe, “are truly magnificent. I’ve seen many wonders in nature, but none as captivating as you.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your heart swelling with affection for the druid who had come to mean so much to you. Halsin’s hand moved slowly, his fingers tracing the contours of your scales as though he were mapping every detail, committing it to memory. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he believed you to be the finest creature nature had ever produced.

“Do you know,” Halsin continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, “that every time I look at you, I am reminded of the power and beauty of the natural world? Your scales are a testament to that—a blend of strength and grace, as all things in nature should be.”

You couldn’t help the flush that rose to your cheeks, though you knew it would be barely noticeable against your scales. Halsin’s words had a way of cutting through any insecurities you might have had, filling you with a sense of pride in who you were and what you represented.

“I’ve always thought of my scales as a reminder of where I come from,” you admitted, your voice soft as you gazed into Halsin’s eyes. “But you make me feel like they’re something more, something to be proud of.”

Halsin smiled then, a warm and gentle expression that made your heart skip a beat. “They are a gift, as are you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek once more. “A gift from the dragons to the world, and I am honored to be in your presence.”

He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your scales in a series of soft, reverent kisses. Each one sent a thrill through you, a reminder of the deep connection you shared with this man who saw you not just as a sorcerer, but as something truly extraordinary.

As he continued to kiss along the line of your scales, you closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you. Halsin’s touch was grounding, his presence a balm to your soul. He treated you with a respect that went beyond mere affection—it was as though he truly believed you to be the embodiment of nature’s finest work.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you could see the depth of his feelings reflected in them.

“You are a wonder,” he said softly, his hand still resting on your cheek. “And I will never tire of telling you so.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch, your heart full to bursting with the love and admiration you felt for this man who had so completely captivated you in return. “And I will never tire of hearing it,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Halsin’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of all the things he couldn’t put into words. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice full of a quiet plea. “Always.”

“Always,” you echoed, your voice full of promise. And as you sat there together, the fire crackling softly beside you, you knew that there was nowhere else you would rather be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Aww some wholesome stuff with Astarion and Halsin, love it. Hope you guys enjoyed it too! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[werefeathers]

🔥 for vinyls, 🏺🐀 for vermin?

(for this ask game)

🔥 - least favourite master?

in general, vinny is terribly intruiged by all of the masters and is not afraid to get all up in their personal space. but you could say she's getting a little exasperated with pages, between all the incessant knocking (she said she was sorry!) and marvellous business.

🐀 - friends with any rats?

vermin would be huge friends with the albino rat, i think. they wouldn't know how to handle the sobbing graciously but they'd sit by her silently with a bottle of their own or perhaps a handkerchief. just to let her know they care.

oh and the rat chief is probably someone to talk to. occasionally.

🏺 - what's their soul like? any flaws?

this is the part where i chicken out and say i've never paid attention to souls and their flaws. i think this is a sunless skies thing? (i've only ever docked at carillon for the port reports) even with looking through the wiki i can't give you a straight answer. but if i had to take a stab at it, their soul is fermented. they do often find themself waving off some peckishness.

[xomakara]

Bump and Trim

SUMMARY |  San helps you trim the hair around your intimate parts since you're pregnant.

PAIRINGS |  San x Reader

GENRE |  smut, established relationship, pregnancy, non-idol au

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (both f/m receiving/giving), praise kink, pet names

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH |  2,285 words

TAGLIST | --

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

“San! Honey!” You called out from the bathroom, waiting for you husband of many years to answer your beckon. It took only a few moments and then you were face to face with his handsome self leaning against the doorway, a smile plastered to his lips.

“Hmm?” he hummed at you and you tried really, really hard to not focus on how that particular little noise was going straight to the region you wanted to shave. Damn his voice for having so much control of you.

Instead, you held out the razor towards him and smiled. His brow raised in confusion and you wiggled the object closer. “San, can you help me shave? I can't reach down there and my belly is in the way and..."

"Love, why do you need to shave? Won't it affect the baby? Not to mention how bad it'd be if you got a cut." San interjected before you could finish.

"But it's a freaking forest down there." You pouted, letting your hand drop to your belly that housed your unborn child, his hand covering your own. You saw a spark of a firelight behind San's eyes as his attention fell to your belly and his hand rubbed circles gently across its surface.

"How about we trim it to keep it nice and tidy?" He suggested and then kissed the bridge of your nose to add emphasis to his desire to not harm you or your womb mate. "And then after you give birth, I will personally take care of the grooming of the forest that will reside between those heavenly legs of yours. Do you agree?"

You pretended to mull it over for a few moments, humming in feigned thought before giving a small giggle as San's hand cupped your ass and pressed himself firmly against your swollen midsection. A quiet moan left your throat and his fingers dug into the flesh. He needed you; his hormones were in just as much disarray as yours.

"Lovely idea, my dearest husband." You managed to rasp.

"Indeed it was..." his voice dropped several octaves.

He picked you up, easily and carefully, and then sat you gently on the bed, laying out towels and propping a pillow to lean against your back, keeping your pelvic region open to him. Carefully he separated your legs, just a few inches, before wetting the pubic area a little with a wet cloth he retrieved from the bathroom. He got the clippers ready and checked everything and you couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, eager to feel his tender hands between your thighs.

"What is so funny, wife?" He questioned, turning the clippers on before gently taking some hairs between the blades. He clipped them neatly, making sure none was too long or too short and didn't make a mess. Your skin tingle from the new sensation.

"Just your adorable concentration." You giggled softly, propping the pillow and yourself a little more and caressing San's smooth face while he worked on a very ticklish area. It wasn't an unusual task for him to do this, and you thanked your lucky stars every day that San was comfortable with things most males were shy with. He was gentle, loving and quite talented.

"I'm concentrating on an area that I have very deep appreciation for." He hummed happily as he snipped another tiny clump of hair.

"Oh, so you care more about my forest than about your baby and wife, do you?" You teased, playfully poking his cheekbone. He smacked your finger with his own finger, his lips quirked in a smile.

"If I don't tend to the forest, how else will you allow me access to the tree situated in the middle?" He answered.

The statement made you break into a loud burst of giggles. "You're so weird sometimes!" You snorted through a laugh, resting the back of your head on the pillow behind you. He looked up from his careful work, grinning from ear to ear, baring teeth, tongue stuck out slightly.

"Only for you, babe." He teased back.

"If only my husband would always stay between my thighs...all my stress would go away and the world would be right again." You stated boldly, feeling empowered in that moment to admit how much you craved your husband's attention and adoration. It felt great.

"Aren't you needy all the time?" He added.

"You're the one who made me like this, San."

"Guess I better hurry this trimming up so I can fulfill my wife's request..." He growled.

Once your lower pelvic region was nicely trimmed, he was going to pull back and stop there. However, that didn't exactly go according to plan.

You let out a small whine from behind clenched teeth and pouted at him, making a shoving motion between your legs with your hand. His gaze fell there and he knew immediately you didn't want any of this stopping now that you were feeling this aroused. "I'm waiting, husband."

It's been four months since you and San stopped having sex because of the pregnancy and it was really, really frustrating. Of course the doctor said it would be safe to have sex during pregnancy, but this was San and he was a worrywart for both yourself and your little one.

"Are you certain, my love?" His expression was that of longing. Longing to touch you. Longing to have you beneath his skilled fingers. Longing to claim what belonged to him and no other.

"The doctor said it was fine, San." You replied. He waited still. "I just...can you please, please get to business here? I'm fucking horny as fuck right now and I just need you like eat me out or something."

And that he did, slowly and deliciously dragging his tongue across every bit of skin from inner thighs to pubic bone. He enjoyed the tangy taste of your sweetness on his tongue and you enjoyed the way he groaned his enjoyment of it, the vibrations from his mouth on your sex, hitting you just the right way, sending hot sparks of arousal up and down your spine, leaving you breathless and clutching at the blankets. Your body trembled from all the stimulation he was sending through your being, tongue dipping into every fold and tasting every part.

San held you gently, his hands cradling your swollen belly while he made slow love to you with his mouth. His tongue stroked and swirled across your clit and then sucked ever so slightly upon the bundle of nerves, smiling at each gasp, groan, and moan that escaped your parted lips. You clasped your hand on his hand that rested on your belly and gripped your other hand into the bed sheets.

"I can't believe that our daughter is growing in your beautiful body right now..." He murmured after another tender lick that ended at your sweet entrance. "She'll be the cutest little lady that anyone could ever meet, next to you, my love."

"Keep- keep talking, honey..." Your body spasmed, waves of heat pulsing through you, getting closer and closer to completion. He rubbed your belly with one hand and then made sure to find one of your own hands and laced his fingers with yours.

"So strong and gorgeous, aren't you, my queen." He breathed against the apex between your thighs, feeling them quake under his hold. You moaned a bit louder, losing your sense of volume, knowing you had a very sexy and attractive husband between your legs who was loving your pussy and teasing you to the point of almost being able to orgasm.

Almost.

"Please..." You begged him, pleading with him to help bring you that last bit further.

"I love you, y/n" he smiled from the spot where his nose was nestled among your trimmed, yet moist curls and licked a little longer, pressing his thumb against your nub, stroking at the sensitive flesh. His long fingers prodded against your cunt and slid inside without warning, giving you the opportunity you needed. He curled his fingers just right and pulled another loud groan from you. Your back arched off the bed, but he leaned down quickly, laying his head onto your belly and rubbing it a little firmer, so you were laid flush to the bed.

"O-oh!" Was all you could say, every muscle tensing, a feeling of euphoria washing over you in waves of hot pleasure, shuddering around San's fingers. As if on cue, he removed his digits slowly from inside of you, placing soft kisses and kitten licks on your clitoris, down along your slit. It didn't matter much, though because your body went slack against the bed, breath coming in gasps and your entire being trembling, dripping wet and covered in sweat.

"Done eating my forest?" You groaned out, trying to catch your breath, cheeks flushed from the wonderful moment he just gave you. He chuckled and kissed his way up your body, mindful of your pregnant belly, and claimed your lips sweetly.

"Most certainly. I can see my way through." San joked and nuzzled his nose along your temple lovingly. "You okay, my love? Was that good?"

"So, so amazing. Thank you so much, San." You blushed from your head down to your neck, hiding your face in your husband's shoulder, biting down slightly, wanting to return the favor, even if it couldn't be nearly as spectacular as his skilled tongue could do.

He flinched at the feeling and shivered, laughing at your bashfulness. "And how would you repay my deed?"

"How about my hands?" You suggested, a smile spreading across your face. He helped you move into a comfortable position and leaned down to kiss the bridge of your nose tenderly.

"As long as they're attached to an amazing wife, anything will do." San moaned softly into another kiss to your mouth.

His pelvic muscles quivered when you took hold of his heavy length and stroked carefully along the length and felt the hot length pulse in your fingers, a whisper of a name falling past his lips, mingling with his soft moan, filling the quiet bedroom. San bucked lightly into your hand, wanting more friction and you were quick to oblige by running your palm up and down a little faster, the girth twitching when you squeezed just enough around him.

His hands took hold of your free one, intertwining fingers, placing sweet kisses on your knuckles and panting loudly, groans of praise and excitement muffled with his sweet touches. The scent of his excitement, precum leaking profusely from his swollen cockhead, causing your hand to slide easily across his shaft.

"I love you so much..." San murmured in your ear. You hummed your approval of the lovely words, brushing your thumb over his tip, swiping more beads of precum from the tip. With a loud exhale, his brow furrowed, chest heaving with the breaths.

"Are you close?" You asked him, licking your lips and squeezing again, thumb brushing and feeling the blood coursing underneath the flesh. It throbbed under your hand and it made you want to taste him, even if the sensation wasn't quite the same.

"Gods...don't stop, babe...right there..." his moans grew higher pitched as he arched off the bed, movements growing erratic, jerking himself with your hand around his aching cock. You increased the pace a bit more and kissed his flushed cheek when he craned his neck to rest his head on the pillow behind him.

San couldn't quite form sentences anymore. Just pleas for more, to keep going. To milk his thick shaft for all its worth. And that was exactly what you did. In seconds his warm, sticky cum painted across his chest and spilled a little on your belly, pooling above your naval. The creamy white substance oozed from him, overflowing as you continued your slow, languid strokes, relishing the feeling of his climax in your fingers, his shaky, erotic expressions.

The moment his breathing slowed and his body relaxed against the bed once more, he let out a loud sigh. A satisfied sound that left no doubt he enjoyed every minute of that. Your lips found his own in a sweet and tender kiss.

"That was glorious." San grinned lazily from beside you.

You giggled a bit at the euphoria covering his face. He sat up, cleaned the two of you up a bit before pulling you against his frame, wrapping his arms around you lovingly. His attention turned towards the baby bump between you. He was silent for a few minutes, admiring the view he had of his future child in there and the feel of you cuddled in his arms, a glow about you he adored.

The baby kicked and moved in you, causing you to squeak. The look on San's face went from surprise to full fledged affection for both you and your child. His hand immediately came to your stomach and felt the baby shift about, the sensation a little uncomfortable to you, but wonderful all the same.

"Already so protective." You hummed and laid your palm across San's, helping him map your stomach.

"How can I not be? You and our baby are everything I've always wanted." San admitted, watching the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you laughed and how they closed when you were pleased with something he said or done.

"God, I hope the baby has your eyes, San." You whispered into the evening air, San kissing the crown of your head and continuing to caress your stomach as you two snuggled together in bed.

You would just have to wait and find out a few months later.

[gil-galadhwen]

Elrond X Reader (gender neutral)

After seeing a stunning floppy haired, battle midst Elrond in the new Rings of Power teaser trailer, I got inspired to respond to an ancient request in my inbox which has since myseriously disppeared?!

Anyway, the prompt was Tell Me What You Want from this list

Summary & Warnings: Elrond returns from the battle haunted and desperate to tell you how he feels about you… (closed door spice)

Word Count: 900+

Tell Me What You Want

Elrond and the others returned to camp in the dead of night. You weren't asleep of course. It was impossible when not only did the fate of your kind hang in the balance, but the fate of your greatest love did too. 

Elrond didn't know how you feel about him. You'd kept the desires of your heart hidden for years, holding it close as you watched him ready for a battle he may not return from.

Except he had returned.

You peer through the gap in your tent as the warriors are celebrated in their triumphant homecoming. Their smiles are bright and gleaming against their filthy armour. You scour the crowd in the dim firelight until you see him standing off to the side with his helmet tucked under his arm. His hair has grown longer over the many months, dark curls falling into eyes both familiar and haunted by something you don't recognise. 

Elrond smiles at every well wisher who passes him. Shaking hands, embracing and gripping the steel shoulders plates of his comrades until they crunched. You want to go to him, but you're somehow locked in place. Even as his eyes dart around the camp as though looking for something, for someone.

Looking for you.

You chide yourself for thinking such ridiculous thoughts. He's not looking for you at all. Why would he? You're barely acquaintances, nevermind friends. You’d certainly collaborated on projects for the king in the past and often sat together during formal dinners and gatherings. Even sharing a bed once when travelling back to Lindon after completing a quest for the king. You’d stopped at an inn that only had one bed, yet Elrond was ever the gentleman, ensuring you were comfortable with him there and never giving you more than a friendly glance. 

Except for the night he left for battle. 

As the soldiers prepared to leave, he’d sought you out and then wordlessly lifted your hand to his lips, pressing them to your knuckles. You’d been too surprised to speak as he held you there, suspended in a moment you thought would never come. Perhaps it was his way of saying goodbye, yet you watch him now, with a flicker of hope igniting in your chest that it had meant so much more.

***

The fires are banked and the once loud cheers and cajoling have quietened to a murmur as you finally emerge from your tent. The scent of burning cedar and honey mead lingers in the air as you meander through the thinning crowd of elves squeezing as much out of the festivities as possible before the sun rose on a new day, bringing with it new challenges, as is the nature of war. 

As a Scribe to King Gil-galad, you're free to move anywhere within the camp. You feel a strange mix of peace and anticipation when you reach the row of tents reserved for the king's most revered soldiers, but it occurs to you that you have no idea which is Elrond's. Then suddenly he’s there, standing in front of you with an expression of such pure relief on his face that your eyes start to sting.

“You are well, my lord?” you ask, cringing at how formal you sound.

“As well as can be.” Elrond smiles weakly in return. “And you?”

He sounds different. As though the usually reassuring tone of his voice has been stripped away, leaving behind a weariness you find almost overwhelming to witness. He takes a step towards you and you reach for him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as his own wind firmly around you, holding you close. You feel his lips press to the exposed skin of your shoulder where your robe has slipped down. You hear the words he whispers into your skin like a litany… 

I missed you. I missed you. I missed you…Meleth nîn…

My love.

You pull back to look at him. He’s removed his armour and bathed, his wavy hair still damp and mussed.

“I missed you too,” you say, taking his hand in your own. “Which tent is yours?”

***

As soon as the flaps close on Elrond’s private tent, you come together as though magnetised. The kisses are hotter than the flames of the campfires. They burn deliciously, branding your skin so that they feel permanent. Like invisible tattoos. 

You fall together onto the low bed and you release a giggle when you find yourself straddling Elrond, but then you stop when you see the way he’s looking at you. Has he always looked at you this way, you wonder. It’s everything you've ever wanted, but what of him? He’s always been so sweet and polite.

And alone.

Has he wanted you all this time, like you’ve wanted him?

“Tell me what you want,” you say, breathless and willing. “I’ll give you anything.”

Elrond’s eyes glitter as he slowly tugs on the tie holding your robe closed.  The fabric pools around your waist and you feel your skin warm at the exposure. At the vulnerability of being like this in front of him.

“I want you just like this,” he says. Tilting his hips so that you feel him beneath you, hard and wanting. 

“I want us to join and then never be parted–” the words become caught in a net of emotion and he looks away.

Tears begin to well as you bring your hand to Elrond’s cheek in a caress. You do not speak again, but an understanding passes between you as you give the revered soldier everything he wants.

You like this.

[polakina]

okay umm this might be a bit self indulgent because i am a switch (in bed) myself buuuut

rdr characters x reader (headcanons, but I will devour anything you write) that are leaning to dom side in bed but they get all subby and clingy when they are drunk [my love for guys that are a bit pathetic is uncontrollable],

or just, your take on how do you think they act when they are drunk...

[preferred characters are javier, sean and kieran but you can add/remove characters if you feel like it, as I said, I will devour anything😩]

- 🐊

nonnie...i feel like you live inside my head

i think about this CONSTANTLY

your wish is my command, nonnie. i don't typically write for sean and kieran but i love this request and want to make you happy <3

rating: mature

drunk thoughts, drunker actions

javier:

clingy to the MAX

hands all over you, even without thinking

he starts out innocently; a hand on your thigh, or his arm around your shoulder

but as the night goes on, that hand trails up your thigh, creeping higher and higher

the arm around your shoulder slides down your back, his hand tickling your spine as it settles at the globe of your ass

he likes to whisper little comments in your ear by the firelight when the whole gang is sat around listening to music, chatting amongst eachother

javier likes to see you blush, and the second that a drop of alcohol touches his lips, he becomes a fucking poet

his sex drive is through the roof, and he doesn't care that anyone's around to witness it

he needs you. and he needs you to know that

"javier!" you whisper, squeezing your thighs to stop his creeping fingers getting closer and closer to your underwear beneath your skirt. "you gotta keep your hands to yourself. there's people around." he smirks, kissing your cheek from where he sits behind you, leaning against the log for support, his legs resting on either side of yours. "come on, mi amor. i need you. you look so beautiful tonight," he whispers as his lips trail to your neck. it wasn't long before he'd managed to pull you away from camp. he managed to pull you to the tall bushes behind the stables before he lost all sense of manners to the gang. his hands were all over you. his lips kissed your neck, your shoulders, your lips as his hands undressed you. fingertips grazed up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your skirt up to your waist. "god, i love you, mi amor," he mumbled between kisses, burying his face in your neck. you sighed, tilting your face to the sky, the bark from the wood digging into your spine but you didn't care. when javier was like this, there was no stopping him. and you loved it. he could go on for hours, like a dog in heat. fucking you until you were sweating and panting, laid there breathless and legless. you readied yourself for a long night. a long, long night

sean:

most confident when he's had a few drinks

the accent slipped out stronger and you loved it

he complimented you until your cheeks were red raw. to him, you were the most beautiful person in the world

acts confident in public, but that all melts away when you've got him alone

looks at you with these eyes that make you feel like all he wants is to please you

his sole focus is to pleasure you

"oh, my shinin' star! there she is," sean beamed from where he stood on top of the table. hosea and arthur sat at the seats in front of him, shaking their heads and laughing at the drunk Irishman swaying on the table. you stood there, a stupid grin on your face as you watched his sway to javier's music. "come on, honey," you coaxed him over with your finger. "before you embarrass yourself completely." he followed like a puppy, entirely engrossed in you. "aw darlin, we leaving the party so soon?" you smirked, leading him to your shared tent and sealing it shut while he sat on your cot. "the party isn't over just yet, Macguire." "oh sweetheart, you spoil me. this is going to be fun." he pulled you into his lap, hands roaming all over you. the confidence slowly left his features as you adjusted yourself on his lap, gently rocking back and forth. "the fun hasn't even begun yet, sean," you smiled, dipping your head to kiss him as he laid flat on his back, smirking for the evening to come.

kieran:

shy

a sweet shy boy

but feels a certain gust of confidence when he's had a few beers

always had more of a submissive personality in bed, but that personality turns up tenfold when he's drunk

will do anything for you. anything to you

all you need to do is ask

kieran is at your every beck and call

more experimental after a few drinks. wants to try more. do more. feels more adventurous with you

"you look really pretty," kieran whispered. you were stood together by the beer crate. you had wandered over to grab another bottle, smiling as you saw kieran. you kissed his cheek and leaned against him. "such a sweetheart, kieran," you mumbled, smiling to yourself. you were both a little tipsy, but not enough to completely lose focus. it loosened you up. kieran was always more affectionate with you after a couple of drinks. "want to...um...call it a night? head to the tent?" kieran stumbled out, his eyes glancing over frantically to wait for a response. you supressed a grin, nodding to him. "come on then, kieran," you took his hand, leading him to your shared tent. kieran had moved into your tent recently after dutch accepted him into the gang. it was the best decision you ever made. he followed at your feet, not even a step behind you. his brown doe eyes stared at you as you guided him to the bed, gently pushing him on. "what are you doing, doll?" you smiled. you loved that nickname he'd given you. "you want to call it a night, kieran?" you asked, leaning over, your hands on his thighs. it wasn't fear that flashed in his eyes. it was more excitement. mixed with a twinge of nerves. "or do you wanna have a little fun first?" his mouth fell open slightly, his eyes widening. "not ready to sleep just yet," he whispered. you chuckled, "didn't think so." not even javier's melodic singing and bill's less melodic singing could cover up kieran's sweet noises that came from your tent that night.

[cambion-companion]

Part 2 now up!

Oooh, yes yes I know exactly what I want to write for these lovely Anon prompts! (edit: oh yeah, Aemond popped off in this one...I was expecting to be writing harsh words, and maybe threatening...but nah he uh kills them)

Aemond x wife!reader | crude language | protective Aemond | violence

Moonlight washed over your face, the cool night breeze rustling your skirts as you snuck outside the Keep walls. You knew he waited for you, just below the descending stone steps in front of you, awash in silver light.

You saw a figure in a cloak, hooded and tall, lithe of frame, waiting for you, his hand on the banister as he turned toward the sound of your hurrying feet. "Y/N." Your name on his tongue like honey as your husband extended his arm for you to take. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost leaving our rooms."

"Aemond." You chided. "That's only happened once, and I had Aegon as my escort, we were both thoroughly in our cups."

"Mmhmm." He guided you swiftly down the remaining stairs, out into the open streets of King's Landing, the Red Keep a looming fortress at your backs. "You were undetected?"

"I had to navigate around some guardsmen, but yes. No one knows we're sneaking off to the fire festival." You looked up at him from under your own hood. "Why are we sneaking, Aemond?"

"Anonymity is half the fun." He mused, squeezing your arm briefly. "I'd rather enjoy the festivities with my lady without peasantry taking notice of our presence."

Firelight up ahead caught your eye. As the two of you strode forward the quiet darkened streets gave way to raucous revelry. Small folk laughing and cheering as fire dancers whirled and spat flame. There was an open pavilion with a makeshift stage whereon actors flounced about in comedic costumes. Bussers carrying platters of drink and food navigated their way through the chattering crowd. The smell of baked goods and sweet delicacies teased your nostrils as you inhaled, sharing a smile with Aemond.

Aemond did not release his grip on you the whole time you indulged in as many festival activities as you could. At all times he had a hand gripping your cloak fabric or tangled his fingers with your own. More often than not, he would watch your face rather than the performances of the acrobats and fire eaters. You would be gazing at them open mouthed in wonder at their skill, then your eyes would flick to Aemond's face, and he would be studying your expression with a soft half-smile upon his curved lips, the firelight reflecting in his lilac eye.

As the night wore on, your feet began to ache despite the support of your leather boots. You were loath to leave, even as the crowd began thinning and the booths of food slowly turned in their wares.

A group of men, huddled together near a mossy stone wall, caught your attention as one of them said Aemond's name in a gruff voice. His fellows erupted into laughter at whatever he'd just said about your husband, and your fists curled into instinctive fists. Aemond's hand at your waist indicated he heard it too, and you glanced up to see he was staring at ground, his lips firmly pressed together as he concentrated on overhearing their conversation.

You both didn't have to strain your ears overmuch as the next words were clear to be heard, spoken in a deep drunken drawl. "He's lucky to have landed a lady like her."

His friends grunted in agreement.

Another man spoke up in a reedy voice. "Landed?" He scoffed. "Bedded is more like. What I wouldn't give to get a piece of her."

You noticed Aemond had stilled so completely, he had stopped breathing as his narrowed eye flitted to the huddle of men.

"Man like that Aemond Targaryen. Missing an eye and all that and still gets between the legs of something like her." A rail-thin man took a derisive swig from a bottle. "I would give her a good fucking and she'd be able to stomach my face."

"Get bent Tarful." His companion growled, pushing the thin man on the shoulder. "I'd love me the chance to put a bastard in her belly though."

"Aemond no!" You hissed, grabbing onto your husband's cloak but to no avail. The fabric was wrenched from your grip as Aemond strode forward, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he unsheathed his sword.

There were three of them, inebriated as they were, and only one of Aemond. You crouched to the ground, feeling around for a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise.

The men didn't take note of Aemond's presence until he was almost upon them.

"What the shit?"

"Who the-"

"Oh, hells take me."

Horrified recognition slid across their faces as they took in the sight of Aemond's livid face. The prince stood rigid, a hand behind his taut back as he pressed the point of his sword into the eldest man's throat.

"You dare speak of my wife in such a manner." Aemond could barely speak for the overwhelming rage constricting his throat. "You dare have such vile thoughts about her."

His long silver hair shone under the moon, cascading down his back and over his shoulders, his violet eye aflame, clearly indicating who he was even to the drunken men before him.

The reedy man reached for a small dagger at his belt, drawing it and stepping toward the enraged prince.

"Foolish." Aemond seethed, barely glancing at him as his sword flashed in a blur of movement.

A spray of blood, the man crumpled. You gasped, looking away as you covered your mouth.

"Y/N. Leave." Aemond commanded, his tone still hard and imperious. "Head back to the Keep. I will catch up with you."

"Aemond..."

"Go!"

You scrambled upright, running across the deserted courtyard, only glancing back once to see the remaining two men cowering before the Targaryen prince, his long sword still extended, now dripping red.

Few others were still in the streets, and they paid you no mind as you hurried away, back up the hill to the Red Keep. Your stomach twisted with the memory of those men's violating words, and the sound of that body hitting the cobblestones with dull finality.

Aemond was gentle and kind when he was with you. You almost forgot he had the blood of Old Valyria coursing hot through his veins. His fury scared you as much as it thrilled you. You had never before seen this side of your husband. Now you understood a little better why the Targaryens were so feared and respected, the words of their family running through your mind.

Fire and blood.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

A soul, so familiar

Synopsis: Fae Rulie. He’s swooning and is being equally adorable and dumb about it.

Note: This is my only day off since… like what? mid august? No clue when i’ll actually have a moment to breathe again. So here’s the product of me being the largest rulie simp to walk the earth.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Link had a problem, and quite a large one at that. You see, what you must understand is that through his many gruelling adventures, holding the entire triforce, and the general shit show that is his life, he has not much learned about his body. Or at least he’s still rather unfamiliar with the bizarre nature of his fae bloodline.

At most it’s lead for some very funny, if not embarrassing, moments. Like the time he’d accidentally dropped 100 rupees for a single jar of honey, being so craved for sugar he’d decided in some odd part of his mind to pay the man back. And of course that time he drank so much mead and woke up in the middle of a forest he never recalled entering.

There was very little of himself that he was aware of. Aside from his own experiences, he had no way to tell what exactly he was capable of.

For the most part, He was ok with it. After all, it was the source of very little discomfort. He’d gained a good control of his magic to harm and to heal accordingly, he keeps an extra emergency jar of honey just in case, and tries his hardest to not accidentally make promises. The line between hylian and fae had blurred to the point where he was simply just himself.

Amidst the crowds of people, he didn’t feel much different. Of course, they don’t get the acute cravings for sugar to where they’d gladly go bankrupt. And sure, they don’t have to worry about uttering deals that literally bargain power over people’s souls. But for the large part, Link was normal.

He could experience life as any other person did.

Well, that was before he fell head over heels for you.

He was a dork. That much was expected by everyone— including himself. There was no hiding the flush that adorned his freckled cheeks and spread all the way to pointed ears. Everything you said and everything you did was target to fluster him. Watching you dance and cackle by firelight had his heart radiating with warmth, his nerves spitting and cracking with the wood. He wished, quietly, longingly, that one day he could envelop you as wholly had the fire did. To caress your skin with such soft, reverent light and only serve to highlight just how striking you were.

His ears would wiggle just slightly at the sound of your laughter, hardly disturbing the soft curls of light brown hair. He’d swoon over the music of your laugh, or your voice when caught on something interesting, not noticing how clearly it showed to anyone willing to look.

He bore his genuine, crooked grin. Not just to you, but to the world. He found joy in every little moment in the usually missed corners of his day, because he could find something that tied back to you.

His life had suddenly been filled with so much colour and so many senses that he’d never had or felt before. And as much as the bubbling feeling scared him, he found himself wanting to protect you. He couldn’t let you, this burning streak of fire that had given so much depth to his one shot at living, be snuffed out.

He wanted so badly to adorn you in spells and wards to keep you safe from others and their prying eyes. The people of his home are not safe, but perhaps with the right words and the right magic he could keep you safe.

He didn’t let himself, he couldn’t.

He’d never whisper a single blessing into your skin if you weren’t the one who’d requested it.

But the feelings persisted. His love for your strengthened without any tending to, as did his desire to protect you, to hide you away and keep you safe and comfortable. And such was his problem: to love you so much in a manner that no hylian could understand.

He doubted even you would understand just how much you’re loved.

Regardless, he’d been an anxious wreck for weeks before he could even begin to come up with the obvious solution to his problem. If it were the fae part of himself that demanded so fervently your company, then perhaps catering to it would ease his yearning.

So he began to leave you gifts. Practical things at first, things he could explain away. Some new tools he’d seen you’d been eyeing, a nicer pack to keep all your belongings together, a fluffier bedroll to provide you good comfort… Some clothes he enchanted lightly to keep you safe.

But that slowly shifted. Of course, he only got more giddy the more you’d don the items he’d gotten. He’d gotten you much more since then, but none of them could compare to the engraved silver ring he’d just gotten.

The band was carved to make two hands holding a heart, an intricately carved crown on top, all set together in a small velvet bag and placed carefully among your items.

He watched happily, swooning over your soft smile as you slipped the ring on and thanked him for it. The kiss on the cheek made him utterly buzz, more than any life spell ever could.

Silver jewellery was the finest gift among the fae. It was their most precious metal and happened to be the most common form to supplement large payments. But this particular ring was notable to the traveller for one particular reason, its use in courtship.

He was over the moon the next few days, unable to even look in your direction without a nervous smile and flushed cheeks. Not only had his dearest love accepted his courtship, but you treat him so softly. His very soul tried to reach out, to cradle and cherish yours when he was too shy to do so.

And for once in the story of his life did he feel the warmth returned.

He could catch similar longing stares and could find trinkets and clothes he doesn’t remember buying.

It was almost burning, the sense of being loved. He wasn’t aware of how something he’d spent so long pining for could be so foreign. Yet at the same time it’s so homey. Being loved by you felt so routine, so familiar to him that he couldn’t find it within himself anymore to be shy, as if in some other lifetime you’d done the same.

As if he’s already bashfully linked pinkies with you or spent sunny afternoons braiding the stems of flowers.

There was a tangible amount of tension between the two of you, the longing hope to be loved as wholly as one felt for the other.

When you finally kissed, your lips were sweeter than any honey and he could convince himself to not let go.