#i WILL draw the remaining cast! the question is not if the question is when

[geminison]

i don't want new year to come early i want January 4th to come early so i could watch next candela obscura episode already 😤

[hederasgarden]

Overcome

Summary: You soon discover that your husband is far from the cool, reserved man that you imagined him to be. Pairing: Friedrich Harding x F!Reader  Word Count: 2.3K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. AU (the reader is Friedrich’s first and only wife), oral sex (f receiving), inappropriate use of a confessional booth, sex in church, inexperienced reader, and Friedrich being ravenous.  A/N: Come join me in getting excommunicated from the Catholic church with this fic. I have not seen Nosferatu so I am working solely on vibes and TikTok edits regarding Friedrich’s character. Big thanks to @ryebecca and @otaku-girl-ao3 for their help with this! Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist

From behind your veil, you watch your new husband gaze back at you. The light filtering through the stained glass of the church window casts an ethereal glow on Friedrich’s face, making his eyes seem impossibly blue. Your hands tremble in his, the warmth of his touch seeping through the delicate lace of your gloves, a steady heat that contrasts with the coolness of the air. As the priest drones on Friedrich’s thumbs move comfortingly over your knuckles.

In the front pew your father watches the two of you, a faint, pleased smile on his face. For years he’s sought a respectable match for you, even as each season passed and you grew older, your prospects narrowing the longer you remained unattached. Now, with Friedrich, he’s found more than he could have hoped for. This marriage will bring your family wealth and connection, elevating them further. 

To have the love your parents share would be a blessing, but you know better than to expect it. From what little you know of your new husband, he seems reserved in both his opinions and actions. He has not grown his father’s shipping empire by giving into passion or whims, but from steady, calculated decisions. He is a man who will be a reliable provider for you and the children you will eventually share. Perhaps, in time, you will find the steady, calm companionship most of your peers have with their husbands.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest announces, bringing you back from your thoughts. "What God has joined, let no man put asunder."

Friedrich smiles, his lips curving beneath his thick mustache, and you return the gesture with a quiet, uncertain one of your own. He releases your hands and gently reaches for your veil, lifting it to reveal your face. His other hand rests lightly on your waist. Your throat tightens, and your lips part to draw an unsteady breath, bracing yourself for a quick press of his lips to yours. But instead, he cups the side of your face and kisses you deeply. His mouth lingers on yours, the feel of his velvety soft lips and the tickle of his mustache sending a rush of something hot under your skin. When he pulls back, his lips hover millimeters from yours for a beat before the slow, steady hum of the church’s organ swells and he straightens. 

He takes your hand again, his grip firm and warm as he leads you away from the altar. As you step into the sunlight, white petals drift through the air, swirling around you in a soft, fragrant shower. The laughter and cheers of your friends and family fill the air as they shower you both with well wishes. You expect Friedrich to guide you toward the waiting carriage that will carry you to the reception, but instead, he turns, leading you back toward the cathedral. At your questioning look he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. 

“The reception will be busy. I thought perhaps you might appreciate a moment for just the two of us.” 

The thoughtful nature of the gesture makes your heart swell and you nod. He ushers you inside, ahead of him and your eyes strain to adjust to the dim light of the now-empty cathedral. Friedrich guides you down a narrow side aisle, leading you to a quiet corner where the old wooden confessional stands. When you turn to face him you're surprised to find him so close to you. 

"Forgive my lie," he breathes, lifting his hand to gently brush the back of his fingers against your cheek. “I wish to have more than a moment alone with you.”

You take an automatic step back, unused to having a man so close. Friedrich glances over his shoulder before following, gently herding you toward the door.

“Herr Harding,” you say, your voice tinged with alarm.

“You are my wife,” he corrects, his tone firm but not unkind. “You should use my given name.”

“Friedrich…” 

The sound of his name from your lips has him inhaling sharply, his gaze locking onto yours. You watch him run his tongue over the bottom of his lip, a gesture that makes your pulse quicken.

“I have thought of you often during our courtship. Perhaps more than I should admit,” he tells you quietly. “Your beauty, your piety… they have transfixed me. But I must know,” he pauses, the intensity in his expression startling, “have you thought of me?”

A flutter of shame tightens in your chest as his words stir memories of the thoughts that would come when it was late and you were alone. How they would wander to what lay beyond the carefully cultivated distance of formal courtship. Of what a man and wife might do together. Now, faced with his direct question, you find you can’t meet his gaze. Friedrich seems to sense the unspoken truth easily, his sharp eyes seeing everything you wish to hide. 

“You have,” he says with a pleased smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Tell me, what have you thought about, little wife?”

It is difficult to compose yourself when he is so close and you find yourself staring at the fine lines of his coat. When the silence lingers too long he places a finger beneath your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

"Please do not make me…” you beg. “It is shameful."

“We are in God’s house,” Friedrich reminds you softly, his gaze briefly flicking to the crucifix hanging above. “To lie here...it would be a sin.”

You swallow hard and squeeze your eyes closed. 

“I have thought…” you begin, the words feeling heavy on your tongue, your heart pounding in your chest, “of your lips. Of how they would feel on mine.”

The rustle of clothing tells you he’s stepped closer. His breath falls warmly across your brow, and the clean, powerful scent of his aftershave envelopes you until it feels as though he’s the only thing that exists.

“Were they as you imagined?” he asks.

You nod, hands twisting together as your body seeks a way to channel your anxious feelings. 

“What else?” he prods. 

Your breath hitches, and you look down, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. “Your hands…” you stammer, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Y-you have long, lean fingers.”

A heavy, pained sound escapes his chest, an almost imperceptible groan that makes you glance up, alarmed. His Adam's apple bobs with a visible swallow and he seems to struggle with himself before his hand moves slowly to rest lightly over the hollow of your throat. Your chest heaves as his fingers trail down to trace the delicate edge of your bodice, goosebumps following in the wake of his touch. A shuddery gasp leaves you when they dip beneath the lacy fabric of your wedding gown, touching you where no man has before.

“And how do you find them?” he asks, sounding strained. 

You mean to answer him, to speak the words that are caught in your throat, but to your utter embarrassment, all that slips out is a wanton whimper you didn’t know you were capable of making. The answering sound Friedrich makes twists your insides pleasantly and you shake, hands curling into fists at your side.

“I am sorry, my love, but I fear I can resist you no longer."

The moment the words leave him, his lips are on yours, swallowing your quiet little gasp of surprise. You touch his chest, as if to push him away but then his tongue sweeps into the warmth of your mouth, and you freeze. The wood of the confessional creaks as he leans his weight against you, the back of your head cradled by his hand. His thumb presses into the soft skin beneath your jaw, urging you to lean back. When you submit, his lips trail down the side of your throat. A deep groan escapes his chest, its vibrations spreading across your skin. 

Over his shoulder you stare at the status of the Virgin Mother, her solemn eyes seeing all as she stares down at you from her perch. A cold rush of guilt and shame sweeps through your body. You push at Friedrich’s shoulder, your voice growing thin as you try to recapture your husband’s  attention. 

“Please. We cannot,” you remind him, even as desire swirls inside your own body.

“You would not deny me this, would you?” he questions, drawing back. When you hesitate, his expression softens and his hands frame your waist. "We are married," he says, his voice steady and sure. "There can be no sin between a man and his wife."

You blink up at him, torn. 

"Please," he implores, his gaze filled with such raw need and desire that it forces a single, jerky nod from you.

With a suddenness that startles you, he shifts, guiding you into the confessional itself until the back of your legs hits the seat, and you sink into it. The door rattles shut as he blindly reaches to close it. You've been here a hundred times before to confess your sins to God, but now it’s Friedrich who kneels before you. The touch of his hand at your ankle is electric, and even though every part of you knows this is wrong, you do nothing to stop his hand from climbing higher.

“I only wish for a taste,” he assures you, though you do not understand his meaning. “Will you deny your husband?” 

You shake your head, the quiet "no" barely escaping your lips, yet it’s all the permission Friedrich needs. His hands guide yours to lift the heavy fabric of your skirt until your lower half is exposed to him. Cool air blankets your skin and you startle when his hands settle on your knees. He gently pries them apart, his head tilting to the side as he studies you intently. When you try to press your legs together he stops you with a tsking sound and heat floods your face. You have never been so exposed.

“My sweet wife,” he praises, “there is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Friedrich urges you to move forward until you’re balanced precariously on the bench. On instinct, your hand falls to his shoulder to steady yourself. He watches you through dark lashes, his mouth parted as he takes slow, shallow breaths. Then he dips his head between your thighs and a warm puff of air washes over the most intimate part of you. Your eyes round as you come to understand his intent and he responds to your scandalized gasp with a chuckle, the vibrations sending a delicious curl of heat through your belly. 

At the first touch of his tongue to your sex, the air in your lungs seems to evaporate. It’s all you can do to make a desperate little sound that seems to encourage him to repeat the action. Your fingers tighten around the bunched fabric of your dress and you whisper his name while he eagerly devours you. His tongue moves so relentlessly in its quest that you can’t help but squirm away. 

To hold you in place, Friedrich wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you even closer to his face. Over the volume of your skirts, all you can see of him is the back of his head. You wonder how he can possibly breathe, especially with the way your thighs hug his head and your hips seem to move of their own accord. The thought lingers for only a moment before the beginning of a shaky feeling growing inside your chest eclipses it. 

“Ohhh,” you whimper, your hand slapping against the wall of the confessional. 

His attention shifts higher, circling some central point that makes your vision go hazy. The sweetest kind of pleasure rolls over you in waves, filling every part of you with warmth. Still, Friedrich keeps up the relentless movement of his tongue, an obscenely loud groan escaping between the wet sounds he draws from your body. 

“Please, Friedrich, oh please,” you moan, unsure if you wish for him to continue or stop.

To your relief he makes the decision for you, drawing away, his chest heaving. Through half-lidded eyes, you see the flush his skin carries and the way his blue eyes remain firmly affixed between your splayed legs. You want to hide from his gaze but your thighs shake and you feel weak all over. Friedrich passes a trembling hand over his mouth and finally looks at you. 

You stare back at him, caught between a rush of shame and an overwhelming, undeniable longing. Gently, he takes the fabric from your hands, draping it over your bare legs. Your fingers throb from how tightly you’ve clutched it. 

"You did well, my darling," he murmurs.

His praise soothes your anxiety and you let him help you rise. You stand as still as you can, fighting an unexpected tremor in your legs as his steady hands ensure every detail of your appearance is returned to its proper state. Once he’s satisfied, Friedrich grasps your trembling hands and he smiles, bringing them to his lips.

"We should go greet our guests," he tells you. "Though..." He pauses, as if weighing his words, then shakes his head. "No. You deserve better."

“Better?” you question. 

“Yes, my love. Because God forgive me, I want nothing more than to take you right here and now.” 

His brazen words startle you and you don’t resist as he guides your hand to cup a hardness at the front of his breeches. Your fingers flex curiously and he groans, jerking into your touch. Through your lashes you watch him as you repeat the gesture, earning a breathy little moan from him that makes your stomach tingle pleasantly.

"We must go," he says, sounding strained. 

"But…. we can do this again?" you ask hesitantly. 

"Every night if you let me," he responds. He kisses you fiercely, an unfamiliar tartness lingering on your tongue as he pulls away. "Every morning. Every moment you allow it. I cannot resist you, my love."

♡

My inbox is open for any requests regarding Friedrich.

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 001 . . .

previous next masterlist playlist

You often wondered about the first moment you fell in love. It happened so gradually that you couldn't quite recall the moment it finally clicked. The same thought followed you in the small hours of the night, on the long work days when your feet and back ached, and especially on the days when you missed his presence most.

It had been the summer of 2008 when you first met him. You were a bright eyed eleven year old, too innocent for the world. The sun had finally started shining after a long week of summer showers and so your sketch pads laid against the hot pavement, pencils scattered around you. Your bottom lip was jutted in concentration, hands flying across the paper, a brown pencil tucked between your fingers.

You paused as a shadow blocked the sunlight casting darkness across your drawing. You slowly glanced upward expecting your mother but instead a boy towered over you, eyes focused on the paper at your folded legs. You looked down and back at him again.

"That's pretty good" He said, finger pointed to the cat drawing you were currently sketching.

"Thanks" You replied, tone clipped. "Can you move? You're blocking the sunlight"

He shuffled to the side, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the pavement. He continued to hover over you for the next minute or two, eyes focused and head moving when your pencil flicked in a certain direction. You tried your best to remain cool, uncomfortable under the unknown boys stare.

You dropped the pencil, staring up at him. "What are you doing?" You questioned.

"Watching you" He replied matter of factly.

"It's creepy"

He shrugged. "As i've heard before"

His words softened your gaze a little. You knew what kids were like. Their mean words, their horrid actions. You had known it a little too well, it was the reason you chose to stay so close guarded. Even at eleven you knew how cruel the world could be.

You straightened your back, apologetically looking back at him. "I didn't mean that" You said sincerely.

"It's okay, i'm used to it" He laughed it off. "Do you live here?" The boy pointed to the house behind you, the one with the windows pulled open and the trot music lowly drifting out.

"Yeah" You admitted, a little embarrassed.

He scratched the back of his arm, a red mark, almost like a burn, stood out against his pale skin. "Cool, we're neighbours" He beamed.

Hyehwa Station was fairly empty for a Saturday night. The only sounds came from the racketing trains passing through and the footsteps of the commuters heading home after their 9 to 5's. You wrapped the coat tighter around yourself, attempting to savour the warmth and took a seat at the empty bench. The small screen read ten minutes until the next train to Itaewon. You let out a sigh stretching your legs. The long work hours were slowly killing you.

Too busy trying not to fall asleep you took no notice of the person now sat beside you, too tired to care, until he loudly cleared his throat. You looked to your right, a well dressed man smiled, a little menacing if you were honest, at you, briefcase at his side. You smiled awkwardly back, bowing your head slightly out of politeness.

"Would you like to play a game?" The man questioned, the same uncanny smile on his face.

The unsettling feeling of dread settled in your stomach. You moved closer to the edge of the bench, as far from him as you could. "Excuse me?" You replied.

His head titled to the side, facial expression frozen. "Would you like to play a game?" He repeated.

"No thank you" You muttered under your breath.

The stranger didn't reply instead he stood up, opening the briefcase on the now empty spot he had once been sitting. You watched him in confusion, you didn't have the time or energy to be dealing with the strange people that frequented the subway stations. You pinched the bridge between your eyebrows, sighing loudly.

"Would you like to play a game?" He asked again as if stuck on a record.

"Look-" You started, turning to face him but froze momentarily. "What?" You asked dumbfounded.

Enough money to pay the month's rent gleamed up at you. Stacks upon stacks of Korean won sat neatly in the briefcase. You glanced up at him and back at the bills again. You didn't hesitate before asking, "What's the game?"

The man's eyes sparkled, his smile somehow becoming wider. He reminded you of something from the horror comics you used to read as a child.

He reached into the case pulling out two envelopes, red and blue. "Ddakji" He said, gaze fixated on you. "I'm sure you know how to play"

You hadn't in years, you'd probably only played it once or twice but you nodded nonetheless.

His twinkling eyes crinkled with a smile, "Win and i'll give you 100,000 won. Lose and you'll receive a punishment." He paused. "Ready?"

Your brows furrowed. "Punishment?"

"Just a light slap"

At this point you didn't care, you would've taken any punishment if it meant winning the money in that briefcase and you were winning it.

"Okay" You agreed, standing up and shrugging the backpack from your shoulders, then placing it onto the bench.

Five rounds later and you were 100,000 won richer. Your left cheek throbbed, your eyes filled with tears. Your mouth tasted metallic from the cuts you'd bit into your cheeks in frustration. He was too good at this, his calmness told you he'd done it one too many times.

"Congratulations, Y/N-ssi" The man applauded, slowly clapping.

You stared back at him through hooded eyes, attempting to catch your breath. He stretched out a hand, fingers delicately picking up the stack of cash and passing it to you. You quickly snatched it, scared he would take it away from you and tucked it safely into the pocket of your coat.

He closed the case, turning to face you cheerfully. It seemed this man didn't know how to be upset. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small brown card and holding it out for you. You hesitated but took it from his grasp. Three symbols stared up you, a square, a triangle and a circle.

"Call the number on the back if you're interested in winning a lot more" He said, bowing in your direction and then taking off towards the exit.

You flipped it over and truth be told a number was there. Your mouth twisted, mind in battle with itself. If it was another game of ddakji or even worse, some other childhood game, you'd be screwed, you would be loosing whatever money was up for grabs in the first round. Your childhood was spent in comic books and colouring pencils, or in textbooks and homework, not on the playground with other kids playing games, you'd have no idea how too.

Your mind contemplated it over on the train ride home, occupying your running thoughts with something else for once. You entered the cold apartment at almost midnight, instantly throwing yourself face down onto the bed. Your backpack and coat still on. You let your body sink into the mattress, exhaling loudly. The apartment was silent, so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming and the wind rattling against the windows.

These were the nights when your mind went to him. When it was quiet. When it was your heartbeat you could hear and not his underneath you. You flipped onto your back, backpack digging into you, moving uncomfortably you pulled it from your shoulders tossing it onto the floor. Your fingers found your pockets taking out the brown card, staring intently at the phone number. When had your life become such a shit show, when had accepting a beating from a stranger in the subway station for 100,000 become the normal. This wasn't how you planned it for yourself. You often wondered where it all went wrong.

previous next masterlist playlist

note . . . i had to give the reader an age to make the story make sense!! i listened to rosé’s album on repeat writing this chapter and it fits the plot perfectly. layout inspo for entire series belongs to @ourseasone

taglist . . . let me know if you wanna be added!

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[endereies]

MOVIE NIGHT - CS

No Nut November - Day 9

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ You and Chris relaxing and watching a film together

You and Chris had gotten settled on the sofa together while the tv was shining over the pair of you while it displayed a film you’d seen before. All the lights were turned off and the smell of fresh sweet and salty popcorn filled your senses. A fluffy blanket covered the majority of your body while Chris just sat next to you in one of his larger hoodies These moments happened less than you both wanted, with both of your schedules colliding. However, when they did happen, you both settled into each other’s company quickly, unwinding from the week just gone.

The longer the movie plays, you take notice of his movements towards you. Even with your legs touching, he needed more of the person he loved. In his mind the film had been long abandoned, and his attention drew to the way the film cast a soft glow to your face. Your cheekbones were slightly more accentuated, your eyes had gained a little more sparkle, and a dusting of blush covered the tip of your nose. He just couldn’t stop admiring you. Chris loved the simple things about you especially the way your nose twitched whenever he made popcorn to share. He was just so drawn you, and he had no control.

After a while of Chris inching closer, his chin laid on your shoulder. You were used to Chris being close to you, but after realising how much he moved, you giggled in confusion.

“Chris...? Whatcha doing...” He didn’t utter a word and just wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, his fingers rubbing back and forth where your shirt lifted. Eventually he spoke, his voice melodic and lethargic.

“Nothing, just love m’girl.” You rolled your eyes, covering the way your blush grew deeper in your cheeks.

“Are you even watching?” you questioned his behaviour subtly.

“I’m watching you, does that count.” As much as you try, you can’t seem to regain focus back on to the film and you just feel him watching you silently. He notices the way you react, quickly commenting on it.

“Sorry baby, you’re just adorable what can I say?” Chris smiles softly, drawing one hand up to run through your hair, pushing back a few strands so he can see you better.

“Chris. You’re actually a dork.” A few pieces of popcorn shovel into your mouth, distracting you from his sweet comments. You couldn’t help but blush whenever he spoke about you. His words lulled you further into your emotions and he somehow always knew what to say.

“You love it” he leant his head forwards slightly and glanced quickly at your lips. “May I?”

With a nod from you as permission, he closed the remaining amount of distance and shyly kissed you. A satisfied hum leaves him which makes you smile into the kiss. You both kept it mild yet tender and when he pulled back, he stared into your eyes, a stupid grin on his face.

“I love you, you know that right?” In that moment, everything faded away. You knew he loved you and yet you still found yourself acting like a high-school kid with their first crush when he said it to you. “I love you too Chris.”

He leant back to his original position, not before grabbing a handful of the now cold popcorn and shovelling it into his mouth.

“Babe? Can you rewind it? I was not paying attention…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[izvmimi]

cw: smut. dry humping under the influence. no penetration. semi-public sex-ish.

“Hey.”

Unsure of when exactly the two of you dozed off, you look over to Luffy, raising your head off of his chest, and gently shake his shoulder as he lays fast asleep, partially slumped against the trunk of a tree, one big enough to cast shade over both of you and your midday picnic. The sun still remains high in the sky, you glean through the leaves, so you cannot have drifted off for that long, but the fatigue on you is not exactly lifting in the normal way it does when you’re waking up from an impromptu nap, and you’re starting to get concerned.

“Luffy!”

Luffy rises not when you pat him on the face but rather at the sound of his name, eyes shooting wide open initially until he takes in your expression fully - frantic but unharmed - and his eyes go sleepy again.

“What?”

“Where exactly did you get those fruits?” You don’t know why you’re whispering or hissing in his ear, it’s not like there’s anyone around this clearing to see you except for the birds overhead and the wildlife that Luffy is a little too good at intimidating with a mere smile. You should have known better than to not question whatever Luffy presents to you without a second look, but you’ve learned to trust your captain and lover a little too implicitly, and now potentially you might be paying the price.

“Why, does your tummy hurt?” he asks with only a slight hint of alarm and more inquiry, still half-lidded and sleepy, the drawl of sleep on his tongue. He has yet to sit up completely, arms still raised and head rested on his palms. You on the other hand, are becoming somewhat diaphoretic - perhaps the hot sun was is making its way to you despite the cool shade generated by the swaying leaves, but more likely the fact that there’s a tingle through your body that’s beginning to spread from the tips of your toes and fingertips to your center and further just south of it which portends another problem entirely. 

“No, I just…”

You pause abruptly, finding yourself drawing in a breath all of a sudden and sighing out. Luffy’s eyes widen again and he finally does sit up, but you start to breathe out slowly, your eyes closing shut languidly as you lean forward over him, disoriented.

“Is everything okay?”

Barely able to hold your head up anymore, you finally tip forward onto his body, a lull suddenly washing over you and swaddling you tightly, and he lets you fall into him, pulling you onto his lap.

“I… I don’t know if it is…” you whimper but another odd sound escapes your lips, interrupting your own sentence, soft and yet guttural in nature, and your head starts to spin.

“___, what’s going on with-”

Luffy stops mid-sentence too, suddenly holding his breath. Whatever is coming over you has started to come over him too, and against his body, you can feel the sudden deep rise and fall of his chest, deeper, slower, fuller, breaths, a soft heave that makes both of your eyes roll into the back of your heads and threaten to stay there. You fingers curl and draw downward gently along the fabric of his shirt, a sudden desperate need overtaking you.

You whisper each other’s names in unison.

“Are you-,” you start but Luffy’s hands are already moving roughly up your body, slipping below your shirt but staying rested under your ribcage to move you properly, until you’re straddling him perfectly, and you maneuver your own lower body, a longing stare fixated at his unfocused one so that your the clothed crotch of your pants is just flush to his. You can feel that he’s growing hard and sensitive and the tiniest rock of your hips against his has the two of you gasping.

You have each other’s full attention now - Luffy is seated, back pressed and supported against hard bark, the rest of him tense and hot all over.

“Do you think it’s poison?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer before he leans in and nips at your lower lip, then sticks his tongue down your throat, and you take it mercifully, letting the taste of his tongue laving over yours help wash away the fire building inside your belly.

We’ll know if we pass out and don’t wake up, is a thought that passes through your mind fleetingly, but your heart is racing rather than slowing down and your arms don’t lock up or lose strength as you wrap them around his neck. You muster a shake of your head, lacking confidence but filled with desire.

You continue to kiss, your lower halves grinding against each other rhythmically, the words between you as a minimum as you swallow each other whole, want and saliva dripping and flowing between the two of you fluidly for what feels like far too long.

“Move more, I wanna feel you,” he insists, impatient as he huffs into your ear, but he does it instead, tightening his grip around you as he bucks his hips upwards, rough and desperate against the snap of grind of your own hips. No longer kissing you on your mouth, he finds solace in letting his teeth graze against the soft of your shoulder and the length of your neck.

Bite, lick, suck, grind, sigh… the friction with which the two of you writhe against each other could start a forest fire, and with further, unrelenting need, Luffy lays you back against the picnic blanket and pins you beneath him.

He stops for a moment, appraising you again hungrily but curiously like a wolf sizing up a particularly delicious appearing rabbit. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Wasn’t trying to, I just…” he kisses you again, the bulge of his pants pressing hard against your restrictive, practically oppressive jeans.

“Clothes,” he pouts, but doesn’t stop rocking against your hips. Fingers curl around the hem of your jeans and you want him, you want more, you want skin to skin, but you think about the very full possibility that you may keep fucking like this until whatever’s come over you wears off and shake your head.

“Just like this… is fine.”

He may be groaning at your prudishness, cock straining against need and a wetter and wetter spot growing in your panties, but for now, mimicking sex, letting your bodies struggle a bit prior to release might be just enough.

And if the fruit’s effects don’t abate soon at all, you might just have to get the rest of whatever you started just now worked out through your bodies, somewhere else where the birds can’t tattletale and your bodies don’t imprint into the grass, and you can really let yourselves go.

[strayingawayy]

ʷʰʸ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˡᵒⁿᵉˡⁱⁿᵉˢˢ? ;

ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ⁱᵗ._

(inspired by hyunjin's quill pen)

the moonlight spilled softly through the window, casting long shadows on the floor. hyunjin sat by the edge of your bed, his fingers tracing the lines of his sketchbook, the quiet scratching of his pencil the only sound in the room. you watched him from your spot, wrapped in a thin blanket, the silence between you two palpable, heavy.

for a while, you'd convinced yourself that his presence was enough. the way his dark eyes would light up when he smiled, the way his fingers would brush against yours when he passed you in the hall—those fleeting moments of connection made you believe that, perhaps, you were getting what you needed. but lately, it felt as though you were floating beside him, never really close enough to touch the surface.

you had always been afraid of this feeling, of giving too much and yet still not having enough. the ache of wanting more from someone who seemed like they had nothing left to give.

"hyunjin," you called softly, your voice trembling slightly. he didn't respond immediately, too focused on his drawing, his eyes flicking back and forth from the page to the shadows cast on the floor. you swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of the silence between you grow heavier by the second.

"do you ever feel like you're alone, even when you're with someone?" you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

he paused. the pencil hovered over the page, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer.

"why would you say that?" he murmured, his voice low and almost distant.

you felt the sting of your own words. “i don’t know... maybe because sometimes, when i'm with you, i still feel... lonely.”

his head snapped up, eyes meeting yours in a flash of confusion and something darker. he set his pencil down, running a hand through his messy hair, and leaned back on his hands, looking at you more intently now. “what do you mean?”

the space between you two felt unbearably large, and yet, you couldn't seem to close it. “you... you’re always here, physically. but you’re not really here, are you?”

hyunjin shifted slightly, a brief flicker of discomfort crossing his face. his gaze dropped to the floor as he processed your words, and his lips parted as if to speak, but he held back.

"i don’t understand," you whispered, feeling your heart race. "why does your love feel like loneliness?"

you had been holding your breath for so long, and the question hung in the air, sharp and vulnerable.

his eyes softened, but his lips remained pressed in a tight line. slowly, he walked over to the bed, sitting next to you. his warmth radiated through the thin fabric of the blanket, and you felt a moment of relief, like you could finally breathe. but the distance still lingered—an invisible wall that neither of you seemed able to break.

"sometimes," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "i think it's because i’m scared of giving too much. you need so much of me... but i don’t know if i can be everything you want. what if i fall short?"

you met his eyes, searching for any sign that this was more than just the casual hesitation of a relationship. there was something deeper there, an ache of his own that he had never shared.

“i don’t need everything, hyunjin,” you said, reaching out to touch his arm. “i just need you—the real you. not the version you think i want.”

he flinched slightly at your touch, but there was no retreat in his eyes, no defense. he leaned forward, closer to you, as though the weight of his own emotions were too much to bear from a distance.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something unspoken. his lips brushed against your cheek in the softest, almost fleeting touch, but it felt like a promise. “i just don’t know how to love like you do.”

your breath caught in your throat, the closeness making the air between you burn with longing. “you don’t have to, hyunjin. just... just let me in.”

his hand brushed against your cheek, so tender you almost doubted it was real. "i'm afraid you'll see that i'm not enough."

“you are,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “you are enough for me.”

for a long moment, neither of you moved. you simply stayed there, close enough to feel the unspoken connection between you two, the weight of your shared isolation pressing down on your hearts. the moonlight bathed you both in silver, and for a fleeting moment, the loneliness began to fade.

but even as his lips gently touched yours, soft and questioning, you both knew there was more to navigate—more pain to untangle before you could truly be together, in every sense of the word.

the distance wasn’t gone, but it was a little smaller. maybe that was enough—for now.

[underlove-official]

What is UnderLove?

"UnderLove" is an AU created by Radicalrainbow, based on the renowned role-playing game Undertale. In the universe of UnderLove, the struggle between love and hate shapes its story. It introduces a unique twist with love-centric magic and the contrasting power of hate. Characters’ appearances are heart-themed, adorned in shades of pinks, reds, and whites, with frilly trims, fluffy details, and prominent heart motifs embracing a Valentine's/Lovecore theme. Yet, this AU can show more than just one side of the coin.

Underlove's history

History of the Underground: Long ago, humans and monsters lived separately and in disarray upon the surface. Humans were known for their ruthlessness, hostility, and HATE, which led them to push the kind and loving monsters away.

Tragedy struck one night when the king’s life was brutally taken, leading Asgore to ascend to the throne. Blinded by his own growing anger, Asgore sought to avenge his father, and the once kind and loving monsters turned hostile as war was declared against the humans.

The war raged on, with magic clashing and bodies falling. Eventually, humans emerged victorious, and with the help of a powerful mage, they sealed the monsters underground. The Underground was filled with despair and darkness, but the magic of LOVE gradually began to bloom again, restoring harmony among the monsters.

The royal family made certain that their people remained full of LOVE, fearing the resurgence of HATE that had swept the surface. Royal guards were tasked with protecting the Underground by preserving love and happiness, removing those who began to corrupt with hatred, and dealing with any humans who entered their realm.

Chara’s Arrival: After many years after banishment, their peace was interrupted when a human named Chara fell into their midst, seeking refuge from human cruelty. The Dreemurr family adopted Chara despite their initial wariness, it came to be the best decision of their lives as the two kids grew up together.

Tragically, Chara fell terminally ill from consuming red rose seeds, causing them to cough up petals and roses. Before the illness could fully silence them, Chara expressed a dying wish to see the surface sky one last time.

Asriel, their adoptive brother, absorbed Chara's soul and carried them through the barrier that separated their world from the humans. However, upon reaching the surface, they were met with misunderstanding and rage, resulting in the tragic demise of both Asriel and Chara.

The Dreemurr family, torn apart by the loss of their beloved children, decreed that any human who fell into their realm would be imprisoned in the depths of their castle dungeon.

Official Character Illustrations

FAQs [to be updated]

Question 1: What inspired "UnderLove"? Answer 1: [I've always favored the theme of Lovecore and the holiday of Valentine's Day!]

Question 2: How is "UnderLove" different? Answer 2: [UnderLove started off as a simple theme overhaul, with the characters and locations falling into its theme. Yet I wanted it to be unique, so the story follows a different path from Undertale and other AUs]

Question 3: Can I create fanart for "UnderLove"? Answer 3: [Yes! Absolutely! I'd love to see artwork done of these characters! Just make sure to tag me or use the hashtag #UnderLovefanwork so I can see it!]

Question 4: Can I draw my OC depicted in "UnderLove"? Answer 4: [Of course! I'd love to see what their designs turn out to be and how they'd interact with the cast of characters.]

Question 5: Does "UnderLove" have a wiki page? Answer 5: [Yes it does! I created it a while back and I intend to keep it as updated as possible for UnderLove]

Ask Guidelines

Respect: Be kind and respectful in your questions. Any asks that reflect HATE or are disrespectful will be ignored. No NSFW Content: Please refrain from submitting any NSFW content or questions as this blog and AU are intended for all audiences to enjoy.

Topic: Try to keep asks relevant to the blog and UnderLove in general. Any asks that are off-topic may be passed over to my main blog @radicalrainbow

Repetition: Before submitting your ask, check if it has already been answered via the hashtag on the blog #AsksofLove

No Roleplay Asks: While I love the enthusiasm for the characters and its story, this blog is not set up for roleplaying.

Patience: I try to respond to asks as quickly as possible, but response times may vary depending on the volume of questions and the progress of the story. If your ask doesn’t receive an immediate response, please be patient!

UnderLove's story

The official story of "UnderLove" will be told as a written narrative across multiple chapters. Each chapter will feature illustrated titles, and the written story will be accompanied by drawings that bring key scenes to life. These illustrations will help you better visualize the scenes that are being told. Artist Collaboration While I will be the main artist creating these illustrations, I’m excited to announce that other artists can collaborate on this project! If you’re an artist and would like to contribute: Contact Me! Reach out via my Discord handle or send an ask to the blog (please note that anonymous asks won’t be considered). We can discuss how you can get involved and the specific scenes you might illustrate.

All contributing artists will be fully credited, and I’ll link back to your social media profiles so the community can see the amazing work you’ve contributed!

Written Story chapters

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

There's alot more to come to Underlove, so stay determined and keep an eye on this blog for the upcoming story, official artwork, fanart, and updates! Your support and love fuels this story's creation!!

In this world it's Love or be Loved!

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one too many times luffy has allowed himself to hit the sea, sinking beneath her waves, completely at ease with the trusted fact that you would save him. this time, though, you've had enough.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.9k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: continuation of this fic, a liiiiitle bit of angst, fluff, feminine terms used, requested

Your chest heaved as you glared through slitted eyes, targeting your limp and drenched captain who lay beside you. Your tail scraped uncomfortably against the wood of the deck, water dripping off your nose, cheeks, and shoulders.

"Why," you seethed, "On this wide blue sea did you even conceive that jumping after the bitch was a good plan?"

He sputtered up some water, laughing dopily as his eyes met yours. "I thought I could catch 'im. 'Sides, you saved me, didn't ya?"

Fists coiling on the ground, you gritted your teeth and thought to lash out your nails at him. "I am not your lifeguard, Luffy. Did you even consider that it hurts me when you put yourself in danger like that?" You thought back to the battle, growing blind to the awkward presence of the crew. "I was stuck fighting two of those pirates! What if I hadn't made it in time?"

"But... you did," he shrugged, not understanding one bit. He trusted you, and why shouldn't he? You're his mermaid, his favorite mermaid in the whole world ("You only know one mermaid, Luffy." "And I don't wanna know another!")

Ticking your teeth, you couldn’t stand to just lay there any longer. "Zoro, take me away."

After huffing to himself, Zoro lowered himself at your side, hooking your arms round his neck and scooping you up into his broad arms. Luffy's eyes narrowed, but he remained unable to lift his head more than a few inches, forced to watch his first mate carry you to your room.

He cast a look around, befuddled. "What did I do wrong?"

Nami sighed with a shake of her head. "Idiot."

All afternoon he replayed what had happened, muttering to himself all that could have gone wrong, anything to pinpoint why you were so worried. Did you not trust yourself? Or perhaps... no... it couldn't be that.

Luffy searched you out, brows met in a stiff crease. You sat perched atop the barrel dragged up against the window of the girl's cabin, soft melodies slipping from your lips, your legs wrapped up in your arms. Luffy could listen to you all day long and never tire of the beautiful tones of your voice.

You caught him leaning on the doorframe, snapping your mouth shut mid-song. Pressing your cheek to your knees, you turned away from him. "Go away."

Instead, Luffy came closer, taking a seat on your bed with crossed legs. "Why're you still mad at me?"

"Because," you hissed, trailing off less convicted, "you scared me today."

He blinked, shifting around. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me anymore. I wanted to talk to you all afternoon but you'd locked the door."

Finally lifting your head, eyes softening, you relented, "I'm not mad anymore. Just please don't do that again, not on purpose."

Soft smile splitting his face, he nodded firmly. "Promise." He scooted over to allow you room next to him, leaning back on his palms as you lay on your side and propped your head on his knee. "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask away."

"Will you ever go back?" His question had you rolling over to stare up at him. "To your home. The reef."

"Oh." Throat dry, you couldn't draw your gaze away from his, forced to face his curiously tilted head. "I suppose so. Someday. I am a princess after all. It'd be... wrong to abandon my kingdom."

"Right." Luffy nodded, eyes unfocused. "And... what if you didn't?"

It was a question you'd been wondering about a lot lately, particularly when you spent time with Luffy. "My parents would choose a new heir. One of the young warriors probably... But I couldn't ask that of them. Besides, being the queen of my reef is my destiny. What would I do instead?"

Luffy fought internally, words prying their way up, up, up, and out, until he snapped his head away and stared at the wall. "You could go back and be queen there... or you could stay, and be queen here, with me."

Internally, you were screaming. Eyes wide, you slowly rose to sit beside him, a hungry look on your face. Your lips parted in surprise, revealing the two shiny fangs Luffy often found himself mesmerized by, wondering what they would feel like if he...

"Your queen?" You asked breathlessly. "You'd want me to be Queen of the Pirates?"

He nodded, halfway into a soft reply when you flung yourself at him, nosing at his neck and clutching at his sides till he was giggling beneath you. "That--That tickles!"

Laughing along with him, you grazed a fang over his chin, looming over him with eyes alit by unfurling joy. "The reef can find a new queen."

Luffy beamed up at you, his hands finding your waist, laughter rolling off his tongue even as you swiftly narrowed your expression. "So long as you don't scare me like that again! I'll only save you if you need it!"

He hissed out one last giggle through his teeth before tugging you down into a tight embrace. "Okay, okay. I promised, all right?"

Curling around him, you nearly jittered from the mere happiness swirling inside you. "All right."

Your parents would fight this, for certain. Their princess, their heir running off with a pirate was one thing, but claiming to never return for her birthright was entirely different. Something entirely more scandalous.

And you really couldn't care less. Let them try to take you away, you thought, feeling Luffy's heartbeat beneath your palm. You were a daughter of the sea, and he felt strangely like sunlight incarnate.

A king and his queen, to be known 'round the seas.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 6) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Only cursing for now

Note: Hey, everyone, I hope you are all doing well. I just wanted to share the last chapter of Fallin' All In You. I'm sorry it took so long, but I had a horrible writer's block for the ending. Good news: I'm already working on my next series. I'll share more info soon. Happy reading, everyone!

Word count: 3,162

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Y/N," the blonde boy's voice pierced the air, a potent mix of urgency and confusion. He abruptly halted before the temporary fence enclosing the Ferris wheel, his eyes wide in suspicion.

You were frozen in your tracks as his voice hit you like a splash of cold water. At your side, Wanda gently let go of your hand and took a step away, causing a pang of pain in your chest at her sudden distance.

Pietro's eyes danced between you, yet yours remained fixed on the boy. The longer you remained silent, the more suffocating the atmosphere became. Crystal bounced on her feet uncomfortably and could no longer withstand the tension. She loudly clasped her hands together, drawing the attention of the group.

"I'm just gonna head to the restroom. I'll be right back, babe," she announced, awkwardly walking backward. Pietro half-mindedly nodded as he returned his gaze to you and Wanda.

"This is unexpected," he finally said, scratching his head. "I thought you were doing photography with Shuri today," he told Wanda with a quirked eyebrow before addressing you, "You said you were hanging out with Daisy, but instead, I found you here with my sister."

From your side, Wanda shifted, shooting you a questioning look. You internally kicked yourself for not thinking of a better lie than hanging out with another girl.

Wanda twisted her rings, eyes settling on anything but her twin brother. "Piet, I know you're upset. The last thing you expected to see tonight was your sister and best friend together."

Pietro scoffed and violently shook his head. "Is that what you think? Wanda, I've known about you two since before either of you did." The two of you shared a bewildered look, and Pietro released an exasperated sigh. "Sistra, anytime I mentioned Y/N, you'd grow flustered or hide away when she came over." He turned to you with a scrutinizing glare. "And you're no better, Y/N. Third grade, when Wanda shared her favorite color with the class, you suddenly started buying all things red despite blue being your favorite color."

You froze in place, utterly speechless, as his words hit you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you stunned and reeling. Your brain raced as the haze of the childhood memory disappeared at his words, and you suddenly remembered ruining your school supplies so your mother would have to buy you everything in red.

"I would have to be blind not to notice your little interaction while you're on the field. You were throwing lovesick glances at eachother throughout the game, for god's sake." He waved his arms around to make his point.

Your face flushed red, and you stuttered embarrassingly, trying to deny his words, yet you couldn't. Similarly, Wanda shifted in place, her face burning, as she stared at the grass.

"I'm not mad about you being together. In fact, I couldn't think of a better match since I love you both. Which is why I am hurt you were so afraid to tell me." He stopped stepping closer to you as he took a deep breath, calming himself. "It was fun at first watching you scramble around me, but now, are you that scared of me?"

Your heart dropped.

"Don't be mad at Y/N. She wanted to tell you, but I was too scared. You two have been friends since we were kids, and us being together..." She cast her gaze down, wrapping her arms around herself, and continued in a small voice, "If you want to blame anyone, blame me."

For the first time, you opened your mouth. "Wanda, you can't take the blame for a decision we made together. We are both at fault." You pried her hand away from its confinement, securing it as you turned to Pietro. "I'm sorry we kept it from you, Pietro. And no, it wasn't because I was scared of you. I lied because I was afraid of ruining our friendship."

Pietro's face softened at your declaration. "Y/N, unless you plan on hurting Wanda, you will never lose me, and I doubt you would ever do that to her."

"Never," you assured, shaking your head and glancing at Wanda. The young woman stared down bashfully with a tiny smile, and your heart swelled. You said the following words, staring directly at her. "I'm serious about us. I would have never risked our friendship if I wasn't."

"I know, and I'm sorry if I overreacted earlier. It's just you're my baby sister," he said, looking at Wanda.

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "It's only 12 minutes."

Pietro ignored her, turning to you, "And you're my best friend. That fact that you are together doesn't change anything. I still want you to rant to me when she nags you over playing too many video games like she does with me. Or whenever Y/N is being an idiot because we all know how dense she can be. I mean, it took her ages to figure out she liked you."

You turned red, and Wanda snorted, bringing her hand to cover her mouth in a futile attempt to save you from further embarrassment.

"No matter what, both of you can come to me."

Wanda lunged forward into his arms, hiding her face in his neck. He enclosed her in his arms, squeezing her tightly as he gave you a goofy grin.

"Bring it in." He removed one of his arms from Wanda and extended it to you invitingly. In normal circumstances, you would have pushed the boy for subjecting you to the embarrassing public display of affection. Yet the rollercoaster of emotions you endured clouded your judgment, and you soon joined the siblings, wrapping your arms around the two.

Although you could feel a few curious eyes on you and a tinge of self-consciousness, you still wrapped your arms around the two.

"Aw, how cute," Crystal cooed, settling next to you three, effectively ending the moment as you scrambled away from eachother. "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"Anyway, I wanted to ride the Inversion, but Crystal's a chicken," he flinched as she slapped his arm. "Are you down?"

You looked at Wanda, and she nodded. Yes, you were whipped.

"Lead the way."

The four of you made your way to the ride, only separating as you and Pietro got into the line, leaving the girls to wait on the other side.

Wanda and Crystal leaned on the metal railing, observing the spinning contraption in complete silence. Despite their lack of interaction, Wanda felt comfortable with the girl. Wanda had been around many of Pietro's conquests, and although she knew little of Crystal, she seemed different from the frivolous, self-centered girls his brother liked to date. Of course, she was otherworldly beautiful with her flowing strawberry-blonde hair, striking green eyes, and alluring personality: charismatic, confident, intelligent, athletic, but most importantly, kind. No wonder she was popular, and no wonder Pietro had gone after the girl.

Crystal shuffled on her feet while watching the operator open the railing gate, and more people, including you and Pietro, entered the ride.

"You know, when Pietro mentioned Y/N and Daisy were hanging out today, I thought the girl had finally mustered the courage to ask Y/N out," Crystal mused thoughtfully.

Wanda's furrowing face sharply twisted her way. "Ask Y/N out?

"Yeah, everyone knows she's had the biggest crush on her since freshman year, but you beat her to the punch. I'm not disappointed, though. You two make a cute couple," she explained dismissively, not sensing Wanda's distress, before waving to the moving ride. "Oh, there they go!"

She watched as the platform spun, and the two continued in silence. Wanda's mind lingered on the so-called Daisy. Who the hell was this girl who had a crush on you? Why did you tell Pietro you were hanging out? Did you know of her feelings? Wanda's head filled with insecurities like a dark cloud lumming in the sky.

The thoughts continued as you and Pietro rejoined the girls. However, they eased into the back of her mind as you took her hand and flashed her a bright smile—a reminder that she had the privilege of tasting your lips; she was on a date with you, and you wanted her.

Wanda squeezed your hand as the two of you followed Pietro and Crystal to the game stalls after deciding to continue as a group. The two of you teased her brother as he attempted to outsmart the rigged games as if you hadn't faced the same predicament earlier as you tried to impress Wanda.

"Why don't you try hook-a-duck? Maybe you'll have better luck," you playfully suggested as Pietro failed to knock down the entire tower of cans for the third time. Wanda snickered into your shoulder as her brother fixed you with a glare.

"Fuck off, Y/N. ," he said as he handed the boy in charge of the stall more bills. He recoiled his arm, preparing to throw, before an idea crossed his mind. "In fact, why don't you show me how it's done?" he offered, extending the bean bag to you.

You huffed nervously, looking to Wanda for help, as you remembered how you could only knock over a few cans earlier. Wanda had cleared all the cans.

"You should give it a try," she said with a devilish smirk, crushing any hope of evading the challenge. You stared at her in betrayal, eyebrows drawn together and mouth agape. Wanda revealed in your reaction, finding it humorous and equally adorable, so much so that she leaned in to kiss you on the cheek and whispered, "Aim for the bottom middle, detka."

A blushing mess and dazed, you took the bean bag from Pietro and positioned yourself behind the stall. Detka. The word rang through your skull, and you tried to recognize its meaning. For all you knew, she could be calling you an idiot, yet the soft and endearing tone made you think otherwise. You would ask her later, you settled.

You experimentally swung your arm, analyzing the pyramid. The base consisted of four metal cans, and per Wanda's instruction, you were to aim for the second and third. You inhaled deeply before releasing the bean bag in an underhand throw. It hits the second tier's third can, and three crumble, leaving seven remaining. You run your tongue between your lips, irked that you have missed your target, and you readjust your position. You throw again, this time hitting your target. The remaining cans in the second and third tier fall, and they miraculously knock the first can in the fourth tier, leaving only one left.

Wanda cheers you on from behind, and so does Crystal; Pietro complains beside her. "Babe?" He questioned reproachfully, and you stifled a laugh.

You aim the final bean bag at the remaining can, calculating how much strength to use. The bean bag grazes the can, moving slightly but not falling over.

"Fuck," you whisper defeatedly.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" Pietro mused, quirking an eyebrow at you.

"I don't think you have any room to talk, Piet. She still did better than you," Wanda defended, crossing her arms as you returned to her side with your new keychain.

"She's right, babe," Crystal joined in, biting back a laugh when Pietro turned to her with a look of betrayal.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be. You're going to gang up on me, now?" He scoffed, his eyes jumping between the three of you. "Traitors."

The three of you could no longer contain your laughter at Pietro's antics. Oh, how you had missed him the past few years. Though you chatted frequently, nothing compared to the banter you shared when you were together.

"You're such a drama queen, Piet," you say, wrapping your arm around Wanda's shoulder, who hides a snicker behind her hand.

Pietro turns to respond, but Crystal takes him by the arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The boy's face softens, and the bright lighting of the stall allows you to notice a faint redness on his face as he grins, pleased with himself. He had accomplished what he sought: charming Crystal.

Some of you wanted to tease the boy, yet how could you when his sister had you following her like a lost puppy? Her kiss or a simple touch had you melting like ice on a scorching summer day. The evidence came when Wanda turned to you, a radiant smile spread across her face, causing your chest to tighten and leaving you momentarily breathless.

The group of you wandered around the fairgrounds, and before you knew it, it was 9:45 PM. You could feel your body growing tired, your feet aching after so much walking, and you could tell Wanda felt the same way. As your arms circled her waist with your chin resting on her shoulder, you could see her head tilt up and release a long yawn.

When Pietro and Crystal invited you to watch a local band the organizers booked to play, you and Wanda declined in favor of going home. Wanda fell asleep within ten minutes of your journey home, perhaps lulled by the soft voice of Lana del Rey. Unlike the night she had stayed over, you couldn't afford to admire the sleeping girl lest you wish for disaster. Then, you would undoubtedly replace Jarvis for the worst date ever.

You contented yourself by humming to the music and tapping on the steering wheel. When you parked in front of her house, Wanda remained deep in slumber, her chest rising slowly with each breath. How could she become more beautiful each time you look at her?

You reached over, gently rubbing her arm, and Wanda groaned, scrunching her face into a scowl, disgruntled by being disturbed.

"Wake up, sleepy head. We're here," you said, biting back a laugh.

Her eyes snapped open at your words, embarrassment washing over her face.

"Sorry," Wanda said, rubbing at her eyes.

Your lips twitch upwards, arching a singular eyebrow. "What for?"

"I fell asleep."

"I don't mind. In fact, I immensely enjoyed the little nose scrunch you do when sleeping. It's cute," you teased, recalling the small detail from the one time you risked a glance.

"Oh, god, stop," Wanda grumbled into her hands.

You hummed, your teeth grasping your lower lip, lost in deep contemplation.

"I don't think I will. I like making you blush. It makes you even more adorable," you stated matter-of-factly.

"Is that so? How about you then? You were red as a tomato when Pietro exposed you. Hmm, buy everything red because it's my crush's favorite color."

You opened your mouth to counter, yet nothing came out. She had you.

"Touche," you said.

"Oh, let's not forget all the staring you do. Just so you know, I have noticed. I preferred not to call you out, but why not since we are discussing what's adorable? Definitely adorable, don't you think?"

"I invoke the fifth," you said with a pout, glad for the lack of lighting, which concealed your burning face.

Wanda reveled in her victory with a knowing smirk. She would have happily continued her teasing were it not for a yawn that reminded her of her fatigue.

"I should get going," she signed.

"Okay," you agreed reluctantly, knowing you could talk to her for hours. However, you would not prevent her from getting her much-needed sleep.

Wanda moved to grab the door handle, but you stopped her.

"Let me," you said, rushing out to her side of the car to open the door. "Oh, let's not forget this."

You opened the back door, retrieving the bear you had gifted her. You then accompanied her to her front door, where you both lingered, trying to prolong the moment.

"Thank you for today. It was fun." Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, shielding herself from the light night breeze.

"Best date you've had, right," you remind, and Wanda rolled her eyes with a smile tugging at her lips.

"So far," she countered before giving you a chaste kiss. "Goodnight, Y/N." She turned to leave, but you reached out, grasping her elbow, fueled by the sudden kiss, to ask something you had been dying to.

"Wait," you drew out the word, heart hammering in your chest. "I was waiting to ask you because I wanted to do it right. You know, after we told Pietro—not that I need his permission or anything," you fumbled, scratching the back of your neck. Wanda watched, amused yet curious.

"Anyway," you said, taking her hands into yours and looking straight into her forest-green eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Wanda remained still, processing your words. For a moment, you thought she would reject you, telling you it was too early to commit in such a way. Then, something shifted, and you noticed the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes, reflecting pure happiness. Her wide grin stretched from ear to ear, revealing a set of radiant, pearly white teeth. Her answer came in one word.

"Yes."

"Yes?" you questioned, unbelieving eyes switching her own to her lips as you pulled her closer.

She only nodded, closing the gap. Your lips locked together, fitting like puzzle pieces in a gentle kiss. You quiver under her delicate hands as they settle on the curve of your jaw. Your hands found a home on her waist, pulling her closer and sealing any gap that remained between your bodies. Your lips moved gracefully and in perfect sync in a kiss of pure tenderness and devotion. There was no rush as you parted with a gasp, searching her face and finding her swollen red lips gaping for air and unbridled affection in her green eyes.

The mesmerizing sight ignited a surge of emotion as you retook her lips with intensified passion, causing your teeth to collide in a fierce kiss. Your surroundings disappeared, unconcerned by being discovered by the neighbors or Wanda's mother. You could only think of Wanda, the warmth of her body, and the hunger with which she returned your kiss. You felt your body ascend as you bit down on her bottom lip, and she moaned.

The kiss and the day's events quickly overwhelmed Wanda with emotion, from cracking jokes or intentionally making a fool of yourself just to make her laugh to the heartwarming way you had gifted her your skeeball prize—the same one she had dropped in favor of grasping your jaw. She would have to take better care of the bear. Even being discovered by Pietro had ended pleasingly. Everything had been perfect—everything except...

Wanda suddenly pulled away, lips smacking from the action. The brunette arched an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side in the menacing manner you loved. Although confused by the action, it only made you want to kiss her more. It was only her following words that stopped you.

"Who the hell is Daisy, and why did Pietro think you were out with her today?"

You chuckled nervously, looking at anything but the brunette. You were so in trouble.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A/N: Thank you to all who have read this story and liked, commented on, or reblogged it. I was hesitant to share my writing, but your support has given me the confidence to continue posting my work. Hopefully, you'll like what I have planned next!

Taglist: @alexawynters

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[moonselune]

Telling the men that your pregnant!! I absolutely adore pregnancy tropes. I just Know that Wyll would be such a sweet father. Son would Halsin and Gale!! Ugh, I love them. Actually, if you could, probably also Minthara somehow? Only if you want. Have a good day <3!

Hey hey so I have actually done this request here but I will add Minthara and Raphael x Because if we can have dragons we can have w/w pregnancies xoxo

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The flickering glow of the campfire cast long shadows across the forest clearing as you sat beside Minthara, the night quiet except for the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures. The air was cool, and the two of you were wrapped in each other's warmth, the world around you seeming to disappear as you shared this rare moment of peace.

Minthara’s strong arms were wrapped around you, her touch as familiar as the rhythm of your heartbeat. You had always felt safe with her, protected in a way that transcended mere physical security. Tonight, however, there was something more you needed to share, something that would change everything.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you turned to face her. Her eyes, those piercing, fierce eyes, softened as they met yours. You could see the love there, the adoration she rarely showed to anyone else. It gave you the courage to speak.

"Minthara," you began, your voice a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "There's something I need to tell you. Something important."

Minthara’s brow furrowed slightly in concern, her grip on you tightening just a fraction. "What is it, my love?" she asked, her voice low and hushed, as though she already sensed the gravity of your words.

You placed a hand on your stomach, the gesture subtle yet significant, drawing Minthara’s gaze downwards.

"I'm pregnant," you said softly, the words hanging in the air between you. "We’re going to have a child, Minthara. A child of our own."

For a moment, Minthara simply stared at you, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched on, and you wondered if perhaps she was in shock, struggling to process what you had just told her. But then, slowly, the edges of her lips curled into a smile—an expression so rare and beautiful that it took your breath away.

"You’re carrying my child?" Minthara’s voice was filled with awe, her hand reaching out to gently touch your stomach, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. "You’re carrying my heiress?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the certainty in her voice. "Heiress?" you teased lightly. "How do you know it’s a girl?"

Minthara’s eyes met yours, and there was a glint of possessive pride in them as she smirked.

"I can just tell," she said, her tone confident, almost as if it were a challenge for you to question her instincts. Without hesitation, she leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your stomach, the touch of her lips sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fire nearby.

The kiss was filled with reverence, her possessiveness flaring in a way that was both intense and comforting. When she looked back up at you, her gaze was fierce with determination.

"This child," she whispered, her voice low and possessive, "will be our legacy. Our bond, our love, made flesh. She will be strong, like you. She will be fierce, like me. And she will be ours."

Minthara’s hand remained on your stomach, as though she was staking her claim, ensuring that you knew, and that the world knew, that this child belonged to both of you.

"No one will harm you, or her," Minthara vowed, her voice growing more intense. "I will see to it that you are both protected, cherished, and revered. You are mine, and so is she."

You could feel the intensity of Minthara’s emotions in every word, every touch. The fierce drow warrior, who had always been so strong, so unyielding, was now revealing a side of herself that was vulnerable and deeply protective. It made your heart swell with love for her, and you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Minthara pulled you close, her embrace both gentle and possessive, her lips brushing against your forehead as she whispered, "You’ve given me a gift beyond measure, my love. I will not fail you. I will not fail her."

In that moment, you knew that Minthara’s love for you, and for the child you carried, was unbreakable. And as you leaned into her, feeling the strength of her arms around you, you knew that no matter what came next, you would never be alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The grand, opulent room of Raphael’s abode was dimly lit by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. The rich, crimson curtains were drawn, casting a warm, inviting hue over the elegant furnishings. You paced restlessly, feeling the weight of the news you needed to share with Raphael pressing heavily on your shoulders. His usual aura of confident elegance seemed more distant than ever, and you could sense his sharp eyes watching you with curiosity and a hint of concern.

You had tried to summon the courage to tell him earlier, but each time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to falter. Raphael’s disdain for children was no secret, and you couldn’t help but fear how he would react to the news of your pregnancy. It wasn’t just a matter of his feelings towards children; it was about the future you both shared and how this new life might change everything.

Raphael, sensing your distress, had taken it upon himself to investigate. His elegant footsteps echoed softly as he approached, his eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and worry.

“Darling,” he began, his voice smooth but tinged with concern, “I can see something is troubling you. You’ve been unusually distant lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You stopped pacing and turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. His piercing gaze seemed to demand an answer, and you couldn’t avoid it any longer. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Raphael… I have something important to tell you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Raphael’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing his face. “Oh? What is it, my love? You know you can tell me anything.”

You hesitated, then finally forced the words out. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Raphael’s eyes widened further, his usually unflappable composure momentarily shaken. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more urgent tone. “Pregnant? You… you’re with child?”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yes. I was worried about how you would react, especially given your… feelings towards children.”

Raphael’s expression shifted from shock to something softer, a hint of hurt flickering behind his eyes. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm.

“You think so little of me that you’d believe I would cast aside you and our child?” His voice, though gentle, carried an edge of reproach.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with regret. “I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel. I know you’ve never been fond of children, and I didn’t want to burden you with this.”

Raphael’s features softened, and he sighed deeply, as though releasing a long-held breath.

“How could you think that I would reject you, or our child?” he said, his tone earnest. “Yes, I have my reservations about the little brats that plague this world, but you and our heir are different. You are my love, and this child… this child is a part of us.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the affection that he had always hidden behind his devilish charm.

“I would never abandon you or our child,” he continued, stepping closer and cupping your face in his hands. “I may not be the most traditional of fathers, but I will embrace this responsibility. You have my word.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your worries melting away as Raphael’s words sank in.

“Really? You mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Raphael nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Of course, my love. The thought of our child brings me a sense of… unexpected joy. I suppose it’s a sign of my affection for you that I am willing to embrace this new chapter.”

He leaned in and kissed you gently, his touch tender and reassuring.

“We will face this together,” he murmured against your lips. “You, me, and our little one. We will build a future that is ours alone, one that defies expectations and embraces our unique bond.”

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “Thank you, Raphael. I was so afraid of what you might say.”

He smiled, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth you rarely saw. “There is nothing to fear, my dear. As long as we have each other, we can face anything.”

As you held each other, you felt a deep sense of peace and gratitude. Raphael’s love and acceptance made the future seem bright, and you knew that together, you would welcome this new life with open hearts.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

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

[aventurineswife]

Since a certain someone ahem @sundaysconsort ahem, made me sad... You guys shall suffer with me 🫶💙

The dim glow of the Astral Express cast soft shadows on the walls, the gentle hum of its engines the only sound breaking the silence. You sat near the windows, gazing out at the stars that blurred into streaks of light, each one carrying the memory of a distant world.

Sunday stood at the other end of the room, his ethereal figure framed by the soft glow of the halo behind him. His wings flickered slightly, betraying the turbulence within, but his face remained composed, as it always did—distant, yet not unkind.

He hadn’t said much since you’d boarded the train together. His usual perceptiveness was there, but today, it felt like he was watching you more than speaking to you. It made the air feel thick with unspoken words, and you found yourself longing for him to speak, to break the silence.

“Are you… alright?” you asked quietly, breaking the stillness.

Sunday turned, his eyes soft, distant. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else—something more guarded, as he often did. But instead, he took a few slow steps toward you, his back wings folding gently at his back.

He gazed at you for a long time, and for the first time, you saw the subtle weariness behind his eyes. It wasn’t the guilt or the burden of his past, but something more intimate—like a longing, a quiet, almost imperceptible need.

“What happens when we let our hearts heal,” he murmured, almost to himself, as his voice barely rose above the hum of the train. “When we let our souls breathe?”

You tilted your head, unsure whether he was speaking to you or to some deeper part of himself. There was a sadness there, like he had been contemplating it for far too long, but never quite finding the answer.

His gaze met yours, and it was like he was searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or even a hint of the answer. There was a moment of stillness, and then he stepped closer, his presence drawing you in, though there was no physical force behind it. Just the pull of his quiet, vulnerable self.

“It’s… difficult,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To imagine a world where wounds don’t define us. To believe that we might find peace, when everything around us tells us that it’s out of reach.”

Your heart tightened, unsure of how to respond. You could see the conflict in him—the same conflict that had always been there, hidden beneath his calm demeanor.

His wings shifted, an almost imperceptible flutter, as he looked away for a moment, clearly struggling with his own thoughts. "I have spent my life trying to save others from pain, from suffering. Yet, in doing so, I’ve never once allowed myself the same kindness.”

You could feel the weight of those words, heavy with the years of internal battles he had fought, the ideals he had tried to uphold, only to face the harsh reality that even the most noble of dreams could come at a cost.

His voice, soft and distant again, slipped out. “What happens when we stop hiding from ourselves? When we let go of all the ways we’ve been conditioned to believe we must be?”

A silence hung in the air, filled with the tension between his idealism and the reality of his struggles. His eyes met yours once more, this time not with the distance you were used to, but with an openness that felt as if he were letting you see the parts of him he so carefully shielded from the world.

“Would you stay with me?” he asked, the question raw, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to him.

It was a question laden with all the fears he never let himself speak of—the fear of loss, of failure, of not being enough. But there was also something else, something quieter. Hope.

In that moment, as you looked at him, you realized that perhaps he had never truly asked for help, never truly let anyone in. But now, in the delicate balance between his ideals and his heart, he was opening up to the possibility of healing. A possibility that, for the first time, seemed just within reach.

“What happens when we let our hearts heal, when we let our souls breathe?” he repeated, his voice fragile, as though the answer rested between the two of you.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question settle into your chest. With a quiet resolve, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “I think we learn how to live again,” you whispered.

And for the first time in a long time, you saw the faintest flicker of hope in his eyes.

[sophistication-as]

"𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓"

"𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙮."

ꕥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: william james moriarty / reader

ꕥ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied female reader, +18, smut, nsfw, oral (f + m), fingering (f!receiving), sex (p in v), edging, unprotected sex, mutual pining, romantic intimacy, emotional vulnerability, mention of crimes and society's problems.

ꕥ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: william james moriarty, the infamous lord of crime, is now your ally. but when he stands at your door late at night, you find yourself questioning if being just that is enough. there’s a tension between you, something more than simple partnership. as trust and desire intertwine, you can't help but wonder—what is it that draws you to him? is it mere fascination, or something far deeper?

ꕥ 𝐰𝐜: 4135!

ꕥ thank you @eliasorchard for your support

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤

The room was still, the only sounds being the faint scratching of your pen and the soft crackle of the candle burning low on your desk. Books lay scattered across the surface, open to pages filled with intricate diagrams and notes you’d carefully scrawled over the past few hours. The faint scent of wax and parchment lingered in the air, familiar and comforting.

The knock on the door broke the fragile silence. It wasn’t loud, just a gentle rapping, but it was enough to pull you from your focus. Your pen stopped mid-stroke, hovering over the page as your gaze shifted toward the sound. A rare disturbance at this hour.

You rose from your seat, tugging at the edges of your skirt to smooth the fabric. The floor creaked softly beneath your bare feet as you approached the door, hesitating for a moment with your hand on the handle. Taking a quiet breath, you turned it and pulled the door open.

"William?" you asked, tilting your head slightly. The faint flicker of candlelight casts shadows over his face, making his expression even harder to read. He stood there, as calm as ever, but something in his stance gave him away—something small, but enough to make your curiosity spike.

"Is everything all right?" you pressed, your voice softer this time. “It’s unusual to see you at this hour.”

"I do apologize," he said, his tone as polite as ever. The golden strands of his hair fell lightly over his scarlet eyes, catching the faint light in a way that made it hard to look away. "But I assure you, I am here on business, not merely for the pleasure of your company."

"First of all, it’s quite rude to leave a guest standing at the door, don’t you think?" you remarked, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips as you stepped aside to hold the door open. Your gaze flickered briefly over the sharp lines of his black cloak, a garment clearly chosen for its ability to conceal more than just his identity. Though your tone carried a playful edge, your posture remained poised, every movement calculated with the kind of grace that bordered on instinct.

You gestured toward the leather armchair by the fireplace, its surface gleaming in the soft, golden glow of the flickering flames. "Please, make yourself comfortable," you added smoothly, your words effortlessly mingling warmth with precision. "I’ll prepare some tea."

William chuckled, a spark of amusement flickering in his scarlet eyes. "Your consideration is truly remarkable," he said, the edge of a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Though, I must say, I’m rather surprised you’d welcome me after such an ungodly hour and finding you, of all places, in your own room."

With a smooth nod, he entered the room, his movements effortless, like he had all the time in the world. His gaze swept the space, lingering on the flickering fire that cast shadows across the walls and shelves. He lowered himself into the armchair with a languid grace, his fingers finding each other almost instinctively as he settled in. "Quite cozy in here," he remarked, his voice laced with dry humor.

Some minutes later, you proceeded to pour hot water into the teapot, which had been previously filled with tea leaves. You presented him with an exquisite fine china cup, worth thousands of pounds, in a serene manner.

William accepted the delicate porcelain cup with a small, appreciative smile, his fingers wrapping around the smooth china with careful precision. He brought the cup to his lips, inhaling the floral fragrance before taking a sip. "I must admit," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, "you truly have a talent for creating...environments." His eyes briefly scanned the room before returning to you. "I hadn’t imagined a study would require quite so much furniture." There was a playful note, but his tone remained gentle, his gaze sharp as he watched your reaction.

He was bold, that much was obvious, and you couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at your lips. He had that effect on you — no denying it. There was something about him that screamed genius, that rare kind of brilliance that only comes once in a lifetime. Or, as you liked to joke, a damn mastermind. It wasn’t easy to hide anything from him, though. His eyes were sharp, always watching, always noticing. You could try to mask your thoughts, but he seemed to see right through you, like an open book.

"I realized I was working into the late hours, so I thought, why not make things convenient?" You lifted your cup, savoring a sip of tea, before gesturing casually toward the king-sized bed nestled behind you. A subtle smile played on your lips as you added, "Besides, I think it adds a certain charm to the room, wouldn’t you agree?"

"I assure you, that charm pales in comparison to the owner's," he murmured smoothly, the comment slipping from his lips with such ease that it almost went unnoticed. Before you could muster a reply to his casual flirtation, he seamlessly shifted topics, his tone adopting a more serious edge. "Speaking of pressing matters, did you receive the documents regarding the labor exploitation and trafficking schemes between the French and British elites? Or perhaps any updates from your meeting with the Queen?"

"I wouldn’t say receive—more like acquired by stealing," you chuckled softly, shifting slightly in the armchair beside him, your body moving with a fluid grace as if to shake off the weight of the conversation. "But don’t worry, I’ll fetch them for you, all right?"

Rising to your feet, you crossed the room with purpose, the soft tap of your steps barely audible against the rich carpet. At the mahogany wood drawer, your fingers traced its edge before pressing a hidden button beneath it, revealing a concealed compartment.

William observed the process with a faint, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His crimson gaze followed each movement you made, noting the precision and ease with which you executed even the simplest of tasks. It hadn’t escaped him how much more efficient his life had become since forging an alliance with you—an ally who, thus far, had never failed him.

Yet, it was him who messed things up, since your relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. But there he was, lingering in those moments you shared—debating, reading, or planning together. It was like he couldn’t help himself, enjoying it more than he probably should.

He didn’t even notice when she was standing right in front of him, handing over the documents he’d asked for. That expression of surprise lasted only a second, then he masked it, quietly diving into the information like it was the only thing that mattered.

"So, there really is a cartel between the English and French elites, keeping the textile industry under the control of those arrogant bastards." he muttered, his voice low with a tinge of disgust. His lips curled slightly, his tone almost mocking as he continued, "And as if that wasn’t enough, they’re linked to the deaths of workers and the suppression of popular movements."

William let out a dry chuckle, running a hand over his face, his fingers briefly lingering at his temples as if trying to rub away the weight of the revelation.

"Thankfully, you’ve prepared a plan, Liam. At least those monsters will see their power diminished," you said as you reached for the empty cups. With practiced ease, you placed them on a silver tray, the porcelain making a soft clink. Turning back to him, you folded your arms lightly, tilting your head with a hint of curiosity. "So, what’s next? What am I required to do now?"

"Don’t worry about work now. You’ve already done enough, risking your life for those documents," he said, offering you a reassuring glance. His voice was soft, almost gentle, though the edge of his usual sharpness lingered. "Enjoy your rest for a while."

"Are you going home now?" you inquired, watching him carefully. You figured he had accomplished what he came for and didn’t have any other reasons to stay. "Do you want me to call my coachman?"

"I was lying when I said I was only here for business," he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He shifted slightly, a faint trace of embarrassment coloring his expression. "But, are you willing to listen to what I have to say?"

Was he implying he felt attracted to you ?

You glanced at his eyes—scarlet, like a deep, burning flame—and then, almost involuntarily, your gaze shifted to his lips. There was something dangerous about the way he stood there, words hanging between you both like a heavy fog. The air felt charged, and you weren’t sure whether you were ready to step into it or pull back.

He raised from his seat with deliberate ease, his movements carrying a quiet confidence. He leaned down, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his fingers brushing softly against your lips as if testing the waters. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with something raw and unguarded. "Please, tell me, name... May I kiss you?"

"Do you really think I would reject you?" you murmured, a playful edge to your tone as you closed the gap between you. Your hands reached up, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but shy. His fingers found their way to your neck, the touch insistent as he deepened the moment, his warmth consuming you entirely.

Without breaking the kiss, he swept you into his arms with ease, carrying you as though you weighed nothing. The world tilted for a moment before you felt the soft sheets beneath you. He placed you down gently, his touch careful, as his scarlet eyes met yours, searching for permission to go further, silently asking for permission.

You answered without hesitation, your gaze and the way you drew him closer saying everything he needed to know.

He then used his lean, slightly calloused fingers to trace along your thigh, moving deliberately. Each touch was firm yet careful, stirring sensations that sent shivers through your body. You tensed under his hand, your breath hitching as his fingers circled the hem of your skirt, playing just at the edge.

The slowness wasn’t accidental—he enjoyed drawing out your reactions, taking his time as if savoring every second. You could feel the subtle pressure of his fingertips, rough but measured, igniting a mix of frustration and longing. A soft sigh escaped your lips, one you couldn’t suppress, and his low chuckle followed immediately after.

“Patience,” William murmured, his breath brushing your ear. His tone carried the faintest hint of mockery, making the flush on your cheeks deepen.

His fingers slid just beneath the edge of the fabric, and the warmth of his touch against bare skin made your pulse quicken. The teasing was unbearable, every nerve in your body screaming for more. The tension was maddening, and finally, you couldn’t hold back.

“Just take this off already,” you huffed, trying to sound commanding but failing to hide the tremble in your voice. Your fists clenched at your sides, as if the small motion could keep you grounded. “Stop toying with me, William.”

He paused, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back slightly. His crimson eyes traveled slowly across your form, a deliberate sweep that left you feeling bare under his gaze.

“Why would I stop?” he asked smoothly, his voice low and teasing. “I’m enjoying the view.”

Then, with infuriating calm, he moved his hands to his waist, undoing the button of his pants with a soft click.

"If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just handle it myself." You inverted your positions, placing all your weight on top of him – a silent reminder that you, too, had the strength to equal him.

That surprised him, though not in the way you might have expected—he visibly hardened beneath you. Glancing down, a smug grin spread across your lips, satisfaction glinting in your eyes as he tasted his own poison.

William's pupils dilated when you had the brilliant idea of starting to take off each piece of clothing from your body. He could no longer suppress his desire, not when he finally had your bare skin touching his. "I surrender," he murmured, your name lingering on his tongue. His voice was hoarse with longing, tinged with the faint embarrassment of admitting defeat in this intimate battle.

He gently placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer until his lips captured yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. The tenderness quickly gave way to passion as his lips explored yours with a fervent curiosity, eager to uncover every hidden detail. A low groan escaped your throat when his tongue slipped into your mouth, the intensity of his desire igniting something equally heated within you.

"It seems you're skilled in more than just academics, Mr. Moriarty," you teased, your voice slightly breathless as your lips parted. The unusual fervor in his kiss contrasted with the composed, calculated persona he so often wore, making your remark all the more fitting.

A mocking expression played across his face, silently taunting you, as if to say your situation was no better than his. To stoke the flames further, his fingers began to explore the delicate heat between your folds, teasingly tracing the slickness that had escaped the confines of your now-forgotten undergarments, abandoned somewhere on the floor.

"I can show you many other things I skilled as well, my lady."

Your eyes fluttered shut from the overwhelming stimulation, breaths uneven as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Instinctively, your legs attempted to close, but his firm hands pushed them apart, holding you in place. Without hesitation, his head dipped lower, drawing closer to your womanhood with purpose. "Liam, it's so good. I can't take it anymore," you gasped, your voice trembling and pitching higher with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

He looked up at your face from below, a soft, almost predatory smile tugging at his lips. "Darling, I know you can," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire.

The words sent a jolt through you, your body arching slightly in response. Before you could protest, his tongue returned to its relentless pace, circling your clitoris with maddening precision. Each flick and swirl sent waves of satisfaction that spread like wildfire through your body, leaving you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled as his hands pressed into your skin with just enough force to ground you while his tongue pushed you higher. When he slid a single finger inside, the intrusion was almost too much, your walls instinctively clenching around him. But it was the curl of his finger — achingly precise, particularly for his first time — that sent shockwaves through your core.

A strangled moan escaped your lips as he found your sweet spot, a sensation so intense it was almost unbearable. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut as the world outside this moment faded into oblivion. The faint rustle of sheets beneath you and the warmth of his breath against your most sensitive skin grounded you, while your thoughts spiraled—momentarily forgetting that you were ever rivals.

"William—please," you gasped, voice quivering. The desperation in your tone surprised even you, but it didn’t faze him. If anything, it spurred him on.

His free hand moved to grip your hip, his touch rough yet reassuring as if to anchor you amidst the storm he was conjuring. The rhythm of his movements was unrelenting, every stroke and flick driving you closer to the edge.

Your breaths grew uneven, each inhale catching in your throat as the tension within you coiled tighter. The only sounds in the room were your soft whimpers and the wet, sinful noises of his ministrations — you felt yourself nearing your release, unable to hold on any longer.

"Come for me, darling. Don't hold back," he urged, his baritone voice coaxing as you reached your peak. A broken moan escaped you as your fingers tangled in his golden hair, pulling slightly to steady yourself, while he eagerly savored every drop of your release.

You let out a soft chuckle, the calming sensation washing over you leaving your body pleasantly exhausted and your head spinning faintly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin as you tried to steady your breathing. William rose from his position, leaning in close. His lips brushed against your forehead in gentle, lingering kisses, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"I believe it's your turn now. After all, I’m not one to allow imbalance, especially in matters of pleasure," you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced at him with an air of confident mischief.

He couldn’t help but glance at you, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge, that highlighted his mixture of intelligence and a shadowed past—one you had yet to unravel. "If you insist," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine, "who am I to deny you this pleasure?"

With deliberate slowness, he spread his legs slightly, the fabric of his underwear tightening just enough to reveal the unmistakable length of his desire. Your breath hitched at the sight, heat rushing to your cheeks, but his gaze pinned you in place, unapologetic.

Placing his hands firmly on his thighs, he leaned back ever so slightly, the motion hinting a challenge. A wicked smirk danced across his lips as he taunted, "Come here—if you dare."

You weren't one to shy away from challenges, so pleasing the infamous Lord of Crime couldn't possibly be dangerous, could it? That question went unanswered as you pushed his underwear down with anticipation, sliding it off his feet before letting it fall to the ground. It revealed the most delicious cock you had ever seen – the tip swollen, a deep pink hue, and the girth, goodness, it could stretch you deliciously.

"I see why you're so popular in society, my my," you teased, your tongue flicking gently along his base. In response, he let out a low groan, his grip tightening on the bed sheets.

"Do you really think I would bed someone who doesn’t share my ideals?" His voice was low, barely a whisper, as you felt his body tense beneath your touch. His eyes closed, a faint hiss escaping him, not from pain, but from the pleasure your actions were bringing. "And do you honestly believe I have the time for endless physical relationships?" His lips curled into a slight, mocking smile, even as he fought to keep his composure. "You couldn't be more wrong."

"So, am I privileged?" Your eyebrow arched in anticipation, a playful challenge in your gaze. As you took the tip of him into your mouth, you circled it with your tongue, feeling the salty taste of his precum linger. You couldn't help but chuckle, the vibrations sending a thrill through him, awaiting his response.

"What do you think?" William murmured, his voice laced with a soft amusement. His hand moved to your head, a gesture both tender and possessive. Slowly, his fingers combed through your hair, savoring its texture as he massaged your scalp in a soothing rhythm. And then, your lips wrapped around him, moving up and down his length in a steady rhythm, your effort evident as you fought to suppress the urge to gag. The stretch and weight of him tested your limits, but you kept going, driven by the muffled groans of your name that escaped his lips.

"Shit, name, you're gonna make me cum," he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint. But you didn’t relent. If anything, you pushed him further, your fingers trailing down to gently massage his balls, drawing out a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest. Determined, you took him fully into your mouth, the stretch overwhelming but intoxicating, your nose brushing against the soft tickle of his blond pubes as you moved.

And just as he seemed on the verge of release, you pulled away with a mischievous grin, leaving him with a devilish expression. "Little minx," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "do you really think you're going to get away with that?"

"With what?"

Without hesitation, he slipped his hands behind your back, flipping you beneath him with a swift yet deliberate motion. His crimson eyes burned with unrestrained desire as he aligned himself against your entrance, teasing you with the head of his length, as he rubbed it against your slit. "Now take all of me," he commanded, his voice low and thick with hunger.

Following that, he slammed into you, the slick heat of your walls wrapping around him with an almost perfect fit, causing his length to twitch with raw pleasure. "You feel incredible, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping with longing. With a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he pushed deeper, his tip grazing your cervix. "So wet and ready, all for me," he added, his words lingering in the charged air before he closed the distance, capturing your lips in an intimate kiss – his hands roaming into your body as he explored you.

While immersed in the kiss, your bodies shifted, and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap. Your hips moved in tandem with his, rocking back and forth, taking in the fullness of his massive length and girth with each motion. Soon, you buried your face in his neck, the aroma of his cologne enveloping you. It carried a sophisticated oud note, warm and smoky, with hints of spice and leather that lingered like a signature of his power. The heat of his skin against your cheek sent a subtle hum through your body, and you couldn’t resist brushing your lips softly along the pulse at his throat, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your touch.

You felt yourself nearing the edge, and it was clear he was too—his brows furrowed, his shoulders rigid with tension. His gaze burned into your breasts, the intensity sparking a shiver through you. His fingers didn’t falter, tracing deliberate, slow circles around your sensitive areolas, the coolness of his skin sending a contrast against your warmth.

Your hands clung to his back, nails tracing faint marks as your body tightened around his cock, your climax spilling around him in a slick, glistening ring. "I... I’m going to pull out now, name," he murmured, his voice strained and pitched higher from restraint. With a sharp exhale, he withdrew, and his release followed—hot, white streaks painting your belly in messy, heated patterns.

The room is still heavy with the warmth of the moment, while William moves with purpose, his hands gentle as they clean you up, the motions slow but steady.

"Jesus, I think we really need a rest now," you mutter, voice low. "Or we won't be able to do any work tomorrow."

He laughs quietly, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the room. His fingers are careful, wiping away with a handkerchief he found in a close wooden corner table any traces of him in your skin, and replied, "it would be perfect, since our bodies need to rest. Now, let me take care of you."

Seeing a nod, William moved with a quiet grace, slipping into his silk pajamas. The fabric clung to his frame just enough to reveal the sharpness of his form, the deep midnight blue catching the light as he adjusted the cuffs with ease.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, before he stepped closer, his hands gentle as he helped you into your own nightwear. Then, he carefully dressed you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he fastened the buttons.

You lay on your right side, facing the cool edge of the bed, while he settled on the left, a small gap between you that felt oddly familiar. The blanket, thick and heavy with a soft, worn texture, was pulled up to your chins as you both adjusted into place. You reached for the lamp on the corner table, which clicked off with a soft metallic sound, leaving the room bathed in silence and the intensity of each other's gaze.

"I think we overdo it a little too much."

"...."

"I agree."

"Maybe we should just accept it...no?"

"It would be a pleasure."

[dsknsk]

I love how PM keeps playing with tropes. We've seen the tropes that they deconstruct within Limbus (in fact, it is a theory of mine that each Sinner is based on a stereotypical character from gachas), the way that they pick up the cyberpunk trope and basically throw it across the room, but another huge one is...

Carmen.

Look. I think that Carmen was and is based on the traditional 'Mary Sue'. Because...well, some traits that are said to belong to the 'Mary Sue', are turned brilliantly on their head by PM. So, for typical 'Mary Sue' traits, there's:

Pretty in the traditional sense. 'Mary Sues' always look perfect, peerless and never have to work hard to maintain their image. While, as far as I know, there hasn't really been made an in-universe compliment on Carmen's physical appearance...you'd rather stop and listen to someone who at least looks like they can be trusted wouldn't you? She's likened to the sun, as Oswald called her that, and is inside the light. (Also, out-of-universe: she is certainly pretty in my eyes. She adheres to the modern beauty standards at the very least).

Related to the above: charming. The 'Mary Sue' often has an innate charm that attracts others to her. The way that Carmen has this is through her voice, which already was powerful enough to let her traverse the dangerous Backstreets unarmed, standing out from all those other Backstreets preachers somehow and draw in the most cynical noblemen, but is even more charming after death. She doesn't even need to give a breaking speech or anything, as we've seen, she just gives you questions and comments on things. Which falls in line with...

Powerful, yet without having to break a sweat. Even before dying, she was already drawing in people without having to get physical (at least, none we know of). The only time we fight her as of yet (Kether realisation), Angela needs to use an attack that depletes all her HP to win, after five phases have already passed.

The 'Mary Sue' is often a so-called spotlight stealer. She will have a major role in the story, inexplicably, at least one other character will fall in love with her and she will overall have a large presence. So far, Carmen is the only character who has appeared in all three of the games, and if you count the Distortion and the Library, she has influenced WonderLab, Leviathan and Distortion Detective as well. She was also relevantly connected to the main cast of LobCorp and has influenced most of them in some way (i.e Ayin, Angela, Giovanni, arguably Kali, etc.). She remains to be relevant to several major story turns and has left her mark in them, in some way.

Unusual eyes. It's a stereotype that 'Mary Sues' always have unusual eyes. A common type is heterochromia (which is why I often jokingly call Hong Lu a 'Mary Sue'), but other types exist like sparkly rainbow or them changing like a mood ring or something. Carmen has red eyes, which are a common side-effect of body enhancements (Vergilius had them and the R Corp pack leaders too)...except, as we said, for as far as we know, Carmen hasn't had any. They are also a trait of Bloodfiends, but she isn't (yet) confirmed to be one. Either way, red eyes are a sign of the not-weak in the City.

Oftentimes, 'Mary Sues' are referred to as divinity, as pure grace from an utmost high all-powerful deity. They may or may not even be that deity. With Carmen, she practically had a cult of personality around her when she was alive...and she also had an analogue in another pale-skinned, red-eyed being that is also treated like this. She was described as this paeon of altruism and someone who genuinely wants the best for humanity.

Meaningful name. While not so immediately on-the-nose like 'Flowersparkle', Carmen's name can be seen as a reference to the infamous prototype of the femme fatale, once again hinting at that charming quality of hers.

Perfect. A 'Mary Sue' never fails at what she does...and that's where PM shows through that...

...Carmen is a parody on the 'Mary Sue'. A so-called 'Parody Sue'...but not played for laughs. The thing is that she is described as being all this...by those she already has enthralled. Those that aren't really involved with her - Hokma (was more loyal to Ayin), Binah (who wasn't in the picture during Carmen's life), and Roland (a stranger to LobCorp to begin with) have their say during Ruina and offer us another view at Carmen, our first, and one thing becomes clear:

A real 'Mary Sue' would be weird as fuck.

Carmen shows us how weird a 'Mary Sue' would actually be in a world that isn't sunshine and rainbows - an extremely uncanny, severely misguided being who nonetheless draws people to herself, who show a creepy amount of belief and devotion to her. Carmen thinks that the 'be yourself' message - so omnipresent in media - should prevail...in a world where the majority of people are either pieces of shit or are living such a dreary, miserable life that they just give up all hope.

But all of this is only revealed in the second game and pulls the player out of the dream. And so, Carmen does end up failing to convince some people like Dongbaek and Dongrang who manage to develop E.G.O instead.

Because despite what she was painted as in the past, in reality, Carmen is not a 'Mary Sue'. And she is not perfect.

That's why she's such a great PM character.

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1100

Chapter 28:

Evanora's ghost might have left Agatha's body and be defeated, but it was not over yet. For Alice's power kept being absorbed by Agatha.

At first, Agatha did try to pull more; a subconscious need to get some magic into her system like someone that had been thirsty for too long and was finally given water.

However, hearing the shouts of the coven and seeing Aice weakening face; Agatha realized she was killing her. She did try to stop, but her body kept absorbing the magic, draining Alice with each passing second.

"Y/N! Do something!" Alice shouted, turning to the frozen you.

"I can't! My magic will kill her!" You confessed amongst the ongoing panic.

The nature of your magic was special, pure one might say it. You could blast Agatha, but she would subconsciously draw your power, too. The only issue is the fact that if she dared to absorb a lot of your power; she would die.

"Do something!" Jen insisted, and yet you remained where you were.

You knew she could not be stopped, for you had never seen her do that. Once she got even tackled and body slammed and yet she kept absorbing; ending only when knocked unconscious or all the magic had been absorbed.

And you could not harm Agatha, not to that degree to make her stop. All you could do was watch helpless as Alice's skins started to wrinkle and dry; literally being suck alive.

During the chaos, Teen took notice that the Ouija board thrown to the side was alive, or at least the pendulum was moving. He wasted no time rushing towards it, hoping it would offer some help...any kind of help before it was too late.

"Who are you?" He asked, and immediately, the pendulum started to spell letters. "N, I, C, H, O, L, A, S, S, C, R, A, T, C, H. Nicholas Scratch." The time on the watches beeped, as if accepting the answer. "Nicholas Scratch!" Teen shouted.

Suddenly, the familiar voice of a young boy echoed across the room. "Mama! Stop."

Your eyes grew wide, and the shock was big enough to make you lose concentration on your magic and let it die. "Little Nicky?" You questioned, desperately looking around for any signs of his ghost self.

You were not the only one affected by it, though.

The boy's voice and his nickname that you dared to say out loud bypass all the defences of Agatha and shock her to the core; resulting in her stop absorbing Alice magic and life force.

Wounded and emotionally hurt, Agatha looked around with hope of seeing her son; who had left her one night, and she never gotten to truly say her goodbye.

Yet she saw nothing for the timers on the wrist watches reached its end, the beeping sound unlocking the exit and also signalling the end of the trial.

"...no..." Agatha whispered faintly.

"Alice. Alice. Wake up." Teen shouted as he rushed to the fallen witch. "Alice, please wake up. Alice!"

His voice was filled with fear, and everyone focused on him, seeing Alice dead on the floor. She had been sucked dry, her skin parched and white; eyes wide open.

Agatha had not been interrupted fast enough, and now one more coven member was dead.

The magicless witch tried to approach, to check in case Alice was weakened but not dead.

Teen did not let her. His grief slowly turned into anger. "Don't touch her!" He shouted at Agatha. "She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it."

Agatha looked hurt, and she cast her eyes on the ground faintly. "I didn't,"

Yet her words fell on deaf ears as the boy was too focused on the dead coven member to even spare her a glance.

Seeing the looks from the other coven members and considering all the emotions running through her heart and mind... Agatha chose to leave first, needing a moment alone to control herself.

She had shown too many emotions with her mother's ghost, and she needed to mask it, to mask her weakness and not let the sudden change of Teen's attitude towards her affect her at all.

While she was out, Teen looked with desperation at the other witches until his eyes fell on you.

"Please, Y/N!" He begged, eyes glowing misty. Alice had been from the few good witches to him, and she did not deserve to die, not like this. "You saved me. Save her, too!"

Your heart ached at his desperation, but even you knew there was a limit to the miracles you could pull.

"I am sorry... this is beyond my magic, " you explained softly, glancing at Rio, who nodded her head in approval; a silent signal that Alice was beyond saving.

You looked back at Teen, who eventually let defeat and grief settle in; along with anger. Furious, he marched towards the exit, and it did not take long for Jen and Lilia to follow.

They left you behind with Rio, and you knew you had to leave as well. But first, you had to pay your respects to the witch; who should not have died.

You knelt by her body and gently closed her eyes, whispering a faint prayer as a sign of respect. There was no need to pray for her soul, for she would be collected any moment now.

Yet even then, after you finished everything, you did not move. Somehow, you did not wish to let Alice soul be taken; leave her all alone to realize she had died... just after she had broken that damn generational curse.

Rio remained standing close by, patiently waiting for you to get up. "It is done. She is beyond saving, " she reminded you, sensing your hesitation.

"I know," you replied dryly, no need for any reminders.

You knew damn well she was beyond saving. That did not make it any easier for you to just leave her behind.

Rio let a small silent sigh, her face softening. "Timor Mortis Morte Pejor," she spoke in Latin.

Those four words were familiar to you, not only cause you had mastered the language centuries ago and spoke it fluently... but because they had been told to you before.

"Fear of death is worse than death," you translated, and as you leaned back on the balls of your feet, you could not help but remember.

Remember the first time you heard those words... the first time you felt the blood of someone on your hands... the first time you met Rio...

The beginning of your complicated relationship.

Chapter 29