#i am allowing him to have human arms just this once. And even then i think he'd probably wear gloves constantly
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valer1esgallery · 11 hours ago
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Can you do Lucifer head canons please?
Lucifer Head-Cannons
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Nightmares, Trauma, keeping everything to himself until he starts breaking down quietly in his room at night. Need I say more. Its mentioned multiple times throughout Obey me that he keeps to himself alot of the time and keeps up a mask, he sometimes struggles to keep himself composed and just breaks down quietly in his room. I also see him having nightmares and vivid flashbacks at the fact that Lilith died in his arms. He sometimes wakes up in a sweat thanks to these vivid nightmares, he doesn't let it slip to anyone that these happen, not even you or Diavolo
- I want to see that mask just fucking SNAP one day. Current day Lucifer breaking down infront of his brothers because everything is going wrong, your gone, your stuck in the past where it is almost lethal for a human, only Solomon can go visit you, his brothers worried out of their own minds, i just want to see his mask slip due to the fact his entire family are worried, scared, and confused
I feel like this man can speak so many different human world languages; Latin, Greek, English, Russian, Japanese, Chinese, Afrikaans, Nigerian, French, Germain, ect. The man is how many million years old, I feel like he would have had the time to study many different human world languages. He out of all of the brothers has the best pronunciation due to this skill. One day he found Satan starting to take up some languages, wanting to outdo Luci
I feel like he would be ambidextrous. One of the reasons I feel like he would be ambidextrous is because of the mountains and mountains of paperwork, and because Asmo likes to paint his nails. Every now and then, he comes into Lucifers room and just gossips with him while he does Luci's nails. Lucifer sometimes wants silence so Asmo gives him that, quietly doing his nails while Lucifer while works on his paper work. When its time to do the other hand, lucifer will just swap hands and continue his work while asmo starts on his other nails
Just like a bird, I feel like he needs to preen his wings every now and then. No one sees him while he does this, he is vulnerable during this time and does not like having people near people during. Depending on your relationship with him, he will have you near him while he continues to preen, eventually having you help him. He will guide your hands through his wings and show you how to do it properly. Once he can trust you enough with his wings, he'll have you do his base wings while he doesn't the tips
This man is the most prideful whenever he sees his pact mark on you whenever you have your hair up and or if you have short/no hair. His pact mark is on the back of your neck. When he does cuddle with you in the privacy of his/your room, he has his hand on the back of your neck, tracing the pact mark and placing with your hair. If you ever mention it, he would probably say something like "Yes, what about it?" "Its my pact, am I not allowed to examine such?", something like that. He isnt ashamed that he was caught, more prideful that his mark is forever on you, a small reminder of how much you mean it him
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I dont write for Luci often but i tried my best with this one!
What should I do next?
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roboyomo · 1 month ago
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just to be nice to him this once. fun little modern!kenix fit idea ^_^
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zephyrchama · 9 months ago
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Do you think demons crack their joints?
It was a lazy, rainy evening in the Devildom. An oddly calm one. The residents of the House of Lamentation were gathered in the living room, mainly because that's where you were.
Beelzebub and Mammon were snacking and watching Leviathan play his handheld game. Asmodeus was browsing a magazine, Satan was browsing a book, and Lucifer was texting with Barbatos.
Belphegor had been dozing off on your shoulder for a while. It was hard to move under the demon's weight. You had been stuck in the same pose browsing your D.D.D. until he finally shifted, leaning back into the couch. You seized the opportunity to roll your shoulders and take a much needed stretch.
You lifted your arms. It felt great. Crack.
"What was that?" Satan asked, glancing up from his book.
"Beel probably sat on a chip," Mammon said. Levi snorted, too busy to take his eyes off the game but in agreement with Mammon for once.
"It wasn't me." Beelzebub stood up to prove his innocence, revealing no food under him.
"It was me," you said. "Just my back."
"Hon, what?" "Your what?" Asmodeus and Lucifer spoke at the same time, and both gave you a concerned look.
"My back? I just cracked it."
The demons sprung out of their seats like you had just cursed them. Levi's game system fell to the carpet. Since he was already standing, Beelzebub strode over and pulled the back of your shirt up, asking "does it hurt?"
Startled, you pulled the front of your shirt down for modesty. "Woah, hello? Excuse me? Uh, what?"
While everyone gathered to stare at your back, Belphegor was stirred awake. "What's going on?"
He went to lean on your shoulder again, but Mammon swatted him away. "Hey! Can't ya see they're injured?" he growled. Belphegor huffed at him, deciding instead to help hold your shirt up.
"Poor thing!" Asmo cooed. With one hand he grabbed your wrist, and with the other he made a peace sign. "Look at me, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"I'm fine. Everybody just chill." Despite your insistence, the panic had already set in and nobody was listening to you.
Leviathan was shaking. "T-that's not good, right? Humans aren't supposed to make those kind of sounds." He was covering his eyes with his hands squeamishly but peeking through his fingers to stare anyway. "A doctor! Are there any human doctors? Should we call Solomon?"
"Yes, somebody call Solomon," Lucifer commanded. "Where did the crack occur?" He started gently prodding around your spine, making you squirm.
Satan tried to bump Lucifer's hand away from you while placing himself in Lucifer's spot. "Can't you see they don't like that? You're making it worse."
"Deep breaths," Mammon instructed you, breathing deeply in and out. He seemed on the brink of hyperventilation himself.
Lucifer refused to budge, but Satan persisted. He was now also poking you. "The damage isn't visible yet, but there could be internal bleeding. You have to lay down."
Belphegor scooted over to make more room, despite your protest of "I'm not going to move, nothing is wrong."
Asmodeus managed to already get Solomon on the phone. You couldn't hear him over Asmo's worried shrieks but knew he had to be laughing. Solomon was not going to let you forget this incident.
Beel, Lucifer, and Satan moved to try and pick you up but enough was enough. "I said I'm fine!! Everybody stay!"
The seven went crashing to the floor, finally allowing you to cover up. "I am fine! I'm fine! See!" You stood up dramatically and grabbed Asmo's D.D.D. to apologize to a snickering Solomon.
The demons were annoyed and concerned as they tried to pick themselves up. "If you're so fine, then explain that noise," Satan said.
"Humans just do that from time to time."
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deadsetobsessions · 10 months ago
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“I ate paint once,” Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.
The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.
“Yeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.” Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruce’s money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyone’s heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.
“Really? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.”
“WHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!” Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
“Yeah, what the fuck, Tim?” Jason snickered.
“In my defense,” Danny grinned. “I was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.”
“Ugh! I’m almost out of money! Can’t you loan me some, Alfred?”
“I am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.”
“Noooo!” Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.
“What was your excuse, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.
“Hey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.”
“Yeah,” Danny perked up. “My parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.”
“Really? Like what?” Duke asked, casually slapping away Tim’s sneaky hands.
“Oh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when they’re fresh!” Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanie’s hands. He looked up.
“Oh, don’t worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.” Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, it’s not like he lied.
“Radiation?” Duck’s voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Danny’s going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.
“Organs?!” Jason’s hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.
“Do you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?” Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.
“How old were you??” Duke asked.
“Like… 8, when they first brought me in?”
“Eight.” Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. “Wow, they must have trusted you a lot!”
“Sure?”
“What were their names again?” Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.
“Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Not that they’ll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.
“Cool, cool, cool!” Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.
Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.
Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.
"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.
"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.
"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.
"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.
"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.
"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"
"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."
"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.
"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.
"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.
"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.
"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.
"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.
"Red Hood's signature."
The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.
"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.
...
...
...
The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.
"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.
"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"
"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.
"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."
"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.
"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."
Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.
"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.
"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"
"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.
"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."
"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"
"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"
"What's wrong with that?"
Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."
"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.
Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"
"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."
Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.
Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.
Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.
"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."
Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.
"You won't have to leave."
"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.
"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.
"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.
"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.
Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.
After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.
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mellowwillowy · 4 months ago
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Being a livestock for a vampire has never sounded good until you were kidnapped by a vampire as his spouse.
TW: Yandere, NSFW, SH, and massacre
The vampire was intrigued by the puny human he ran into when he was walking around the river in the morning, testing his new potion and spell that would keep him immune to sunlight.
What was once a plan to kidnap you as one of his livestock turned into a moment where you had to nurse him because he suddenly dropped his whole weight onto you, face blistered from the sunlight.
“You are awake now.”
Your voice stirred him awake more than ever. His once droopy eyes were wide opened in shock. He didn't remember having anyone in his manor.
Your eyes were locked with his Emerald ones and he defensively squinted his eyes. You raised both of your hands, “You passed out right behind me and I had to drag you all the way from the riverbank to my cottage.”
The curtain was drawn close suspiciously, not allowing any light to filter inside the bedroom. Did you know he was a vampire already?
“Was it an allergic reaction?”
“Huh?” he asked, baffled.
“Your face was blistered because it was the only part of you that was exposed. Nonetheless, you healed really fast so there was no need for any extensive care from my herbs. You were only out for a day.”
He started to feel his face, aside from patches here and there, there was nothing wrong with it.
“Ah yes, let me get the hand mirror for you—”
Just before you could stand up, his hand grabbed yours and held you on the spot immediately. If you were to realize he had no reflection.
“Can you help me stand and get me to the kitchen instead? I'm quite thirsty since I haven't drunk in a day.”
You stared at his eyes and glanced at his pale hand. It took you seconds before you agreed to him and supported him by slinging his arm over your shoulder and walked toward the kitchen downstairs.
His eyes scanned through your cottage, it was mainly dominated by white, ornaments, furniture, trinkets, and even flowers.
“You must have really loved white, considering even having flowers that can't grow in this land.” Yulian glanced at the potted flowers. Lilies of the Valley, daisies, baby’s breath, and lilies.
At that, you only hummed and sat him down on one of the chairs. You placed a cup of water for him and returned to the sink to prepare him what he assumed to be breakfast, judging from how bright it was outside the window.
Mindlessly staring into the window, he accidentally hissed from the sunlight reaching his bare-handed hand, alerting you of his discomfort.
“Oh dear, what happened?”
Yulian flinched at the endearment term you spoke before he regained his composure.
“Nothing, I just accidentally bit my tongue.” he lied as he tried to cover his blistered hand. You nodded and turned your focus back to the breakfast you were preparing.
“Are you allergic to dairies?” you asked him. “No.”
“Thought you were one unlucky man, it seems like you are not immune to light or something like an albino. I'm assuming Your skin is very sensitive to light since you were so covered.”
He only mumbled a few incoherent words before you snapped him out of his trance with a clap of your hands, “So what's your name dear?”
“Alan-” instinctively, the man shut his mouth and took a few seconds of silence before answering you.
“Yulian. My name is Yulian.” “Nice to meet you,” you served him a plate of sandwiches, “I’m the local physician here, you’ll be staying here with me for rehabilitation.”
Yulian raised both of his eyebrows, “But I am not wounded terribly in any way.” “Perhaps not, but this is how I work. Could it be that you are not a local?”
Yulian shook his head.
“Where’s your house? Do you need to go back home to your family immediately? I can stay in your place for a few days to make sure there are no more anomalies.”
Yulian frowned, what a persistent human. It was almost annoying, breaching people’s boundaries just to sate their own curiosities. He could read you that much.
But he agreed to stay in your cottage nonetheless.
𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.
But you had always been attentive, drawing the curtain for him when he walked out of his bedroom. Offering to hold the umbrella for him when he wanted to walk.
What was once a plain bedroom was slowly adorned by flowers, mainly baby’s breath.
The food you made or bought was also not bad. They were decent for a human but not a vampire. Sometimes he had to mask his distaste to any food that consisted of onions.
It was not easy to sneak out of the cottage since you were sometimes awake and roamed around the cottage.
But it was a rather peaceful life. There was bustling sounds and noises from the cottage, unlike his dead and dark manor.
It was bright in your cottage but it didn't hurt him in the slightest bit. Was it because it was a ‘White House’?
𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔.
If there was something he disliked from you then it had to be your silver ring. Whenever you touched him with your hand ring, you would sometimes graze his skin with your ring.
He tried not to hiss but there were occasions when it was unbearable, just like when you were compressing him and felt his temperature.
Unlike in a few cases where he could hide his blisters, it was visible that his forehead was bleeding from the contact.
It was alarming for both of you, paranoia and fear downed him as he suspected you were testing him while shock and suspicion flashed onto your face.
There was a rift but Yulian was a great reader, he knew you did not mean anything bad and decided to lie his way out again. Alas, it's harder this time.
Another thing he didn't like about you was how you could be ignoring him for a whole day sometimes. It could be something interesting that got your whole attention or another patient coming.
Perhaps he was simply unamused by the idea of a lesser being taking away your attention from him.
𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔.
You often strolled around the riverbank and forest, collecting herbs and wildflowers, sometimes walking down toward the village to buy daily necessities.
You didn't allow him to follow you at first, making him have to secretly follow you out of boredom and partial curiosity.
But upon week later, Yulian started to show you his interest in going out with you. It took him lots of convincing that he wouldn't fall sick from this and you reluctantly agreed to it.
For the first time, he could finally walk side by side with you instead of following you from the dark. It almost felt like his still heart was beating from excitement.
Apparently, all the villagers recognized you as a talented physician. They were all friendly to you and would do anything to help you as well.
It made something within him sting. Was it envy that he wasn't treated just as nice?
𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚’𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.
Sometimes the two of you would sing under the moonlight as a pastime. Sometimes you would come to his bedroom at night and converse with him until he pretended to fall asleep.
Sometimes you would diagnose him. Sometimes you would tell him stories of your life. Sometimes you would ask him questions about his life. Sometimes you would cry in your bedroom.
He couldn't help but wonder what sorrowed your frail heart.
Sometimes he would enter your bedroom and observe your patterned breathing while you were asleep. It was almost as if the role was reversed. He was observing you out of curiosity and perhaps, adoration.
A human’s lifespan is as short as a stick. Not only couldn't they live long, but they were also vulnerable to almost everything.
Yulian brought his hand to cup your cheek, squeezing it just a bit before his fingers traced down toward your neck, feeling your jugular vein pulsating in rhythm with your heart. You were alive but he wasn't. You were loved but he wasn't. You were adored but he wasn't.
Was it envy that brought his fangs close to your neck? Was he envious of your life? Or was he simply being unreasonable? You stirred awake from your sleep, eyes adjusting to the moonlight that lit your bedroom. No one was in sight and the water you placed on your nightstand remained warm despite the chilling temperature.
Perhaps the envy in him was never directed at you.
𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒚.
The only reason why Yulian was still resting in your cottage was because of his self-sabotaging. You were a physician and he was a patient, unless he had a logical reason to stay in your cottage then he had to excuse himself.
It started with how Yulian started to fake food poisoning, burn himself from the sunlight, fake an anemic, and wound himself with the silver ornaments you had in the cottage.
But Yulian understood it was only a matter of time before your dense self realized that something was wrong and chased him out of your cottage.
Would you scream at him in fury, fear, or disappointment? He thought he was used to rejection already but something changed within him with the time spent living with you.
And he didn't want to betray your trust. You trusted him with your little secret. The secret that you were actually the village's 'Witch'.
Yulian sighed audibly as he walked toward your bedroom, observing it from corner to corner for any anomalies. It had always been a paranoid habit of his. He wanted to make sure nothing dangerous was inside your bedroom or, to be frank, your surroundings.
Yulian walked toward your dressing table and gazed into the mirror. There was not a single reflection of himself, a reminder that he was never supposed to let you live in the first place.
Yet your touch never failed to soothe his stoned heart, it never failed to make him melt under your touch. And your existence did not hunger him in any way unlike the others would.
He had learned to co-exist with you before he realized it, it was too late for him to undo this dependence and bond, let alone feed on you.
Yulian walked out and waited for you to come back from your visit to the local church. As much as he wanted to join you, he couldn't risk getting caught by them.
Hours passed and the sun sank, the moon lit the dark sky and yet not even a single sound of your footsteps approaching the cottage was heard. Yulian dissipated into thin air and teleported to where you were supposed to be but you were nowhere in sight.
The church was eerily silent to human ears but not to an otherworldly being like him. He could hear an ominous chant beneath him. He could smell the sickeningly sweet incense lit beneath him. And he could feel the mark he left on your neck that night beneath him.
The 'Witch' play ends tonight.
-
You woke up in someone's embrace, the night was lit by the moonlight above you yet there was an unbearable heat nearby.
"You are awake now."
His voice stirred you awake more than ever. Your once droopy eyes were wide opened in shock. You didn't remember seeing him.
Your eyes were locked with his Emerald ones and you stared at his eyes. He smiled at you, “You passed out amidst the fire and I had to carry you all the way from the village.”
You looked behind his back and saw a huge fire consume the village, the villagers' cries were audible despite the distance. You clutched his black robe, "Wait, no! The villagers, they need me! I need to save them!"
"May I know why?" "Because I'm a Witch, the protector of this village!"
Yulian chortled at your remarks before he smirked, "And yet you let an outsider reside in your cottage for months."
All colors were drained from your face, and your heart sank down; "What do you mean?"
Yulian sat you down on one of the rocks and knelt in front of you, his gloved hand brought your hand ring, "Observe this."
He took off his glove and pressed your ring finger to his palm, the skin blistered from the contact and you instinctively pulled away, "What was that?!"
There was a tale of vampires and you wished he would deny it.
"It was troublesome for me having to avoid the mirrors in your cottage and anything that would reflect." Hand mirror.
"I never really like the dishes you made with onions but I stomach it all because I just couldn't muster the courage to see your sullen face," Onions.
"I really hate strolling when the sun is still up because I have to carry an umbrella with me all the time." Sun.
"Though I must say I don't mind being touched by you with your ring hand because it was worth the pain and trouble." Silver.
You backed away from him and just before your back could hit the grassy ground, his arm prevented you from tumbling back, "And I must say, it took me lots of time to properly mark and make you submit to a contract with me."
Contract?
Yulian cradled your confused body into his chest, the warmth you felt was not emitted from his skin but instead, the fire that devoured all the villagers who had been deceiving you.
All of the shock that weighed upon made you succumb to unconsciousness again, mainly from stress and trauma. Yulian frowned at your limp figure as he stood up and continued walking deep into the forest to his manor.
𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕-𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 '𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆' 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕.
Yulian did not like the hostility that you showed him at all. The ongoing stress and trauma drowned you in the hysteria that would also make you harm yourself. It pained him that he was one of the causes of your hysteria, a hypothetical scenario would sometimes flash across his mind. What if he had not appeared in your life? Then perhaps your heart wouldn't sorrow to this extent.
Yulian tried his best to help you adapt. The once dark and grim manor slowly turned white. The exteriors and interiors were white before you could remember how it originally looked like. Flowers were blooming in the garden to your liking and a potted white flowers near you for you to adore.
While Yulian had the patience to make you warm up to him and face the reality of your life, he did not have the heart to see you suffer for so long. And as much as he wanted to change you into a vampire just like him, he'd rather not have it done unwillingly.
But time was not so kind for your age. The longer he delayed it, the older and frailer you would be.
Alas, luck was on his side when he secluded himself in his room for a long time for the first time you came here. He didn't expect you to find his presence soothing for you.
It appeared that all his efforts had made you think that his action of kidnapping you was just an attempt to save you from the villagers who tricked you into thinking that you were a 'Witch'.
You looked for him, calmly at first then frantically when you suffered from a panic attack. He didn't mean to test you but he knew well deep inside he was hurting you.
Even for a selfish and cold-blooded creature like him, he had to steel his heart before he could see you again. Everything he was feeling after he met you was his first. You brought colors to his monochrome life. You taught him that the smell of a morning was calming. You taught him how to spend his time with pastimes.
He could not find it in his heart to leave your side. It was his first time to feel alive and he was greedy, wanting more of it.
You stood in front of his chamber, waiting for him to open his door instead of avoiding you altogether.
--
"The servants took great care of you while I was away right, dear?"
Yulian never found the charm in terms of endearment, but whenever you called him 'dear', incomprehensible emotion and feeling surged into him. He still remembered the day you first called him that, it was foreign and weird to him but he didn't find it that bad at all.
You squirmed under his touch, squeezing yourself closer and deeper into his embrace while your hands clenched on the bedsheet. That was not the only thing you were clenching though, for his fingers were knuckle deep inside you.
You tried to form a coherent answer but what came out was simply a blubbering. Tears dripped down from your cheek from the way he curled his fingers, feeling your spot until your toes were curled.
You didn't know that even vampires could feel this much stimulation from sex. You assumed they just reproduced while feeling only half of the pleasure humans could have because of how cold-blooded they were.
You thought they only did it out of curiosity or memories of their past lives, or perhaps from the mood itself instead of doing it for pleasure as well.
Yulian brought his lip to yours, nibbling your lower lip why urging you to open your mouth, allowing his tongue to roam inside you while his fingers did not stop even one bit, drawing multiple orgasms out of you.
You really loved every bit of the man who once tried to kill you. The way his soft fangs felt your skin, pricking it playfully instead of sinking it deep inside your jugular vein and killing you on the spot.
You loved it when he caressed your cheek, you loved how gentle he was when he wiped the tears from your eyelashes.
You loved it when he was inside of you, you loved it when he knew every inch of your body so well to the point he could make you cry out of pleasure effortlessly.
You loved to see his cute face from how fast he came inside you but he never stopped his hip. You loved it when he kissed your face. You loved it when he intertwined both of your hands.
You loved it when he made your insides feel warm and full.
You loved him for severing the illusion of the 'Witch' inside of you. It was undeniable that Yuliad had saved you from the villagers' torturing you for accepting an outsider into your cottage for the first time.
You were simply curious of his condition and yet you were punished terribly for not keeping the said tradition. Yulian knew there was never a tradition, it simply was a doctrine for you who was a prodigy of a physician to save everyone from your village.
You were exiled deep in the forest so that you couldn't learn the life beyond the forest and village.
Yulian knew just as much when he first joined you on your stroll to the village. Everyone treated you differently as though you were a deity and you considered it to be something normal.
It looked normal to him considering they believed in the 'Witch' but Yulian knew better. You were just a human and all of these were just a doctrine from the church. To ensure the prodigy never left the village and was forever loyal to the church.
Spies were sent and he knew the church had probably noticed him as not only a weird outsider but also a vampire. It was unfortunate of you to be dragged into the church's underground and interrogated, forced to drag him to the church and had him staked to death. But you were persistent, you didn't trust them.
Just before Yulian was about to save you, you made a grave mistake of swearing on your name to make a promise with the devil to save you and your companion which was him. He knew you had always been so kind but wasn't that sort of naivety a little bit too much for a stranger like him? Perhaps this was the reason why the church wanted to force a much stronger doctrine onto you.
Their mistake was to not sense the danger that was him earlier. Your flaw was that you were too kind-hearted.
It gave him more reasons to seclude you from the world beyond the White House. His paranoia and obsession growing stronger with each day never seemed to unnerve you who were just a bright soul with a kind heart. A kind heart that was a contrast to his stoned heart.
That alone justified his paranoia of losing you. Surely you understood him right?
Author's Note: Thank you for reading this half-hearted work, I was so motivated to write a damn vampire fic but got writer's block mid-way smh. Happy 7th Anniversary to LIfE Project and 5k to this blog!
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ddejavvu · 8 days ago
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for James can I ask for when he is cold or his hands are cold in bed and he put them between the readers thighs. You where it’s like really hot? :)
You're rather rudely awoken by something cold prying at your core, and even though you know logically that James is in bed with you, you still jolt awake in fear before your brain begins running.
"What the fuck?" You shriek, scrambling back on the mattress, nearly falling off of the end. You manage to catch yourself, but you hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding relentlessly as your thighs clench involuntarily.
"Darling! Darling, relax," James reaches for you, and you feel his hand, cold as ice, rest on your arm, "Relax."
You want to, but you can't- not with the feeling of your legs being pried apart by what felt like a vampire.
"What was that?" You ask, your voice far too loud for the silence of the bedroom, but James doesn't shush you.
"Relax, sweetheart. Wasn't trying to get fresh with you, m'sorry."
"Well then what were you trying to do?" You scoff, nearly laughing in your bewilderment.
"M'hands were cold." James admits, the wind taken from his sails, "Just- wanted to warm them up."
"Between my legs?"
"That's the warmest place on the human body! That and the 'pits, I s'pose, but I don't reckon you'd have liked it there either."
"Do not stick your fingers in my armpits." You sigh, relieved and exasperated all at once as you cuddle back up to James, "And do not stick them between my thighs! I won't be able to sleep if my skin is being frozen solid."
"Well then where am I supposed to put them?" James whines, and you push him away when he tries setting his cold hands on you once more.
"Put them between your own legs, Potter! You've got thighs too, use 'em."
"This is miserable." James groans, tucking his hands between his thighs and leaning his head forwards onto your shoulder, "I feel so alone."
"Goodnight, James." You conclude, an air of finality in your tone that doesn't allow for any more of his pointless rambling, "I'll thaw you out come morning."
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silkjade · 1 month ago
Text
FAIREST OF THEM ALL
alhaitham x mermaid!reader au ⤀ synopsis: mermaids, and their vanity, and their affinity for pretty things... who better to admire, than the fairest one of all? ⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, squirting, subspace, vry sweet he’s actually so in love — mdni || ꒰ 5.1k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: recommended to read the affiliated series, but it can stand alone as well ! reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡
series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・𓇼
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Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things…
Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflection—not only in the mirrors of a merchant’s passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambad’s second floor…even now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater. 
Not that he’d ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbit—bending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shell…and a pearl such as yourself—beautiful and rare—ought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.
It’s clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible… Yet there’s a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence. 
“And just what are you smiling for?” you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yours—one that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations. “Thinking about me?” 
Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”
By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you… 
So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.
“Just thinking about how pretty you are...” 
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And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 
Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 
Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 
“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 
“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”
He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 
“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 
Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.
“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 
…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.
“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 
Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.
It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.
Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.
“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 
But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.
“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent with your lover in the nation of wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.
“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 
Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.
A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  
“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”
“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 
It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 
Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 
Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.
Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 
“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.
You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”
“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 
A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 
Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 
He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)
Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—his little mermaid, his little doll—to maneuver and fold as he pleases.
A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)
The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.
Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.
An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”
“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?”  
“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft.
Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 
“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 
A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)
There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 
All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.
“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 
“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 
You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 
“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.
For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 
“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 
“My beautiful mermaid,” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful mermaid…who always…” 
His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 
You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 
“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”
The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts…
It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 
“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.
The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.
He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 
And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 
Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 
Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.
“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)
“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)
Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 
Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 
“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 
Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.
‘How…beautiful…’ 
You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.
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notes2: mirrors in his kit -> mirror in the bedroom pipeline, am i right (๑>؂•́๑) … i wasn't able to complete this in time for mermay this year, so consider this a little something for kinktober, i suppose ^^;; but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank you so much for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡
© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform
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atlaswav · 5 months ago
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CATACLYSMIC ☾
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INFO: 5252 words..... dr ratio x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: You hate him, of that you're certain. You hate the man behind the alabaster figurehead, and you want to see him unravelled, but you don't know exactly what you do to him. WARNINGS: um alcohol and one kiss. also some swearing but mostly fine AUTHOR'S NOTE: rising from the grave to bring to you this thing i found this in my drafts from who knows how long when I was obsessed with this man (still am). someone help. i can no longer write this much for one fic. what was i on.
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Veritas Ratio made it no secret that he despised those who lived in ignorance. He openly shunned those who were stupid enough to turn their eyes from knowledge – they’d be beggars in due time. They didn’t know how the world was governed, and ignorant fools would play victim to fate’s cruel touch.
With this philosophy of his, you often wondered whether or not his ivory figurehead would soon burst with the tumultuous storm of the man’s self importance. You wondered what would lie underneath. Surely, the divine makers would’ve allowed balance in his creation – surely, his face was horribly disfigured in exchange for such otherworldly intelligence. 
He was both delightfully astute and horrendously ill mannered at once. Brighter than your entire class combined – your entire university combined, no doubt – but his pretentiousness was overflowing, and you believed he was in dire need of being put in his place.
Arrogant and pretentious were two of the words that came to mind when someone mentioned Dr. Ratio, and you were sure you weren’t the only one who refused to worship his word like the gospel. In turn, he seemed to despise your very existence, as if you were merely a faded annotation in the footnotes of an ancient epic. Vandalising a work of art. A moustache on the Mona Lisa. Circe in the Odyssey, if she’d welcomed sailors with open arms, allowing them to degrade her as they would a common concubine, not a descendant of the gods.
Yet instead of sharing the witch’s beguiling, seductive nature, you only shared her mortal voice. Thin, reedy, quiet, compared to the booming voices of gods. The voice of Veritas Ratio. Your achievements could only pale in comparison to his, and it took everything within you to clap politely as he received his third – fourth? (you weren’t intent on keeping track) – diploma.
God you hated that man. You’d muttered as much under your breath countless times.
“Dr. Ratio is fine. No need to worship me.” he’d once corrected. But the attempt at humour was lost on you as your classmates began to laugh. The divine makers likely brought him into existence just to spite you. Oftentimes, you fought your urges to hurl the nearest textbook at his caricature head and watch the plaster crack, fall to the floor, and reveal his disfigured face. 
Not that you’d seen it before – lingered around him enough to see it disappear.
His scorn held no favourites, and certainly not when it came to you. He’d openly dragged your work through the dirt a couple of times before, and it was only a matter of time before he did it again. His words were scalding, leaving burns across your thin skin and leaving your mouth tasting of ash. Your voice, faint and human, fell quiet at his ‘gospel’. 
If it weren’t obvious, the hatred was mutual. He’d never admit it outright – he was far beyond these meaningless, trivial things such as immature hatred – but you felt his scathing glare in your soul, even through that perturbing headpiece, and that was enough. 
“Have you found it?” 
You turn around, meeting the cold, blank, unseeing gaze of his caricature head behind you. It was disconcerting to say the very least, but no one else had asked him about it, so you never pushed him further. None wanted to invoke his wrath, no matter what circumstance. It was a miracle neither of you had exploded at each other yet, but you suspected that he’d gladly put aside any type of loathing he harboured for you so that this project would get done faster. 
You were happy to oblige as he took the lead. A free credit was a free credit. But you did have your limits.
“Nope. The text is ancient. I doubt this library has it.”
“Nonsense.” he clicked his tongue, glancing to the side. “I’m asking the professor. Go work on your part.”
Patience is a virtue, as you keep reminding yourself. 
“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.” you say instead of the retort that sits on your tongue. False niceties and biting, underhanded remarks. This charade was entertaining, at the very least.
How did everyone love him? There had to be people like you who shared your dislike towards that conceited scholar. With a long suffering groan, you took a seat at one of the plethora of tables in the university’s library, clicked your pen and began to write. 
Maybe the reason he despised you so was because of your ideas, arguably the opposite of his own way of thinking. Where his twisted logic, rearranged rationality and pulled apart natural reasoning to formulate new material, you cut and stitched the work of others together to create your own emulations. (Frankenstein's monster. Was that a cliche? For Ratio, it probably was.)
He’d likely scrap what you’d written as soon as he returned, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spite him anyway. You hoped your readings wouldn’t go to waste as you recorded your findings, then started to draft an outline for your project. 
The scratch of paper became white nose, your hand struggling to keep up with the pace of your mind – was it even worth it? He’d likely call it worthless, snatch it from you and throw it into the recycling bin, then start writing his own outline. It only angered you further as you frowned at the page, wondering how he’d approach the project. 
The thump of a heavy tome on the wooden desk snapped you out of your sombre thoughts. 
“Here.” Ratio took a seat at the chair opposite of yours, brushing the dust off the thick text, leafing through its yellowed pages. “I told you they’d have it. You just need to search better.”
You offer him a tight smile. “Noted.” More false niceties, more flat remarks.
Then the figurehead disappears in a blink, and you nearly drop your pen. He barely pays you any mind as he runs a hand through his hair, flipping through the text. You’d heard the rumours of the handsome face beneath the statue, but you’d never have imagined him to be so disgustingly perfect. 
Statuesque. 
His deep violet locks looked unbelievably soft. His crimson eyes showed laser focus as he scanned the text in front of him, ignoring you completely as he noted something down. After a brief silence where you skim over your outline and he presumably attempts to decipher the undeniably unreadable and ancient text which you were opposed to reading in the first place, he turns to you with a sigh. “What did you do while I was gone?”
“I wrote an outline.” you hand the papers to him begrudgingly, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid that his calculating gaze might see too far into your soul. 
“This?” his distaste seeps through his tone. You don’t need to look at his face to know that he’s frowning. 
You say nothing as he skims through your work, twirling your pen between your fingers.
“...It’s not the worst thing I've ever read.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. 
“It’s not good, either.”
You scowl at him. 
“I can salvage it.” he nonchalantly throws it back onto the table, returning to the text at hand. 
You want to shove his grotesquely perfect face into the book. He really was put on this earth to spite you.
“Don’t just sit there. Go look for texts on criticism of our stance.”
You don’t know how you’re going to find the patience to survive this project. If anything, it irked you further to find that there wasn’t some monstrosity hidden behind that figurehead. In everything he did, he seemed to be inventing new ways to get on your nerves. However, unbeknownst to you, Veritas Ratio held you higher than you gave yourself credit for. He believed your ideas to be invigorating. Refreshing, almost. A welcome reprieve from the same reiterated, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated approaches that your other classmates had. 
You weren’t like the rest of the mindless, studying machines at the university. You could be brilliant, and it annoyed him that you didn’t know this. He’d admitted as much to himself before, but he’d never tell you. But it was still not good enough for his standards – far better than what the imbeciles in your class could’ve come up with – but still far behind him. Or so he kept telling himself. 
Days passed by without a word from either of you. You were content to write your part in the solitude of your dorm, and he seemed perfectly content mulling over whatever he’d found in that indecipherable ancient text. By the time you’d nearly finished your part, he decided to meet with you once again to share your findings. 
His definition of deciding to meet with you meant simply cornering you after class and asking you to follow him. 
You started to protest, but he’d already turned and briskly walked out of the classroom, so you groaned and followed after him, winding up in the library again. This time, in a secluded corner with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, illuminating the small table and workspace with a warm glow. 
You wondered how he wasn’t winded after trekking across the entire campus. You certainly were. His muscled build suggested that a mere leisurely walk couldn’t possibly have tired him out. What did he eat? Was he what Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote of the Superman? 
“What are you doing? Sit.” he gestures to the seat across from him, and you sink into the armchair, taking out your papers. His headpiece disappears once again, and your breath catches in your throat. 
His hair cast a faint shadow across his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. As you leaned in closer, you realised there was a thin ring of gold around his pupils. 
“Are you done with your part?” he demands, breaking you out of your trance. 
You silently hand over your drafts, watching his eyes flit across your paper. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes narrowing, but he remains quiet. Were his eyelashes always this long? They created an indistinct shadow on his cheeks. His skin was pale, fair. Not the sickly kind of pale you thought he’d be. Did he exercise? You wouldn’t be surprised, with all your classmates always fawning over his broad, strong chest and narrower waist. 
Was it your imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed? It might have been the light. 
“It’s deplorable.”
Your heart sinks in your chest as you sit back against the armchair. 
“Your ideas are rudimentary. Have you been reading at all?” he sighs, holding his head in his hand. “No matter. I can fix it. I don’t need you to do anything anymore. You can go.”
You stay seated in shock, unable to move. You’ve heard the anecdotes of people crying over being scolded by him, but was he always this harsh? 
“You know it’s a group project, right?” you begin before your better judgement can decide against it, “My work is just as important as yours, it doesn’t matter if you think my work is ‘deplorable’. I’m in the same class, I take the same course, I learn the same things as you do, you don’t get to look down on me no matter how stupidly smart you are.”
He raises an eyebrow, unamused. “Why not?”
“Take that stick out of your ass, Veritas Ratio. Get off your high horse.” you snatch your papers out of his hands and take your leave, ignoring his calls of your name. 
Were you dramatic? Yes, but not without reason. Given Ratio’s reputation for prioritising academics over everything else, you suspected that it wouldn’t take long for him to find you, either. 
You were so wrong. 
More days passed with no contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by your dramatics, and never once batted an eye in your direction unless necessary. It seemed your hypothesis of him inventing new ways to get on your nerves was on the track of being proved correct. But if you didn’t do something within the next few days, you trusted him to turn in the project without your name on the paper, resulting in a zero. 
He was just as stubborn as you, and though you were nothing compared to him in actuality, you were so close to grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you for who you were.
Seemingly, even in the battle of wits, he seemed to emerge victorious. 
“Ratio.” 
He barely glances up, engrossed in his writing. “What?”
“Are you done with the project?” Biting the bullet stings your teeth and left a bitter taste on your tongue. 
“No. Not yet. Why? You’re finally going to help?”
“Are you going to stop looking down at me?” 
The library is nearly empty. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, and the voices of students float down the corridor beyond the grand stacks of books, yet you’re here. Why do you bother? Are you really that desperate for his validation?
“Are you going to keep writing such reprehensible work?”
You glare at him. “Guess not.” you turn on your heel.
“You’re absolutely infuriating.” he sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “You’re not aware of what you can do, are you?”
You glare at him. Your chest stings. 
He looks at you, then. Truly. His complexion relaxes, and he rubs his temples. “Sit. Let’s go through your part.”
“Why?”
“I mulled it over. Your part is brilliant.”
Your eyes widen.
“But your expression and research is appalling. Have you learned how to write academically at all?”
You’d never simultaneously wanted to slap and kiss a man at once until today. “What happened to getting off your high horse?”
“I got off it. Now sit and listen, I won’t repeat myself.”
You supposed that was the closest to an apology he’d ever give you, so you sat. It pained you, but you did. Besides, he had called you brilliant – your part – but still, you couldn’t force the smile from your face as you listened to his instruction. 
“Your ideas in your introduction are well formed, but from there, it all goes downhill. You have to reorder your logic for it to make sense, and we will be deducted points if you don’t elaborate on the principles of your concept first.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “So how would you do it?”
“For one, I’d restart completely and get straight to the point.”
You sigh exasperatedly. “Show me, then, if you’re so good.”
His eyes narrow at you, but he says nothing as he motions for you to come closer. 
The librarian was likely too scared to kick either of you out after closing time. Your arguments were heard by all of your neighbouring desks, and whenever there was a break in conversation, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. There was pin drop silence except for the two of you – but neither of you realised it. 
He was blunt, and had no idea what you were thinking, but perhaps this is what entrapped him. 
You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how he had called your ideas brilliant. 
You quickly learn how good of a teacher he is. Maybe it’s his forced patience or once-in-a-millenium genuine praise that spurs your decision, but you find yourself so willing to prove yourself, and he finds himself willing to help. 
Maybe this wasn’t so bad. 
“Just fix it, stop arguing with me. I’m right.”
“Why? Do you know every single thing about our topic?”
“No, but I have four degrees and more experience than you.”
“Jackass.”
“Change it.”
You grumbled another insult under your breath, yawning as you scribbled out the section you wrote and began to reword your thoughts. The sudden quietude was jarring, and as you looked around, you realised the overhead lights were off, the only source of light from the lamps illuminating the desks. 
“Is everyone gone?” you ask, sitting up straight and stretching. 
“Who cares? Finish up, then we can head back.”
“Fuck you, give me a break. I don’t write at the pace of a robot.”
“Then learn.”
“Fuck you too Veritas Ratio.”
“Expand your vocabulary while you’re at it.”
“Why are you so intent on irritating me?”
“You get irritated easily. Not my problem.”
“If you know I get irritated easily, why do you keep provoking me then? Do you want me to hate you more?”
He seems to pause. Minisculely, almost unnoticeable had your gaze not been trained on him for the past few hours. He had a habit of pausing and furrowing his brows when you said something slightly out of line. 
“Just finish the paper. You talk too much.”
You sigh and get back to work as he leafs through his own research. 
Amicable silence passes. The night is alive outside, gleaming and glistening with the touch of benevolent gods and whispers of long gone wishes – pearls stitched by fate’s knowing hands. 
“I’m done.”
“Show me.”
You pass the paper to him as you watch his expression carefully. 
Crimson eyes flit across your work, gold ringed irises flickering in the scarce light. If you could capture the way the light reflected in his eyes in a jar, you think wishfully that you’d stare at it forever; Until the light died out, or it decided to escape the ephemeral glass confines. 
But you’d never admit it out loud. It was wishful. If Veritas Ratio could read minds, he would undoubtedly reprimand you.
He clears his throat, and you snap to attention, swatting away your fantasies of stealing and bottling evasive light. 
“It’s good.”
You wait for him to speak further, but he says nothing. “Just good?”
“Well, by my standards, no, but for you, it’s good.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” he leans on the table, forearms flexing. “That you’re finally starting to live up to your potential.”
“Huh?”
He blinks. “What do you mean?”
“What potential?”
He shakes his head absently, almost in disbelief. Forget light, you’d barter with the lady of fate to let you preserve this moment in a frame so that you could glimpse this expression forever. You’d never seen him so dumbfounded and awed at once – you doubt anyone ever has. He’d always been a man of knowing, and whatever he didn’t know, he would find out. Nothing was ever a “maybe,” or a “probably,” it was always absolute. It had to be absolute in his philosophy. 
You happened to be the one exception. 
“You’re not aware of the potential you have?”
“You think I have potential?”
“Aeons,” he murmurs under his breath, before standing and gathering his belongings. “I’m going to bed. See you in class tomorrow. We’ll finish up then.”
He leaves before you have the chance to question him, but as you slump back in your armchair, you can’t help but smile. 
Potential was as close as you’d ever get to a compliment from Veritas. 
The lady of fortune and lady Themis looked him in the eyes and saw their mortal emanator at his birth. He’d never been certain what he was made for, but he never let it burden him. Things like these weren’t made for him to ponder, that was up to the dreamers and inventors. 
He was a being of logic. A doctor of calculations and reason, and everyone knew him as such. 
But he simply couldn’t figure out what it was about you – your naive gaze or that pout that absently curved your lips – that had your words and scent and eyes lingering in his mind like a vengeful phantom. 
You were the being of all chaos and irrationality, but you were so bright. Unhoned, rough and unhewn. A gemstone shining with impurities but shining still, casting a beautiful mosaic cast across the ground with indecipherable shapes and patterns. 
It was deplorable. He hated you for being on his mind, and hated you even more for your wasted potential. He hated how you stared, how his cheeks would redden from the intensity of your gaze, and how he’d have to pretend he was unfazed, because he couldn’t afford any distractions. 
You were the being of his undoing, he was sure. You were brought into existence to spite him, to bring an unaccounted variable into the equation of his being, and present a causality dilemma for all he was. 
He wanted you gone, but he wanted you closer all at once. 
He hated it. 
It wasn’t common for him to sleep in either, so when he woke five minutes before class was supposed to start, he cursed you with all the spite in his heart and rushed to class, clutching papers from the night before, still imbued with traces of your lingering fragrance. Just how long had you pored over those papers for your smell to latch to them? It should be impossible. Fate was clearly against him. 
Fate brought you back together as he entered the brimming lecture hall, and the only vacant seat was the one next to you. 
“Did you get the papers in order?” you asked, glancing at his dishevelled state. The Dr Ratio you knew was never dishevelled, but this was the closest you’d ever seen him to it. 
“Yes. Just write your name on your bits and sign the sign off sheet and it’s complete.”
You take the paper from him, scrawling your name across your work, then handing it back. 
With your project finally submitted, you could breathe easy again – never endure his biting remarks and criticism again. 
But as the class progressed, you realised you were in trouble. 
The professor was merciless. He flicked through the presentation on the new topic with haste, rushing through new concepts, formulae and calculations with record speeds. You’d nudged Ratio, whispering for help, but he rolled his eyes and kept his stare attentively on the presentation. 
You wanted to slap him. 
Was he tolerating you because of the project? Was he going back to cold stares and dismissive glances?
You wouldn’t allow it. Not when you were so close to discovering the man behind the alabaster figurehead. As soon as the professor signalled the end of the lecture, a collective sigh was released from the class. 
You turned to Ratio, and he was already staring at you. 
“What was it you wanted to say?”
“Tutor me please.”
He raised a brow. “Why?”
“Because you’re smart.”
“Pick someone else, then. I don’t see why I should.”
“You asshole, I’ll buy you lunch if you tutor me.”
He frowns at you as he begins to leave. You trail after him. “Please?”
He sighs deeply. Like a man burdened with the weight of his own world on his shoulders. Byron’s brooding, romantic hero, in his melodramatic glory. “Fine. Stop annoying me.”
You smile. “Thanks. Meet you at your dorm after dinner?”
He sighs again. “ Don’t be late or I'll lock the door and go to bed.”
He watched the seconds tick by in agonising motion – a man awaiting his sentence, but also his reprieve. Is this what his classmates felt before they took tests? It certainly seemed like it. Relief was on the horizon, and yet great suffering was imminent. He’d never known the feeling until now.
But as they say, the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun, and he wasn’t about to relinquish his quest to decipher you. 
It seemed mutual as he paced in front of his front door, having eaten dinner at the cafeteria early to mentally prepare himself. 
When your knock finally sounded at his door, he sighed, checked his watch, then reluctantly opened the door. 
You were a picture to behold. 
Hair slightly damp from a shower, drowning in loose, oversized clothing. It was all painfully domestic to see you walk through his doorway, scanning his living space. In the back of his mind, he thought it felt right, but he shook his head. 
You were messing with him again. 
Two could play that game. 
“Take a seat.” He pulled out a stool from his kitchen island. “Want a drink?”
“What, like alcohol?” you huffed. 
“Are you an alcoholic?”
“Only if you want me to be.” you shrug, setting down your notes on the bench.
He sighs exasperatedly, already berating himself for agreeing to this. He never agreed to tutor anyone. Why were you the exception? You shouldn’t be. 
His hypothesis: you were trying to get something out of him. A way to cheat the class, his academic favour, something hedonistic, even. It seemed plausible enough, but you listened intently as he explained the concepts the professor spoke of in the lecture, asking questions and actively engaging with his explanation. 
It didn’t seem like there was any ulterior motive. So why was he letting you break his rules and defy his nature?
“God, why didn't the prof explain it during that lesson? Everyone struggled.”
“You’re not smart enough to understand his concise methods, then.” he huffed. 
“You’re too smart.”
“You’re not smart enough.”
“Smart ass,”
“Get back to work. You did that question wrong, by the way.”
You groaned. “Where?”
He was so caught up in your quarrels that he didn’t notice the time grinding away at the pestle. It was nearly midnight when you’d finally caught up with that day’s classwork, and he sighed in relief. 
“You understand?”
“Yes. You don’t have to worry now.”
“I won’t. Now get out.”
“No drink?” you frowned, pretending to sulk at his expense. He simply stared at you, getting up from his stool and walking to the fridge. 
Remarkably, he pulled out two beers. 
“Don’t speak. If you do, I'll regret allowing you over again.”
A smile befell your lips. “I’m not saying anything.”
“I don’t like the look on your face.”
“Wipe it off then.”
A frown.  His new hypothesis: you were trying to seduce him for better grades, more tutoring sessions, or for his own downfall. 
“Drink and leave.”
“If you say so.” you take the chilled bottle and drink. He watches your throat move, and he thinks of himself as pathetic as he drinks as well, wincing at the bitterness. 
“Do you live by yourself?” you ask, head propped onto your hand. 
“I do.”
“Are you lonely or something?”
“No, people are irritating.” Like you.
“What a ray of sunshine you are.” You’re not much better.
“I don’t have to put up with any idiocy.”
“If you say so.”
Quiet passes as beer fizzes in the bottles, golden liquid sloshing at the sides of the glass. 
One thing you learn that night is that Veritas Ratio, the famed multiple time valedictorian of your university, is an extreme lightweight. His cheeks become red quicker than you can finish your bottle, and he starts to grumble nonsense under his breath. 
“You’re really smart, you know?” he suddenly says after mumbling something about quantum physics.
“What was that?” 
“You’re really smart. Really smart. Impressive.”
“Really?”
“Yes, you idiot, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” he leans on the bench, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he does so.  He squints at the ground. 
He’s a cute drunk, you realise begrudgingly.
“Thanks, Veritas. You’re smart too.”
“I know.” he drinks from his bottle again, swirling the dregs. “But I can’t figure you out.”
“Hm?”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
“Do you hate me?”
You hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”
“Then why are you like this?”
Your eyebrows raise. 
“You’re making me irrational. I can’t figure it out.”
“...Sorry?”
“You should be. You know, I was nearly late to class today because of you. You kept me awake.”
“Really?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts. And things.”
You laugh at his predicament, draining your beer and gathering your things. Trying to leave before he said anything that could turn the encounter south. 
“Wait. Don’t go.” he slams his palm onto your notes, determination in his eyes. 
“I need to go to bed.” you say as if scolding a child.
“I need to figure you out. You’re still an enigma to me. The anomaly of my behaviour. Is this your intention?”
“What are you talking about? You’re drunk.”
“I can think. I can move. I can see fine. I’m not drunk. Answer me.”
“Maybe I'm just so mesmerising to you.” you joke, but his brows furrowed in thought. 
“Maybe.” he retracts his hand from your notes, and you stow them away into your bag, slinging it onto your shoulder before he can do anything else. 
As you’re halfway to the door, he pushes you against the wall. 
You never realised how tall he was until then. How much of a height difference you had, or how muscular he was. He had to have worked out on a daily basis. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, and his cheeks were tainted with deep red as he searched your gaze. 
You decide he’s officially lost his mind, but who were you to complain?
“Are you mesmerising?” he whispers, eyes trailing down your face, examining and analysing, his hand tracing down your body with those slender scholar’s hands.
“You tell me.”
Then he grabs your face and mashes your lips together. The kiss is rough, biting and rushed. You freeze for a sliver of a second before returning it, letting him decide your allure with his own devices. 
He pulls away almost too fast, lips kiss bitten, breath fast. 
“You’re a siren.”
“Am I?”
“You’re going to ruin me.”
“What a weak man you are, if it only takes one woman to ruin you.”
“I hate you.”
“Really?”
“I hate it because I’d probably let you.”
“Are you a masochist?”
“Not in my right mind. I’ll wake up and regret everything, but it’ll all be the same, fundamentally.”
“So what’s your conclusion?”
He still has you pushed against the wall, caged within himself. “You were put into this world to bring about my destruction.”
“How? Why?”
“You’re my opposite. Brash, naive, carefree.”
“Are you normally this analytical of people?”
“No, which supports my point.”
“I see. So you’re going to let me ruin your image?”
“No. I hate you for it.”
“Let me go then.”
He wordlessly steps away, and you stumble to the door. 
“So what are we?” you ask, turned away from him. You can’t see the way he drinks in your visage like a starving man, and the small, sober part of him is grateful for it. 
“Polar opposites.”
“I mean who am I to you?”
He’s silent for a while, so you turn back to him to find him leaning on the wall, gazing into space. 
“Veritas?”
“You’re my undoing. A catalyst, maybe, for my downfall. But there must be balance, right? So what are you?”
“What am I?”
“I don’t know.”
You knew then that he was beyond reason. Was this what you did to him? You took some sadistic pride in seeing a man such as himself reduced to a mumbling, questioning, incoherent mess. You were somewhat pleased with the effect you had on him., but you could never let him know this. 
He crumpled to the floor, back to the wall, clutching his head in his hands. “I’ll figure you out.”
“Sure you will. Goodnight, Veritas.”
“Night.”
Your smile was brighter than the morning as you left his apartment, embracing the night’s welcoming chill. 
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written by @atlaswav , published 15th of July 2024
623 notes · View notes
restinslices · 4 months ago
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Believe Me
Gwayne Hightower X Female!Reader
Word Count: 2792
Summary: Gwayne bumps into an old flame and smut ensues (from his pov)
Content Warning: Smut (so minors dni), fingering, handjob, cheating, light hair pulling, light degrading and praising, vaginal sex, public sex (I hate this but we move on😭)
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Gwayne Hightower was only human, and as a show of this, he had made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime. “It is not worth the stress to beat yourself over what could have been” he'd always remind himself. “What could've been if you chose the right card, woke up earlier, listened more, aimed a little to the left, ate breakfast…”. 
The list went on and on because humans make mistakes all the time. He had vowed to himself that he would never stress over these mistakes. What good would it do? The mistake was already made. 
That's the thought process he tried to keep as he made his way inside the Sept. He was not afraid of the gods deciding to punish him for the sins he was sure he had committed, or of the building crumbling down and burying him underneath. The current war going on wasn't even on his mind. 
What was on his mind was a singular person. And as he got closer and closer to the room he knew they'd be in, the thick fog covering their face in his memories started to move to the side. 
Further. 
Further. 
His steps began to falter when he finally saw them. When he finally saw you. 
You were sitting on the bench, back to him, candles aplenty in front of you. Just as he thought about turning around and leaving, you took off your cloak and set it next to you, revealing the open back to your dress. 
You were inviting him. Discarding your defenses and showing that you were open to being around him again. Or mayhaps he was delusional. Either way, he found himself sitting on the other side of you soon enough. 
“Is that really a dress appropriate for the Sept?” he tried to joke with you as he lit a candle. If it was a different time, you would've lightly shoved him and said something like “oh fuck off” while laughing. Unfortunately, that time had been long forgotten. 
You looked over at him at once, and he wondered if for a moment you thought all this was a dream. You looked him up and down, and must've realized this was all real. “Gwayne…” how could you say his name in such a delightful way? 
The surprise from your eyes soon fell, and instead it filled with resentment. “Gwayne” you said more lifeless. “Anyone is welcome here. A common whore could come, wearing hardly any clothes and she'd be welcomed”. 
“I'm sure common whores do lots of cumming”. 
You simply rolled your eyes at him and looked in front of you. “A jest, dear friend-”
“We are not friends”. 
He had known it, but fuck did it hurt to hear. It was said so coldly and cruel, like you wanted it to sting. It definitely had, though he wouldn't show it. 
“We have not talked in some time” he said with his eyes still trained on you. How could you sit there and be so beautiful? Even with a scowl and pinched eyebrows, you looked marvelous. “When I heard my sister had summoned you here as well, I admit I was a bit surprised”. 
“Why? Alicent is in need of a friend. And I am her friend”. 
Well you really knew how to rub something in, didn't you? “I tried writing to you-”
“Years too late” 
You snapped, eyes glancing over at him. Okay, mayhaps you were right. Mayhaps he should've wrote to you sooner, but he eventually did! That had to be worth something! “Why are you here?”. 
“I thought anyone was allowed here”
“It is the gods you should be speaking to. Not I”
“It is not the gods I crave” he spoke honestly. You simply scoffed in return and looked away again, causing him to sigh. “I should have wrote to you sooner, but I did eventually. And I am here now-”
“To do your knightly duties” you said dismissively. “Not to speak with me”. 
“I can do both!” his hand found your arm and he pulled you close to him, making your legs press against each other. He could hear how your breath hitched. He could see the way your chest rose and fell as a reaction to his touch. 
His fingers inched closer to your chest. “What are you-” you began to say, but the words got caught in your throat when he wrapped his fingers around the long necklace that fell in the long V neck of your dress, right in between your breasts. 
“You've kept this?”. 
Years ago, Gwayne gifted you a necklace with a large green pendant, and while the chain was completely different, the pendant was still the same. “Did the chain break?”. 
You shook your head. “No. My husband gave me a new chain. Said gold fit better”. 
He frowned. 
Your husband. Some boring guy with brown hair, brown eyes, patches in his beard and a voice that was far too high for a man. He had no real talents or skill, besides money and luck. That's how he landed you after all. 
“It is best for both of us that you do your praying and then leave. I imagine I will not be ready to leave anytime soon”. 
The moment his hand fell from your arm, he felt cold. He forced himself to look away from you and focus on the candle in front of him. So what was he to do now? Just let you go? Go off to war and accept that he'd likely never see you again? Accept you'd hate him forever?
“No” he answered himself out loud. “No. I am to just accept that your husband messed with a gift I gave you?”. 
“I beg your pardon?” You asked in disbelief. “That is what you are focusing on? That your gift was ruined?” You scoffed again and rubbed your temples. “Selfish as always. Nevermind to ask how I feel or how I have been. No. It is just stupid jokes and being offended. Did my gift put a dent in your pocket? Here then!”. You unclipped the necklace, grabbed his hand and shoved the necklace on his palm. “Take it!”. 
His chuckle afterwards was filled with bitterness. Here he was, trying to patch things up, and you kept making it difficult. “This resentment you hold towards me is ridiculous. I took too long to write to you after your marriage, but I'm here now. And this-” he set the necklace on the table. “This is a gift I gave to you”. 
“My husband gives me plenty of gifts. I do not need anything from you”. 
As if his gifts were anything special. Probably cheap and terrible material. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than some husband that probably couldn't even make you laugh the way Gwayne had. 
“Husband this. Husband that. Does shoving him in my face excite you?”. Maybe he had no right to be angry, but he was anyway. 
“I wouldn't be able to if you vied for my hand when you had the chance!” You snapped. For once, Gwayne had no response. No witty comeback or complaint. He just watched you as you realized what you said. You huffed, grabbed your cloak and got to your feet. “Good day Gwayne”. 
You managed to make it a few feet away before he finally spoke. “I should have”. Regret had gnawed at him for years now. He let you slip away. Why? Because he wasn't sure he could be committed. Did he love you? Yes. Was he a young man that wasn't fond of becoming a husband and a father? Also yes. 
“You have to understand,” he began as he rose to his feet. “Marriage was not something I wanted at the time”. 
“And you think I did?” You asked in disbelief. “Marriage was not something I wanted either. It was forced upon me. Marriage terrified me, but I knew that if I was married to you, marriage wouldn't be that bad. You were my best friend and lover. And what did you do, Gwayne?”. He couldn't make the answer leave his lips. The words felt like they were stuck in his throat and refused to go anywhere. “You left me” you answered for him. “And once I was married, you avoided me. Then years later you decided you wanted to speak again. What were you too busy doing? Drinking and fucking whores?”. 
That made him laugh. Drinking? Maybe a little. Fucking whores? It's not like he truly wanted to. It made time pass and got an orgasm out the way, but he didn't want painted whores. He wanted you to be under him. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his fingers. He wanted to hear his name pass your sweet lips over and over again until that was all he heard. 
“I made mistakes-”
“Mistakes?!”
“I made terrible choices” he corrected. “Awful ones. But you and I both know that I have always wanted and will always want you”. Those words seem to catch you off guard, which he assumed because you didn't push him away when his hands found their way to your hips. 
His face inched closer and closer to yours until your lips just barely brushed against each other. Unbeknownst to the both of you, your hearts beat as one in that moment. Both hearts erratic but somehow managing to be erratic together. 
“I want you desperately. And I know you want me…”. 
The remaining bit of space was broken and your lips finally met. Your lips responded to each other immediately and your arms wrapped around his neck. Finally… after so long you both were able to taste each other again. 
Reality came crashing down faster than he wanted it to. 
You shoved him away, making him stumble. You breathed heavily and wiped at your lips. “Won't change what happened” he said to your displeasure. 
“You are selfish” you spoke through gritted teeth. “You are an asshole” you shoved him again. “And a liar” another shove. 
Each insult you gave was followed by shove, and instead of feeling insulted, he felt something else. 
Desire. 
That desire is what led to him grabbing you, switching your positions and pushing you onto the table where no candles were. 
Your expression was full of shock, but not disgust or fear. Good. He never wanted to frighten you. What frightened him a little bit though, was his growing erection. Something that made no sense since all you had done recently was insult him. Gods, he was way more desperate than he realized. 
“Get all your insults out” he said as his thumb traced your lower lip, “tell me how much you hate me”. 
A request you had no problem fulfilling. 
“You are a vile man. Seducing a married woman in a Sept. Is there a line you're not willing to cross?”. 
There it was. Just like that. 
He began leaving open mouth kisses down your neck, eagerly awaiting what you'd say next. 
“You are a defiler full of sin”
“I am, aren't I?”. He held you in place as he bit and sucked at a particular spot on your neck, and a small smirk formed on his face when he heard you moan in response. “It seems you enjoy my sins” he taunted. 
“I hate you. No. I despise you. Even that word can't describe how I feel for you”. 
Gwayne untied your dress strap and unbuttoned the buttons in the front, allowing him to free your breasts. 
“I loathe you”. 
“I'm sure” his words dripped in sarcasm. Loathe him yet you allow him to undress you. Loathe him, yet you allowed him to fondle your breasts, then lick and suck at one of your nipples. That's how your little game continued. You'd throw insults at him in between your gasps, and he'd lick and suck harder at each breast, showing them both proper attention. His erection pressed against his trousers, it becoming almost painful. 
You lifted your leg up in response to him twisting your nipple, and your knee brushed right against his erection. He moaned around your breast before he even realized what had happened. His own eagerness being exposed only dawned on him when he felt your palm fully press against him. 
Your other hand pulled his head back by his hair, causing a sharp but welcomed pain to burn at his roots. “I always knew you were pathetic Gwayne, but this?”, a soft breath slipped past his lips when you pressed harder against him. “You like when I insult you?”. He nodded. No point in lying. Still though, he didn't just wanna hand you all the power in your game. 
He hiked the bottom of your dress up and kept eye contact with you as his fingers pushed your undergarments to the side and made contact with your soaked cunt for the first time tonight. He watched you try to keep a stone face, but you couldn't hide the sharp inhale you did. “Seems like you've enjoyed our little game too. What does that say about you?”. 
“What does it say about you that you like being called pathetic?”. 
Gwayne chuckled. He looked you over, watching as you tried not to react to his fingers sliding in between your folds. “You're marvelous…” he said almost as if in a dream. 
You yanked on his hair again and pushed his trousers down, freeing his erection. “Is this when I say you're disgusting?” You taunted. Your hand wrapped around him and shamefully he almost came from that minor touch alone. 
“If it pleases you”. 
His middle and ring finger slowly but surely made their way inside you, all while he whispered praises in your ear. 
“You're so pretty like this”
“You're taking my fingers so well”
“Open up for me. Just like that. Good girl”. 
Your head fell on his shoulder and his fell on yours. The Sept filled with both of your noises as you both continued to pleasure each other with your hands. It was clear that that wouldn't be enough. The question was just who would bend first. 
“I've got you” he whispered before placing a gentle kiss under your ear. You lifted your head off his shoulder to meet his eyes, and while there was still lust behind them, there was clearly something more. 
Longing. 
“Do you really?” You asked. 
He answered at once, “yes. I swear to you on all the gods in every religion that I'm never leaving you again”. 
You swiped at his hands and pulled him closer to you until his tip was lined up with your entrance. “And what about my husband?”. 
Damn your husband. He'd cause an “accident” to happen if he had to. He wouldn't let a man like him keep him away from the one person who truly wanted in this whole world. “I will deal with your husband and I swear you will never be able to get rid of me. Do you believe me?”. 
He asked his question as he began to push inside you. Your answer got stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded in response. Your nod wasn't enough for him, but he'd address that later. For now, he kept whispering encouraging words to you to soothe the stretching he knew you'd feel. He kept telling you that he had you, that you were okay, that you were safe with him and always would be. 
When you finally seemed adjusted, he spoke again. “Do you believe me?”. You nodded. “Out loud”. 
“I believe you”. 
That was all he needed hear. Once he got confirmation, his lips found yours and he moved inside you. Was this an all around terrible idea? Absolutely. Was there a chance of getting caught? Yes. But neither of you could care less about that. How could that possibly be at the forefront of your minds when you were finally feeling each other in the way you both craved?
You both enjoyed each other, ultimately hitting your peaks while you were still connected, mouths swallowing each sound the other made, and foreheads pressed against each other so you could catch your breath. 
His hands cupped your face and he pressed a softer kiss to your lips. Of course there was still that sexual desire there, but he wanted more than to just fuck and be rid of you. He wanted to hold you forever. He wanted to tell you about his tales of knighthood over dinner, and hold your hand as you went on walks in the garden. 
“I swear-”
“I believe you”. 
You believed him. That was all he needed. 
For you to believe him and for you to give him another chance.
Bitch I hate this shit but I haven’t posted in awhile soooooo here we are😭😭. Also the way I forgot about that necklace-
604 notes · View notes
onyourowndaisymae · 11 months ago
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mistletoe mayhem
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a/n: i wanted to get out a festive little piece before the holidays are over. sorry for the lack of posting-- i am so sleepy all the time. also i just got my wisdom teeth out so if this is nonsensical i do apologize. i am on several pain meds
characters + content: lucifer, satan, asmo, solomon, simeon x gn!reader
word count: ~1.3k
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prompt: it's christmas at the demon lord's castle. drinks are flowing, music is blasting, and you're caught up in the fun of the party with everyone in the main hall. when you slip away to grab yourself another drink, however, you collide with another body in the doorway. who is that? and what's that above your head, dangling from the doorway... is that... mistletoe?
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"Lucifer?"
colliding with the solid chest in front of you knocks some of the breath from your lungs. yet, you don't tumble to the unforgiving ground. you look up and see red eyes searching your face, gloved hands steadying you by the underside of your arms to keep you on your feet.
he breathes your name easily. "watch your step."
"my bad," you reply. you didn't even realize you were clutching the front of his coat until you let him go. lucifer's lips curl into an easy smirk as he crosses his arms.
you readjust your clothes and start to wander off with a polite nod, but his hand catches your arm again. "wait a moment."
"huh?"
his gloved finger points above you to the top of the doorframe. there, dangling above your head, is a bundle of mistletoe. you should have known lord diavolo would have the place decorated in such a way-- he'd been asking you for weeks about human traditions for the festive season. you must have told him about this one somewhere along the way. judging by the look on lucifer's face, he knows what exactly that leafy sprig means.
"mistletoe, is it not?" lucifer starts, then seems satisfied when you nod. "i owe you a kiss. if you'll allow it, of course." the smoothness of his offer makes your cheeks split with a delighted grin.
"i'd be offended if you didn't."
"and we can't have that, now can we? not during the holidays." and with that, his lips meet yours.
"Satan?"
a sharp swear hits your ears as strong hands catch you, gripping your shoulders with startling intensity as he somewhat forcibly props you back onto your own two feet.
satan's cheeks are flushed as he looks you up and down once more to make sure you're alright. his fingers find your shirt and dust you off once more for good measure.
"are you alright?"
"i'm okay," you answer, now secure in your own footing. "thank you for catching me."
"sorry for running into you in the first place."
there's a gap of silence. he shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes flickering up above your heads to the top of the doorframe.
"is there something up there?" you ask. your gaze flits up above you to find a leafy sprig adorning the doorframe.
"if i'm not mistaken," satan says lowly, cheeks aflame and eyes darting from yours, "that's mistletoe. there's a human tradition where two people kiss if they're caught under it together-- i assume you've heard it?"
"i have."
there's another beat of silence where satan looks hesitant-- his body is angled towards yours, leaned in ever so slightly in interest, but his mouth doesn't move. the words won't come out. you can tell he's interested in the tradition, but he doesn't want to pressure you because of the tumble you almost took. you'd find it more endearing if it wasn't so silly.
"... do you want to give it a try? 'tis the season and all."
he lets out a breath you had noticed him holding and nods, scarlet in the cheeks as his fingers brush against yours. satan's lips find yours-- soft, grateful, melting into your touch as voices of your friends and family fade into the background.
"Asmo?"
"oh!"
two arms wind around your body, pressing you against him as the two of you fumble together lightly. you eventually find yourself unscathed and on your feet once more.
"sorry, hon, i didn't see you coming," asmo murmurs, fingers flitting over your form to help fix your hair and crumpled outfit.
"i'm sorry, too. i wasn't paying attention when i came around that corner. are you okay?"
"i'll be okay. now that i've got you alone, actually, i've been meaning to ask you about something."
a delighted little smile crosses his lips, and he takes your hands in his to coax you closer.
"anything, asmo. what's on your mind?"
"this whole mistletoe tradition solomon was telling me about, is it true? you really make out with someone under this plant? it sounds to me like one of the best human traditions i've heard in awhile."
"it's more of a kiss than a full make-out, but yes, sure, i do suppose it's an interesting tradition."
"and what's the plant look like?"
"uh, it's this leafy green little thing, usually tied up somewhere on the ceiling or in doorframes."
"like that?" asmo lifts a finger from your intertwined hands to point up with a devious grin. sure enough, above your head, you spot a sprig of mistletoe.
"you knew that was there, didn't you?"
"well i wanted to try out the tradition myself. and there's no one i'd rather do it with than you! so maybe i bumped into you on purpose to get you under here with me. is that so bad?"
as you find yourself leaning in to ring in the holiday season, you can't help but think maybe bumping into asmo under the mistletoe was a gift itself, even if it was a silly plot on his part.
"Solomon?"
"mc!"
your bodies bump together uncomfortably, and the two of you fumble together to stay standing. solomon's boyish laugh rings through the area, and you can't help but laugh a little yourself at the absurdity of almost bowling each other down on your way through the doorframe.
"are you alright?" he asks, giggles subsiding into a softness as his eyes scan you for any minor bruises or bumps.
"I'm alright. are you?"
"i am. better now that i have you alone."
"oh? and what is that supposed to mean?"
"did you happen to notice the mistletoe above us as you were walking this way?" solomon asks. your eyes drift upwards with his to see the plant hanging above your heads-- probably mistletoe, considering it's decorating the castle for the party, but honestly you'd never been close enough to know what it's really supposed to look like.
"not until now. assuming that's what that is."
"you think i'd lie about that?" he teases.
"oh, for sure. anything to get a kiss."
"ouch," solomon whines, pressing his hand against his chest to cover the emotional wound your words left. "i would never go so far as to deceive you. if i wanted a kiss, all i'd have to do is ask."
"that's true," you murmur, leaning in as he brushes his knuckles against your cheek.
silence.
"anyways," solomon starts, pulling away with a chesire grin and turning on his heel.
"solomon! you bastard! i thought you were gonna--!"
before you can protest further, his lips are on yours, grinning and kissing you senseless as he backs you up against that very doorframe-- to ensure you stay caught under the mistletoe, of course.
"Simeon?"
a gasp comes from the body you collide with, as sharp and unexpected as the collision you found yourself in. the body bumps into the doorframe with a muffled noise of surprise.
"oh, i'm so sorry! i didn't see you coming!" the apology is out of your mouth before simeon's fully steadied himself on his feet, but he's already chuckling jovially and reaching out to comfort you despite nearly tumbling to the ground.
"i'm sorry," he replies. "i should have been paying more attention."
he reaches behind him to adjust his cape, but his gloved fingers brush something caught in his hair and he frowns. you pull it out for him-- it's a decoration. leafy, green, christmas-y. you look above you to see the hook from which it hung in the doorframe now swinging empty after your collision.
"did i knock that over? i'll have to apologize to barbatos." simeon mutters. then, after a moment, "what is that?"
"mistletoe, i think."
"mistletoe?"
"it's a human realm plant," you tell the angel, twirling it in your fingers. "we hang it up around christmas time. it's for couples. when you stand underneath it together, you're supposed to kiss."
"oh," simeon answers quietly, cheeks heating up at your simple explanation. he looks pensive for a moment. "should i hang it back up?"
"huh?"
"well it sounds like a good excuse to kiss you, and i'm not one to let that chance pass me by. or can we just--?"
he gingerly slips the mistletoe from your fingers and holds it up above you, grinning bashfully. no more words are needed-- you answer the angel with a sweet kiss to mark the occasion.
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klaus-littlestwolf · 4 months ago
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YanAlpha!Klaus M. Mates the Last Omega
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Klaus meets an Omega while searching for wolves to make Hybrids. She’s the first Omega he has seen in Hundreds of years and he knows he has to have her…even if it takes some intense patience on his part
Warning:This is a Yandere Headcanon and it is labeled that way for a reason, the behavior exhibited by Klaus is dark, demented, and extremely manipulative. Proceed with Caution. DD:DNE
It started out as a Headcanon but it didn’t end that way so I’m not sure what to call it at this point
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~Klaus met you after finding out he needed Elena's blood to change his Hybrids
•The Hybrid had gone off by himself, leaving his sister behind, to find a new pack of werewolves and since he already knew where to look it didn't take long
•Klaus had walked right into the camp, startling the wolves who saw him before looking to their Alpha as the Hybrid knew they would.
•'I am Dane, Alpha of this pack and I'm sorry to say we don't allow outsiders in this camp, you may find the Shadow Moon pack to be more welcoming, they're about 12 miles southeast.  Leave this pack, now.'  The Alpha demanded and though he really wanted to laugh, he contained it, noting how so many of the wolves were shifting to a certain area as if protecting one specific tent. The tent being away from all of the others and clearly the largest one in the camp making Klaus extra curious though he would deal with the insolent Alpha first.
'That's good to know for later, thank you.  What is this pack called if I might ask?' He inquired, wondering if he should come up with a name for his own pack now, though that thought quickly fled his mind. Naming his pack would be inconsequential, he would just call it his Army.
'This is the Lycan Blood pack, and it is time for you to go, I am the Alpha of this pack.  You have no business here.'
'Oh, but that's where you're wrong.  I do have business here.  My name is Klaus, perhaps you've heard of me?' Everyone became noticeably stiff, once again shifting between him and the far tent.
'You're the hybrid.'
'Oh, you have heard of me.  Wonderful!' He grinned and suddenly the girl who had named him turned to the Alpha.
'Take care of her quickly.' He was officially intrigued when the Alpha took off to the tent and 4 of the wolves lunged at him at once.  It was far too easy to dispatch them, feeding them his blood and knocking the rest of the pack and the humans unconscious before following the Alpha to the tent.
'Please no?!  I haven't done anything wrong Alpha!'
'I know but I can't let him have you, you need to understand!  I have to do this!' Klaus peeked his head into the tent, seeing the Alpha with a dagger in hand, pinning another wolf to the ground, knees on her arms to keep her still as she still tried to kick him, tears streaming down her face.  The hybrid grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him off of her, quickly shoving a bloody wrist into the Alpha-soon to be Betas-mouth and snapped his neck.
•He had changed your Alpha that was trying to kill you before realizing what you were and the smell that filled his senses was like nothing he had ever experienced, made even stronger by the fact that he is in your tent that holds your nest (something he had only ever heard of before), he was obsessed with it immediately.  He knew as an Omega it would be hard for you to resist obeying an Alpha now that yours was gone and he knew he could take advantage of that as he watched you crawl away from him and up into the colorful, very well padded nest
•'Don't be afraid sweet girl, I won't harm you.' You looked up at him, tears in your eyes that Klaus wanted to wipe away but he wouldn't push you so far as to enter your nest this quickly, before looking down at your old Alphas dead body.  'I've given him a gift, he's a Hybrid now, never again bound to the moon.  You're a smart girl, you know that stronger Alphas will take over other packs, that's all this is, he's not your Alpha anymore sweet girl, I am, and I intend to protect you.' As he moved forward you suddenly hissed, swinging your claws out at him making him jump back to see he had nearly entered your nest and while the Original Hybrid felt he should be welcomed into the sweet smelling snuggly bed he also had heard how protective Omegas were of their nests and knew that if he bided his time you would be dragging him in before long, therefore he controlled himself...for now.
~He knew it would take time to get you to trust him and view him as your Alpha but he was willing to wait for you
•He eventually got you to relax enough to sleep, snuggled up in your nest and drifting off, allowing him to take care of the rest of the wolves, turning them and feeding them the Doppelgänger blood before getting rid of the humans and packing up everything his new pack would need to keep.  He woke you a few hours later and helped you begrudgingly pack up your nest and load it into his car to transport you to the next pack he had been told about
•He kept you safe in his house upon returning to Mystic Falls a few days later, having given you the master bedroom to set your nest in and that's where you stayed.  He would sit with you for hours, the first 2 days just consisted of him staring at you before he finally got you to talk to him which he counted as a win, quiet as you were.  He knew you eventually would, an Omega needs other wolves more than any Beta or Alpha does, they don't function well alone and he was going to make you completely dependent on him as your Alpha…no matter what he had to do
•'Eat my sweet girl, your Alpha made it especially for you.' He always referred to himself like this, knowing it would make you associate him with the head of your pack, as he hadn't changed you into a Hybrid yet, wanting you to be dependent on him first.
'Thank you...it's good.' You mumbled, reaching for your drink and touching his hand, the skin contact sending a feeling of warmth shooting up your body and making you needy.  Omegas are naturally needy and cuddly with their Alphas and your wolf has been quickly searching for a new Alpha to follow and you knew Klaus knew that.  It's why he isolated you and never left you alone but it was finally too much as you felt your wolf in the back of your head purring, your Alpha finally touching her after leaving her needy for days. 
Klaus watched your eyes glaze over and he knew your wolf was at the forefront of your mind, exactly what he was waiting for.  Klaus had only ever heard rumors about Omegas and since meeting you he did all the research he could, even compelling your old Alpha to tell him everything about you and how you behaved so he was prepared for whatever you needed.  'Alpha...'. you whined and he smiled, taking your hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb.
'Alphas here, Omega.  It's okay.  You're safe here, Alpha will protect you.' You whined again, dropping the plate of food and crawling forward, out of your nest and into his lap, nuzzling under his chin.  'Well, aren't you a snuggly thing.  My sweet girl, Alphas here.' Klaus was delighted by your attitude, wrapping his arms around you before picking up your plate.  'Eat Omega, your Alpha needs to make sure you're taken care of, don't I?' He fed her a bite of her pasta, digging his face into her neck as he heard her moan before the purr erupted from her throat.  The sound ran a chill down his spine straight to his cock, which was instantly hard pressed against her ass on his lap.
'Alpha?' She wondered and he nipped at her flesh.
'It's alright.  Alpha will take care of you, sweet girl.  Taste just as sweet as you smell, fuck!' His head began to feel foggy now and while Klaus didn't appreciate not feeling in control of himself, the overall feeling was quite...amazing.  He tossed the plate away knowing someone would clean it later, turning her to straddle his lap and pressing his lips to hers for the first time, his lips feeling like he had eaten pop rocks, a feeling that spread the more his skin touched hers.  He fell in love with her whines and whimpers as she pulled him closer, tugging at his shirt which he tried to keep her from removing before she ripped it straight down the front to get her hands on her Alphas strong chest.  'Such a needy little thing, aren't you?' His hand wrapped around her throat and pulled her up from where she tried to kiss his neck to look him in the eyes which were now golden and possessive.  'Did your last Alpha let you rip his clothes like this, or did he put you in your place.'
'Never touched me.' She choked and he tilted his head, confused.  'Said 'Mega's get in your head and make it cloudy...he only-only needed me to build the pack-Alpha please?' She pulled at his hand and while he knew he wasn't hurting her or even really cutting off her airway he eased his grip until his hand just touched her skin.
Klaus knew that Betas were more inclined to join a pack with an Omega, Omegas providing a feeling of safety which is what all wolves searching for a pack are in need of, of course he used her to help build his pack but not mating her?  Klaus had been curious about that but now he understood.  Many Alphas hundreds of years ago believed Omegas had the ability to control their Alphas because, as she had just demonstrated, their scent and touch can make their Alpha feel foggy but they feel it too, it enhances the experience of mating.  However, he knew that many Alphas some 5-600 years ago killed Omegas to keep them from "controlling their minds and stealing their packs".  While Klaus knew it to be a crazy superstition, it had seemingly worked out for him since the idiot "Alpha" hadn't touched his Omega.
'Alpha won't do that to you sweet girl, I will always give you what you need.' Klaus rocked his hips upwards against hers and his Omega practically wailed in need, his hard length pressing up against her through his jeans, though her pajama shorts that covered very little of her didn't do much to offer her protection with whatever kind of panties she had on.  His hands settled on her waist and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, face digging into his neck as she panted needily as he continued rocking up into her.  'There you go Omega, just feel me, such a good girl.' Another whimper followed that and he smirked as she nibbled on a spot at his neck.  Klaus only needed to rock his hips up against hers a few more times before she all but howled out her release, his arms tightening around her and holding her close as she settled down, knowing the more she touched him and breathed in his scent at a moment like this the needier she would be for him.  He wanted her needy, wanted her riled up and desperate as it would push her body to her heat faster because he knew the moment that happened it would be the nail in the coffin, she would give herself to him and there would be no going back.
'Nest Alpha, snuggle.' She all but demanded and he smiled, finding her adorable.  Klaus lifted her up and moved her to her nest, settling her down inside of it and handing her one of the stuffed creatures inside of it.  'Alpha, come.  Need you-'
'Not now Omega, Alpha has things to do.  I'll come and check on you in a bit, okay?' She shook her head quickly.
'No, want you in my nest!  Come!' Now she was demanding and he growled low in his chest making her squirm.
'Watch your tone Omega.  I will be back.' As he went to leave she caught his torn shirt and tugged at it, not meeting his eyes letting him know exactly what she wants which caused a smile to grow on his face and he pulled the tattered shirt off so that she could keep his scent in her nest before grabbing a clean shirt and leaving her to her inevitable nap.
•It's not like Klaus didn't want to be in her nest, he wanted it more than Anything!  But he knew that the second he crawled in he wouldn't be crawling out.  He needed to control himself and being surrounded by his Omegas nest, encased in her scent, wouldn't allow him to think of anything but mounting her and before that happened he needed her to be well and truly desperate for him.  He needed her to choose him when she goes into her heat.
~He kept on like that for a while, holding her and giving her bits and pieces of pleasure, but never more than that
•Klaus did feel a bit bad for it, he was truly falling in love with this sweet creature and she just wanted him to love on her the way her instincts insisted on but he wouldn't.  When he had come back later that night her nest was completely different, she had disassembled it and remade it in a different way, clearly thinking that her Alpha hadn't been satisfied with it and that's why he wouldn't enter it.  It looked incredibly comfortable and Klaus wanted more than anything to crawl in and never come out again, out of the nest or out of his Omega, but he couldn't. Not yet.
•He tried his best to keep her from thinking that he didn't like it but over the next few days as he could smell her getting closer to her heat she changed the nest 5 more times in hopes that he would like it. 3 days after he got her off for the first time, she finally hit her heat and he could smell it instantly
•The entire pack could smell it honestly, and all of them were quite stiff and unsure that day, watching Klaus as if waiting for him to snap. He didn't let her sit alone for long, not willing to leave her in pain when he could relieve it, but there was one more thing that needed done
•Klaus had planned to allow one of his Betas up the stairs to scare his mate a bit and make her all the more dependent on him but it seems the Beta he intended to use had beaten him to it when he thought his Alpha was distracted. He heard the Beta creeping to the door to his Omegas room slowly and quietly before Klaus turned to Mindy, one of his strongest Betas, and had her clear everyone out of the house for the night. He moved up the stairs behind his stupid Hybrid and he could see how desperate this wolf was for his Omega. He allowed the boy to enter his Omegas room without any complaint from him and he could see that the idiot boy was clearly excited. All of his Hybrids had been whispering since he brought his Omega back here, about what he's really going to do with her since any normal Alpha would have marked her by now. Some of them say he's just using her to his own ends like their old Alpha, some are saying he's going to kill her to keep her from having a hold on him, and some seem to believe that he just needs to keep her but that he's going to let one of his pack members have her since he doesn't want her...to Klaus, that was the stupidest conclusion they had come up with. But here this idiot Beta was, walking into his Omegas room as if he belonged there without a second thought. He cannot allow his pack to be full of men who would try and touch his Omega...he also can't have Betas in his pack that are this fucking stupid! Yes, it's true that he was going to have this Beta scare his Omega a bit like this anyway, but Klaus actually had hope that the Beta would be smart enough not to fall for it...apparently not. Klaus had known exactly which one of his Hybrids would be dumb enough to try something and there was nothing that could save him now…
•Klaus stood by the door, listening carefully as he heard his girl groan before smelling the air and whimpering as she realized the person who walked in was not her Alpha.
'Get out.' Y/n mumbled, writhing against the blankets uncomfortably. Klaus knew she was uncomfortable and scared now that this idiot was in her room and he desperately wanted to comfort her, however he knew that “saving her” would benefit him in the end. He was however quite happy with the fact that she only wanted him, rejecting this other wolf. Even after Klaus hadn’t given her what she wanted all this time, she still would only accept her Alpha. Klaus was fully confident that she was as in love with him as he was with her.
'It's okay Omega...I won't hurt you.' Klaus heard her let out a loud, angry hiss and he was actually impressed by his girl. As overwhelmed by her heat as she is, she is pushing through the brain fog to continue rejecting this idiot Beta. 'Alpha isn't here, he's not coming...but I'm here. I'll take care of you, Angel. I'll make you feel so good you won't even think about him again.' Klaus actually finds himself shocked at how stupid this Beta is, he knew he was an idiot and he had been meaning to get rid of him for a while, but if he's really this stupid he wants him away from his Omega now-Plans be damned!
'Alpha is gonna kill you for this.' She warned, and though it only came out a quiet mumble Klaus found himself smiling at how strongly he'd made his Omega believe in him.
'He doesn't care about you. All this time he could have mated you but he didn't, he doesn't want to Omega.' Klaus noted the Betas footsteps, not willing to let him actually get close enough to touch his Omega or to enter her nest. 'We've all been talking about it since he locked you up here...what's so wrong with that Omega that an Alpha doesn't want to mate her?' She whimpered sadly, the noise yanking on Klaus' heartstrings. 'Dane always said you were too needy, too desperate for this nest and for his attention. Personally I think he had the right idea, minus the not fucking you bit.'
'If you touch my nest I'll claw your eyes out!' She threatened but he snorted.
'You think you're stronger than me? Especially now? No Omega, now you're gonna put the claws away and do as you're told or I'm gonna do what Dane did when you misbehaved and I'm gonna take this nest away from you.' Klaus found himself shocked by that, Y/n hadn't told him of her old Alpha taking away her nest…maybe she hadn’t wanted to risk giving him the idea? That is one of the worst things that can be done, something the Hybrid would never even consider doing to his Omega and this idiot was threatening to do it during her heat! If Klaus hadn't already killed Dane several days ago (having been overly possessive after touching his Omega the first time), he would be killing him now…though now he wishes he’d made the idiot suffer a bit more.
'Get away from me!' As Klaus now heard the fear in his Omegas voice, he finally stepped into the room, rumbling a loud growl from his chest and startling the Beta who jumped back from the nest. 'Alpha! Please make him stop?! Please?!' His girl pleaded and Klaus felt his wolf howling in the back of his mind as he was overcome by the smell of his Omegas heat.
'What do you think you're doing in here?' Klaus asked, as calmly as he could which startled the Beta more.
'You aren't mating her, and if you're not going to, someone should.' The boy explained, trying to keep up his cocky attitude but being unable to keep the waver out of his voice as he grew more nervous.
'So you thought you would sneak in here while I was out, like a rat, and assault my Omega while she's in heat...if you truly think any Omega anywhere deserves that kind of treatment...then the world is damn lucky that you're not an Alpha.'
'I'd make a better Alpha than you! You leave her here alone every day to suffer-'
'Suffer?! She has everything she could ever need, she has her own room that no one else can enter and force her to smell other wolves, she has a nest full of everything she could want and I continue adding to it every day! I bring her meals and snacks, entertainment and I stay by her side everyday! Just because I don't force myself on her and make her take me as her Alpha doesn't mean she is suffering!' Klaus wrapped his hand around the Betas throat, pinning him to the wall and baring his fangs in his face, him whimpering like a scared little boy. 'You tried to hurt my Omega-'
'I didn't-'
'You threatened to take her nest from her for not giving you what you want. You threatened her...and I cannot let that go unpunished. No one hurts my Omega.' Just as he shoved his hand into the Hybrids chest his wolf began howling in the back of his brain once again, the loud purr that was coming from behind him was setting all of Klaus' nerve endings on fire. He felt the goosebumps rise on his flesh, every inch of his skin feeling tingly as he was overwhelmed by the scent of his Omega in heat and the sound of her purring just for him.
'Alpha...?' He turned his head to see her sat in her nest, her perfect soft skin now on display as she had stripped herself of her clothes, looking at him with a hopeful, pleading look. The sheen of sweat over her pale flesh seemed to remind him of how uncomfortable she must be and he jerked his hand back, tearing the mans heart from his chest and dropping it to the ground after using his shirt to wipe his hand off.  'Please don't leave me again...fixed the nest for you so you'll like it now...please stay?'
'You don't need to beg Omega, your Alpha is here.'  Klaus moved quickly, dragging the Betas body out the door before shutting it and moving back towards her, her scent overwhelming his senses as his mind became foggy once again.  He could see that her eyes were glazed over again, her heat taking its toll on her.  Klaus pulled his shirt over his head quickly, stripping his pants off as well as his boxer briefs to leave him completely bare as he crawls into her nest finally, being an instant relief to the both of them. Klaus grabs ahold of her ankle, pulling her towards himself roughly so that she’s laid out on her back now for him to touch as he pleases. ‘So perfect Omega, look at you…’ he hums, crawling over her and pressing his forehead to hers. ‘All mine now, aren’t you?’ She nodded quickly, moving her head to kiss him but he pulled back. ‘Say it Babygirl.’
‘Alphas! All Alphas now, no one else, never again! My Alpha…love my Alpha!’ She grabbed the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his now.
‘1000 years I’ve been waiting, you are never getting away from me now. And I will slaughter anyone who dares touch my Omega.’ He swore, lips still pressed to hers as he did. As he touched her Klaus found himself briefly wondering if this is what being on drugs felt like-every touch, every small brush of skin felt electrified and almost explosive. If this is what sex with his Omega feels like every time, he could never imagine wanting another women ever again, no other sex could top this feeling and he wasn’t even inside of her yet-though his Omega aimed to change that quickly.
‘Please?’ She whined, lifting her hips and rubbing her slick against his hard cock.
‘Please what, Omega? What do you need from your Alpha?’ He grabbed the backs of her knees and pulled her legs to wrap around his waist, her dripping cunt now pinned against him.
‘Knot! Please-Please Alpha?! Need your knot!’ His Omega was begging, she was a desperate little slut in need of his knot inside of her and the wolf in his mind was banging on its cage in his brain trying to get out.
‘You’ll have it precious, it’s all yours-‘
‘Mine! My Alpha! My Knot! All Mine!’ Her possessive behavior shocked him a bit, never having had a women under him before that would even think to claim him as her own. He was the Hybrid, he belonged to no one-but just as he thought this he was overcome with a heavy weight in his mind, his fangs pushing out of his gums as his eyes shifted to that familiar gold, dark veins forming below them. He felt no control in himself anymore as his wolf was now in the forefront of his mind.
‘That’s right pup, Alpha is all yours. No one else’s, not ever again. My pretty Omega, look at you, such a needy Little Wolf for me, need your Alpha to make it all better, hmm?’ She nodded, tears leaking from her eyes as she was completely overwhelmed. ‘It’s alright Omega, your Alpha is gonna take care of you so good. All mine.’ The growl that his voice had taken on clearly made his girl happy as she began purring quite loudly. ‘Scream for your Alpha, baby. Let all of them hear you in your pleasure, let them know who’s cunt this is!’ He shifted his hips back before pushing himself forward and filling his Omega with his cock for the first time. She squeaked a bit at the feeling of the stretch before moaning, claws digging into Klaus’ flesh on his back which only served to send a new shot of pleasure down his spine.
He began thrusting up into her at a borderline painful pace but her little whines and whimpers were driving him on. His wolf was content for the first time since smelling his Omega, driving his hips forward, fangs bared as he shoved his face into her neck and continued fucking his Omega. ‘Oh God! Alpha! Please?! Please Alpha?!’
‘Shh, hush now Little Wolf, I’ve got you.’ Klaus could feel how close she was, desperate to cum just as he was and as he felt his knot beginning to swell he pulled out of her slick hole and flipped her over. He ignored her whining as he lifted her ass up, presenting her to himself and shoving his cock back into her cunt. ‘Such a pretty Omega, aren’t you? Perfect little holes for your Alpha, I can have them all, can’t I? You wouldn’t deny me these lovely holes, would you?’ She shook her head, whining desperately and Klaus could feel her squeeze his cock, knowing she is going to cum.
‘Knot…Knot Alpha-Need-‘
‘I know Omega, Alphas gonna knot you up so good. Gonna be so full of me you’ll be carrying around my pups tomorrow-‘
‘Oh God! Yes-Yes! Please Alpha?!’
‘Does my Little Wolf want her mate to fill her with his babies? Fuck, you’ll look so gorgeous with your belly swollen with my pups,gonna be so sexy-I’ll never be able to stop fucking you Omega!’ Klaus felt his knot swelling as he knew he was close, needing to feel his Omegas pussy squeeze him the way he had always wanted. He trailed his hand down her spine, squeezing her ass and pressing his thumb against her tight little hole, receiving a loud squeal. ‘Cum for your Alpha, Little Wolf, squeeze my cock nice and tight and I’ll give you what you want.’
‘Yes! Yes Alpha! Oh Fuck!’ In that moment Klaus knew he had never felt anything more perfect than her sweet little cunt as she squeezed the life out of his cock, his knot expanding fully inside of her just as he buried his fangs into her neck roughly, finally marking her as his. His cock filled her almost violently with more cum than he would ever think he could, his orgasm lasting more than double what it usually did before they both collapsed.
His wolf had receded from his mind for the moment and he was slightly more aware of his surroundings, hearing his mate whine and realizing the uncomfortable position they were in as they had both collapsed awkwardly. He moved carefully onto his side and helped her move with him, his knot still trapped inside of her as it would be for at least the next 15 minutes, making him hold her hips to his gently so he didn’t hurt them both before holding her back to his chest and nuzzling her neck with a hand cupping her breast. ‘You did so good for me, Omega. Gave yourself to me so perfect, my good girl.’ He praised, kissing her neck over the mating mark he had gifted her and enjoying the soft purr he was rewarded with.
‘Don’t leave…’ she mumbled as her eyes drifted shut against her will, knowing she needed to sleep as her body was driven to rest as his seed attempted to take hold inside of her. They would be mating like this at the very least every few hours for the next 5-7 days during her heat, and even if he knew it would never happen, the Alpha inside of him was desperate to fill her with his pups as many times as he could during her heat.
‘You think I would leave you like this? What kind of terrible Alpha do you take me for Omega? I am not leaving your side once until your heat is over and you’re so full of my cum that you look knocked up already��I’m sorry that I can’t give you that…but we can have fun trying for the rest of eternity.’ He teased, nipping her ear and enjoying her soft whine.
‘Just want you Alpha…don’t need anything else if I have you.’
‘You will always have me Babygirl, I will never let you go. Never.’ He growled, thrusting up into her and enjoying her loud whimper as she felt his knot move. ‘Sleep Omega, Alpha will wake you soon when I will fuck you again before I feed my little mate and I fuck you in the kitchen. Just sleep little mate, you’re safe now. Alpha has you.’
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Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist
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hotpinkstars · 6 months ago
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HIIII I JUST READ YOUR BOOTHILL IDEA ABOUT PREGNANCY AND I AM WELL FED 😭 i love how angsty it is. oh boy i'm sure struggles a lot during his s/o's pregnancy. like...it has lots of cry and self-conflict because he may thinking that he isn't helping his s/o. there gonna be small arguments and misunderstandings. it's hard for the both of them and the baby. 🥹
ohhhh yes. yup. decided to take a real angsty route with this one. I added some mentions of his actual backstory here, bc my og one was written before his backstory was released lols
Boothill definitely cries during your whole entire pregnancy. He also has a lot of bad thoughts about himself during it, too. 
At first, he tries to hide it, and either subtly cry, or just simply wait until you’re no longer in the room or the house. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s not happy because of the state he’s in. 
He used to be human, he used to be flesh, and most importantly, he once had a daughter of his own, and that's what crushes him the most. He fears so much that he’s almost going to replace her, even though he knows deep down in his heart that it most definitely wouldn’t be able to happen. 
He also feels so bad about not being able to do normal human things for your during your pregnancy :(((( he knows how much you want to be able to be soft and intimate, to take baths and be able to have a cozy massage and just a cozy person around in general, and he’s the exact opposite of that. He doesn’t even think he deserves the husband title anymore.
He literally once asked you why you’re still with him and not someone else. You explained that you loved him and you wanted to be with him, and even then he never really expressed the way he felt about himself to you but you could sort of see it in his eyes. He didn’t like the way he was and the fact that he can’t be what he refers to as a “proper dad” to his kid. 
He knows it’s hard on you, too, and he also knows that you’re catching onto his harsh thoughts, and you’re catching on fast. It caused an argument a few times, on how you’re hurt that he’s not expressing his emotions, he doesn’t want to, it turns into a “do you not trust me or something?” conflict on your end, and a “I just don’t know what to say without hurting you” conflict on his end. Misunderstanding that likely won’t just dissipate. 
There was one argument that you both had when you were nearing pretty close to your due date, and he decided he was going to walk out midway through and not come back for about a week. For some reason, he chose a petty route, leaving you anxious and super betrayed, considering he refused to answer his phone, too.
The argument was over something that seemed incredibly stupid, if you both must say so yourselves. He was, once again, insecure, and he wouldn’t tell you why. That was what bothered you- did he not trust you enough? Did he seriously not want to be a part of this baby's life? Why else would he just walk out?
To say it made you super anxious, scared, and lonely was an understatement. You were left with the thought that you’d have to give birth alone, and go back to your original game plan that you already mentally set up. You thought he genuinely left you.
That was, until he walked back into the house on a random afternoon that next week. He ran up to you and apologized, allowing you to cry it out in his steel arms. He felt so horrible, and he vowed to you to never, ever do that again.
He tries to start letting you in on his troubles from that point on, but there still seems to him like there's a barrier blocking his words from coming out. Sometimes, he just blames it on his synesthesia beacon, which seems to work for now. 
He also lets you see him cry more often, but that stops when you give birth. He doesn’t need you to be more overwhelmed than you already will end up being.
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ffsg0jo · 6 months ago
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tw: hurt/no comfort , chapter 261 spoilers , major character death -- inspired by @sttoru so please check their account out !!
i am taking requests and writing fics and matchups for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!
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your shrieks could be heard echoing throughout the whole entire complex. everyone in the medical room pointedly refused to meet your gaze, knowing what had to be done. but you couldn't accept this as your reality. you wouldn't.
"please," you screamed, tears and snot running down your face, hair tangled and a complete mess.
you couldn't make anything out with your blurry eyes except the bloodied, stitched up figure laying on the table in the centre. the sight of your husband would haunt you for the rest of your life, image engraved into your eyelids.
"shoko, please, you can't do this to him, to either of them, please, please give him some decency." your hands grab the woman's as you plead and beg her. shoko only looks away, her eyes full of pity.
the exhaustion and dehydration catch up to you, and your body collapses into a bundle at her feet. your sobs only get louder as you grab at your best friends' ankles, gasping out a litany of "please shoko, don't." you couldn't breathe, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter.
she doesn't have it in her heart to look at you or push you away.
your sadness gives way to anger. anger towards the higher-ups. anger towards the fact that your husband couldn't even rest in peace after death. used as nothing but a weapon and tool in life and beyond death. anger towards the compliance of your peers and students.
you didn't care about the consequences. you just wanted your satoru back. would the child in your womb suffer the same way? you didn't even have the chance to tell satoru of their existence before the whole world turned upside down.
"he deserves to be buried," your shrill voice cut through the silence once more. you find the strength to stand up on shaky legs as you wipe the tears from your eyes. it's not long before they're filled once more, but you got a good look at everyone's solemn, teary faces. annoyance surges through your body.
"why is no one saying anything? this isn't humane, this isn't right."
"it's what he wanted," shoko responds, her voice small but unwavering. as though she was trying to convince herself what she was doing was right. her feelings could come later, but for now she needed to be strong.
you fall silent at her words, sniffing and trying to swallow back your sobs. of course he did. always the sacrificial lamb your satoru. never having a moment of peace except when he was in your arms, away from the monstrosity that was the sorcerer world.
"suguru would never have stood for this," the whisper of his name on your lips had shoko's head snapping to you. everyone else looking between you both nervously.
"suguru would never have allowed this to happen." you repeat, voice strengthening. you knew your best friend would've fought tooth and nail with you.
"you think i want to do this (name)?, i have no choice, it's our only chance!"
"you always have a choice, shoko. you always have one! yuuta's only 17, don't do this to him, please."
"and have him die?"
"death would be a mercy compared to whatever the fuck this is!"
shoko's words die on her lips. she knows you're right, but they both made their choices, and it was all for the greater good. she hated seeing you, her best friend, so hysterical. but her hands really were tied. shoko had to stay strong.
it's silent for a minute or two, save for your stifled sobs and sniffing. you could only stare at the lifeless body of your husband. even in death, he managed to look so ethereal and otherworldly.
you step towards his body, softly brushing the hair off his forehead. tears drip down onto his face, curving down the apples of satoru's cheek. he's cold to touch, so different from how he normally felt, always running hot. you kiss his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. his lips.
your quivering lips try to breathe warmth back into him. instead, his coldness seeps through you. you turn your eyes to shoko once more. you've never felt so weak and helpless.
"i just want his body to mourn, shoko, please. i'm not asking for much, i just want his body to bury. i want his body to be his," your voice cracks as you speak. "he deserves that much at the very least, his child deserves that much."
you hear small gasps from the people around you, registering your words. a newfound sadness and bitterness settles deep into their bones.
"i- i can't (name), i'm sorry." tears start to fill shoko's eyes, and you know you're fighting a losing battle.
you withdraw yourself from his body, and you attempt to stand up straight. you gently lift his hand to press against your womb.
the child growing inside of you may never feel the warmth of their father's touch, but satoru's love transcended time and death. he was selfless in the way he gave everything to you and for his loved ones.
"wait for me satoru," you whisper, sofly rubbing his lifeless hand pressed against you with one hand and his icy, hardened cheek with the other. his coldness settled into your body, making you shiver uncontrollably. a fresh new wave of tears run down your face.
it was a privilege to have been able to love him and an even greater honour to mourn him. you would carry his love inside of you, deep within the marrow of your bones, for as long as you lived.
"wait for us, my love."
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i am taking requests and writing fics and matchups for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
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ryomens-vixen · 1 year ago
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GrievingSukuna! HEADCANONS
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Summary: You passed away from an incurable illness that plagued you almost your entire life, and even as his favorite concubine, his most cherished, hell his only one left since he had disposed of the rest. The one thing he liked, that her genuinely cherished was now withering away in his arms.
⚠Warning⚠ Minors dni, mentions of death, Sadness, idk what else to put.
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GrievingSukuna! Who has never once said "I love you" to anyone not even you. The thought of those words ever leaving his lips made him want to gag except right those words meant everything.
GrievingSukuna! Who listened to your frail voice reassure him that your time spent with him was a joyous one, and that your were just another concubine, that he shouldn't mourn the life of someone who was merely brought to his temple over a year ago for his enjoyment alone.
GrievingSukuna! Who silenced you with the most tender, loving, heart stopping kiss to ever grace your soft yet dry lips as he just could not bare to hear another word. You chipped away of his walls, held his cold heart in your warm hand, and yet you had the nerve to utter nonsense? You had become his pride, the air he breathes, almost his wife, and possibly the barrer of his supposed heir.
GrievingSukuna! Who listened to you final goodbye to him after one last kiss to which he finally spoke those three words...
"Oh, Lord Ryomen, Serving you was..was the best thing that life could have ever given me. Every moment I spent serving you.. I spent without regret, my only regret now is being too weak to serve you any longer. What kind of concubine am I? Heh, forgive me..please forgive me, I- I-..."
You had spent all your energy speaking this blasphemy to him. If he could he would have scolded you right then and there, but there was no time that. All he could was catch your fallen hand that reached for him in an attempt to hold him one more time. You didn't have enough energy left to finish your sentence yet he finished it for you in those last moments he uttered for the first and final time.
"I Love You, (Y/N)... You foolish woman."
He said it, he finally said it, those words from him you would carry into the afterlife with you, A tear fell from your beautiful (E/C) eyes. But these words were only meant for your ears, not even his servant that stood outside his chambers could hear him whispering those three words into your delicate ears.
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GrievingSukuna! Who's world came crashing down once your chest rose and fell taking your last breath. Oh the heinous things he would do, the sacrifices he would make, the blood he would give to just hear your sweet voice once more. This hurt him, this pain.. It petrified him, it was like no pain he had ever felt before.
GrievingSukuna! Who after hours of holding your cold corpse, finally allowed his servents to come in and ready you for burial. His face was unreadable to them, but on the inside he was ready to explode with rage, he was ready to curse the heavens and hell for taking what was his away.
GrievingSukuna! Who stayed locked away in his chambers for the next few days leading up to your burial. Oh how you wounded him worse than any man or woman ever could. This wound wasn't something he could just easily no, no, this wound would forever be etched into his mind, body, and soul for as long as he lived.
GrievingSukuna! Who's face remained unreadable during the ceremony, you had no family to join him, just his loyal servents who had grew quite fond of you once upon a time.
GrievingSukuna! Who quickly storm away once your casket was lowered into the ground, he felt his eyes were burning... What was this? Tears!? Never in the beginning of time would Sukuna ever shed a pathetic tear, but he heart could not deny the human emotions that came with once being human. He wouldn't dare let anyone see such an ugly sight, him experiencing sadness.
GrievingSukuna! Who's sadness was quickly replaced with pure, unadulterated rage, every village in 100...No a thousand mile radius was fucked. If he couldn't have the one thing he cherished more than anything in the world then why should everyone else?
GrievingSukuna! Who would go days without returning to his temple until he's had his fill of bloodshed, maybe this was his new found way of coping with the loss of his concubine?
GrievingSukuna! After days of slaughter he would return home to your grave absolutely drenched from head to toe in the blood of the innocent and lay at your grave.
GrievingSukuna! Who would stay at you grave for hours, cursing you to the heavens for leaving him in disarray, for not ripping his heart out his chest to take with you so he wouldn't have to FEEL this pain any longer.
GrievingSukuna! Who would soon slaughter all that were loyal to him as he would rather live in solitude, then to be reminded that he has no one to share the servitude of his people with. Sukuna would rather be alone than to enjoy the finer things without you by his side.
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on-my-vigilante-sht · 11 months ago
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Immortal Danger
Apollo x DaughterofDemeter!Reader
Summary: Apollo marries a half-blood without realizing how dangerous it can be.
Warning: PJO universe but no real PJO plot, (kind of) smut, threats, monsters, Ares slander
Word Count: 4.7K
Masterlist | Part 2
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A/N Sam Claflin is my personal headcanon for Apollo and if he isn’t cast for the Titan’s Curse season I’m gonna cry
“Am I even allowed to be here?” I asked as Apollo and I materialized in his home on Mount Olympus.
“Probably not but Demeter’s already gonna be pissed when she finds out we eloped in Vegas,” Apollo smiles, pulling me down onto the couch. I laughed as he did so, taking a chance to look around. I was in awe. The ceiling to the sitting room was just a giant skylight and the sun seemed to perpetually shine through it. There were balconies in the column of the sun, revealing the upper levels of the extravagant manor decorated in gold.
“This place is incredible,” I said in awe.
“Yeah, Annabeth did a great job with the remodel. And it’s all yours,” he swore, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Everything that’s mine is also yours.”
“Really?” I challenged teasingly. “Then can I drive the sun chariot.”
He faltered. “Well… after Thalia, I don’t think-”
“I’m joking,” I assured him. “I don’t want to torch Antarctica. Or make North Africa freeze over.”
“I’ll give you lessons some day,” he promised. “Maybe when you’re a goddess and that human nervousness about dying instinct fades.” I laughed before he sprung up. “C’mon,” he said, pulling me up from the couch. “I wanna show you the bedroom.”
“Very subtle,” I chided him.
“I know,” he agreed with a cocky smile as he began climbing the stairs. “But you’re my wife now.” We went up so many levels I was beginning to get tired but Apollo was already practically dragging me up the stairs. When we went to a set of double doors I thought we were done with the stairs but there was one more flight. I followed him up, eyes widening as I realized his room made up the entire top floor.
There was a circle in the floor covered by glass with a view to the sitting room, allowing the sun to shine through the whole house. But the ceiling of the room itself was a glass dome, flooding the whole room with light. Surprisingly, it wasn’t ridiculously hot but that’s a perk of being the sun god. Several plants grew in various pots around the room—I had a sneaking suspicion he added them recently—and the walls were lined with various weapons, mostly bows and arrows. The bed itself was tucked into a sort of alcove, with pillows lining the edge of it, leaning up against the walls so as to make the whole alcove a soft bed. I noticed curtains hanging in front of the bed to shield it from the rest of the room, as well as a contraption above it against the glass probably to block the light from above.
Apollo came up next to me. “I know you’re a light sleeper so I had the curtains put in to block out the light.”
“This is incredible,” I said in awe. “But uh- do gods sleep?”
“We don’t have to but I love sleeping,” he smiled. “It’s one of the best things humans invented.”
I stepped closer to the bed, reaching down to feel the soft mattress. “Gods, do you know how long it’s been since I slept in a bed that wasn’t a twin size mattress?” I asked. Even though at 24 I was far older than any of the other campers at Camp Half-Blood, I had to stay there as the outside world had become too dangerous for me. Once I turned 22, Chiron finally let me have a room in The Big House because even the oldest campers besides for me were still around 17.
“Well,” Apollo began, getting closer until I was laying down on the mattress and his face was so close to mine I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, “I was thinking we’d consummate our marriage in this bed before sleeping,” he suggested, kissing me.
“I’d be open to that,” I laughed, kissing him back. Using godly strength, he managed to wrap an arm around my waist before pulling me up closer to the middle of the bed so our feet weren’t hanging off. As he kissed me, I could feel his hand find the zipper on the back of my wedding dress. But just as he started to bring it down, there was a bell and a shout.
“Apollo?” a masculine voice called through the house.
Our lips parted, and he rested his forehead on mine with a groan. “I hate him.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Hermes. Look, he can’t see you. He and I are cool now but he still can’t see you.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll just stay here.”
He nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead before running downstairs to an incessant Hermes. As he went down the stairs I watched in amazement as his tux transformed into a t-shirt and shorts. Once he left I started looking around the room more, wary of the giant glass circle in the middle of the room. I went up to the weapons, finding various plaques describing what momentous kill each weapon was responsible for. A little bit self obsessed to have in your bedroom but, hey, that’s Apollo.
As the gods moved to the sitting room I could hear them through the glass. “I know you’ve been dating a demigod,” Hermes’ voice came. “Chiron just sent a distress signal about a missing half-blood.”
“So…?” Apollo’s voice came, trying to act nonchalant.
“I’m saying that the girl you’ve been dating is the missing half-blood. Chiron is worried sick because apparently she’s powerful but will attract a lot of monsters. And Ares is still pissed at you for putting an arrow through him during World War I. She could be in danger of him while not under Dionysus’ protection.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, man. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”
“I haven’t known you to go even two days without seeing the person you’re dating.” I could hear the accusing tone in Hermes’s voice. And Apollo knew he was backed into a corner.
“Yeah well, dating a half-blood is hard. Chiron and Dionysus have her on lockdown. And do you know what Demeter would do to me? You remember how she lost it when Persephone ran off with Hades. How am I going to explain that I’m dating her half-human daughter?”
“Well you better pray Ares doesn’t find out about her or he’ll probably kill her just to piss you off.” Kill me?
“Look I’m going to have father turn her into a goddess soon anyway. She’ll be fine.”
“You’re awfully nonchalant about your little human going missing. Is it because she’s actually here?” Hermes accused.
“No!” Apollo said unconvincingly.
“Y/N!” Hermes called. “I know you’re here. Come on out.” I froze. What do I do? Obey the god or obey the other god?
“She’s not here and even if she was, she’d listen to what I said.” I didn’t move, contemplating whether or not I should hide.
“Fine, then you won’t mind if I check your bedroom.”
Σκατά. I could just hide in one of the many other rooms in the house. Hermes probably wouldn’t take the time to check every room. But once I reached the top of the stairs, the door at the bottom opened revealing a very pissed Hermes and distressed Apollo. Curse godly teleportation.
Hermes turned to Apollo. “Wanna do some explaining?” he asked sarcastically, observing my white dress. I just backed away, giving them space to come up the stairs. “Seriously, man. She could be killed because you married her and brought her here without permission,” Hermes explained as they walked up the stairs.
“But no one else is going to know because you’re not gonna tell them,” Apollo said, getting in between me and Hermes. “Right?”
He sighed. “Hi Y/N, congrats on getting married,” he finally greeted me.
“Thanks,” I answered hesitantly.
“Why is she even here?” he asked Apollo.
“Well, we were supposed to go talk to Zeus but I’m working the courage back up,” he laughed awkwardly. Hermes gave him an unamused look. “What? I’ve been single for millennia and then I’m just going to go up to father like ‘Hey, I finally decided to get married. By the way, it’s to a half-blood can you make her immortal too?’”
“So why is she still here?”
“Well Chiron has almost walked in on us having se- OW!” I cut him off with a pinch to his side. “What?” he asked, turning to me.
I could feel the heat rushing to my face now. “Shut up,” I chided him.
“Hermes of all people gets it!” he insisted, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You can’t honestly say you’ve never brought a girl to Olympus. Like Penelope? Pan’s mother. Because Odysseus would’ve tried to murder you had he walked in on you two.”
“That’s different!” Hermes insisted.
“How?”
Hermes tried to think of an answer for a few minutes before he gave up. “Fine, whatever. But either get her back to camp or tell Zeus what’s going on before anyone else can get their hands on her.” He left no room for argument because he quite literally disappeared in a flash of light that second. Thankfully Apollo had the foresight to cover my eyes for me because Hermes had turned into a ball of light before I could react.
My husband sighed as he looked down at me. “I guess I should return you, huh? I’m sorry I just can’t face Zeus today.”
I smiled softly at him. Truthfully I was in no rush for immortality. I wasn’t quite ready to leave my life behind either way but when Apollo burst into my bedroom declaring that today was the day, I just went with it. Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw I leaned up to kiss him. “Whatever you want, you’re the one who has to take responsibility,” I reasoned.
“Thank you,” he murmured, capturing my lips. “Do you think you can be missing for just a couple more hours?” he asked, pulling away from me.
“Probably,” I agreed. He was immediately scooping my legs up before dropping me onto the bed.
My new husband spent the entire night drawing orgasms out of me until I finally got him to stop. That was the thing about gods, sometimes they didn’t know when to stop because they didn’t always understand human limitations.
I was still breathing heavily from my last peak when I fell asleep on Apollo’s chest, so exhausted.
~
Despite the fact that the sun was down, Apollo could still see his new wife clearly through the moonlight streaming through the glass ceiling. He had laid there for hours, admiring her relaxed features and reveling in the touch of her skin on his. It was nearly five o’ clock and he’d have to get up soon. As nice and sunny as summer was, he hated having to get up so early to get the sun chariot ready.
He gently stroked the hair away from her face, pressing the lightest kiss against her forehead so as not to disturb her. Sitting up, he rearranged the pillows and blankets to cover her before sliding off the bed. He threw on some clothes, leaving a t-shirt for his wife when she woke up before disappearing to the moors of England. Humans thought the sun was always going around the world in a circle but for the west, the sun began in England because that’s where the dividing line fell between the east and the west.
Setting up the sun chariot to do it’s course, Apollo set it off, watching it crest up in the sky like every day. Before he could turn to leave he sensed a new presence behind him. Turning, he found a very smug looking Ares. Trying to play it cool, Apollo smiled. “What are you doing here, brother?”
“I heard about a missing camper,” Ares began. “And then Aphrodite told me about a certain marriage certificate. Filed both on Earth and Mount Olympus.” Apollo cursed internally, that wasn’t supposed to be sent to Olympus for another week. The one time bureaucracy was efficient.
“Ares…” he began, intending to work out some sort of deal but the god of war interrupted him.
“I don’t know where you’re keeping her but until she’s immortal, she’s fair game to kill.”
“You really wanna piss off Demeter like that?” Apollo challenged, hoping her mother could provide her a little protection if he couldn’t.
Ares shrugged. “She has plenty of other children. And it’s not like I’m killing Persephone.” Demeter’s first daughter truly was the apple of her eye. She loved her demigod children but she’d get over their deaths. “Should’ve thought about this before you decided to put an arrow through me in 1918,” Ares sneered.
“That was like a hundred years ago!” Apollo insisted. “Don’t put her in the middle of this. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you fell in love with a demigod,” the god of war taunted before disappearing in a flash of light.
The sun god let out an enraged grunt before transporting to his house. He practically ripped open the curtains surround the bed to make sure his bride was still there. He let out the biggest sigh of relief seeing her still laying there, unharmed. But now she was stirring due to the sudden light flooding her eyes.
~
I groaned as the sun hit my eyes and a body came to lay next to me. “I’m sorry,” Apollo said, crawling into his spot next to me. “I really wish you could go back to sleep but you need to be back at camp now,” he said. I could now hear the urgency in his voice as I opened my eyes.
“Why? What happened?” I asked, sitting up.
“Look, I uh- may not have thought this marriage all the way through,” he said nervously, handing me a shirt.
My heart dropped and pain flooded my body. “What?” I asked. I cursed myself, I knew it was too good to be true. I thought that after seeing each other for five years he was being honest about wanting to marry me. But I guess five years to an immortal god is the equivalent to a week for a human.
Apollo turned, finding my hurt expression. “No!” he immediately tried to clear up. “No it’s the fact that you’re in danger now. I don’t regret you. I’m so happy you’re my wife now and that you will be forever. I just didn’t think about the other gods’ reactions.”
“Oh,” I said quietly, relief washing over me.
“I could never regret you,” he said, coming over to sit beside me. “I love you. So much,” he swore, pressing me into his chest.
“Is this about Ares?” I asked. He suddenly froze. “I overheard you and Hermes downstairs,” I explained.
“Yes, but I swear to you nothing’s gonna happen to you. You just have to stay at camp. Ares won’t harm you if you’re in Dionysus’ territory,” he said urgently. If his grave tone was any indication, I was in serious danger. “I’m gonna talk to Zeus. We’re already married and I consulted the Fates when I met you so he’ll probably approve your immortality,” he rushed out, handing me shorts to throw on.
I was at a complete loss of what to say so I said the only thing I could think of. “Okay, I trust you.”
He smiled, lightly grasping either side of my jaw. “We have to go. I’m gonna transport with you just outside of camp. The other campers won’t be able to see me but you’re gonna say you snuck out to visit your dad because you were… I don’t know… having a hard time being the only adult at camp?” he suggested.
I nodded, grasping his hand. Immediately we were standing on the side of a familiar rural road. I looked up at the hill in front of me, just over it was Camp Half-Blood. Turning, I found nothing next to me but Apollo’s hand still intertwined in mine was proof he was still there.
He untangled his fingers from mine and gave me a gentle push on my back to encourage me to walk. I did so hesitantly, slowly walking up the hill. As I spotted the gates of camp. Stood on either side of the arch, were two campers in full battle armor. I could hear an indistinct yell as I approached. Probably alerting Chiron to my reemerged presence.
When I finally reached the “safety” of camp I could sense that Apollo was gone. He had kept a few paces behind me but disappeared once I got past Thalia’s former tree. Meanwhile, there was a new threat currently facing me as both Chiron and Mr. D stared down at me disapprovingly. They so rarely agreed with each other and Mr. D so rarely even bothered to pay attention to us that I knew I was in deep shit. “Y/N,” Chiron said like he was scolding his 16 year old daughter, “come with me.” He turned, trotting away as I followed after him like this was a walk of shame. Dionysus just disappeared.
Once I finally reached the Big House, I spotted Mr. D and a woman in the room. She radiated warmth and life despite the rage coming off of her. “Mother?” I asked.
“How could you!” she immediately yelled. “You were seeing a god behind everyone’s back? Not just any god, Apollo,” she spat angrily. “And then next I hear you’re married to him?” she asked in disbelief. “Y/N, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into? I’ve already lost one daughter to a god. I won’t lose another one.”
Had I not been speaking to a goddess I would’ve lashed out at her. It’s not like she was ever really there for me. How can you lose someone you’ve never been there for? “You’re not gonna lose me,” I insisted, biting my tongue. “You haven’t lost Persephone either, she’s only in the Underworld for a few months. I will be on Olympus with you.”
“Locked in Apollo’s morally depraved sex mansion,” she spat, clearly upset. My jaw nearly dropped, I was so shocked she actually said that.
“Demeter, as valid as your worries are,” Dionysus reluctantly said, “there is the more pressing matter of Ares trying to murder your daughter. And he’ll keep trying until Zeus grants her immortality.”
“Are those boys still fighting about the arrow in 1918?” Demeter demanded.
“Wait, Ares wants to kill me because Apollo shot him?” I asked.
“Yes, it was an accident but Ares never forgot. Especially because it allowed the Allied powers to win. At the time, Ares was kind of betting on Germany to be the next big thing but then when the Allies all blamed it on Germany, Ares wasn’t happy.” Chiron clarified. “And he wants to destroy Apollo’s happiness in revenge.”
“I don’t want you seeing him,” my mother suddenly demanded, still hyper-focused on the wrong topic. Even Chiron and Mr. D rolled their eyes at that. “He’s a no good playboy.”
“We’re already married. I’m not gonna just stop seeing him. And I knew what I was getting myself into. I made sure he actually wanted a relationship with me before I got attached.”
“Oh please-”
“He married me, didn’t he?” I interrupted.
“Demeter, if it’s any consolation he does seem to genuinely be in love with her,” Chiron defended me. “Apollo has never married in all the millenniums he’s lived. He has finally settled down.”
She looked reluctant to accept his argument but didn’t say anything else.
“S-so what do I do now that Ares wants to kill me?” I asked. “Apollo said that he wouldn’t touch me under your protection,” I looked at Mr. D.
The god of wine still looked reluctant to participate in all this. “Well technically camp belongs to all the gods and I cannot ensure your safety. Besides, Ares has never minded breaking a few rules of war. I’ll have to bring you to a more secure place whilst Apollo tries to convince Zeus.”
Demeter sighed. “I will go help him too but after you are immortalized we are discussing your living arrangement,” she said with a stern finger. Before I could reluctantly agree she was gone.
“Come,” Chiron said with a hand on my back. “You must pack only your essentials. Then Dionysus will take you to the convent you’ll be staying at.”
“Convent?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.
“Well, I am the god of cults,” Mr. D reasoned from behind me. “I have a few of my followers there but enough real nuns to disguise you. You’ll be safe there.”
~
I was only at the convent for two days before I was in danger again.
I had been getting along fairly well with the other nuns. Except for one. Her name was Peggy and she seemed too friendly and was always trying to be alone with me. With this being a place that housed Dionysus’ followers I thought nothing of it until I found myself alone with her.
I had been doing my daily chores of dusting the entire convent when Peggy entered the room I was in. I thought nothing of it until I heard the lock click into place. When I turned I didn’t find the nun, I found a gorgon with a grotesque smile on her face. “Daughter of Demeter, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I heard about your little predicament.” I glanced to the open window across the room. If I could just get outside I could trap the gorgon in nature. “Poor Apollo will be so heartbroken when he realizes his bride is dead before he was even able to give her immortality.”
Grabbing a lamp, I hurled it at the monster while she was still talking. It bounced harmlessly off her, shattering but I was already throwing myself through the window. Jumping through a second story window face first probably wasn’t the best idea but I needed to get her onto the ground. As I hit the ground I felt my wrist crack but I didn’t even have time to consider it because the gorgon was bursting through the window after me. She barely missed jumping on top of me but I rolled out of her path. As she was still regaining her bearings I willed the roots of the earth to wrap around her.
Thousands of roots sprung up from the ground tangling each other and the gorgon until they secured her. Any monster worth their myth could cut through my vines but they would come so fast that the monster couldn’t keep up until they were immobilized by the earth. Once the gorgon stopped moving and had just become an unrecognizable mass of weeds, I willed them to pull her into the ground. I’m sure it was a horrific way to die, having every nutrient in your body sucked out of you from underground until you could only become a pile of ichor that would remain in the earth forever.
As soon as I sensed that her life force was gone, I allowed some vines to wrap around my wrist, using the resources of the earth to heal my broken bones. As I let out a sigh of relief at the pain subsiding, I saw a faint flash of light. Now standing a hundred feet away from me were twin brothers, each standing around six feet tall, in full Greek battle armor. I knew enough about mythology and the context of my situation to know that these were Phobos and Deimos. If they weren’t standing between me and the convent I’d try to run there for safety.
“I’m so glad that gorgon was here,” Phobos said. “If it weren’t for you using your powers we never would have found you.”
Σκατά. Well, I just took down a gorgon, I could imprison these two. I let the earth crawl up their shins but they both just looked at each other with smiles before bursting into flames. Their explosion was so violent it threw me back a few feet.
I let out a groan as pain exploded in my body. Peeling open my eyes, I found the earth underneath their feet scorched and they were laughing. I tried to grow vines around myself to pull me into the earth as protection but a blade was suddenly cutting through them and I was being pulled up by my guimpe. Curse these stupid nun outfits.
“Wait, wait, please,” I begged.
“Too bad for you we don’t get to kill you,” Deimos taunted in my face, still holding me by the guimpe. “Ares is gonna torture you to death and send the footage to your husband.”
I did the only thing I could think of. I spat in his face.
“Ew!” he yelled, dropping me to the ground. I wasted no time tearing off into the woods, barely paying attention to Phobos berating his twin.
I continued on, tearing through the woods to get far enough. Seeing a flash of light, I turned the other way, trying to escape Phobos and Deimos long enough so I could hide. “Y/N!” I heard a familiar yell but I didn’t bother to stop. For all I knew, that was one of the twins playing tricks on me.
As I tried to jump over a branch my skirt got caught, sending me to the ground with a crash. Again, curse these nun outfits. Before I could get up though, there was a weight on me. I immediately began screaming and thrashing, assuming it was either Phobos or Deimos but two hands on my face made me look straight ahead. I calmed down realizing it was Apollo currently sitting on top of me.
“Hey, hey, you’re safe,” he assured me. “It’s just me.” As I started calming down, he pulled the veil off my head. “There we go,” he soothed, pulling me up from the ground. As he was still trying to calm me down, Phobos and Deimos appeared behind him. He whirled around, pushing my body behind his. “Zeus granted her immortality. She is under his protection!”
“What we don’t know can’t be held against us,” Phobos laughed.
But before he could do anything, I found myself in a new place. Olympus, I recognized it. Staring up in awe at all the thrones and the magnificent room made of marble. Eleven gods sat around me, including Ares. A completely golden throne that seemed to shimmer was empty.
I looked around, ensuring my head was bowed to all the gods—especially Ares—I finally reached Zeus, falling to my knee.
“Y/N L/N,” Zeus’ booming voice seemed to echo across the room. “You have been granted immortality by the virtue of your husband, Apollo. With the approval of myself and the fates. I hereby grant you goddess status: Y/N, goddess of healing, daughter of Demeter, and wife of Apollo.”
I don’t know what I was expecting but it was as if an unknown burden I didn’t know I had was lifted.
I stood, unsure what to do but all of a sudden a force was hitting me. As Apollo wrapped his arms around me I knew he had been what knocked into me. “My wife’s a goddess!” he yelled, still hugging me, much to the amusement of the other Olympians.
~
A/N I'm gonna be so fucking fr I had no plot going into this I just wanted to write about Apollo so if anyone has any suggestions or requests of a part 2 that ends this better I'm happy to write them
Masterlist | Part 2
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moonchildstyles · 10 months ago
Note
can we get a chiaroscuro blurb where maybe harry chases petal around? like a game but it takes a spicy turn 👀
wordcount: 8.4k+
—————
(Y/N) fumbled with her keys as she took the short scale of steps to the front door of the manor, her hands full of grocery bags she was too stubborn to make more than one trip for. She could feel her back sweating under the heavy cardigan dropped over her form, the sun far too bright and warm given the time of year. 
Just when she thought she had the grip right, her keys fell to her feet and out of reach. An exasperated huff fell from her lips. She should have just called Harry to help when she made it home.
Bending carefully to keep her grocery bags from tumbling out of her arms, she blindly reached around for her keys. Her fingers grazed the stoop with no such luck, her annoyance growing just as the heavy door to the manor swung open. 
"My love, is everything al—What are you doing on the ground?" Harry rushed, urgency entering his voice once he caught sight of her struggle, "What happened? Are you hurt?"
He was at her side in a blink, immediately taking the bags from her arms and steadying her. He took stock of her, a familiar expression striking his features; he was worried, near frantic attempting to find where she could have been injured.
"I'm okay," she shook her head, grateful for him taking some of the burden from her hands, "I just thought I wouldn't have to make more than one trip, then I dropped my keys and it's just—I don't know, it's too hot outside." 
A pinch creased Harry's brows, giving him wrinkles that would disappear the second he smoothed his features. "Why didn't you call for me? I would have helped you, petal." 
She shook her head, following after Harry with her keys in hand and only a single grocery bag into the manor. "It's too sunny. I thought I could make it, so I didn't want to make you come out if you didn't have to." 
"I can handle some sun, darling," he assured her, getting her safely inside the manor before he closed the door and sealed out the unseasonal sunshine, "Especially if it is for you." 
A small smile curled over her lips at his declaration. Of course he would say that it is worth it to potentially combust or go blind if it meant that he could help her bring her groceries in. 
It was sweet—and only a little stupid. 
Marching off to the kitchen, Harry didn't wait before he began unpacking all of her items and placing them within the cabinets and fridge. (Y/N) did little more than perching on the countertop, knowing that he wouldn't allow any kind of help since she had already gone through the trouble to shop herself (on his dime, though he never let her use that against him in the argument). She knew he could have it done in a matter of seconds, but he tended to refrain from using his supernatural abilities in moments like this, insisting she made him want to slow down and feel normal with her. That left her to watch as he bubbled around, unpacking with the reusable bags being folded away for another time. 
The sight brought her back to her first night at the manor, before she had even met him. The kitchen had been so clumsily stocked with the strangest variety of ingredients. Neither him nor Niall had any idea of what a human needed to make a proper meal. 
"Has the forecast changed at all for this afternoon?" (Y/N) asked, not bothering to take her eyes off him as he worked. 
A grim line settled on his lips. "Not as far as I know. I am starting to worry I won't be able to accompany you later." 
Her mouth edged into a soft pout. "Really?"
"'M afraid so, my love," he said, an apologetic quirk to his lips.
"I don't want to go if you can't come, though," (Y/N) argued, kicking her feet from where she sat on the counter. She was just a moment away from pulling out her phone and rain checking on Charlotte for another day. 
"You should still go, petal," Harry countered, putting away the last ingredient before he drifted to stand between her spread thighs, "Do not cancel on my account." 
"But the whole point of today was so you could meet my friends. It kind of defeats the purpose if you don't come with me." She would have to tell them he came down with something, and reschedule to a day with a promise of cloudy weather. 
His lips were still in a thin line when he settled his hands on her thighs, a chill seeping through the denim of her jeans. "I do not want you to miss out on your friends and your human activities on my account. I don't think it's fair." 
"I see Charlotte and the others plenty, H," she said, placing her own hands on his with her palms warming his skin, "Today really was going to mostly be about you. Plus, I know Charlotte kind of loves it when I cancel, so she can stay in with her boyfriend instead. They'll understand." 
With the pinch between his brows only winding tighter, (Y/N) knew he was far from convinced but when he peeked up at her through his lashes, she could tell he wasn't going to argue. "Only if you are sure, my love. Please, if you change your mind, do not feel bad about leaving me here. I want you to do whatever makes you happiest." 
"I will," she settled with a small smile, despite knowing that her happiest would be found right here in the manor with him. 
Curling her fingers around his own, she held onto his hands as she leant towards him and pressed a small kiss to his lips. 
It was Harry that chased after her when she began to pull away, ensuring she wasn't far before the chill of his mouth was once again buttoned to her own. She smiled into his kiss.
"Are you happy I'm staying home now?" she asked against his mouth, causing him to push his kiss to the corner of her mouth. 
He paused, his hands flexing around the full of her thighs. 
"Perhaps a little."
—————
"Let me finish this one section. Then I am all yours, petal." 
Harry's murmured voice was quiet in the middle of his studio, barely much louder than the swish of his brush over the canvas propped in front of his stool. His palette was full of color, the evidence of the last hour of work he'd put into the finishing layer of his latest piece. 
(Y/N) couldn't contain the heavy sigh she heaved as she draped herself over his form. Her arms dangled down over his shoulders, her face pressed cheek to cheek with his. A pout was on her lips as she watched him make changes so subtle she could barely even notice them. 
This wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she cancelled her day plans.
He'd been at this for what felt like forever, and (Y/N) had been itching to pry him away for at least the last twenty minutes. She could hardly stand still, let alone actually watch him. 
It was his fault, really. 
It was Harry who had used the early hours of the afternoon to make a batch of sugary cupcakes, complete with chocolate frosting and raspberry compote shoved in the middle. After being the taste tester during the making and stealing a couple once they were cooled, (Y/N) was now experiencing what she could only call a sugar high and wanted Harry's attention more than anything. (Though she wasn't up to admit it, the late afternoon latte she made out of boredom probably had more than just a little to do with the extra energy).
She impatiently watched him make another minute stroke, adding a barely there brush of white highlight on a bush. The sound of his brush swirling through paint on his palette had her jaw ticking.
"Are you done yet?"
A huff of laughter left Harry's lips. "Almost, my love. What has gotten into you, may I ask?" 
"I'm bored, and I want to play with you," she pouted, curling her arms around him in a clumsy hug. 
"Yeah?" he prompted, his smile audible, "What would you like to play, hm?" 
He was only teasing her, she was sure. He hadn't even stopped painted when he spoke. (Y/N) deflated, sinking into his shoulders. "I don't know." 
The change in her inflection had Harry pushing his palette to the side, his full attention landing on her as he twirled on his stool to face her. He collected her hands in his, the glamoured green of his eyes wavering in distress. 
"I didn't mean to upset you, love—I promise I was only teasing," he pleaded with her, canting his head with his cool hands squeezing hers. 
Maybe it was a bit awful of her, but she couldn't help herself but to poke just a hair further to get what she wanted. 
"It's okay," she told him, though she played up the moment with her mouth in a pout, "Will you hang out with me now? Please?" 
"Of course, my love," he rushed out, standing to the full of his height with his hands still wrapped around hers, "Anything you want, we will do. I am at your disposal." 
Perhaps she hadn't thought her little plan through quite as well as needed, (Y/N) realized. She didn't even know what she wanted to do, only knowing that she wanted to erase her boredom and she wanted Harry to be there when she did. 
Rolling her lips between her teeth, she flitted her eyes away from his own intense gaze. "You pick." 
"Me?" Harry pressed, serious expression on his features. His hands around hers shifted until he had their fingers laced together, his thumb running along the outside of hers.
(Y/N) shrugged, almost wishing she had let him continue painting instead of this. "I didn't think this far ahead." 
His face softened into a gentle smile, his brows loosening with  his eyes almost glimmering as he gazed at her. "Okay," he sounded, "I will think of something, then. Your only job is to tell me if you think you would have fun."
A furrow touched his brows much to (Y/N)'s delight. He always looked especially cute when he was concentrating like this. 
"I can do that," she smiled at him, happy to have his attention after the long afternoon. 
It only took a beat before Harry was flicking his gaze to match hers. "What is something humans do when they cannot go outside? What kind of activities would y'play when you were unable to go out?" 
The question had (Y/N) thinking back to the days before Harry—before the rain and the clouds were their best friends. "Probably read or watch a movie or something," she answered, "I have too much energy, though—none of that sounds fun." 
It was Harry's turn to puff his lips into a pout, his gaze dropping to their joined hands and growing distant with his thoughts whirring. "Okay," he drawled, "Are there any games that sound fun to you, petal?" 
Sifting through her memories like a rolodex, (Y/N) pinged on something she hadn't thought about in years. "When I was a kid," she started, "Me and my sister would play stupid things like tag or hide and seek if we couldn't play outside. I was never very good at it, but I think it could be fun." 
The smile that bloomed on his face told her that he had it all figured out then. "Let us do that, petal. We can still play even if it's only the two of us, yes?" 
"Hide and seek?" (Y/N) clarified, unable to keep her own lips from stretching into a grin as she saw his own. 
"Yes!" he bubbled, entirely too giddy over a childhood game, "That would be fun, wouldn't it? You would not be bored while playing, right?" 
A peal of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips at his declaration, her energy bouncing off of his. "You're going to win every time, though. You'll always know where I am." 
"I swear I will not pay attention," he assured her, "No cheating, I promise." 
A bubbly smile drew (Y/N)'s features with soft curves. The manor was so big, this was the kind of place she would have killed to play such a game in when she was a kid. She just had to hope Harry wouldn't find her too easily when it was his turn. 
"Okay," (Y/N) sang, using her grip on his hands to lead him out of the studio, "But, you're hiding first."
"Now?" he blanched, looking taken aback as if he hadn't suggested this game himself. 
"Yes, now," (Y/N) laughed, pushing Harry out into the hallway with her ands untangling from his, "I'm going to start counting, and if you're not hiding, I still win if I catch you." 
(Y/N) didn't wait for a reaction, instead turning her back to him with her hands covering her eyes. She began counting loudly for him to hear. After a moment of lag, his footsteps finally began to retreat, disappearing in a blink by the time she had counted to fifteen. If not for her eyes already being closed, she would have rolled them; Harry was already using his abilities to his advantage despite just vowing not to cheat. She continued counting through her smile.
While (Y/N) couldn't remember the exact rule from her childhood, she was sure she didn't count for as long as she was supposed to. He didn't need that much time anyway, she decided. He'd probably already found a hiding space as soon as he disappeared. 
Entering into the hall and leaving the studio behind, she couldn't help that rush of adrenaline that always came with this kind of game. While she was technically the hunter in this scenario, she felt those nervous butterflies every time she peeked around a corner or peered into a dark room, anticipating the sight of Harry waiting for her. It didn't help that he could be completely silent when he wanted, leaving her with no warning of where he would spring up. 
Her search took her through much of the first floor before she grew antsy and trekked up the staircase towards his wing of the manor. While he didn't spend too much time in his bedroom any more after moving into her lighter chambers, it was still a space he knew better than anywhere else. 
Though much of the decor had shifted in the house, leaving behind some of the more grotesque paintings and ominous sculptures, this wing of the manor still contained those relics of the past. She had insisted that he keep his space as he had it, not wanting him to change everything just because she was now a part of his life. That left her padding down the dark hallway with the blank white eyes of the demonic cherubs following after her. Sobbing angels and puddles of blood littered the backgrounds of these scenes, taking (Y/N) back to the early days when she had first arrived at the manor. 
Curling her sweater sleeves over her hands against a phantom chill in the corridor, she peeked into the various rooms lining the hall. Her heart beat heavy in her ears every time she pulled open a door, expecting to see Harry's pale features shining through the dark. Her paced breathing and footsteps were the only other sounds to be heard in the silent passage. 
She saved his bedroom for last, this being the only room she was actually familiar with in the hall. Her stomach was flooded with butterflies as she twisted the knob, pushing open the door before crossing the threshold into the chilly room. Goosebumps pricked her skin as she stepped inside, not bothering to flick on the lights as if that would break the effect of the game—as if she wasn't starting to actually grow spooked. 
His room was still decked in velvet and silk, golden and black features streaming throughout. She could still clearly recall the night she had tucked herself under the heavy duvet, waiting out the monsters that had called to her outside. She remembered the way Harry had tried to soothe her in the night, when her sleep had grown restless. How that moment had felt like a dream only for it to be one of the first pages in their story.
Her breath caught in her throat when she swore she saw a shadow move behind the drawn curtains. 
Stepping on silent feet, she ventured further into his bedroom, hesitantly peeking around his wardrobe and even chancing a look inside. Each attempt was fruitless as she changed her direction towards the bathroom attached to the room. 
There was a static in the air, the kind that made her sure there was someone else sharing this space with her, but there was no Harry to be seen. The hinges of the bathroom door creaked just as she felt a set of hands land on her shoulder. 
"Found you." 
Harry's breath washed over the side of her neck, a shiver running down her spine at the same time she startled in her spot. Her heart skyrocketed to her throat, beating heavy behind her ribs and echoing in her ears.
Spinning to face him with her hand to her neck and mouth dropped in a gasp, she looked to him with accusing eyes. "You scared me! I'm supposed to be finding you!" 
"I'm sorry," he said through an amused smile that did nothing for his point, "You walked past me twice, petal. I couldn't wait any longer." 
Settling in her skin, (Y/N) was able to pout over her lost game. "I would have found you." 
"I am sure y'would have, my love, but now y'can relax. I could hear your heart beating like you were running a marathon." 
Sometimes she forgot just how in tune with her body he was; he knew everything, many of them she barely even noticed herself. Nothing was overlooked. 
"I was right to be scared," she countered, her skin warming as he dropped his hands from her shoulders to follow the length of her arms down to her hands, "You ended up scaring me just like I thought you would." 
"Darling," he drawled, ducking his head to be level with her gaze, "I really didn't mean to—I was hoping I would make you laugh, that's all." 
Collecting her into his arms, Harry hugged her against his chest in apology. As much as she wanted to believe him, (Y/N) could still feel that smile of his, complete with both dimples, as he tucked his face into the warmth of her neck. 
"It's okay, H," she murmured, nonetheless reciprocating his hug with her arms around his neck. He sunk into her hold, heavy and adoring as he relaxed. With her mouth by his ear, she whispered, "Your turn." 
With that, she pushed off of him, laughter spilling from her lips as she scuttled out of his bedroom. Heading towards the staircase at the end of the corridor, she turned around with a beaming smile just to see him looking after her like she thought he would. The sight made her grin that much larger. 
"Start counting—and no cheating!" 
All but sprinting through the manor, (Y/N) left him behind, finally working out that giddy energy she'd been holding onto through the afternoon. While she knew there was little chance that this was going to be a very fair game given the fact that he couldn't turn off his senses, she still wanted to have fun and see if she could confuse him and have even a minute chance at winning. 
In an attempt to play dirty, she ran around the manor, traipsing through the kitchen, her bedroom, the art studio, any door she could get through without wasting too much time to leave her scent any and everywhere. Her heartbeat and breathing were going to be her giveaways, but this could buy her time if Harry fell for it. 
By the time she knew she was closing in on the remainder of her time, she settled on hiding in the laundry room. The room had two entrances—one opening to what used to be considered a maid's quarters, and the other out into the hallway. Leaving the door to the hallway open in hopes of through him off, she tucked herself out of sight. She fixed her eyes on the slight crack in the open door with the maid's entrance to her back. 
The longer (Y/N) stayed tucked away, the more that familiar anticipation crept in. Though, instead of being the hunter, she was now the hunted, sitting like a duck as she waited to be caught. The worst part was how silent Harry would undoubtedly be—she wouldn't even know she had been found until he had his hands on her. 
Keeping her eyes fixed to the crack in the door, (Y/N) waited. It took everything to keep from wriggling and giving away her spot, despite the growing buzz in her stomach that urged her to run or use the restroom (the juvenile urge being one she only really felt while playing this game, she realized). He must be staying as true as he could to his vow of no cheating since he was taking his time to make it through the manor, his speed being left in his bedroom. 
Out of nowhere, there was a creak from a floorboard heard down the hallway. (Y/N) clamped her mouth shut, pacing her breathing as if that would help. At least she knew where he was now. 
Her gaze never strayed from where she could see just a sliver out into the hall, waiting to see the green knit of his sweater. The longer she waited, the harder her heart beat. There was no other creak or sound of movement telling her where he could have retreated. 
She rolled her lips between her teeth. Could she chance a shift in her spot, just to see I she could spot him elsewhere?
A breath too late, from the corner of her eye she saw a familiar green sweater and pale features. 
"Harry, no," she laughed right as he caught her with his hands landing on the soft curve of her waist, "You cheated!" 
Tugging her to his chest, Harry pulled her out of hiding and right to him. A wondrous light had settled in his eyes as he took in her laughter. "How did I cheat? I gave you plenty of time, petal." 
"You're not allowed to be so quiet," she argued, already pulling away from his embrace, "Go hide, it's my turn." 
Harry didn't let her get very far before he was pulling her back to his chest, dipping his head down and leveling his gaze with hers. "No, I won. I found you," he smiled, tipping his chin to press his lips to the soft of hers.
(Y/N) drew away first, keeping herself from getting distracted. Energy was still trickling through her system, she didn't want to stop now. "I know, so it's my turn again." 
Chasing after her, another kiss was planted over her mouth. He spoke against her lips, "No, I win. I get m'prize now." 
She laughed into his kiss, Harry swallowing the sound between his parted lips. "Your prize?" 
Pulling away just enough to match her gaze with his nose bushing hers, amusement sparkled in his eyes. "Are you not my winnings?" 
A spark bubbled under her skin, meeting with lingering butterflies that had her slipping out of his arms. He was always going to win in the end, but she was going to get in as many rounds as she could before then. 
"Fine," she relented, shooting him an excitable smile as she bounced on her feet, "but you have to catch me first." 
With that, she shot out of the laundry room, slipping out of his reach. A bright smile was on her lips as she pictured the look on she had undoubtedly left on his face. It wasn't until she had ran her way down the hall, reaching a corner that she peered over her shoulder. 
Harry had only followed her far enough to be peeking out into the corridor, a furrow to his brow and slight quirk to his lips.  "Where do you think you're going?"
"I don't know!" she giggled, skidding around the corner before popping her head around to peek at him once more, "And, no cheating!" 
She heard his laugh as she sped down the winding hall and towards the staircase. There was no clear destination in mind, just knowing that she wanted to make a little bit of trouble for him before she was caught. 
The fact that he hadn't reached her already told her that he had listened to her rules, but that didn't mean he was very far behind if the sound of his rapid footsteps was anything to go by. 
By the time she made it to the sitting room, murals of the heavens watching as she raced through, she could hear Harry's barely a heartbeat behind her. Daring to peek over her shoulder, she could see him descending the stairs, a furrow to his brow until he caught her looking. Then, he had a splitting grin on his face.
A giddy peal of laughter fell from her lips as she ran harder from him, feeling that adrenaline leak into her system knowing that he was right there. It would be so easy for him to use his supernatural traits and catch her before she took her next step, but he was letting her keep her little game up. He was enjoying the chase.
He followed her into the kitchen where she slid her socked feet across the floor, catching her balance before she could tumble to the floor. The close call had just that much more energy hitting her system.
"Be careful, petal," Harry scolded her, having just barely caught her near miss. 
"No," she laughed, knowing she sounded a bit like a petulant child before she was off again. She could hear his own huff of laughter from where she left him behind. 
It didn't take long before she felt the stretch of Harry's fingers graze the back of her sweater, the beats of his feet just behind her. She yelped at the touch, instinctively trying to throw him off by zagging towards the stairs once more. Before she could lead him up, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her away from the steps. 
"We are not going to run up the stairs like this, petal," he laughed, not even a little out of breath as he tucked her back to his chest. 
"You cheated at the end," she accused in a pant, laughing as she tilted her head back to look up at him.
His features were upside down from where she gazed down at her, smug smile on his lips. "Perhaps, but I still win." 
Before she could argue, he had her spun around in his arms. The world spun around her as Harry threw her over his shoulder, her hips settled on the cuff of his shoulder with her arms dangling down his back and legs kicking in front of him. His arm created a bar across the backs of her thighs, keeping her steady as she wriggled over him.
"I get to take you away now, petal," he declared, starting towards the stairs on much more steady feet this time, "No more running from me." 
"I thought you said we were going to play whatever I wanted today," she faux-whined, clinging to him as he reached the landing of the second level. 
"I think you'll like this break from your game, puppy," he answered simply. 
She was sure they both felt the change in the pace of her heart then. With that one word, she knew he was right. She was going to enjoy whatever game he wanted to put on now. 
Pushing into their bedroom, (Y/N) was unceremoniously plopped onto the bed, unmade bedding rustling around her. The mattress bounced under her back just as Harry settled followed, crawling to the middle of the bed to sit himself between her thighs. 
His weight had her sinking into the plush sheets with her thighs spread wide to accept his hips against her own. A heady bulge pressed against her core as he buried his face against her neck. The tip of his nose skimmed over the column of her throat, her skin breaking into goosebumps at the touch. She could feel the smile curling on his lips at her reaction.
Bringing her hands up to tangle through his hair, she hiked her thigh around the cuff of his hip. The chill of his lips held that much more of an effect on her when he pressed them o her heated throat. 
"What's gotten into you?" she asked, preening under the attention.
Harry's response came in between the smattering of kisses he gave to her neck, the scratch of his teeth sending a shiver down her spine. "I liked chasing you," he murmured against her skin, words melting into her pores, "Jus' wanted to catch you and take you away." 
(Y/N) felt breathless at his admission. That wasn't the intended effect she had been going for with her game, but she couldn't say she didn't like it.
"Take me away to do what?" she pressed, wanting nothing more than to have his voice wash over her with every minute detail that came to mind. 
"To fuck you, puppy," he answered simply, taking her breath away when he scraped his teeth against the well-bitten spot on her neck. "You know that."
Her reaction was enough to spur him on as he sucked a mark onto the hollow of her throat. Her fingers coiled in his curls, arching into him with her head tipping to the side to give him more skin to roam. Harry happily took advantage, teasing her with nips at the curve of her neck once he was satisfied with the faint mark he left behind on her skin.
"You want that too, puppy?" Harry murmured against her throat, the full of his lips pillowing over the goosebumps on her skin, "Want me to fuck you?" 
She didn't even think before she was nodding as best she could with her cheek pressed to the mattress, her mouth dropped in a breathless gasp. Harry's smug smile could be felt against her neck before he drew back, matching her eyes with his own intense gaze.
"Say it." 
Her heart hammered against her rib cage, her thighs squeezing around his hips. How her stupid game of hide and seek led to this, she wasn't sure, but she was willing to do it again every day if this was the kind of effect it had on Harry. 
When she didn't immediately answer him, Harry pulled one of his hands up and lightly tapped on her warm cheek with his three middle fingers. 
"C'mon, puppy. I wanna hear y'say it." 
Though it was far from the filthiest thing she's said for him or he's said to her, she still felt her skin warm and throat bob as she followed his instruction. 
"I want you to fuck me, Harry." 
His eyes fell to her lips, watching her mouth form the words and her breathless voice carry them out. There was a note of pride in his gaze as he took in her obedience. 
"I can do that for you, petal." 
Ducking his head down, he smeared his lips against hers, tongue slipping inside her mouth and sampling a taste of her own. (Y/N) raked her fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp as she leant into every bit of affection he offered. She locked her thighs around his hips, every sweep of his tongue causing a pulse of the muscles. 
Wordlessly, he slipped his arms around her cradling her to him just before he rolled them over in the tufts of their bedding. In a breath, without having separated from their kiss, he had placed himself underneath her form. (Y/N) sat in his lap, knees bracketing his hips with Harry's legs bent at the knee behind her to keep her steady in her place. Once she caught up with her body, she startled, instinctively reaching to place her palms on his shoulders as she drew away from his mouth with her kiss-swollen lips in a gape. 
Harry's pupils were blown wide as he looked up at her, his bottom lip fit snugly between his teeth. "Haven't had you on top in a while, huh, puppy?" 
Despite talking as if he expected an answer from her, Harry rocked his hips underneath hers, effectively robbing any chance of speech. (Y/N) could only shake her head—it really had been a while since she'd been the one above. 
Pleased with her eager breathlessness, Harry dropped his hand to fit the curve of her waist, a slight flex of his fingers pushing dents into the soft skin. "Show me how you're going to ride me, petal. I want to see you to work for my cock." 
He spoke with no reservations, commanding with all the affection in the world embedded in his tone. There was no way she could say no to that. She wanted to give him everything just as much as he did for her.
Digging her fingertips into the broad of his shoulders, she steadied herself with her knees on either side of him. His legs behind her were the easiest way to keep herself steady as she started rocking herself on his lap, using his thighs to lean against with every roll of her hips.. The bulge of his cock pressed headily against her core with each brush, her stomach tightening along with her breathless lungs. 
"Y'can do better than that, darling," he taunted, his voice playfully mocking, "I know you don't expect me to be gentle today, right? Not after y'made me chase you around just to get you all pretty in my lap. Gonna take more than this to get my cock in you." 
Taking advantage of his grip on her waist, Harry took over, bouncing her on his lap as if to show what he was looking for from her. The rhythm of her grinding was dismissed as he pumped her over his cock, his thighs spreading at her back as her ass dropped into his lap over and over, his cock pressing directly against her clit through the fabric of her pants. Small moans managed to escape from (Y/N)'s throat even with the squeeze of her lungs. 
"This is better, right, puppy?" 
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she breathed, her eyes fluttering to a close. It was better than her grinding, but nowhere near as satisfying as stuffing his cock inside. "More, pl-please." 
His lips curled her words. "Y'think you're ready to do this on m'cock? Even if I don't help you?" 
The nod of her head was automatic, no extra thought given to whatever parameters he gave her. She could make anything work as long as she got out of her clothes and had her pussy full of him.
Harry stopped bouncing her then, his hands stilling as he kept her from moving herself. (Y/N) wanted to whine, to complain that he had stopped her just as he shushed her with a kiss, leaning up to meet her lips. 
"Do not pout, puppy. Can't fuck y'through my clothes, can I? At least not the way y'like." 
With that, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to climb off his lap and rid herself of her clothes. Her sweater and pants became a messy pile on the floor with her panties soon following. She heard a soft laugh sound from behind her when she flung her bra onto the floor in her haste. Despite the chill glancing over her skin, (Y/N) didn't wait before crawling back into Harry's just-as-cold embrace. 
He welcomed her back into his lap readily, his cock hard between his thighs. She felt her own core tighten at the sight of his blocked muscles, the creamy pallor of his skin making his tattoos look that much darker. His gaze was its own aphrodisiac as he pinned his eyes to her form kneeling over his lap, drinking her in just as much as she did him. 
"So gorgeous, darling," he told her, his voice a gentle coo compared to the hard lines of his body, "If I could dream at all, it would be of you. You know that, right?" 
"I dream of you, every night," she told him sweetly as if she wasn't inches above his hardened cock, her center slick and waiting for him. 
"Good dreams?" he asked, just as he always did with a dimpled smile on his lips. 
"The best," she declared, fitting her hands on his shoulders with her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. 
"Give me a kiss, puppy," he crooned, tipping his chin just right to give her access to his lips. 
Pressing her mouth to his, Harry took the lead with his hands cupping the full of her hips. He welcomed the warmth of her kiss, swiping his tongue over hers with the slick parting sounds of their lips filling the quiet bedroom. 
"Ready to take me, puppy?" Harry breathed against her lips, unwilling to pull too far away. 
"Please," was (Y/N)'s cooed response before melding her lips to his once more. 
Using his hold on her hips, Harry eased (Y/N) onto his cock. He fit the tip inside her wet center, swallowing the gasp she let out against his mouth. Her hands on his shoulders were tight as he helped her sink down his length. Her toes curled on either side of his form, her thighs clenching the further inside he pushed. Harry took his time, leaving (Y/N) to feel every inch of him with every spread of her walls to let him in. 
Once he bottomed out, the trimmed thatch of hair at his base pressing to her clit and his balls patting her ass, (Y/N) felt her insides pulse around him, her stomach tight in her middle. Harry's hands on her sides tightened, denting the soft flesh with his fingertips. 
"Feel good, puppy?" he murmured with a strain, pausing as he let her adjust to him, "Full?" 
"Uh-huh," she mindlessly answered, swearing she could feel him jump against her walls, "So full." 
A moan bubbled up from his chest, low and rumbling. He trailed his lips from her mouth to the soft apple of her cheek, basking in her warmth as he reflected it back. His lips were a cool point of clarity against her skin, his nose skimming the height of her cheekbone. He planted his line of kisses until he landed at the space just before her ear. 
"Ready for me to fuck you, puppy? Jus' like I promised?" he murmured into her ear, gently shifting his hips under hers as if to remind her he was still there. 
The only response he seemed to need was the soft coo of his name that fell from her mouth, soft and wanting. As if there were any world that existed where she denied his offer. 
Harry began to bounce her on his lap, his hands tight on her hips as her mouth dropped into a wordless gape. The thrusts he helped her make were short and shallow, lifting her only halfway off his cock before she was slammed down once more, her clit nudging his base with his tip hitting far walls she decided only existed for him. Her breathing came out in soft huffs every time her hips settled against his in soft slaps. 
He attempted to smatter more kisses against her cheek, but was stopped short in his own pleasure. She could feel the soft gape of his lips against her skin, the length of his lashes grazing her cheek as he clamped them shut while falling into the feel of her. 
Despite his early threat of leaving her to do the work all by herself, she barely had to do anything more than take it as he rocked his hips to meet the thrusts he was curating with her in his lap. She could feel her breasts moving with every thrust, peaks hardened as she attempted to draw herself closer to his chest and feel more of his chilled skin against her. 
"Harry, I—" she choked out, her voice dying in her throat as she threw her head back after a particularly harsh thrust of his hips against hers. 
"I know, petal, I know," he murmured, gaining some of his composure as he dropped his mouth to her throat. It was there that he could feel the thrum of her pulse, just under the soft skin he was accustomed to sinking his teeth into and leaving bruised and delicate in his wake. "I've got you, puppy. Gonna make me cum, you know that?" 
Her thighs clenched at the thought of him cumming inside her, feeling that warmth leak through her system. Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders, drawing him that much closer to her. 
"You want that? Want me to cum inside you? Make you mine again?" 
He asked these things as if she could answer—as if she had half the mind to say anything other than a pathetic moan or a clench of her hands over his body. Of course she wanted that; of course she wanted to feel him cum inside her and stake his claim. She wanted anything he was willing to give. 
"Tell me, puppy," Harry commanded, his gentle tone forgone for the moment as his grip on her hips harshened, "Not gonna let you cum with me if y'don't talk to me." 
"I want that, I want that," she rushed out, unwilling to test his threat, "Want you to cum in me, H. Please." 
"Good girl, pup. Always doing what I say, " he murmured, quietly praising her as if she couldn't hear him. "So, so, so good. Gonna make me cum so hard—shit." 
One of his hands slipped from her hip, fitting between their bodies before he pressed his fingers to the bud of her clit. The first touch of his cold fingertips took her breath, stunting her lungs with her mouth dropping open in a soundless moan. Harry continued his relentless thrusting, the rhythm deep and consistent, adding to the twisting feeling of her clit being circled. Despite Harry being the one that had wanted this, dragging her to their bedroom in the first place, she doubted he would be the first to finish under these circumstances.
Tracing one of her hands up from the shelf of his shoulder, she laced her fingers through the curls on her back of his head. It took all her attention to keep herself from growing distracted once she curled her fingers through the waves in a firm grip. Tipping her head to the side, she urged him to the soft skin of her throat. 
"H-Harry, please," she begged, hoping he would understand what she wanted without having to waste the time to spell it out. 
A heavy moan fell from his lips when he saw what she was directing him towards. His cock jumped in her pussy, his tip pressing headily against the ridges of her walls, his hips directing a particularly harsh thrust against hers, splitting her open that much more.
"Y'want me to bite you, darling? Fuck, you're so sexy, puppy." 
She didn't need to do anything more than pathetically breathe out a small uh-huh before she felt that faint scratch of his teeth over the delicate skin. A shudder traveled down her spine, the rhythm of Harry's thrusting not even skipping a beat. 
"Hold onto me, puppy," Harry murmured just a breath before she felt the slice of his teeth sinking into her skin. 
For the first time since pushing inside her, the rocking of his hips stuttered in their curated pace. Bottomed out, he rolled his hips into her with her clit still being prodded by his fingertips. The initial sting of his teeth lasted barely a heartbeat for (Y/N) before she was flooded with the euphoria Harry was already experiencing. Whatever it was that made his bite so dizzying was doing its job by melting her into his hold, turning her completely pliant and ready to be any and everything he wanted. The soft press of his lips around the bite was the cut of clarity she needed in that moment, otherwise she would have been lost in the sound of his low moan and the all encompassing hold he had on her. 
(Y/N)'s head was elsewhere, focusing only on him as she felt her stomach tighten with every pull of blood he took from her. Unsure of where the strength came from, she managed to whimper in a breathless voice, "I'm-I'm gonna cum, Harry." 
His response came in the form of a rumbling groan, his remaining hand on her hip snaking around to curl around her middle. She could feel the strength of his touch, complimented by a harsh thrust against her swollen pussy. His touch on her clit quickened, making her cry out once more in a shapeless moan. 
It was all too much, bringing a layer of tears to her closed eyes just before everything came to a head. The twist in her stomach tightened until it unraveled into a shredded ribbon. Her walls pulsed around his cock, her wetness gushing around him with slick noises sounding from where he sunk into her. When those first waves hit, her nails digging into his shoulder with her head thrown back, she felt Harry unlatch from her neck just as his own high hit. 
"Oh—fuck—puppy," he groaned, his movements lagging as soon as she felt the first wave of his cum hit inside her.
He dropped his forehead to rest on the shelf of her collarbone, his hips rocking against hers as best as he could manage the more he sunk into the pleasure of her taste in his mouth and her pussy around his cock. Her walls shuddered around him, her thighs closing in on his hips as her body clung to him. Every rope warmed her compared to his icy touch, prolonging her pleasure that much longer until she could feel him slowing down.
Coming down to earth in slow beats, Harry wrapped his arms around her, leaving (Y/N) to melt into his hold. Her eyes were shuttered closed, her heart beating hard against her ribcage. Looping her own arms around his neck, she buried her face in the mussed curls on the top of his head. Her breathing came in pants as the world reluctantly came into focus around her. 
Harry seemed to recover first, stirring in her arms until he was pressing his lips against her collarbones and dragging them across her décolletage. He painted a delicate trail, never fully lifting his mouth from her skin as he moved up towards her throat. Pausing over the spot he had bitten from, he swiping his tongue carefully over the small wound he'd made, taking care to clean up the small mess he'd left behind and sealing her bite before he made his way towards her jaw. He skimmed over the soft line, his nose glancing off her skin just as carefully. Tipping her head up, (Y/N) met him halfway, tenderly placing her lips against his. 
He was always terribly careful when kissing her after having bitten from her, never wanting to give her a taste of anything too human on his tongue. He allowed only a small press before he was pulling away and puckering against the corner of her mouth to the apple of her cheek and the tip of her nose. 
"Are y'alright, petal?" he murmured against her skin, shuffling until he was laying flat on his back with her atop him. The shifting had his softening cock brushing against her sensitive walls, a small shudder skating down the knobs of her spine. 
"I'm okay," she breathed, blinking her eyes open to see his own still shuttered—and they would stay that way until he was certain there was no more bloody red sclera for her to see. "Are you?"
His features softened into a warm smile, matching the slight flush that had been freshly added to his cheeks. "I am more than well, darling. Thank you for asking." 
A plume of laughter fell from her lips as she settled against him. She knew she should probably get up and dress in something warm enough to cuddle with him, clean herself up before completely relaxing, but she couldn't find the motivation to move off of him. He was far too comfortable, his hold too rewarding to give up in favor of putting on a shirt before she was shivering in his hold.
Harry seemed to have other ideas as he shifted under her. "Let's clean you up, petal. Then, I can put you to sleep while I make dinner, yes?" 
"No," she countered with a whine, clinging to him before he could move them from the haven of their bed, "Not yet."
She felt his laugh more than she heard it from where she laid against his chest. He tightened his hold around her as he dropped a smiling kiss to the crown of her head. "Not even if I come with you?" he bribed, hoping to coax her with the soft inflection on his voice and careful touch as he tightened his hold around her, "We can even nap afterwards, if you'd like. You'll feel better after changing, my love."
"You'll go with me?" she repeated, her voice decidedly smaller as she spoke against his skin. It didn't sound so bad if he cleaned up with her (that usually meant he did all the work anyway, picking out her clothes and washing her hair without her lifting a finger).
"Mhm," he hummed, collecting her against his chest as he started to shift on the mattress, moving stand with her still clinging to his form. "Can't leave my petal all alone after a game like that, can I?" 
(Y/N) could only shake her head, playing along with him as he carried her into the bathroom. 
She definitely liked his games a lot more than her own. 
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first vamp h blurb in a while esp a fun one so I hope everyone likes it! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if yu have any ideas you wnat too share please send them in!
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