#it was fun it had its moments but so much was lacking and there were too many rough edges for me to say I’m happy right now

[peachesundercover]

planet x

g/t commission for @sizediscount

Pax, a space explorer, arrives on a new planet. It appears to be completely barren- that is, until he runs into one of the planet's particularly large inhabitants. I had so much fun writing this and developing some new characters!! I hope you enjoy it <3 word count: 2.9k

“Damnit!”

The swear left Pax’s mouth before he could control it, and within seconds he collapsed onto the dirt, a jolt of pain arising from his ankle. 

He paused, processing this new development, then huffed. As he slowly pushed himself to his knees, he dragged his thick white sleeve over his face, removing traces of gray soil. Irritation continued to pull at his chest with every passing second. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered out loud to himself. The enormous forest around him offered no answer. 

In fact, if Pax stayed completely still, he might think that he was looking at a painting. The trees stretched impossibly high above him, gray and rock-like, comparable to the mountains he had encountered on other planets. The white leaves were as frozen as ice. Not even a breeze or bird rustled them. Pax’s gaze traveled from the trees to the colorless dirt around him, and with a frown, he tugged a thick silver machine from his pocket.

“Twenty minutes after arrival. Planet X lacks color,” he muttered into the voice recorder, his green gaze glancing around at his surroundings. “No signs of life that I can see.”

He paused, as if someone might appear to prove him wrong, but the silence remained, dry and cold and overpowering. Disappointment tugged at his chest, and his gloved finger clicked the voice recorder off. He stowed it away.

Being a space explorer had its pros and cons, he decided as he pushed himself to his feet. The sheer material of his spacesuit offered an unpleasant scraping noise as he dusted himself off. He wrinkled his nose, then shook his head to dispel bits of gray soil from his umber hair. The only positive of this planet so far was its clear, safe oxygen levels, which allowed Pax to explore without wearing his uncomfortable helmet. That heavy nuisance was sitting back on his spaceship, somewhere far behind him.

A distant rumble sent a jolt of surprise down Pax’s spine. The explorer straightened up instantly, jaw tight, and listened intently.

In the gray, barren forest, something was undoubtedly moving. A low noise traveled through the ground, swaying leaves and disrupting the dry, empty air. Pax drew his bottom lip between his teeth, contemplating his next actions as his anxiety intertwined with his curiosity.

The noises were loud, but distant. Whatever was producing those large rumbles must be large itself, and while that worried Pax, he couldn’t deny that it intrigued him. What could possibly be thriving on such a dead planet?

Within seconds, he was given an answer.

The rumbling grew abruptly louder– evenly spaced, resounding footsteps, Pax realized with a jolt of surprise– and movement to his left caught his attention.

“Oh.”

The noise left Pax’s mouth in a hoarse, wobbly breath. Muscles within his torso tightened, cold and stiff.

“Oh.”

For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming— if the massive, towering, unbelievably tall monster before him was just a figment of his imagination. Surely, Pax had to be dreaming.

Two enormous legs stretched up and up and up into a long torso and lean shoulders, blanketed by what appeared to be a thick white coat. Pax almost felt dizzy trying to make out the distant details. He took a wobbly step back, and couldn’t contain a soft gasp when those enormous shoulders turned, revealing the creature’s face.

A narrow, pale face scanned the massive trees (although the trees must seem small to him!), whitish skin highlighted by the milky skylight above. Strands of light hair swooped around the creature’s head, forming soft bangs. Enormous lavender eyes glimmered and narrowed.

Aside from its peculiar color palette and unbelievable size, the creature seemed startlingly human.

The iciness in Pax’s body melted into something more electrifying, and his numb legs finally began to move. He took three wobbly steps back, ignoring the continuous flaring of pain in his ankle and the lack of air in his lungs. As humanoid as the creature seemed, Pax didn’t dare to draw its attention. He couldn’t imagine how painful a fate he would endure if those enormous hands closed around him instead of that thick notebook it had clutched between its fingers.

“What the hell,” escaped Pax through gritted teeth, and suddenly he found himself digging his own thin notebook from his nylon pocket. He elected not to grab his voice recorder, considering he didn’t want to speak too loudly and draw this giant’s attention. His (usually neglected) notebook would have to do. 

His tense shoulders pressed into the rough, statue-like tree behind him, and he wobbly began to sketch out a description of the creature in front of him. He barely could tear his gaze away from it, and as his shaky hand flew over the paper he hoped he was doing the creature’s size justice. “What the hell,” he repeated.

This must be the native species of Planet X, then. Was its incredible size normal for this planet? Pax couldn’t deny that the towering trees above him seemed much less out of place next to another massive beast, as sickening as it was to realize.

Was Pax the outlier, then? Was he tiny?

He swallowed thickly, briefly glancing down at his notebook. A wobbly drawing scowled up at him, an embarrassing demonstration of his skills. He let out a frustrated breath, then snapped his green gaze back up to the giant. He watched, stomach freezing over, as the giant moved.

—

Lark twirled his pencil. 

“You are just lovely, aren’t you?” he murmured, lavender gaze traveling over the tree in front of him. In a moment of fondness he reached forward, tracing a thin-fingered hand under the curve of a twisted branch. Several white leaves fluttered. “Beautiful.”

He had been studying botany for four years now, and his love for it had never subsided. His lab director– an elderly, funny woman who always seemed thrilled to see him– had sent him into a deeper part of the woods this morning to retrieve samples of the unique plants there. The gray, rock-like trees fascinated him. As dead as they appeared, the trees thrived, producing beautiful white leaves that fluttered when Lark’s pale finger touched them.

Gently, he plucked a white leaf from the branch, and with his free hand he dug into his satchel. A dozen small glass jars rattled within. As soon as he retrieved an empty one, just barely the length of his finger, he tucked the leaf inside. He hummed pleasantly. Just as Lark tucked the jar away into his satchel, a distant scratching sound drew his attention.

He paused, squinting his lavender eyes as he strained to listen. No other sounds disturbed this side of the forest; the lack of wind made sure of that. The trees were comparable to statues, and as far as Lark could tell, there were no other signs of life here. Had he just imagined it?

…No. Something was producing a faint, rushed, scraping noise.

Lark’s shoulders turned slowly towards where he suspected the noise to be coming from, and as his narrowed gaze scanned the white leaves around him, the scratching noise went silent. Curiosity piquing, Lark tilted his head, waiting– yet, the noise didn’t return. Perhaps he had only imagined it.

He shrugged, content to push the distraction aside. Hoisting his satchel further up onto his straightened shoulders, he focused on his journey forward.

A tiny yet distinct shriek stopped him in his tracks.

Lark had barely taken three steps. Chest tightening in surprise, he dropped his gaze to the forest floor and scanned for the source of the unexpected noise.

For a moment the colorless dirt offered no explanation— then, in a flash of movement, something scrambled away from the smooth curve of Lark’s boot.

“Oh!” Lark’s shoulders tightened, and he instinctively jerked back from the tiny creature. In such a still part of the forest, he hadn’t expected to see a living creature— especially not one so small or fast.

It moved in a white and silver blur, blending into the gray tones of the forest floor. Lark moved his shoulders, and his shadow completely enveloped the small creature. 

He wasn’t inexperienced with small creatures, however, and on pure instinct he lifted his boot and scraped it down into the grayish dirt, directly in front of the creature’s path. Another distinct exclamation escaped it, but it couldn’t stop due to its momentum— and it skidded over the dirt directly into the side of Lark’s boot. 

The creature collapsed, dazed. Lark paused, momentarily concerned that he had injured it, and he took his chance to gently kneel down. The thick material of his pant leg pressed into the dirt.

“Oh,” Lark said again, softer. 

The bipedal creature stared up at him, dark eyes wide. A tiny chest heaved with quick breaths, while a pair of the tiniest hands Lark had ever seen dug into the dirt in a weak, useless effort to scramble away. It couldn’t seem to process that it was trying to escape, torso frozen, unable to tear its gaze away from Lark, who positively towered above it.

“You look like me,” Lark mused, almost to himself. His heart tugged a bit at the creature’s terrified reaction, and although it hurt, he understood. It didn’t seem to have any defense against someone as big as Lark.

Was it a he? Lark leaned closer, and the bone structure of the creature became more defined. A tan face and brown hair visibly trembled. Underneath its thick clothes and shiny gear, the creature seemed to be masculine, Lark assumed. He reached a gloved hand down, cautious of the way the creature yelped and jerked away, and gently brushed his finger against the skinny little arm. No natural defenses, it seemed.

“Here,” Lark murmured, and he scooped the creature up into his palm.

–

Pax couldn’t breathe.

Cold terror struck him, freezing his limbs to the forest floor. The monstrous being had knelt over him, unbelievably massive, blocking out the skylight with its towering shoulders and fluffy hair. Its sheer size sent all of Pax’s logical thoughts out the window.

He couldn’t seem to stop staring up and up and up, unable to tear his gaze away. A finger the size of his entire body had nudged at his arm, and his instincts went haywire, drawing a choked cry from his tight throat. 

“Here,” the being murmured, and for a second Pax’s mushy thoughts cleared just enough to acknowledge that wait, he speaks Exian too–?

–yet, before Pax could process the implications of a shared language between them, an enormous gloved hand closed around him.

A yelp  escaped Pax, sharp and panicked, but the hand didn’t relent. Five fingers, each one surpassing him in size, effortlessly scooped Pax into their overpowering grip. The smooth, leathery material was a harsh contrast to the gravel of the forest floor, and suddenly the juxtaposition brought all of Pax’s instincts rushing back. He thrashed.

The giant offered a soft “oh,” of surprise. Pax’s terror spilled over into his limbs, and he swung as hard as he could, punching and scratching at the gloved fingers. Devastation washed over him as the fingers only tightened, pressing his shaky limbs into his torso. Pax’s racing heart jumped directly into his throat.

“It’s okay,” the giant said, almost apologetically, the way one would speak to an animal. “I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s okay–”

“No!” 

Pax finally choked out a single word, voice breaking, and while the giant jerked back in surprise Pax fell into breathless pleas. 

“Don’t hurt– don’t hurt me, please, just let me go, please, please–!”

He broke off into terrified breaths, blinking hard as tears threatened to spill over. He was appalled that he hadn’t actually started crying yet; perhaps the sheer panic that had overtaken his body had prevented it. Now, as the giant stared down at him through wide lavender eyes, the water in Pax’s vision grew more prominent.

A beat of silence passed. Pax’s throat tightened.

“You–” the giant hesitated, his pale face processing Pax’s words, and in a surge of surprise his gloved fingers snapped open. Pax yelped in surprise as the grip around him subsided, and he crumpled in the center of the giant’s open palm. His heart pounded. “You speak Exian.”

Pax let out a shuddering, terrified sob, and he instinctively jerked back at the giant’s words, staring up at him. Light framed the giant’s head in a halo. “Wh-what?”

There was nothing stopping the giant from flattening Pax completely, or shoving him into the pocket of its lab coat, or tossing him down to the forest floor below. Pax’s imagination seemed particularly creative today, offering scenario after scenario of the different ways this giant could end him. 

This giant could do anything to him. Pax choked on his breath.

“Oh,” the giant said, voice flickering into something concerned. “Oh, please don’t cry.”

His voice completely overpowered Pax, despite how soft it was. Pax scrunched his eyes shut, whipping his face away, preparing for the inevitable.

Another beat of silence passed. Pax was, inexplicably, not killed instantly.

“Here,” the giant said, hushed, and suddenly something pressed into Pax’s arm. The explorer yelped in surprise, eyes snapping open, only to see an enormous, gloved finger rubbing at his shoulder. 

“Don’t—!” Pax jerked away, heart racing, and the giant stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” the giant said quickly. Pax whimpered.

The large finger retreated, and as those lavender eyes flickered with hesitance, Pax took a moment to try and calm his breathing. He scrubbed furiously at his eyes, drawing his knees towards his chest, and desperately tried to ignore the fact that he was currently being held at the mercy of a giant.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the giant assured, worry lacing his tone. Pax couldn’t bear to look at him. “I’ve never seen anyone like you before. You speak Exian? Where are you from?” His voice flickered with something brighter. “This is fascinating. Do you have a name?”

The sudden onslaught of questions made Pax jerk back, a mixture of anxiety and frustration. He swallowed thickly, unable to focus. “What?” The word came out more angry than Pax intended, and he shuddered, dragging a shaky glove over his dirty face. “I’m sorry. I— I’m sorry. Just— just— please put me down.”

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. He couldn’t even attempt to think straight while sitting in this giant’s palm.

The giant tilted his head, apprehension crossing his pale face, and panic tugged at Pax's chest. 

“Will you run away?” The giant asked, worried. Pax lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “I want to know more about you.”

Pax drew his bottom lip between his teeth. Did this giant actually think Pax would be able to run away from him? He held all the power between them— that was obvious, right?

Weakly, Pax shook his head. “No. I just— I just wanna be put down.”

Lavender eyes blinked. “Sorry,” the giant mumbled, suddenly seeming to understand that he was holding Pax captive, and he lowered his hand to the forest floor.

Pax scrambled off the gloved hand before he could think. He let out a choked breath as he crumbled onto the gray dirt, knees digging into the gravel, comfortingly cold and still. “Oh, god.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m…” Pax took several shuddering breaths, then stared up, chest tight.

The giant’s face was… surprisingly soft, gazing down at Pax. His expression held only concern, traced in an innocent curiosity. Nothing malicious.

Pax blinked several times, drawing in a deep breath. The skylight framing the giant’s face reminded him briefly of a halo. 

“I’m okay,” Pax said, hoarsely, and the lavender eyes flickered in relief. “I’m… I’m Pax.”

The giant’s eyebrows knit together, curious. “Pax?”

“That’s my name.”

“Oh!” The giant understood. Pax watched, heart warming, as the giant’s feathers brightened. He couldn’t deny that the giant’s fascination with him was cute, despite being a little anxiety-inducing. “Oh, lovely. Pax. My name is Lark.”

The giant— Lark— shifted, providing Pax with a bit more space, and the explorer only jerked slightly in surprise. “I’m a botanist,” Lark explained, dropping his large hand into his even larger satchel. As he rummaged through what sounded like glass, he continued, “I’m studying these trees.”

He presented an enormous glass jar to Pax, and the explorer tried to hide his flinch. Icy anxiety flickered through his chest, and he tried to ignore the terrifying idea of Lark snatching him up and shoving him into the jar.

Within seconds, however, Pax processed that the jar was filled with a single white leaf. Lark beamed as he addressed the jar, falling into a ramble about the leaf’s pigmentation, and Park’s heart fluttered.

Lark didn’t seem intent on trapping Pax at all. 

He seemed… kind, Pax thought.

“Are you from this planet?” Pax asked in a moment of quiet, voice wobbling, and Lark tilted his head.

“Yes— are you not?”

“Well, no,” Pax responded as he gestured to himself, trying very hard not to add, obviously. “I’m exploring. This is the third planet I’ve arrived to on this side of the asteroid belt, but, um— I’m usually not so small here.”

“You’re an explorer?” Lark repeated, voice bright with fascination. He leaned closer, fluffy hair falling in strands over his eyes, and as he haphazardly shoved it away Pax couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh. “How wonderful! Where is your home planet? Did you come here on a ship? How long have you been here?”

Pax relaxed his shoulders, heart warm, and he beamed up at the giant. He couldn’t deny the curiosity that they both shared. As terrifying as Lark had seemed at first, he clearly wasn’t intent on hurting Pax. His enthusiasm was honestly adorable.

“Do you want to sit down?” Pax offered, gesturing the giant closer, and Lark beamed. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

[housederiva]

I just beat Veilguard for the first time after about 100 hours, I give it a 5.7/10. I would’ve enjoyed it more if I hadn’t loved Dragon Age since 2009 and had this story not been one of the cornerstones of my life since I was a child

[ozzgin]

Yandere! House Monster x Reader (II)

It’s officially a smutty sitcom: you, the oblivious gamer boyfriend, and the tentacle monster lurking in dark corners.

[First part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut

Do monsters have a sense of humor? This creature seems to be greatly amused by the little "game" you've devised behind your boyfriend's back. Although you don't have much input in the affair, and most of the time you're merely a witness to the events unfolding before you (or in you).

First, there's the mild, inoffensive annoyances. "Babe, did you see my controller? I swear I left it on the couch". Some pranks are harder to swallow than others, such as the occasional lack of Internet. You know exactly when it happens, because you can hear your boyfriend's enraged shouts and rattles. It's always during important matches. No one knows why it happens. The repairmen who cross your threshold can only scratch their heads in confusion, confessing that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Then, the unfortunate coincidences. "How about we have some fun after my game?", the boyfriend will suggest with an anticipative grin. Alas, moments after he stands up, he is overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling. His stomach twirls and throbs, and he curses under his breath. "Some other time, perhaps", he concludes begrudgingly. You see, the creature is very possessive. The only thing that has saved your beloved partner from being torn to shreds already is his crassly comical obliviousness.

The mischief aimed towards the boyfriend is, however, a secondary source of entertainment. Nothing could ever come close to spending time with you. Yet another irony to this ridiculous situation: you haven't been caught yet, despite the rabid clinginess of the tentacled monster.

It just loves surprising you. For example, when you exhale dramatically at the end of the day, relaxing in the bathtub and enjoying your peace. Just as you hear an impatient knock on the door, you notice a familiar dark tendril slithering its way out of the water. You won't be leaving the bathroom anytime soon. "Did you steam yourself over there? You look like a lobster", the boyfriend will remark with a raised eyebrow upon seeing your panting, feverish face. "Y-yeah, I guess so." You limp outside, struggling to hold the towel around your body. Or more specifically, around the many marks left on your skin by hundreds of suckers.

In fact, its shamelessness reminds you of a poorly written erotic scenario, the likes you'd see on some adult website with a clickbait title. How would you name this current setup? You grip the edge of the table, pursing your lips to prevent any moans escaping your mouth. Your boyfriend is, once again, scrolling on his phone, indifferent to your presence. The water boiling on the stove drowns the wet, slippery sounds of the appendages pumping in and out of you underneath the table. “You might want to give it a stir in a moment, or it’ll overflow”, the boyfriend remarks without lifting his gaze. You mumble in agreement, slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re at your limit.

One may be tempted to ask, is this entity bound to its house? You pondered the same question until your recent IKEA visit. You and your boyfriend had been looking for a new wardrobe. "What do you think of this one?", you asked, closing the door and turning around. Your eyes scanned the empty model-bedroom. The jackass had wandered ahead without you. You sighed and were about to go find him, when a cold grip suddenly tightened around your wrist. You winced and snapped your head back. Thick tendrils had made their way out of the closet, tugging you to join them inside. So it can follow you around, you thought, climbing into the cramped space. Between the silent whines and breathy begging, an idea emerges from your dazed mind. New hypothetical video title: mercilessly molested in the IKEA store by monster partner.

[elvirable]

Instincts

[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue

----------------------------------------------------

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.

In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----

It was hard not to have fun around you.

Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.

It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were. 

Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.

He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer. 

Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either. 

Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.

But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.

Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know  what to make of it.

With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous. 

Ugh, how he despised the feeling. 

He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck. 

His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.

There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.

Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.

.

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar. 

Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.

How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp. 

Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin.  When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.

He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront. 

Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.

“A little treat? You can do better than that.” 

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”

He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.

“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.

“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.

“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.” 

His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.

Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.

There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.

“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”

“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”

A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it. 

“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.

“I love you.”

Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.

“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.

As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.  

.

Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.

The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all. 

He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted. 

Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.

“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.

Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.

Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .

He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.

“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft. 

You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.

“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.

He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.

“Who knew you were so needy?”

Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.

“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.

Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs. 

All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard. 

He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.

“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.

“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”

He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.

Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled. 

A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.

His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine. 

His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.

As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.

Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.

Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.

Oh, how he wanted to melt right there. 

Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips. 

“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.

“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well. 

“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.

Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls. 

His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.

You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.

The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves. 

Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.

“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy. 

“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead. 

He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.

Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.

The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt. 

He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.

Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice. 

Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse. 

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.

[fangswbenefits]

Patience

Summary: You are too eager to ride Astarion, and he proposes a solution to your impatience. After all, experience is the best teacher and impatience its fiercest enemy.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Inexperienced Tav. Thigh riding. Edging. Sexual frustration. Precum. Handjob. Cum. Muffled moans.

Word count: 2.4k

“Hello.”

Astarion’s eyes lifted from the pages of the dusty book in his hand, carefully following your every move as you dropped the flap of his tent and secured the strings in place.

The universal sign for ‘do not disturb’.

A faint knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Hello, darling,” he said, straightening his back as he sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

You dropped next to him on both knees, eyeing the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

His smile grew wider, slightly entertained by your evident lack of self-awareness. 

For all intents and purposes, Astarion could read right through your innocent question.

After all, you were by far his favourite book to indulge in, and – quite frankly – the most alluring.

“Oh, something regarding the political scene of Waterdeep,” he mused, feigning boredom as he snapped the book close. “Gale outdid himself by carrying this tedious literary work around, though it is very much on brand for him.”

You nodded, clasping both your thighs and biting your lip. “Sounds interesting.”

Except you weren’t at all interested in it, were you? Your avidity was rooted in something else entirely.

And he had every intention of indulging you, his resolve fueled by the hardly noticeable way you fidgeted under his stare.

“Dropped by for a goodnight kiss, did you?”

The question startled you, and he inwardly chuckled from anticipation.

“Yes… I suppose so,” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips.

To the untrained eye, one might mistake your words for uncertainty.

But Astarion knew you well.

Too well.

Your body language never failed to provide all the information he sought and it told him more about your intentions than words ever could.

Forcing a dramatic sigh, he set the book aside and patted his thigh. “Come here, darling.”

As expected, you eagerly shifted towards him across the carpeted floor before settling on his lap looking positively delighted.

He could already foresee where this was headed.

The moment his hands came to rest on your waist, you immediately looped your arms around his neck as if bracing for the inevitable. 

“Where’s my kiss, then?”

You beamed at his antics and leaned in to press her soft lips against his.

Your inexperience was palpable and clashed head-on with your eagerness, which often resulted in sloppy and clumsy kisses as you came to terms with how to handle your own lust.

Astarion didn’t mind having you take control. After all, experience is the best teacher, and he wouldn’t deny himself the fun of having you struggling with taking the lead.

Outside this tent, you called the shots.

In your shared intimacy, you trusted him to guide you through the intricacies of carnal bliss.

But he was ready to test just how much you had managed to break from your inexperience.

Your warm tongue darted across his lower lip and he immediately allowed you to slide it inside.

Sloppy.

Desperate.

Hungry.

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle as you grazed his fangs, pressing yourself hard against his crotch. The hip rolls followed soon after, and he knew it wouldn’t take long for his cock to stir in his trousers.

A breathy moan rumbled along your throat as his tongue tried to redirect yours. At this rate, you’d nip yourself on one fang. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy the sweet taste of your blood filling his mouth, but it would be far too distracting, and he might not resist having his cock inside you in record time.

The grind against him only increased in pace and pressure, and he felt one of your arms drop and snake in between you two, hand fidgeting at his waistband, tugging eagerly.

Oh, you poor, sweet thing…

You craved touching him more than he had anticipated, and the tingles of pleasure rushed down his body and worked on further teasing his cock.

A needy whimper was what ultimately broke the kiss, and your quickened breaths fanned his lips. “Let me… please…”

“What do you want?” he asked mischievously.

Your other hand slipped from his neck and clumsy fingers kept fumbling with the lacing at the front of his trousers.

Clearly, dexterity wasn’t your forte.

But he had enough for both of you.

“Please…” you repeated, pressing further against him.

Delicious tease…

“Use your words, darling.”

A growl of sheer frustration filled his ears. “Let me ride you… please.”

Crude and straight to the point. 

Delicious.

His cock immediately twitched from the sound of your sweet voice and, for a brief moment, he considered your plea.

But he figured that some reining in was in order.

Your eagerness often resulted in impatience, which often meant he'd come way faster than intended just from your teasing alone.

This time, he wanted to savour the moment.

He quickly grabbed both your wrists before you could free his hardening cock. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”

A string of whines immediately ensued as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “No… no… no… please…”

You began grinding down against him desperately as frustration took over, and he simply couldn't suppress the deep groan that escaped his throat.

Gods above…

“I know, darling… I know,” he cooed sweetly, rubbing the back of your neck as he prayed to whatever God above to grant him the strength to withstand the delicious roll of your hips. “Be patient.”

Your whines only intensified. “Then… your fingers?” you asked as you pulled back to stare at him, hope kindled in your eyes.

The prospect was tempting. Almost too tempting to pass. He was certain you were already desperately clenching around nothing, your wetness dripping as your body readied itself to have him inside.

However…

He clicked his tongue, letting go of one wrist to graze your bottom lip with his thumb. “What about…” He paused as you parted your lips, inviting him in. “My thigh?”

“Your… thigh?” 

“Yes,” he said, now teasing your upper lip.

Your grind slowed down into a dull pace as if trying to test digest his suggestion.

“But why?”

He grinned sympathetically. “And why not? You are too eager and should exercise more patience.”

You pouted sheepishly and his cock stirred even more. “But… I’ll be quiet…”

This did make him chuckle as he could almost taste your despair. Under different circumstances, he would have adored watching your mouth part as you slid down his cock, but he wondered how long it would take for you to fully soak through his trousers.

“We both know you’d struggle to keep it down,” he said, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt before slipping under it and caressing the warm skin of your lower abdomen. “But the point is: I would very much like to have you grinding along my thigh.”

You swallowed, shivering under his touch and averting your eyes.

All flustered for him.

It always did wonders to his ego and cock.

Letting go of your other wrist, he captured your chin in his hand, wanting your eyes on him once again. “You want to ride me, don’t you? Then feel free to do so, darling.”

Your eyes widened. “Fully clothed?”

He pondered for a moment, one finger slipping under the waistband of your trousers. “Maybe taking these off?”

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately scrambling with the lacing and nearly losing your balance in the process as you lifted your hips to pull them down your legs and kicked them to the side.

He caught a fleeting glimpse of the swell between your folds, the faint candlelight allowing him to spot your wetness glistening around it.

The pulsing pressure building up around his cock was testing his limits.

Fortunately, Astarion had no issues grounding you with his hands on your hips as you hurried to settle right above one of his thighs as he uncrossed his legs, but not quite lowering yourself all the way down.

“What about yours?”

A mischievous smile danced across his lips. “Take a seat, darling.”

You nodded and gripped his shoulders as you aligned yourself with the bulging muscle along his thigh, pressing down firmly.

A strained hiss parted your lips from the sudden friction and helped your hips find a proper rhythm to begin with.

“You’re so… mean,” you huffed in frustration, eyes locked with his. “Just let me…”

Astarion wasn’t being mean. Not in the common definition of the word, at least.

He would be mean to deny you of this altogether. 

But to deny you would be to deny himself, and he could be quite selfish at times.

Your voice immediately died down as he flexed his muscle, earning a soft mewl from you.

“You were saying…?” he teased.

The way you had to bite down hard on your lip was answer enough, and you merely shook your head as he kept on taunting you.

It wasn’t long before he felt the dampness beginning to seep through the fabric of his trousers. In truth, he wasn’t at all surprised by how soaked you already were. 

So eager…

“Can I just... touch it…” you moaned, dropping your hand to his crotch, teasing his considerable bulge. “Please…”

His hips bucked up into your palm, driven on pure instinct and he let out a blissful groan. “I’ll manage.”

He wouldn’t.

In fact, he was quite sure he was going to come embarrassingly fast in his trousers if you kept riding him like that.

But the alternative was to let you grip his cock, which would not be a wise decision either.

“Don’t be stubborn,” you said with an adorable pout.

Eventually, Astarion settled for the latter, realising he was being consumed by maddening lust and might as well fully indulge in your eagerness.

He quickly unfasted the lacing and hissed in relief as you tugged the fabric down just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, your hips never faltering. 

The moment your warm fingers wrapped around his cock was when he realised just how wet he also was for you.

A quick glance down allowed him to spot a few droplets of precum rolling down his length before coating your fingers and knuckles.

Another groan left his lips as he struggled to keep his hips steady so as not to ruin the delicious and determined pace you had set grinding against his thigh.

He just wasn’t strong enough to resist you and your evident inexperience as you tried to match your strokes along his cock with your hip rolls.

“Gods…” he growled, eyes nearly fluttering shut.

Deciding that you might need some help, he wrapped his own hand around yours, quickly finding the sweet spot that allowed your hips to move in unison with both your hands.

A loud whimper broke from within you.

“Keep it down…” he managed to say in between needy grunts.

You nodded vaguely as your wetness began to coat the skin under his trousers, further pushing his sanity to the limit.

Oh, he was done for.

He was quite fortunate he wasn’t buried deep inside you or you’d already be filled to brim with his seed.

And against his better judgement, he decided to push himself even more by tugging at the buttons on your shirt.

He needed to see them.

He needed to see your breasts sway as you rode him.

His dexterity would always prove fruitful in the most random situations, and he was skilled enough to undo each button with just two fingers, trailing down your torso, until the thin fabric of your shirt spread apart enough for him to catch sight of one full breast undulate with each roll of your hips.

A perky nipple peeked through and he felt his cock twitch dangerously in your hand.

He pushed the fabric aside so he could have both of them swaying at a mesmerising pace.

You hurriedly slipped out of your shirt, shoving some of it in your mouth to muffle your increasing moans and whimpers.

Astarion felt his balls tighten as a warning.

He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate.

Not with you so desperately riding him and with your hand stubbornly squeezing more and more precum from him.

Astarion could slip into shadows like one else, bending silence and stealth to his will if he so wished to avoid being spotted.

But there was only so much he could hold back with you so easily ruining him.

“I’m… going…. Astarion…” you groaned, closing your eyes as you threw your head back, nearing your peak and biting down hard into your shirt.

He increased the grip of his fingers around your, yearning to mimic the tightness of being inside you.

“Not so tight…” he pleaded, too lost in his pleasure.

The fabric of his trousers that covered his thigh was absolutely drenched and he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered.

In fact, he was tiptoeing the edge of his self-restraint, now matching his hips with your own.

A sudden spasm from you alerted him that you were coming hard, your fingers squeezing so tightly around his cock he had no other choice but to bite down on one end of your shirt, feeling his fangs tearing easily through the fabric.

You kept on spasming on top of him, your breasts swaying with each contraction that tore through your body,

He managed to fuck your hand a couple of times before he reached the point of no return as his balls tightened, the rush of liquid coursing through his cock as the first spurts of cum spilled from his tip.

For a moment, his mind blanked as his own powerful contractions took over his entire body and senses.

He felt his cum seep through his own shirt as he used your trembling hand to squeeze the final drops from his cock, not bothered where they landed as long as they were out and by your hand.

You slumped into him, whimpering softly from the aftermath of reaching your peak.

It took him a few seconds to catch up with you and he quickly released your torn  shirt from his mouth.

“You owe me a new one,” you said, panting against his neck and still not letting go of his cock.

He blinked a few times as he descended from the overwhelming bliss you had thrust him into.

“Darling, you owe me.”

You chuckled faintly. “And why is that?”

He caressed the back of your hand, absentmindedly coating it in cum with his fingers. “You’ve just learned to have some patience.” 

Masterlist

[zephyrchama]

Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.

”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”


”I… thought we were friends?”
”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.

”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?”
”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?”


“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

[saphiccarma]

Heyyy, I've never requested anything before so hopefully this isnt too much 😭 but could u do agathario x reader, where reader dies maybe from like disease or she somehow gets caught in a scene where agatha is trying to steal a covens power, and like rio doing everything to fight against her duty and having to take one of her lovers, maybe reader doesn't die instantly but she's like dying in agathas arms and is trying to soothe her wives. Idk if that makes sense its ok if you can't 😭 i hope you have a great day💕💕

- It was not your fault, but mine.

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - Being married to Agatha and Rio was perhaps your favorite thing ever, the best part of your life. You wanted to be with them forever, but that wish is threatened when you touch a mysterious object outside and fall ill.

Warnings: Major character death, angst

A/N: I love this so much and it was fun to write. Thank you for the request!

You had technically got married to Agatha and Rio for about a year now. Since your type of relationship wasn't excepted by the town you lived in, the three of you got quietly married in a little cottage in the middle of the woods. This was where you spent most of your time, sitting in the cottage and reading books, or picking flowers, or testing out new recipes you wanted to try. Agatha and Rio come and go as they please, always too busy to stay in one place, and you were fine with that. They were still good wives.

Absent mindedly you kicked a rock, the little stone flying across the leaf littered ground and crashing into a tree. They had both been gone for weeks and you had heard no sign of them, no magical raven that had a letter attached to its foot, no quick check in, nothing. While you trusted them and their abilities it had begun to worry you. You stumbled a bit, tripping across something that protruded out of the ground. Letting out a quiet curse, you looked back to see what it was.

A glowing rock, a faint pink hue emitting off of it, sat nestled in the red and orange leaves. You crouched down and grabbed a stick next to you, pointing at it. When it did nothing, you reached towards it, and against your better judgement, picked it up. Searing pain shot through you, fiery sparks crackling through you. You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to drop the rock. It didn't fall from your hand as intended. Panic spread through you rapidly as your heart beat faster and faster. The thing was now a bright pink, sparkling so bright it hurt your eyes, and stuck to your hand.

Pain coursed your body, every inch of you filled with searing pain. In a brief moment of clarity, you grabbed a stick from the ground, and making a big effort, traced a circle in the dirt and drew an X through it. Words were whispered from your mouth slowly as you chanted the spell. The lines in the dirt began to glow a soft green color and it wasn't long before they flashed brightly before disappearing.

"I was in the middle of something darling," Rio began, her tone playful and light. Then she paused, her eyes catching on your hand. "What happened?"

You grunted, "I don't know."

She rolled her eyes at your lack of response, taking a step closer and trying to grab your hand. You yanked it away, afraid she would get hurt as well, and that was the last thing you wanted. Rio rolled her eyes once more, fixing you with a reprimanding look.

"Let me see." Rio took your wrist in her hand, not caring much to be gentle, and turned it over, examining the stone. A curious hum escaped her as she poked at it.

"Well?" you hissed, flinching as her nails dug into your skin. She dug her nails deeper, ignoring your whimper of pain, and drew blood. The red droplets spread down your wrist. "What the hell Rio?" You were not in the mood for her jokes right now.

Your wife smiled at you, her dashing and cheeky smile that you had grown to love. Slowly, eyes meeting yours the entire time, she brought your hand up to her mouth and licked strip across the crescent shaped marks. The second she did so, your hand loosened and the rock dropped from your grip, landing on the floor with a thunk. A sigh of relief escaped you as you fell to the ground, laying on your back with your arms spread out. The searing pain that had coated your body dispersed.

Rio chuckled above you, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "Better?"

You nodded, rubbing your wrist absent mindedly, still feeling her soft lips there.

"You know what would make it even better?" You raised both your brows, "A kiss."

Laughing softly, her eyes rolling once more, Rio crouched down. Her lips met yours in a harsh kiss, she was never gentle.

^___________^

It turns out, the three of you had found, that the rock carried a deadly curse. Agatha had kicked the thing, sending it flying before Rio reluctantly retrieved it. The two had been frantically trying to find a cure, despite their supposed casual appearance, you knew it was stressing them out. While they were plagued with the stress of finding a cure, you were plagued with constant pain.

A sharp pain that shot through you. Some days it was manageable, some days it left you crippled in bed, unable to move and barely able to talk. Those were the days that worried your wives the most. Today, thankfully, was one of the good days. You sat with Agatha on the porch, her arms wrapped around you.

"You know I wanted kids," you said suddenly, your fingers toying with her own as you twisted them together, "Or at least one."

You felt Agatha inhale sharply, "We'll have them," she said fiercely, "We can have kids." The sun was setting slowly in the distance, the sky a perfect hue of pink and red. You always had loved the sunsets, and the sunrises, but there was something special about sunsets.

In the distance you could see Rio, perched by the edge of the woods, green magic swirling around her as she did who knows what. She had asked to be alone during the time being. But still, you couldn't help but watch as her arms moved fluidly to cast the spells, her body moving as if in a dance. A soft smile crossed your face.

"Agatha," you whispered softly, "You know that's not going to happen." Looking up at her, you saw her jaw clenched and a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. You knew, that if you died Agatha would take it the hardest. She would blame Rio and that was the last thing you wanted. You gently tugged her fingers, intertwining yours with hers.

"I'd want a boy I would name him Nicholas, little Nicky for short. Ideally, he would have Rio's eyes and your hair, my face, he would be perfect," you smiled up at her, pleased to see a dreamy look in her eyes. It wasn't often that Agatha indulged in fantasies about the future, but she always tried with you. You could imagine a boy, brown eyes that were darker than the night sky, but could hold so much emotion like his mother. Brown hair that was just a little bit wavey, and you would let it grow out if he wanted it to. And lastly, your smile, your nose, all your facial features. He would be the perfect mix up of the three of you. Something that was created through a force of love, but no outside magic used.

Her features softened even further when you winced, a pain flaring up in your back. You waved away her concern, straightening out.

"Would we make him with a spell?" she asked, her voice lowered to match yours.

You shook your head, "No. We would make him from scratch. No incantaion, no spell, no magic."

A little laugh escaped Agatha. She pressed her lips down onto your head, burrowing herself in your hair.

"Whatever you say my love."

^_____________^

You sat in the fields, twisting flowers in your hands to form a crown. This one was made with dandelions, the stems intertwined as you threaded them through each other. Two other crowns sat next to you, one with azaleas and the other with black roses. You had plucked the thorns off of course, not that Rio would care.

One of the perks of being married to a green witch was that she could produce any flowers you wanted, and she did just that. Rio always grew flowers if you asked them, even if she rolled her eyes and said they were too colorful for her taste, she wanted to make you happy.

Your fingers twitched as pain flared through you, but you worked through the pain. The two had gone out that morning in search of other possible cures, but promised to be back in time to sleep with you. The sun was setting in the distance, the sky a beautiful gradient of orange and yellow.

Crows cawed above you, their black wings flapping as they soared in circles. A little smile flitted across your face. Both of your lovers adored crows, their passion for them always made you happy. Before you had more time to ponder if Rio was up in the crows, there was a hot breath in your ear.

“Boo.”

You jumped away, placing a hand over your heart as you glared at Rio. She was cackling, nearly falling back into Agatha who stood with an amused smile on her face. The purple witch shoved Rio away, moving forward and placing a tender kiss on your lips.

“I made you something,” you scooped up the azalea flower crown and stood, placing it one her head despite her pout, “Can’t you at least pretend to like it?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, “It’s amazing darling, I love it.”

Smiling happily, you rewarded her with a soft kiss before turning to Rio who was watching the scene quietly. You weren’t even sure when she had stopped laughing.

“Ooo,” she cooed, stepping closer, her finger curling as she took hold of her crown, “I love it, my love.”

You blushed at her words. While you loved Agatha’s pet names, Rio’s did something to you. The Green Witch placed it on her head with a broad smile.

“Do you have one?” Rio looked around, her eyes landing on the dandelions in the grass. She reached down, scooping it up before placing it on your head with a proud smile.

Agatha came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist, “You look beautiful darling.”

A deep blush crossed your face when her breath fanned against your neck. Rio took a step closer, her finger curling under your chin. A sinister smirk crossed her face.

“Good enough to eat.”

^_____________^

You coughed harshly as you curled into a ball, pain flaring up everywhere in your body. Everything hurt and it felt like you were on fire. Agatha's fingers clutched you tightly, one of her hands carding through your hair as she attempted to comfort you. Rio was no where to be seen.

"Agatha," you choked out.

The woman above you shook her head, "Don't say it. You're fine. It'll pass."

You wanted to smile at her stubbornness, it was always your favorite trait about her. These past few days the curse had been getting worse, and Rio was disappearing more and more often. You knew what that meant. You were fairly certain Agatha knew what it meant, she just didn't want to admit it. Trying to fight through the sparks that shot through you, you played with her fingers, bringing them to your lips.

Your words were soft against her skin, "I love you."

"No, you have more time," she said harshly.

You felt it when Rio entered and based on Agatha's sharp inhale, you knew what she was here for. Painfully, you turned your head to look at Rio, clad in her green dress that represented the part of her that was alive. A bitter smile crossed your face.

"Don't take her," Agatha spat, her grip tightening on you despite your wince, "You can't." Trying to force words out of your mouth, you wanted to tell Agatha it was okay, that it wasn't Rio's fault. "If you do this I will hate you."

Rio's features flinched, but she made no move to step closer, "I held it off as long as I could."

"It's not her time," Agatha snarled.

While it was painful, you reached up, your hand cupping Agatha's cheek to force her to look at you, "My love," you whispered softly, "I have to go."

"No." She shook her head, so much desperation conveyed into that one movement.

"Don't hate her. Please? It's not her fault."

“I don’t want to do it,” Rio added, her voice wavering, and it was the first time you had ever heard her sound so fragile, so vulnerable.

Agatha's lower lip wobbled, tears shimmering in her eyes as she clenched her jaw, fighting off the sorrow. She closed her eyes, a small tear slipping out at the action and you wanted nothing more than to give her a big hug.

Her voice was oh so quiet when she whispered, "Okay."

A small smile spread across your face. It was only then that Rio came closer, bending down so her lips were just above yours. So many emotions were conveyed through her eyes. Words asking for forgiveness, ones that expressed her sadness, and some angry. You wanted to give her a hug too. Instead, Rio leant down, her lips brushing against yours.

The kiss deepened and that's when you felt the pain stop.

[kaevch]

CRAYONS N LOVE !!

IMAGINE, you turned into a child due to some accident that occurred in potionology and the adeuce duo hand you over to them to take care of you while they try to find the cure and after spending the whole day with them, you— being a child, drew them to show how much fun you had with them :)

gn! reader. (you/your pronouns)

MALLEUS:

“ Horntoon! ”

Letting out a hum, the fae turned to you with a gentle smile, slitted eyes landing on the piece of paper you held up for him to see.

A proud, toothy grin sat on your lips as you presented your work to him, the smell of wax and dull colours filling his view.

“ This is...? ” he mumbled, quite baffled at the messy drawing of what seemed to be..him? and you. Well, little you.

“ I droo you n me! ” a cheerful giggle escaped your lips as you handed him the paper, puffing your chest out in pride.

“ We sud play more! And and talk about gargooles! ”

...

yeah he stared at you with a mildly surprised expression for a few moments before chuckling to himself and holding your tiny hand in his.

“ Yes, we should play some more. ”

safe to say our boy keeps yo drawing framed and nicely kept in his room and treasures it sm 🙏🙏

he'll look at it in his lowest moments while he rots in bed and just smile at it which looks kinda creepy without context but he lobes you thas what that matters right.

FLOYD:

“ Shrimpyyy? ”

“ Shrimpyyyyy?? ”

“ Lil' Shrimpyyyyyy??? ”

Getting ignored by a tiny version of you was not what the eel was planning on.

Stalking up to your small figure, Floyd was about to lunge a tickle attack before pausing, blinking owlishly as he took a closer look at what you were doing.

“ What are ya doing? ”

“ Oh! Floid! ” smiling up at him, you watched as he crouched down next to you, his attention being taken by the bright colours of crayons that sprawled out in front of you, some pieces of crumpled paper on the side, but what he was really focused on was the paper you were currently drawing on, small doodles of bubbles and little fishes surrounding two figures. a small child and a man that looked cartoonishly similar to him.

“ Is you! N me! ” you replied to his previous question, continuing to colour a sharp toothed yellow emoji on the side.

“ Jade helped me drow the cloths! ” turning your attention back to him you smiled, tilting your head to the side as you picked up the paper and showed it to him properly.

“ D'you like it? ” you questioned, getting a bit worried from the silence and lack of reaction from him.

...

“ Like it? ” the eel mumbled ominously, picking you up from your spot on the floor.

“ I LOVE it, shrimpy! It's so silly and tiny and messy! ”

Laughter filled his room as he spun you around, flopping down on his bed as you two continued to giggle.

“ Say, did ya draw more shrimpy? I wanna see all'o them! ”

he wont really frame it, more like he js keeps it sitting on top of his table but he doesn't toss it or keep it carelessly like he does w some of his books 💪

he prolly brings it up to you when you've finally turned back to normal, saying how u should draw him n u more often 😞 n that its cute 😞😞 n that he'll get reallyyy sad if u dont 😞😞😞😞

[melzula]

I JUMPED WHEN I SAW REQUESTS OPEN

zuko unintentionally saying something he doesn’t mean to reader (ex. ur clingy/annoying) and makes the reader like kinda distant cus they don’t wanna be annoying or clingy yk? then he comforts them and says sorry and it’s very much a angst to fluff moment!

a/n: i love this trope

summary: your sudden disappearance makes zuko reevaluate his behavior

The apartment is empty when Zuko returns from the tea shop. His bones ache from standing all day and his mood is sour from having to serve customers, but it doesn’t distract him from the fact that something is missing. The place feels dull and lacks its normal warmth, and the change unnerves him.

“It seems y/n has not yet returned home,” Iroh observes as he flicks on the lamps to rid the room of darkness.

“Where did she go?” Zuko murmurs, doing his best to mask his anxiety over your absence. It’s not like you to stay out late, especially considering your apartment isn’t exactly in one of the safer rings of Ba Sing Se, and it worries him.

“I’m not sure. She seemed to be in a hurry when she left this morning,” the older man recounts as he scans the room to look for any trace of her left behind. “She didn’t even have her morning tea!”

“She could be in danger. I’m going to search for her.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, one of us should stay here in case she comes back,” Zuko states before making his way out the door. “I don’t want her to come home to any empty apartment.”

“Be sure to watch your temper if you do find her, nephew. Y/n is struggling to adjust to this new life just as you are, and it is important you are patient with her.”

The Prince says nothing in response to his Uncle’s words, but he immediately feels the guilt and shame that they bring him. His warning serves as a reminder for his recent behavior, and Zuko is then able to figure out why you were nowhere to be found.

You’d been eating breakfast together that morning before he had to leave for work, and despite his irritable mood you seemed to be eager to start the day.

“I was thinking of visiting the market place to buy fresh groceries for dinner tonight. Maybe I could stop by the tea shop and bring lunch for you and your Uncle,” you suggested with a pleasant smile.

“Sure,” Zuko had grumbled in response before forcing another spoonful of bland porridge down his throat.

“And after dinner we can visit the fountain,” you had said with an excited smile. “I’d love to take a walk through the city and get some fresh air. We hardly ever leave the apartment.”

“This city is nothing but dirt. There’s nothing to see out there.”

“Oh,” you had murmured, your features deflating slightly at his negative comments. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can just stay in and play a game of pai sho instead. I’m not exactly sure how to play, but I bet you could teach me! It could be fun!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?!” Zuko had finally snapped harshly, his patience finally having been worn thin by your ceaseless suggestions. He didn’t want to take a stroll or play pai sho or have any sort of fun, and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t get that. “This isn’t some little vacation. I failed to capture the Avatar and now we’re stuck here, do you understand? Go play pai sho with someone else.”

The room had grown deathly silent after Zuko’s outburst, and he was too annoyed to notice the way you kept your gaze glued firmly to the table to avoid him see the welling tears in your eyes. Without another word, you quietly excused yourself from the table and made your way out the door without an explanation or a goodbye. Zuko hadn’t seen you since.

“I’m such a jerk,” he curses himself as he roams the streets in search of you. You’re not in the market place and you’re not by the fountain, so where could you be? He’s beginning to worry, his mind conjuring up multiple scenarios where you’re in trouble and he can’t help you. It’s pure torture.

A familiar laugh floats through the air, and Zuko feels the hairs on his neck stand up at the soothing melody. He’s quick to follow the sound, and as he shoves his way through the crowded streets he finds himself coming to a stop at a small noodle shop. The shop is practically tucked into a corner and isn’t much to look at, but the inside is full of life as patrons eat and converse and enjoy the camaraderie. At the heart of the restaurant sits a table full of people focused on the game of pai sho before them, and at the center of the table you sit with a large grin and a white lotus tile in your hand.

“I can’t believe I won!” You exclaim with an excited clap of your hands before looking to the older woman sitting next to you. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to play. This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”

“Y/n?” Zuko calls, garnering the attention of you and your new friends at the table. The airy laughter and pleasantries die down at the sight of him and the room is suddenly filled with tension.

“Oh, hello, Lee,” you greet dully, your cheerful demeanor immediately disappearing when you make eye contact with the boy.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”

“You said to go play pai sho with someone else, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state bluntly, and Zuko looks away guiltily after hearing his own words repeated back to him.

“Can you please just come home? You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late, it’s dangerous.”

“Why do you care?” You retort harshly. “I’m having fun here. These people actually want my company.”

“Y/n,” Zuko says with an irritated sigh, doing his best to remain patient. “Please. If not for me then for Uncle. He’s just as worried for your safety as I am.”

You hesitate at his words, but after a moment of contemplating you finally excuse yourself from the table. You bid your new friends goodbye and promise to return for another game sometime before following Zuko out of the restaurant and beginning your walk back home.

“The moon is out tonight,” he notes quietly in an attempt to make small talk, but you don’t reply. You keep your gaze forward and maintain a respectable distance from him as you walk. “Maybe I was wrong about this place.”

“Congratulations for figuring that out,” you retort sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Having finally had enough, Zuko grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks and force you to look at him.

“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs earnestly. “I feel horrible for what I’ve done.”

“Good, you should feel bad!” You exclaim angrily, harshly yanking your hand away from him. “You’ve been nothing but a jerk since we got to Ba Sing Se, and now that I’m finally giving you the space that you wanted you come and ruin my fun!”

“I don’t want space from you,” he insists desperately. “I was being an idiot! Y/n, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just feeling irritable and I took it out on you, but that isn’t fair of me.”

“I’m not going to be your punching bag for the rest of my life, Zuko,” you relent quietly, blinking back the tears that begin to form. “All I want is to start over, but you’re making it so difficult. Why did we even come here?”

“We came here because I realized you deserved better than to constantly live your life on the run,” he admits softly, carefully taking your hands in his own. “I know I’ve failed to make you happy or treat you the way you deserve, but you have to know that I care for you. The best part of my day is coming home to you after work, and I never want you to feel like a burden because you aren’t.”

“Thank you for saying that,” you sniffle with a meek smile, and when he pulls you into his arms for a hug you don’t protest. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to understand that all I want is to support you and make the change as easy as possible for you.”

“I know, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything you do,” Zuko says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now let’s get home before Uncle begins to worry.”

You say nothing more as he puts a protective arm around you and guides you through the streets of Ba Sing Se. The move has been tough, but he swears then that he’s going to do his best to improve his attitude and give you the support you need.

He has a lot of making up to do.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

[letorip]

can you write something short and fluffy :( like jenna or wednesday being tired or something

j's lullaby

"darlin' i'd wait for you, even if you didn't ask me to"

===+++===

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: jenna comes home incredibly late and can't wait to collapse into your arms after a long day

warnings: nada, entirely just fluff and comforting someone's exhaustion

word count: 1.2k

A/N: sorry for getting to this now, it was requested months and months ago. feels good to write something sweet for once, and without somewhere to branch off to. i like writing my stories, but it's fun to leave so much up to the reader. maybe i'll do more of these.

===+++===

===+++===

Even from inside the warmth of your apartment, it was impossible to be unaware of the raging storm outside. You could hear the pattering of raindrops upon the stucco roof in small thuds that had faded gently into the background a good thirty minutes ago and given no indication of letting up anytime soon, either.

Not that it would have mattered. You stood in the kitchen with the kettle going on the stove, attempting to read a rather enthralling chapter of your book in the dim, warm light that hung over your microwave, and then rereading it for a third or fourth time when the words became an unintelligible mess in your head, whether it be from the lack of light or sluggish ability to think.

It was a little too late to turn the kitchen light on, not that you were a big fan of the overhead light, but it would've brought a crude harshness to the drowsiness you were attempting to fight off.

Even night owls had their limitations. Sleep snuck up on you at the wispy edges, pulling down on your eyelashes. The clock on your microwave ticked to 4:28, and you turned the page in your book, hearing the kettle's whistle begin to take frequency, one you were sure the neighbours could hear.

In retrospect the somewhat thin walls were the only thing imperfect about the place, with giant windows and warm, teakwood floors. That and your kitchen's tile floor being kind of cold in the morning, but even then, both you and Jenna wore socks in the house, so it wasn't much of a drawback. You would only live there for a few weeks more anyhow, before you both went back to Los Angeles. In the meantime you could cope with the plush floor rug that Natalie had sent.

With one thumb on the thin page of your beaten up novel and the rest of that hand pinning it to the countertop, you lifted the kettle gently towards your old ceramic mug with the chip in the corner and a teabag’s string hanging over the side. The hot water steamed and gently wafted over the apples of your cheeks, and it added a further weight, the room filling with a flowery smell.

As you grabbed a small spoon from the drawer, the front door’s knob audibly turned, creaking open on its hinges and letting some of the nighttime noise flood in, if only for a moment. You grinned at the noise with an excitement that would’ve been impossible to mask, stirring your drink and calling over your shoulder, down the hall. “Hey, in here.”

The door swung shut behind her and a few, tired steps later, Jenna stood in the doorway. You stayed focused on the task at hand, stirring your tea, but you could feel her eyes stay locked upon your face. She wandered over, coming up behind you where you stood and wrapping her arms around your torso, pressing the plane of her cheek against your shoulder blade.

She held you tightly, as if she wanted to melt together. “You didn’t have to wait up for me. It’s almost 5 in the morning.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” you shrugged. “I wanted to.” Her arms wrapped around you just a bit tighter, holding you there and sighing into the soft, worn fabric of your old shirt.

“I made tea,” you hummed. “Do you want any?” She shook her head into your back, almost purring in contentment.

“‘M too tired,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, you got back late,” you said, pushing the tea mug away and turning around to get a good look at her. She was beautiful, that was a given, but she also looked exhausted, with thick, dark eye bags and the tips of her dark bangs a little bit wet from the rain outside.

“Tim wanted to talk about the big scene we have coming up,” she whispered. You hummed again, watching her with a little bit of concern and she looked back at you with a fondness.

“Come on, off to bed with you,” you straightened up, holding out your hand for her to take, and grabbing your book with a finger left between the binding to hold your spot.

She rolled her eyes with a gentle huff but did not protest, letting you lead her gently into your bedroom. There were still a few candles you had lit for just in case during the storm, filling your room with a yellowish, warm glow, and you blew them out while Jenna got changed into her pyjamas.

“Oh, your mum called, by the way,” you said with a gentle smile, pulling the sheets back to sit on the edge. You pulled your woollen, thick socks off and flung them towards the far wall; you could pick them up tomorrow.

She gave you a sleepy nod, wandering towards the bathroom and sliding the door open. “Just checking in?”

“Yeah, wants you to call her tomorrow… which I guess is now today. She wants to her all about work.” You thumbed open your book while you waited for her to finish brushing her teeth, reading a few lines before she reappeared about a minute later, flicking off the light.

Jenna walked right over, pulling the sheets back and then practically collapsing on top of you, her head nuzzling into your neck. You could feel the cold edge of her nose pressing gently against the edge of your jaw, and it sent a small shiver down your spine. You put the book on your bedside table, sliding your eyeglasses off of your weary ears and stacking it on top, along with clicking the lamp off.

You would’ve planted a kiss upon her forehead, but she seemed all too comfortable for you to shift your position, and you were quite certain— though you couldn’t actually see— that her eyes were already closed and she was letting her exhaustion take over.

“I missed you, today,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“Hm.” You both sat in silence for a minute, and you were convinced she had dozed off until she spoke again, even quieter than before. “Tell me about your day, love?”

“Well, let’s see,” you sighed. “Got up around 10, maybe? Did laundry—”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face further into you.

“Mhm. Went to the shops. Made dinner. Watched that show I told you about.”

“Did you write, today?” The words were sluggish and slow, and you could tell she was lulling to sleep more and more.

“Nope,” you said with a small chuckle, and you felt Jenna smile against your neck. “I’m still waiting for that burst of creativity, y’know? I’ll find it when I find it. What about you? How was your day?”

But she didn’t answer, and you were perfectly fine with that. You could ask her in the morning, after all. And you could drink the cold tea you had completely forgotten about then, too.

short, sweet, and pretty cute. i'm happy with it. i think oneshots are incredibly fun. also calm yourself, i'm still finishing kiss with a fist [iv] i cannot stress enough how much i'm excited for it but it is NOT ready yet

[stxrvel]

remorse (5)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not? content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, flashback, a lot of remorse, fights, stubborn people, lack of communication, angst. a/n. its finally here. i haven't re read this chapter bc im almost falling asleep and i have to work tomorrow, but i'll give this one another look in the weekend. a friend of mine helped me with the traduction bc i'm really really burnt out rn. also, chapters names changed!! i hope you guys like this one! see you on the next one🫶🏻

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“Oppa…”

Yoongi raised his head, his body leaning toward the piano acknowledging your presence in the room, and you could tell how he was physically struggling to move away from the instrument. Under his watchful gaze, you walked in his direction shuffling your feet, with a pitiful expression and every intention of openly complaining to one of the elders in your group of friends. But you relaxed your expression when you were a few steps away, recognizing his notebook on the piano lid and the trail of ink between his fingers at a safe distance from the keys.

His laughter confused you, and when you looked up, his lips were curved into a pretty smile. It was annoying. He was only two years older than you.

“What happened now?”

You remembered that you had come with a purpose, but your mind, as evasive and suggestible as ever, found more interest in what your eyes had caught.

“The usual,” you barely commented, moving to sit on your legs in front of Yoongi. “Were you writing?”

Yoongi glanced over to find his notebook, his shoulders shaking in a sigh because he knew he wouldn't be able to escape this conversation now that you had discovered him.

“Something like that…”

“Can I see it?”

“It's nothing decent. I don't think it's prudent.”

You pressed your lips together at his response, letting your shoulders droop, disappointed. But it was what you had expected; after all, Yoongi was quite secretive about his notebook, and it was rare for him to let you get this close and know so much about him. Even though you had probably known each other since you learned to swim and multiply, and surely knew more skeletons in his closet than he would like to admit, Yoongi still had a reluctance to show you or anyonw his writings. You had to catch him at a very relaxed moment.

So you set aside your emotions, not allowing Yoongi to respond as you pouted, and crossed your arms while turning your head away.

“Taehyung and Jungkook got so competitive on the court that they kicked us all out,” you frowned, remembering how the two had rushed past you and stolen the ball in the blink of an eye, moving so quickly and with cheeky laughter that you barely understood what was happening until you saw them tussling with the ball in front of the scoring area.

They were already in extracurricular hours, and although everyone had subjects to study and delve into, they decided to take a moment to take advantage of the fact that the school court would be empty and play for a while. Jin and Namjoon had left the game after two quarters because they simply couldn't keep up, and since one was in your group with Jimin and the other with the two kings of competition that day, they decided to kick them out and leave them as referees along with Hobi, who was the initial one.

Surprisingly, Yoongi also didn’t attend the game or his extracurricular class, choosing to get lost in the music room, taking advantage of the fact that it was empty that day because classes ended early.

“I don’t understand why they have to ruin everyone’s fun.”

Your little thirteen-year-old self, ignorant of many aspects of life, could only cross her arms and complain. Yoongi smiled, his two extra years of age giving him an understanding that perhaps you didn’t have access to, because it was inconceivable to you that such a sacrilege could be considered funny. Basketball hours were sacred!

“They're just messing around.”

“Oppa, you should've seen how they were pushing each other,” you shook your head, refusing to believe that Yoongi really wanted to defend them. “If you had been there, you could've stopped them.”

“And Jin?”

“He was laughing with them.”

“Ah,” Yoongi turned his head. “So the second best option was me?”

You shrugged. “Well, I thought I could convince you to go to the court, but…”

“But…?” Yoongi rested a hand on the bench, leaning in to see you on the floor.

“Maybe it’s more fun to listen to you play the piano.”

You smiled brightly, intertwining your fingers while Yoongi wore a half-smile. Without responding, he straightened up again, adopting the posture he had when you saw him through the glass of the door, before you interrupted his concentration. His fingers danced in the air for a few seconds, touching the notes in his head, recalling sound after sound, until the pressure on them gave way to a melody unknown to you.

It had to be a new piece, a new composition in his notebook. Yoongi played, calm and serene, focused and absorbed, letting the sound flow as if it came directly from nature.

Seeing Yoongi like this was… a strange event. Later, as time passed, you would think it was unbearable to have to see him everywhere, to hear his name around every corner, but at that moment you were lost in him, absorbing the sounds of his mind that his fingers materialized on the piano, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tide of his emotions, the way he conveyed so many words with his touches. The fast and slow notes, the change of tempo, all so meticulously created and organized to send a message, to describe an emotion, to paint a scene.

Yoongi was scared. Perhaps nervous, even. When he finished his piece, you could only look at him in awe, his shoulders moving a little faster due to the intensity with which he finished, keeping his head down, as if processing what he had just done. His fear was palpable, his hopelessness and unease.

“Oppa?”

“I don’t know…” he paused, dropping the lid over the keys and taking a calmer posture. “I don’t know if I’ll do the right thing when I graduate.”

“Why?” your brow furrowed, and you leaned forward in concern. “You’ve always talked about it. And you have a lot of talent, oppa, I know you’ll make it.”

Yoongi gave a nearly pained smile, as if he understood something you had no idea about.

“Jin is going to medical school.”

“I know. But it’s what he’s passionate about,” you moved closer to your friend, trying to give him some of the support he always gave you. “Isn’t music what you’re passionate about?”

The black-haired boy frowned. The answer was clear in his eyes, in the way he played the piano until he was breathless, but the gestures of his doubts were there too: when his fingers trembled with anxiety, his eyes gaining more shine as the seconds passed.

“Oppa,” you called, trying to break the silence, trying to prevent his thoughts from eating him alive. “If it’s what you love, you’ll succeed. I’m sure of that.”

You saw how the haze in his eyes disappeared, his features relaxing at least a little.

“I probably only have your support. I’ll have to rely on that.”

His small smile constricted your heart. In that moment, you didn’t know what you could do to show him that it was enough, but you were also unaware of the reality that his words held. It was probably due to your age, the age difference with Yoongi, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he would never be completely satisfied with that. You wondered if it was about you, just for a second, recalling the way he smiled when some of the other boys gave him words of encouragement.

Maybe he was just more vulnerable with you than with the others, but a thirteen-year-old's reasoning didn't go that far.

With your foolish conclusion, you came home that day with a heavy heart.

-

Speaking of loose ends and unresolved issues, there were some specific people who deserved to take home the award and the crown for the most intrigue of the century. Because when you entered Choi Dohyun's office, with Seojun and Yuna on either side, even knowing that there were things still pending answers and others you could barely understand, the last thing you expected was for those you weren’t even aware of to suddenly materialize, like a kick to the stomach.

But keeping your head high and your composure was something you had lacked the last time, and thus, against all odds, your face showed no emotion when you caught a glimpse of Min Yoongi storming out of the office looking angry, not even when his eyes moved towards your figure and his wires crossed for a millisecond, betraying his movements. The sound of his shoes against the floor didn’t even distract you, keeping your gaze fixed on the man who appeared behind the door, with a huge smile on his face and eyes that screamed that signing this contract might take more from you than it would give.

Min Yoongi flanked you, a nearly imperceptible gasp of surprise escaping him as you passed by his side, not even giving him a glance of acknowledgment over your shoulder, as if he were less than a mere insignificant dust particle, and he collected himself as best he could to keep walking, ignoring the astonished looks your companions shot him.

You flashed the biggest smile, a feeling of anger settling deep in your stomach, and you shook hands with Choi Dohyun, who was cheerfully introducing himself with a voice an octave higher than usual.

You didn’t miss the way he shot a glance down the hallway, where Min Yoongi should have been disappearing, and the bitter sensation in your throat intensified.

“Well, don’t take it the wrong way, I’m very happy because we finally have this,” Yuna beamed, raising the envelope with the contract as if it were her most cherished possession, just as they exited the large publishing house and the cool afternoon air greeted them, “but did we just see the damn Min Yoongi leave that office?”

You simply sighed, feeling the tension radiate from your brother’s body, who hadn’t separated from you since the moment you were ushered away by Choi Dohyun's secretary.

“That was… wow. I don’t even have words.”

Seojun rolled his eyes, and you had to suppress the urge to pinch his side when Yuna turned to look at you with the envelope in her hands while you all waited to see your father’s blue car navigate the avenue.

“Do you think… this means we’ll have more opportunities to meet the seven gods of Olympus than most people?”

Her smile made you feel nauseous, but out of her ignorance, you could do nothing but try to mimic it. Seojun, on the other hand, was making nothing but irritated faces.

“Maybe, if you work harder.”

Yuna let out another squeal of excitement, and you took a deep breath when she turned around to look at the cars again. Seojun wrapped his arm around yours, glaring at anyone who came too close, even by accident.

Your friend kept murmuring in disbelief, and all you could think was that she was probably holding in her hands the worst decision you had ever made.

-

Whatever the reason for your encounter with Min Yoongi, you had deduced that your bad luck came down to being out of the house. Putting a foot outside the holy altar of your home was proving lethal for your emotional stability, so you spent the rest of the day locked up, managing your social media and overseeing deliveries.

Dohyun had agreed that the publishing house would handle the entire printing, packaging, and shipping process of the books, as purchases were only growing with each passing day. His real offer was to leave you with nothing to do but continue planning your stories, because at that moment, you were a goldmine for him.

“Unbelievable! Jung Hoseok revealed the truth behind the distancing of the Korean entertainment dynasty.”

The voice coming from Yuna’s phone caught your attention. You lifted your head from the blank document on your computer screen, glancing sideways at your friend, who was comfortably sprawled on your bed with a furrowed brow and a conflicted expression, as intrigued as she was worried about what she had just heard.

“These past few days have been tough for the kings of entertainment, as the last public sighting of them was over a week ago when Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jeon Jungkook left the businessman’s building and enthusiastically greeted all their fans. As good followers, we know it’s too strange not to see them often, and the last time this happened was when Jung Hoseok had the accident that prevented him from continuing to play professional tennis.”

Yuna looked intensely focused, biting her nail and awaiting the climax of the video. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny you were a bit curious about what news they would share, knowing that the boys weren’t ones to openly discuss their private matters.

“With their reputations at stake and rumors flying back and forth [how exaggerated], Jung Hoseok had to come out to clarify the situation. His official statement, which was informally published on the famous app Whotalks, said: ‘We’re all fine. Please be patient with us.’ Whether his statement implies misunderstandings among friends that are in the process of being resolved or if we should wait for an official statement from their leader, we’re not sure. But it’s concerning the—”

“Why would they make such a big deal about this if they aren’t even sure what that post implies?”

Yuna paused the video, giving you a confused look, surely thinking you were immersed in whatever you were doing on the computer (nothing), too busy to pay attention to these “insignificances,” as you used to say.

“Y/N, you really have no idea of the magnitude of power these men hold over the entertainment industry. With a snap of their fingers, they could shake everything.”

“And why did they get so much power?”

“They earned it. Through their hard work.”

You couldn’t help the huff that escaped you. You didn’t find what Yuna had said funny because it was true; they had worked incredibly hard to achieve what they had at that moment. At least you knew that their beginnings had been humble. But it annoyed you, inevitably, because you couldn’t control the resentment shaking in your chest. Healing my ass, you hadn’t forgotten anything from the last few years, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. So much effort to force them out of your life, only for them to find a way to disrupt it again in a week as if they had some right.

What a bunch of audacious—

“Oh. A message came in.”

Your friend sat up on the bed, and you sent her a confused look.

“Messages come in every second, Yuna.”

“It’s from a verified account.”

Without lifting her gaze in your direction, you froze in your chair.

“Oh—”

Oh no.

“No fucking way—” Yuna stood up in the bed, exclaiming loudly: “Kim Taehyung is in your DM's!”

“Tell him to go to hell.”

“¿¿Huh??”

The words slipped out before you could think twice. From the tense way the words left your mouth, you could tell Yuna was torn between asking more or simply contradicting you. Her eyes moved from the screen to your face, her fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the device.

“You know, every time you make it harder to understand what’s going on with these people.”

Finally, she locked her phone and dropped it on one of your pillows. You had never been a fan; your friend understood that. She had never questioned you about it… except for that random afternoon in this same room when she asked too many questions, but after the encounter with Yoongi that afternoon, you wondered what moment or what would need to happen for her to stop believing that it was just a matter of taste differences and for you to have to tell her the truth.

Before everything that happened a week ago, you had never considered it necessary to talk about it because so much time had passed, and you believed you were at a point where things related to them really didn’t affect you anymore, nor would you ever have to interact with them again to warrant giving your friend a statement. But of course, things were different now, and emotions would continue to clash with one another, and you hated to think that their attitudes meant they were trying to return to your life, or at least get involved to some extent, which would imply, strongly, that you would have to tell Yuna what had happened.

“Have you ever thought that you might have run into him if you had gone to the convention?”

“Yeah...” you sighed in defeat. It was impossible not to consider that alternative, how things might have turned out. If you would still have this overwhelming resentment in your chest or if they would have carved their way back into your heart once more.

The foolish you at eighteen would be thrilled right now.

“And even with that doubt... don’t you have even a little curiosity about what he says?”

You preferred not to, to be honest. You would rather just rip out every memory from your head with tweezers to be able to return to a semi-normal life, where your biggest worry should be saving enough for a trip and not when those damn lunatics were going to leave you alone.

But you found yourself stretching out your arm to take the phone when Yuna handed it to you, a grimace of insecurity settling on your face.

“I’m not going to ask,” Yuna spoke, and you sent her a glance just as she turned on the bed and took her own phone to continue watching her celebrity gossip. “I’m not going to pressure you.”

You didn’t respond. You lowered your gaze to the device in your hands, feeling a mix of relief and bitterness. Well, at least she had given you the opportunity to worry about that later.

The screen lit up, and there it was. A new message from Kim Taehyung.

thv Hi. It’s Jimin.

Huh?

You ?

The read notification arrived almost instantly after you replied. With your brow furrowed, you watched the bubble appear from his side of the chat.

thv I’m sorry for writing from Tae’s account, but you blocked me

Ah. Ah. Right.

After receiving the notification that Jungkook had followed you a few days ago, and especially because he had shown up at your work out of nowhere short after that, you had blocked everyone else with an Instagram account, just to be safe.

A small detail.

You Oh, yeah

That Jimin was trying to contact you, considering the context of the whole situation, wasn’t too outrageous. When you studied together, apart from being the first to start teasing others and fostering friendly banter, he was also the first to try to fix things because he couldn’t stand hostile and tense environments. It’s not that you thought he had a chance to fix anything now, but maybe you were a little interested in what he had to say. After several days, it was inevitable not to feel curious, right?

After the bubble appeared and disappeared several times, the message finally arrived.

thv Do you think we could talk in person?

You No.

thv I promise it'll just be me

You No.

thv It can be anywhere you choose

You I said no If you have something to say, write it If you don’t have anything interesting to say, then I’m going to block this account too

thv No Wait Okay.

The sound of Yuna’s phone had faded into the background of your mind. You kept your eyes on the typing bubble, fearing that maybe Jimin would change his mind and decide not to respond to the questions swirling in your head. Now that he was being so persistent, you were more eager to know. I mean, it was the least you deserved, right? Some kind of answer, some kind of reason, a why. Something to explain everything, because the root of that growing resentment in your chest was due to their lack of communication, to their ease in discarding you like a worthless piece of paper, not even caring if the air swept you away or the rain destroyed you.

They owed you something, and you had the right to an answer. You could have moved on, yes; you thought you had, yes; living with resentment in your heart affected a person’s life, yes... but God would be the only living being on earth and in the universe who wouldn’t feel even a pinch of pain for everything that had happened. For the inexplicable disappearance, for the disconnection, for the destruction of an incredible blind trust that was woven with that friendship you believed to be unconditional but ended up being one-sided. Who could really blame you for being cautious of them?

If when you cultivated that friendship, that friendly love, the fruits they returned to you were rotten, how could you simply trust? Who could?

thv I’m sorry for what happened. I know this was very abrupt, and it must have been strange for you

Strange, for lack of a better word. Strange was a euphemism.

thv I apologize on behalf of everyone.

You I’m not interested

thv If we could meet in person, I could explain better

You I’m not interested. That wouldn’t change anything.

thv I know this goes beyond what happened this week, but I don’t want you to have a bad impression

You You’re a damn audacious one, Jimin Do you think it’s only the latest thing that would make me see you all negatively? Is that the only thing you’ve done? Or well, what you haven’t done either

thv Okay, I expressed myself very poorly I know we were already on bad terms before; I meant that I didn’t want it to get worse

You Well, honestly, I didn’t think it could get worse until now.

thv I’m making it worse

You Wow, apparently you do have awareness and common sense For many years, I thought you lacked that

You blocked the phone, letting it drop onto the table, your heart racing because of the audacity that man had to refer to what had happened as if it were just a silly childhood memory, as if it had simply been a stupid basketball game where you weren’t allowed to play. That only reinforced your thinking, the only plausible reason you had given life to over the past few years, the only explanation you had for their disappearance: that they never cared about you as much as you did about them; that you were never truly fundamental in their lives. Because, come on, they had built a friendship and shared memories before you appeared on the scene; they knew each other beforehand with a depth you could never reach, long before your name reached their ears. They had a connection; you were never ignorant of that; there was something in them that kept them united, something that made them understand each other almost on a spiritual level, and naively, you believed they had made you a part of it; that you had managed to be part of that connection.

But no, it was never like that. It was always one-sided. Whether you were a game, a case of charity, or someone they simply couldn’t say no to, you had no idea, but none of those options felt too foreign to reality. Especially considering the way Jimin referred to the past as if it had been a child's game and nothing more. There was never more for them. You should've known that.

thv I’m really sorry, y/n I truly wish I could talk to you in person I promise I can explain many things

His messages shone on the lock screen, and more than feeling curious again, you felt rage. So now they could talk. Now they could fucking communicate. Where was that willingness ten years ago? Five years ago, even? You never thought you would see any of them so willing to offer you what you had longed for, maybe at least to finally bring closure to the whole situation.

But you didn’t want to give them the right to become the victims in this situation. They had time to do something, yes, now you knew, and they simply chose not to; it was high time you really let it go. Let them go. What would an explanation fix now? When, if there was still something of the friendship you built, it should've crumbled to dust. Their willingness now meant nothing. If you ever saw any of them again, you would rather rip their hair out in a fit of rage.

You Fuck you Fuck all of you

And you blocked Taehyung’s account.

Anticipating any possibility, you also blocked Jungkook and hoped that would be the end of it.

Finally, you would try to seek true healing, because it was about damn time.

-

You y/n, I'm so sorry y/n? y/n????????????????

Oh no. Taehyung's going to kill me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Speaking of the king of Rome.

Park Jimin flinched, tightening his fingers around the phone he was holding, which clearly wasn’t his, literally caught red-handed. He swallowed hard when his friend’s footsteps drew closer, circling around to face what he feared most.

“Jimin...” Taehyung began, his confused expression turning into caution, quickly shifting his gaze between the phone and the wide-eyed blonde. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Jimin shrank even more, pursing his lips, realizing there was no escape. In his defense, he had fervently believed for a moment that he would succeed. Taehyung hadn’t agreed from the start, especially given how angry Yoongi had been that afternoon when he arrived at the penthouse and how he had locked himself in Namjoon’s office, and the tone of their voices hadn’t diminished for even a second, especially not when Jin arrived an hour later.

Taehyung and Jimin weren’t sure what had happened, but considering the recent events, they could make an educated guess.

It all led back to you.

They were surely paying for what they did.

“I told you it was a terrible idea!” Taehyung strode closer and snatched the phone from Jimin’s tightly clenched hands. Jimin let out a defeated sigh, sinking back against the couch as Taehyung began to scroll through the messages, growls escaping his throat.

“I didn’t think she’d be so...”

Jimin hesitated, and when he turned to look at his friend, his furrowed brow silently asked, “are you serious?”

Another defeated sigh escaped him.

“You’re not fixing anything. If Namjoon finds out about this...”

Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence, but Jimin understood. But could any of them really blame him? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone! No one was a saint in that place when it came to you. At least he had the decency to try to explain things when the others just charged in as if nothing had ever happened (for now, Taehyung and Jungkook, simply because he still had no idea what had happened with Yoongi).

The problem, of course, was that Jimin was better at comforting someone in person than through messages.

“There's no going back from this.” Taehyung murmured, still focused on the screen. The shine in his eyes gave Jimin an idea of what was going through his mind, and he remained silent until Taehyung looked up. “We really messed up.”

“Did you need this reality check?”

“Did you?” Taehyung frowned. “I don’t know why you expected a different response.”

“Well, what did you expect to happen doing what you did?”

Jimin watched his friend click his tongue.

“What did you expect me to do? I didn’t think it would snowball like this.” Taehyung shook his head, and Jimin barely recalled with a shudder how the atmosphere had felt in the penthouse after Tae had posted that story about your books on his Instagram. “I just wanted...”

Once again, Taehyung chose to remain silent, but in his absence of words, Jimin understood.

To make up for it.

“Obviously, I’m not going to say anything,” Taehyung added, shooting a sideways glance at his blonde friend. “After whatever happened with Yoongi, I don’t even want to imagine how Namjoon would react if he finds out about this.”

“If he finds out what?”

Jimin and Taehyung froze on the couch, watching through the reflection of the TV as the person appeared behind them before they could recognize the friendly yet concerned tone.

Jung Hoseok circled the couch, clearly troubled by what he had just heard. It was evident he had just returned from practice because his hair was wet and he looked somewhat flustered, his cheeks flushed despite the chilly weather that night. He dropped his training bag on one of the armchairs, and Jimin averted his gaze when he caught his friend's eyes. It wasn't that they usually kept secrets and tiptoed around the others, but ever since Jungkook had pulled that stunt of searching for you at work when Namjoon had expressly forbidden it, the waters between them had been a bit tense, and any topic involving you could explode any healthy and cooperative conversation in seconds.

Hoseok crossed his arms, allowing his cheerful expression at finally arriving at the penthouse to fade completely, hardening his features as he shot a stern look at the two young men.

Taehyung also averted his gaze. The moment he heard Hoseok's voice, he tucked the phone between his legs and probably looked tenser than he should have. He, just like Jimin, didn’t dare meet Hoseok’s eyes at that moment. Because Hobi had stopped at the door, and with whom they had in front of them, they couldn't hesitate. They both knew it, they both understood.

And Hoseok knew very well. He was aware of all the tricks the two shared and could sense from their silence that they were up to something. Besides, of course, their conversation had been overly revealing. They had to be thankful it was him who arrived in the midst of their confessions, and of course, he would demand to have a conversation of such gravity with such freedom.

But no, in that house, secrets were not kept.

“If he finds out what?” Hoseok emphasized the words, urging the stubborn young men to keep their mouths shut.

Hoseok then exhaled through his nose in a sigh.

“Is it about y/n?”

Jimin and Taehyung lifted their gazes, a bit tempted but diverting their eyes as if pretending to be uninterested. While the atmosphere had been very tense lately, Hoseok and Jin had kept themselves somewhat distanced from all that unease, mainly because their demanding jobs kept them away from the penthouse most of the time. Namjoon, for his part, couldn’t escape the topic as easily since he had an office at home, initially to monitor them in a healthy way, and now because he felt the need to keep an eye on each of them to prevent them from doing something stupid.

Yoongi... well, maybe he had tried to stay on the sidelines, but he had clearly failed miserably if he had ended up arguing with Namjoon and Jin.

“What did you guys do now?”

Hoseok's severe tone was chilling. Jimin remembered the times he had decided to participate in his dance classes, the few that he taught personally each month, and how he had felt Hoseok’s sharp gaze and his blunt comments about his steps in front of all the students. It was as if he became another person. Although it was terrifying, the two young men admitted it was refreshing to see him like that in the academy, because he had lost a bit of his spark since his accident. Before, he only looked that serene and committed when he was at his tennis practice.

At that moment, however, Jimin and Taehyung appeared more reluctant despite his severe attitude, because they didn’t know if he would spill the beans to Namjoon afterward.

“And what happened with Yoongi?”

The slight softness in his tone made Jimin lift his head. Still with his arms crossed over his chest, Hoseok sat across from them at the table in the center of the room.

Jimin sighed, and Taehyung shot him an alarmed look. Are we really going to give in this quickly?!

“We don’t know what happened with Yoongi. He just arrived in the afternoon, locked himself in the office with Namjoon, and they wouldn’t stop arguing. Then Jin came in, but that didn’t make them stop.”

Hoseok looked up, scanning the hallway. Now the house was silent, perhaps more grave and tense than usual. Hoseok didn’t know how it had come to this and hadn’t sensed that atmosphere immediately.

“Is Jin here?”

“I think he’s in his room,” Taehyung replied, shifting on the couch. “He stormed out of the office a while ago.”

Hoseok grimaced at the mere thought, causing a shiver.

“Then it is about y/n.”

Jimin and Taehyung once again averted their gazes.

“Oh, come on.” Hoseok uncrossed his arms, more frustrated than angry at that moment for not being able to fully understand what was causing so many arguments among his friends. “I’m not going to go talk to Namjoon later, regardless of what you tell me. I just want to understand.”

The two young men exchanged a glance, Hoseok believed, communicating mentally. It was always strange but interesting how those two could understand each other at such a level that often they didn’t even need a look. They could support each other's ideas without overthinking it, just like they were doing at that moment in front of him, and Hoseok couldn’t help but think that this topic could cause them more harm than they realized. That these two were even hesitant to share something with him now, fearing to do so, considering whom they could trust or not, spoke volumes about how this issue was being handled and it was not healthy at all.

Hoseok didn’t know that Namjoon had been arguing. The only time he had talked about that topic with the others was when Jungkook’s incident happened, because by crossing such a clear and blatant line, Namjoon saw the need to have a group meeting to set some ground rules. But whatever had continued to happen that he was unaware of was creating cracks in the trust of all the members, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I wrote to her on Taehyung’s Instagram,” Jimin began, looking down with his hands intertwined on his legs. “And I might have made things a lot worse...”

“Might have?” Taehyung turned to look at the blonde, who barely raised his head to meet his gaze before Hoseok interrupted.

“And what did you say to her?”

Jimin pressed his lips together. “I asked if we could meet in person, and when she said no, I just tried to apologize for everything.”

“Don’t forget that you proceeded to carry out a rather undisguised gaslighting.” Taehyung added.

“I didn’t manipulate her!”

“You spoke to her as if everything that happened didn’t matter at all!”

“That’s not how it was! I just expressed myself very poorly,” Jimin exclaimed, facing Taehyung’s accusations, who remained with his arms crossed and chin raised, clearly in disagreement with him. “You, more than anyone, know that I don’t communicate well through text.”

“Because you overthink everything. You didn’t even need to text her in the first place. I told you it was a terrible idea. Now she hates us even more!”

“Did she say that?” Hoseok intervened.

Taehyung gave him a disbelieving look.

“And I quote: fuck all of you.”

Hoseok took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Taehyung looked angry, and Jimin appeared offended that Taehyung was so upset about what he had done, in addition to misrepresenting his words, if Hoseok understood correctly. But the brown-haired guy had a point: it had indeed been a terrible idea, and Namjoon would lose all his hair if he found out. He understood Jimin’s motivation for trying to reach out, but Hoseok felt Jimin had lost some tact in the process by approaching you just to find a quick solution. Clearly, the atmosphere in the penthouse was affecting everyone, and not in a good way. He couldn’t judge or blame Jimin for trying to lighten the situation for both parties, even if he could have approached it differently.

So Hoseok sighed, understanding the magnitude of the problem they had, and turned to the two young men who were now looking at him attentively, after recently avoiding his gaze as if their lives depended on it.

“How did you think you were going to meet her with the level of fame you have?”

Hoseok knew Jimin had acted on impulse, and perhaps addressing the underlying reasoning would make him think better next time, if there was one.

Jimin opened his lips slightly, confused.

“I... I don’t know, but I would've found a way.”

Taehyung scoffed. That would have been impossible because, surely, only after Jungkook, Jimin was one of the most recognizable faces in the industry and, therefore, couldn’t walk freely down the streets without having a horde of fans behind him within seconds. If, for some divine reason, you had agreed to meet with Jimin, then he would have exposed you too much to the public eye and you would have had more problems before getting any answers.

“There’s no way, Jimin.” Hoseok spoke, as the blonde shot a fierce look at his brown-haired companion. “We’re no longer in a small town.”

The two young men turned to the elder, putting their silly squabbles aside. A feeling of nostalgia and longing filled the air, embracing them and bringing to the surface poorly buried memories in the gardens of their minds; the gusts of Hoseok’s words uncovered them easily.

“We can’t afford that luxury now. We lost the opportunity a long time ago.” Hoseok reminded them, with a hint of discord in his voice.

Taehyung hated remembering those times. Having had his hands tied, sealing his mouth voluntarily, believing he had no other option... it completely sickened him. For a long time, regret had physically drained him.

“I won’t talk to Namjoon, don’t worry.” Hoseok assured them, and although the two young men should've breathed with relief, the truth was that they already felt too shaken. “But be more careful about where you talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“Fuck!”

Taehyung jumped off the couch when the voice came from his right, being the closest to the source. The three friends turned to see Yoongi, walking down the hallway from his room to the main living area of the penthouse.

“Are you guys sharing secrets?”

Instead of being scared, Jimin and Taehyung fell back onto the couch, letting out an exhausted breath. Yoongi shot a confused look at Hoseok, who returned it with a more severe expression.

“Come here, Yoongi. We need to talk.”

-

i hope you guys enjoyed! and thanks to my friend for helping my unresponsive overworked ass.

[Friend: I don't know if the tags worked. I'm sorry!]

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[darlingdekarios]

abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

[changbunnies]

Coy (18+)

♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Bang Chan x Experienced Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot :)

♡ Word Count: 7.7k

♡ Summary: What occurs when joking about sex with your roommate leads to a shocking discovery about his lack of experience in the bedroom. 

♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but you can infer vibes if you want lol, chan is rlly insecure but reader is here to help!!, nipple play, handjob, oral (m rec), fingering (f rec), protected piv

♡ Notes: hey yall, i wanted to write something small and fun before my next big fic so here we are :’) honestly i was torn between writing this for chan or bin and ended up choosing chan but lmk if you'd want to see a fic like this for binnie! i went super perfectionist mode and rewrote this several times…. like at least 7 fsdgdsfg but i don't want it in my drafts anymore !! just take it !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All you said was a lighthearted joke– something said in jest to make your roommate-turned-best friend’s face flush red and burn all the way to the tips of his ears.

That was always the reaction Chan had when you brought up having had sex, you noticed; cheeks flushed red, eyes darting away from yours to look anywhere else, thumbs nervously twiddling where his hands rested in his lap. You assumed he had plenty of experience, but was more of a “heat of the moment” kind of guy– where you imagined he’d be confident and sure of himself with his partner, but talking about sex outside of the moment turned him into a shy, stuttering mess. 

And it’s not that you purposely went out of your way to imagine what Chan was like during sex, but your mind would often wander there on its own. He was attractive, to put it lightly– devoted to fine-tuning his muscles with diligently followed routines and strictly maintained effort. You were witness to his toned body on more than one occasion, as he often wandered around the apartment shirtless while having just woken up or doing his laundry.

It was a treat for the eyes for sure, but you were respectful. You never drooled over him– at least not anywhere but in the privacy of your bedroom. But it wasn’t just his body that you adored; he had the absolute cutest smile you’d ever seen, eyes crinkling into the prettiest crescent moons as dimples showed on his cheeks. You loved his fluffy, natural hair, and the deep brown color of his eyes, and the way warmth radiated off him when he pulled you into a hug.

So maybe you have a crush on him– but you aren’t going to act on it. You live together in a careful balance, in which you are close enough to him to become good friends while also hiding your attraction to him to maintain the peace. God forbid he doesn't return your attraction, or he does and down the line it makes things complicated. The last thing you need is to scramble for a new place to live after things between you don’t work out– you’d never be able to afford it, and you’ll gladly swallow your feelings for home security. 

But just because you couldn’t have sex with Chan, didn’t mean you couldn’t talk about it with him.

Chan is shy– that much you knew for certain. And sex, while a natural and fun part of life, is something that some people are embarrassed to be open about despite the normality. That's what you saw Chan as; a shy, easily embarrassed person. You thought it was so cute, and just a teensy bit funny; and with all that in mind, it was fun to tease him– to watch his eyes widen in surprise before he let out an awkward cough and looked away, hoping to hide the red forming on his cheeks.

So today, after bringing up how your last date ended, and seeing how brightly Chan’s face burned when you talked about the way they touched you, you couldn’t help but joke around with him. “Oh, c’mon Channie, don’t be coy. I know you’re drowning in pussy when I’m not here,” you teased him with a smirk. Considering your crush on him, you didn’t like to think about it too hard, but you did believe it– surely he brings people back to the apartment while you’re out on your dates.

“O-Oh, no, I’m not– I don’t–” he started to stutter out, and you giggled, because really, how could you believe anything else? He’s perfect– intelligent, funny, talented, as adorable as he is devastatingly hot; obviously he can get whoever he wants, and you believe he does– because Chan is certainly a fucking catch. But still, he continues to stammer and shake his head, blush spreading down his neck as he refutes your statement.

He isn’t a virgin, you have that much right; but he also isn’t some smooth operator hitting hookups with the classic “my roommate isn’t home 👀” text like you seem to think. He doesn’t even know why you think he’s secretly so cool– he’s only ever shown you the most embarrassing version of himself, much to his own chagrin. He’d like to be the person you think he is, but that’s simply not reality.

And as your giggling comes to a stop, and you really look at Chan and take in his expression, you can tell– he's being serious. "Oh," you blink in surprise, smacked with the realization that all your assumptions about him may have been entirely off base.

You frown, wondering if you've actually been making him uncomfortable this entire time. It was always meant to be in good fun, as you thought his bashful reactions were incredibly cute and endearing; but now you realize the truth. Chan isn’t shy about sex because he’s a private person– he’s shy about sex because he isn't having any.

Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed about all the times you talked about yourself; maybe it's karma for all the times you've subtly teased him. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed a line or anything, I didn't mean to, really–" You start to apologize, but Chan interjects, quickly shaking his head.

"N-No, no, you're fine! I just, uh–" he nervously stumbles on his words again, not even sure what he’s doing at this point. He doesn't even know why he refuted your joke so strongly– sure, it wasn’t true, but wouldn’t it be better for him if you believed it? 

Chan likes you– like, really likes you; but he can't imagine someone as experienced and confident as you will go for a guy like him. Because while he isn't a virgin, his past experiences have been woefully cringe-inducing to even recall.

He was always so eager and clumsy, with trembling hands and face so red he was sure he looked like a tomato. He was embarrassingly sensitive, every touch feeling so overwhelmingly good that he could hardly contain all the noises threatening to leave his throat. He came so fast that he didn’t even know what to do with himself when it was all said and done, hiding his face beneath his arm while he muttered a string of low apologies. 

And subjecting you to all of that? No thanks, falling off the face of the earth would be more preferable. You're the most sex positive person he's ever met, and you won’t make fun of him, he logically knows, but there’s part of him that fears it anyways. On top of that, apparently you had an extremely positive perception of his skills, and now he's ruined it.

While he's unsure what about him led you to believe he's desirable enough to have people biting at the chance to be with him, that impression, for better or worse, will never come back. So should he just be honest? Admit that he's actually really down bad for you but nowhere near confident enough to think he's enough for you?

That sounds like a bad idea. Terrible, even. Chan swallows as he looks at you, doing his best to ignore the way anxiety builds from deep in his gut. You're looking at him so patiently, caringly, that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest. Fuck it– he doesn't have to be completely honest and bear his heart on his sleeve, but he can trust you enough to admit a little bit of what he feels, right? If he can't confide in you then who else can he confide in?

"I just, uhm, I'm not very confident, I guess," he says after a careful breath, nervously scratching at the back of his neck as he darts his eyes away, "like.. in myself, or.. my skills, you know. So I just, uh.. don't have sex." You don't respond right away, simply blinking as you process the information, and regret starts to flood over the anxiety as Chan begins to overthink everything he’s admitted to you.

Really, you’re just shocked; Chan is sexy– like, really sexy. So the revelation that he isn’t confident in himself enough to enjoy sex to its fullest extent is baffling. He has such effortless charisma in other aspects of his life despite his shy nature, and you always assumed it carried over into his sex life; where his bashful looks and timid grins would melt away into someone confident and assured once the moment kicked off. 

“I could help you,” you finally offer once the initial surprise wears off, and instantly his brain is short circuiting, not even realizing that his astounded “huh?” left him audibly. You didn't really plan on confessing your attraction to Chan this way, if ever, but well.. here you are.

"It's just– you're like, the hottest person I know. Seriously. And I don't care if you lack experience, I'd have sex with you regardless," you explain, a rare blush of your own beginning to heat your face, "So, yeah, you know– if you want me like I want you, then.." You start to trail off, but you think he gets what you were intending to say.

It's a bit embarrassing to be blushing yourself considering all the casual sex you have, but it's not your fault– Chan is the only person you've caught feelings for in years, so you can't help but blush a little. Chan, meanwhile, is still stunned; you're attracted to him? You want to have sex with him? Really?

On one hand, it's exciting– you want him, he wants you, and you don't care that he's inexperienced. But still, on the other hand.. With all the experience you have, don’t you want to sleep with someone who matches your energy? He can't imagine that you'd enjoy watching him fumble his way through your time together, or that he’d bring you any pleasure with his lackluster skills.

And what would your relationship be afterwards? Just friends and roommates who happened to fuck once, or something more? Will the mutual attraction die off the moment you realize his insecurities are way more than you signed on for?

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you assure him, offering all the time he may need to think about your proposition. Maybe it won’t be the most casual of your experiences considering your massive crush on him, but how could you pass up the chance to help him? Especially when helping means having sex with the guy of your dreams– because really, that’s what Chan is.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, swallows the lump in his throat, and takes a breath– because despite all his fears, he really likes you, and of course he wants to fuck you. Chan always figured he’d never have a chance with you unless you experienced a huge lapse in judgment; and maybe this is one and done, maybe it doesn't mean as much for you as it does for him, but he’ll still take that chance, insecurities be damned; he’d be a fool not to.

“I want to,” he tells you, soft and timid, but certain. You smile, equally as soft, as you inch closer to him on the sofa. “Can I kiss you?” you ask him, giggling when he quickly nods. It’s cute– equally as cute as the small, involuntary noise he makes from the back of his throat when your lips touch his. You start slow, pressing long, lingering kisses to his plush lips– as soft as you always imagined.

His breath hitches when you crawl onto his lap, pulling away to look at you with widened eyes. “Too much?” you ask, ready to pull yourself off of him but he quickly shakes his head. “You’re just–” he pauses, licks his lips as his face flushes a deeper pink, but continues “..so pretty. Really pretty. Can't believe this is really happening."

It feels a bit silly being so shy to tell you how pretty you are to him when you’ve been kissing him and are quite literally sitting on top of his dick, but he can’t help the way you make him feel. It’s a simple compliment too, one that normally wouldn’t affect you very much, but makes your heart pick up ever so slightly in speed regardless; you suppose because Chan is the one saying it.

You can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his hands when you kiss him again, keeping them clenched and firmly stuck to his side. You take them in your hands, guiding them to your body and resting them on your hips. “Touch me, Channie,” you breathe against his lips, “anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere..?” he questions with a shaky exhale, hands trembling where they rest on your body. “Mhm, want to feel you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he already feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest before he’s even really begun. But he listens, hands carefully traveling up and down your body as you lean back in to continue kissing him.

You let your own hands wander as well– over his arms, across his chest, down the toned abs you can distinctly feel even beneath his sweater. You lick his bottom lip, feeling his body shiver beneath the tips of your fingers as he opens his mouth for you, letting your tongue inside.

He brings his hands to your chest, palming your breasts before he carefully squeezes them. You bring one of your hands to hover over his, encouraging him to continue by squeezing your hand atop his. He’s only touching you over your clothes, but he already feels impossibly dizzy from the excitement– he can’t even focus on how pathetic that would normally make him feel either, because your tongue in his mouth fogs his brain. 

The next time you pull away, it’s to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head so swiftly that Chan barely even has time to process what he’s about to see. He sucks in a breath as he looks at your tits; it doesn’t even matter that they’re still contained by a bra– it’s still more than enough to send him reeling. Pretty, pretty, pretty, is all he can think, his mind unable to conjure a thought any more complex than simple words.

You move your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra and expose yourself to him entirely, but he briefly stops you. “Can I– Can I try..?” he asks, clearly nervous but eager to try and prove himself in whatever way you’ll let him. “Course, Channie,” you smile at him as you let your arms fall back to your side, “go ahead.” You lean closer to him, bringing your hands to his shoulders as he brings his own to your back. 

You press kisses to his jaw as you wait for him to act, eventually trailing down to his neck. It makes him gasp and bite his lip, the skin of his neck evidently more sensitive than he ever even realized. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying his best not to get too distracted by the feeling of your lips on the sensitive spots of his neck before he continues.

His fingers fumble with the hooks of your bra, his trembling hands causing his grip to slip more than once. It’s embarrassing how badly he’s failing at this simple task, but you pay no mind to it, continuing to kiss him as he takes his time to figure it out. You caress his arms, pulling away to reassure him when his shaking fingers mess up for the third time.

“Relax, baby, you’ve got it,” you tell him, the affectionate term unintentionally slipping out– but Chan seems to welcome it, offering you a soft smile and nod as he timidly tries again. He lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding when he finally succeeds, watching attentively as you bring your hands to the now loose straps, sliding them down your arms.

You toss your bra aside when your arms are freed from the straps, and Chan can’t help but stare at your now bare chest. He can count on a single hand the amount of tits he’s seen, so his thoughts may be a bit biased in your favor, but he firmly believes yours are the prettiest he’s ever looked at. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks to you for permission to touch them again, which you easily grant him. 

The soft noise you let out when his thumbs brush over your nipples both surprises him and makes his cock throb; he can still hardly even believe you’re really letting him touch you. “Is that good?” he asks as he does it again, intoxicated by the way you whimper and squirm. “Mhm, feels good. Feels better when they’re wet, though,” you tell him, watching as the gears turn in his brain. 

He licks his lips and leans down, bringing his face to your chest. He sticks out his tongue, slowly swiping it against one of your hardened nipples, eyes glued to your face as he does. “This what you want?” he asks, repeating the action when you gasp and nod. You thread your fingers through his hair, another whimper leaving you as he wraps his lips around your nipple and swirls his tongue around it.

You reach for his other hand and bring his fingers to your mouth, licking and coating them in your saliva. He whines at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his fingers, his imagination running wild with images of what it’d feel like on different parts of his body. Once satisfied with the wetness of his fingers, you take them from your mouth and bring them back down to the nipple currently not in his mouth. “Use them to touch me, please–” 

Chan wastes no time in doing what you ask, a soft whine escaping him when you gently tug on his hair. His cock is painfully hard and straining against his jeans that are now uncomfortably tight around him. You can feel it pressing against your ass, his eyes fluttering shut when his treatment of your nipples cause you to squirm and rub against his erection. The friction is overwhelming, your noises are intoxicating, the combination makes him dizzy with need for more. 

More of your touch on his skin, more of your pretty whimpers in his ear, more of anything and everything you’re willing to give him, he wants it all. Soon you’re reaching for the hem of Chan’s sweater, and he separates from you, allowing you to pull it up and over his head, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You admire him, trace his pecs and his abs with your fingers, smiling at him sweetly when he shivers beneath your touch. 

“You’re so handsome, Channie,” you tell him as you continue to run your fingers along his torso, “so hot, you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted you.” He whines and turns his face away, a vain attempt to hide the heat that rises to it. “That’s– I-I.. didn’t know..” he mumbles shyly, hesitant to meet your gaze again– mostly because he thinks his heart will burst if he looks at you while you’re saying things like that to him.

He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to look at you without going red in the face after this, or how he’s going to be able to hear your voice again without his cock getting hard. Better yet, how is he going to look at you without thinking about how bad he wants you to be his, or for him to be yours? Either way, that’s a problem for the future– because your hands and lips are all over him, and that’s what he wants to focus on now. 

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand brushes his erection over his jeans, bites his lip when you start to undo the button, lets out a shaky exhale as you begin to pull down the zipper. He’s not sure what you’ll think of his length, but he hopes you like it, prays that it’s enough to satisfy you. “You should have more confidence in yourself, Channie,” is the first thing you say as you take it in your hand, “you’ve got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

“W-What? No way, that’s– you’re just saying that,” he pouts, the blush covering his face and ears becoming unbearably hot. You can’t mean that– he almost refuses to believe it; because he simply can’t comprehend that you would prefer him to anyone else. “I’m not, baby. I mean it,” you tell him, and the way he throbs in your hand gives away that he likes the compliment, even if he doesn’t entirely believe it’s true. 

You really are being honest; it’s not the longest you’ve ever had, but it’s among the thickest, with pretty veins that accentuate it. You want to trace them– with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, everything. And then there’s the way his pre-cum leaks from the tip, steadily dripping and pooling where it falls-–all you can say is that it’s mouth-watering. The look in your eyes makes Chan feel impossibly shy, and it takes everything within him not to cover his face when your eyes meet again. 

He never imagined that look would be for him; that he would ever be deserving of your touch and affectionate words. And the sweet smile you offer him when you start to earnestly stroke his cock– he’s done for, absolutely done for. He’ll never be able to hide how bad he wants you after this– maybe he should listen to you and gain some confidence, ask you to be his before someone else steals you away. 

Chan quickly loses his ability to form coherent thought once you start picking up your pace however, your hand having quickly become slick from his pre-cum. His head falls back against the sofa, breaths growing more and more labored with each stroke of your soft, warm, wet hand. You can feel his thighs twitch beneath you, and the way his hips jolt up to try to seek further friction from your hand, though your weight atop his legs prevents him doing so. 

“Want you in my mouth,” you tell him, pleased with the way the words make him gasp and squirm, “You want that, Channie? Will you let me suck you off?” Fuck, do you even have to ask? As if there is any reality in which he would ever say no; you can have him, all of him, he doesn’t care as long as it’s you– he’ll never deny you any part of him. “Yeah, yeah, want that, please,” he breathes, an almost shameless plea for you to do whatever you want with him. 

You offer him a pretty smile, placing a quick but affectionate kiss to his lips before you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking to your knees, you pull Chan’s jeans and boxers down his legs and to his ankles, and wait for him to step out of them and spread his legs wide enough for you to fit between them. There’s an apprehensive look in his eye when you scoot closer to him, and you pause, looking up at him with concern. “Are you nervous?” you ask, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if he needs you to.

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I just–” he pauses, an awkward, nervous laugh leaving him as he averts his gaze away from yours, “I just.. ‘m worried I’m gonna cum too fast when you.. Uh, yeah, you know.” He feels a bit pathetic admitting it, and he keeps his eyes locked on a random corner of the room, still holding onto the irrational fear that you’ll judge or laugh at him. Of course, you do neither– you simply lean forward on your knees, reaching a hand up to touch his face and bring his eyes back to yours. 

“Don’t worry about that, I won’t mind if you cum fast, okay? It won’t bother me, and I won’t be mad. Just enjoy yourself,” you tell him earnestly, smiling sweetly at him when he slowly nods. You want to show him that you’re more than happy to take care of him until he gets the confidence in himself he needs, that there’s no shame in feeling so good that he can’t help but let go, that you’ll want him regardless. 

You settle back on your knees, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs until you feel like his nerves have settled. He nods to you when he’s ready, and you give him one last smile before you bring your face directly to his waiting cock. The kisses you place to the tip are already enough to have him gasping and squirming in his seat– soft, delicate, and wet. Your fingers hold him at the base, keeping it held in place even as it twitches in response to every kiss you leave behind. 

You stick out your tongue, let spit dribble down and further wet his leaking tip, and it’s positively the most erotic thing Chan has ever witnessed; he has to cover his face to stop himself from losing his mind. Head fallen back against the sofa with his arm thrown over his face, he gasps once more when he feels your tongue press against his skin. You lick slowly– whether to savor the taste or prolong the moment, Chan is unsure, but he welcomes it either way. 

He can’t suppress the throaty groan that leaves him when you drag your tongue across the entirety of his length, tracing the veins with it just as you wished to. “O-Oh my god, baby–” he gasps when you finally start to take his cock into your mouth, too far gone to realize that he too let the pet name slip out. You don’t seem to mind, at least; after all, despite this “casual” encounter, you’ve already done the same, and been more affectionate than he ever anticipated.

Chan wants to believe you’re affectionate just with him; that none of your other casual partners have ever been looked at the way you’ve looked at him, that you never called them sweet names or given them such caring glances. Maybe he’s feeding himself a delusion, but he wants to believe you want him as bad as he wants you– beyond just the physical. He wants to believe this isn’t just a one time thing, and most of all he wants to believe that you’ll fall in love with him. 

Is it normal to think about love when your cock is deep down your crush's throat? He doesn’t know– but all he can think about, apart from how amazing your mouth feels, is how much he loves and adores you. Letting his arm fall back to his side, he lifts his head from the sofa to look at you once more, and fuck, what a site you are. Eyes glassy and pretty as you gaze up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed red, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

The sounds you make as you bob your head are so salacious it makes his head spin, his thighs tremble with each motion of your tongue on the underside of his length, and every time his tip touches the back of your throat he can’t help but let out a moan. His fingers struggle to find purchase on the sofa’s cushion, so instead he clenches his fist, knuckles quickly turning white. You notice, of course, so you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers and letting him squeeze your hand instead. 

God, that fucks with his heart– but he hardly has any time to dwell on it. He’s barely been holding back his orgasm, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last. “Babe, baby, feels so good, I can’t– o-oh, please, ‘m gonna cum–” he babbles his warning, whimpering when you hum in response and continue to take him as deep into your mouth as he can go. His eyes roll back, cock throbbing and entire body trembling– and one more swipe of your tongue and swallow around his length is all it takes to have him cumming.

“O-Oh my– fuck, fuck, sorry, ‘m cumming, baby–” he rambles, thankfully too far gone to be embarrassed by all the things he’s saying to you. You swallow all he has to give you, not pulling off him until he starts to come down from his high and cock begins to soften. He’s dazed and breathless as he looks at you, chest heaving as his brain tries to recalibrate itself after how good you just made him feel.

You rise from your knees and set yourself back on the sofa, leaning towards Chan to kiss him after he’s caught his breath. He can taste himself on your lips, but he doesn’t hate it; there’s a strange part of him that even enjoys it. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles with a nervous pout when you pull away, “I tried to hold it back, but..” 

“Channie, I told you not to worry about that. It felt good, right? That’s all that matters,” you tell him, directing him to look at you when he tries to avert his gaze again. He swallows the anxiety down, trying to look at you without feeling like disappearing into a void. But he can tell after just a moment how sincere you’re being, and it spreads relief through his veins. It’s not that he really doubted you, but his internal dialogue is far from rational.

You’ve been so good to him since the start, and though he’s incredibly shy and equally as nervous, there’s nothing more he wants now than to return the favor. He still doubts he’s good enough to give you what you deserve, to skillfully make you cum and cry out for him, but he’ll try– God, he’ll fucking try. 

It takes all the confidence he can muster to speak what he wants to say, but he thankfully manages alright. “I want, uh– ..w-want to make you cum too,” he admits, doing his best to hold your gaze despite the way shyness claws at him and his blush burns his face. “Yeah?” you smile, honestly pretty eager to let Chan touch you more. 

While you were more than ready to keep taking the lead, to guide him along and take care of him, you’re happy to see a surge of confidence in him– even if it’s a small one. “Touch me then, Channie. Make me cum,” you tell him as you beckon him closer, letting out a soft, content hum when he kisses you. You let him guide you back until your back is flat against the sofa, spreading your legs so that he can nestle between them. 

You can feel his hands trembling again as they travel your body, but Chan doesn’t let the nerves prevent him from hooking his fingers into your pants. He continues to kiss you as he slides them down your legs, along with your panties– not just because he loves kissing you, but also because he’s not quite ready to look at your bare pussy; he genuinely thinks his heart will give out if he doesn’t mentally prepare himself first.

Pretty soon though, he does have to separate from you so he can let you slip your feet out of your clothes, and subsequently toss them to the floor with all the rest of your discarded clothing. He tries to keep his eyes locked on your face, but he can’t help but let his eyes trail down and roam over the rest of your exposed body. He’s mesmerized in an instant; you’re so impossibly pretty, every inch of you breathtaking and beautiful and– God, just perfect.

He knows his words will fail him, so he hopes his lips on yours will do enough of the talking for him, hopes that he can show how bad he adores and desires you with actions alone. You intended initially to let him take his time, but you’ve been impossibly wet and worked up this entire time; and besides, doesn’t he need a little push? 

So you take one of his hands, guiding it to your dripping center. Chan lets out an involuntary whine from the back of his throat, body shivering in response. “Y-You’re so– oh my god, how are you so wet?” he asks, as in awe of you as he is surprised. “You, baby,” you answer, voice growing shakier now that he’s rubbing his fingers between your folds, “I told you, you– you’re so handsome, you know? Get me so hot, ‘ve wanted you so bad.” 

God, he still can’t believe it– how is it possible that you’ve wanted him as bad as he’s wanted you? And there’s no way his insecurities can make him believe you’re just saying it to make him feel good about himself anymore, because he can feel the proof of your words with his fingers. “Tell me– tell me what you like, what you want, please,” he softly pleads, “need to make you feel good.”

“Inside, want your pretty fingers inside me,” you tell him, shivering when you feel the tips of his fingers pressing against your hole. He starts slow and careful, gently pushing one of his fingers inside, alternating between watching his hand and looking up to your face. You’re so slick and warm, and the way you squeeze around even just one of his fingers makes his head spin– because he can’t help but imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

“Another, add another, please,” you all but beg once you’re adjusted to how one feels, and he wastes no time in obliging you, delighting in the way it makes your eyes flutter closed. You bite your lip when he starts to instinctively move his fingers faster, little whimpers escaping as your breaths become heavier. “You sound so pretty,” he says, gasping when he realizes it caused you to clench harder around his fingers. 

Do you like when he talks to you? He doesn’t know if it’s his voice you like, or what he said in particular, but if you like it then he won’t stop. “F-Feels so amazing, I can’t– can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like around me, want it so bad, want to be inside you,” he starts to ramble, doing his best to voice everything that comes to his mind, anything he thinks you’ll like and will have you clenching again, even if it embarrasses him to say it.

He experiments with his fingers as he talks to you– changing angles and curling his fingers, trying to find what you like the best. You gasp when he finds your spot with the tips of his fingers, body trembling and back arching. “R-Right there, fuck, feels so good, Channie, your fingers feel so good,” you tell him breathlessly, and he can’t help the way he stiffens and throbs once more in response. 

And really, how is he supposed to look at the way you shake beneath him, hear your pretty voice praise the way he’s touching you, and not get hard again? He wants nothing more than to make you cum– to make you cry and writhe in pleasure for him, because of him; almost desperate for it, he hits your spot over and over again, hoping to bring you closer and closer to the release you both crave. 

He’s mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back, by the rise and fall of your chest and tremble of your thighs; addicted to the way your moans and whimpers grow higher in pitch, and the messy, wet sounds his fingers create between your legs. Chan glances down to your pussy, taking notice of your puffy, neglected clit. 

He wants to taste it, to wrap his lips around and let his tongue lavish it, but he doesn’t trust himself to be able to get down smoothly or without messing up his rhythm; so instead, he brings his thumb to it– something he’s seen done in porn that woman always seemed to like (and he desperately hopes you like it too.) Thankfully, he gets the effect he was hoping for– you let out a whimper and squirm, nails digging into his skin. 

Chan doesn’t let up even when his wrist begins to grow sore, running purely on desire and instinct. “F-Fuck, Channie, baby, ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp out, voice whiny and strained, but still oh so pretty in his ears. He can’t believe he’s actually going to make you cum, can’t believe how lucky he is; and he's utterly transfixed on the way your body moves, drunk on the sounds that freely spill from you. 

He gasps when you reach out and unexpectedly pull him closer, letting out a soft, surprised whine when you eagerly crash your lips into his. It’s the messiest kiss he’s ever had, tongues dancing and drool falling from the corners of your mouth, hot and heavy breaths passed between each other. Your thighs squeeze his hand as your orgasm takes you, entire body shaking as your back arches off the sofa, arousal gushing and further coating his fingers.

Chan slowly slides his fingers out of you as you catch your breath, meeting your gaze shyly when you open your eyes to look at him once more. He’s so fucking hard, again, and you instantly notice, much to his embarrassment. He wants to fuck you, there’s no denying it– but he can’t help but continue to feel self-conscious, even now. 

You sit up and kiss him once more, as if to dispel all doubts and worries from his racing mind. “Want you, Channie,” you tell him, voice soft, sweet, and reassuring, “do you still want me? Wanna fuck me?” He whines from deep in his throat, knowing he’d never be able to deny it, even if he wanted to. 

“Yes, God, yes, wanna fuck you,” he answers honestly, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, “b-but I– I just.. don’t want to disappoint you.” He’ll never forgive himself if he fucks this up and leaves you wanting and unsatisfied; he wants to be nothing less than perfect for you and he already knows that he isn’t. 

“Channie, baby, look at me,” you say as you reach a hand to his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes again, “you won’t disappoint me, you could never.” You place soft, comforting pecks to his lips, holding his hands and rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs until you feel him start to lose his tension. “Remember what I said? Don’t worry about anything but feeling good. I want you to cum again,” you tell him, smiling as he nods, his face flushing a deeper red. 

Leaning towards the coffee table, you reach for where you dropped your purse before sitting down with Chan, digging around inside until you find one of the spare condoms you make sure to keep for your dates. He swallows as he watches you pull it out, beyond nervous but equally as excited to finally feel you wrapped around him. 

Even just watching you tear open the packaging is enough to have him trembling, and when you glance at him to make sure he’s ready, he ignores his insecurities the best he can to offer you a timid smile. You return the smile, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a few slow pumps to make sure he’s ready. He squirms and softly whines, still sensitive from his previous orgasm, but there’s no way he’s going to let that stop him from having this moment with you. 

He shivers when you easily roll the condom down his length, biting his lip as you crawl back onto his lap after you’ve finished. His heart is beating fast and erratic, and he wonders if you can hear how loudly it’s thumping against his chest. He lies half propped up by one of the sofa’s cushions, looking up at you with eyes akin to a puppy, watching your every move with bated breath. 

You reach between your bodies to hold his cock at the base, angling it with your still soaked entrance. You let go once you start to sink down on it, moving your hand to his chest to support yourself as his cock pushes inside. “Oh, fuck–” Chan lets out a choked gasp, already overwhelmed by the sensation even before you’re fully sat on his length. 

Even with a condom on, he can still feel how warm and wet you are, your walls squeezing him so tight it takes his breath away. “Fuck, baby, oh my god, it already feels so good, what the fuck–” he gasps again once your hips are flush together. He doesn’t remember it feeling this amazing the last time he had sex; is it because he’s more sensitive from before? Or is it because it’s you? 

No matter the answer, he’s certain of one thing– and that’s that he’s definitely going to cum fast; he just hopes you meant it when you said it’s okay. He lets out an obscenely loud moan when you start to lift and drop your hips– one that would normally make him extremely embarrassed, but he feels way too good to even focus on it; all he can think about is how fucking good you feel. 

His hands squeeze your hips, and he looks at you with stars in his eyes. How can you be so pretty, so beautiful? How can you feel this good? The way he’s looking at you makes your heart stutter and pussy clench, an act that makes Chan’s head fall back against the cushion as he moans. He’s so handsome, with the way his curly hair clings to his forehead with sweat, his bitten lips and flushed cheeks– it's insane that he can't see how crazy for him you are. 

You lean forward to kiss him, bringing one of your hands up to thread your fingers through his hair as your tongue slips past his parted lips. He feels dizzy with pleasure, each of his loud moans and whines muffled only by your lips on his. You’re both panting by the time you separate, with you falling forward and burying your face into his neck. 

Your legs and knees quickly begin to scream at you, but you ignore it as best you can in favor of chasing pleasure, bouncing on his cock with all the energy you can muster. You know he won’t last much longer– he was already sensitive to start, and you can feel him twitching and throbbing more and more with each additional motion of your hips. 

“Baby, ‘m so close–” Chan whimpers, eyes rolling back when you clench around him harder. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for me, Channie? Gonna cum with me?” you ask as you snake your hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in quick circles so that you can cum together. He quickly nods and bites his lip, hands squeezing you tighter and hips rising to chase you every time you lift off him. 

It only takes a couple more rolls of your hips to have him cumming again, white, hot pleasure coursing through his veins and overwhelming every inch of his body, filling the condom with all he has to give. You follow quickly behind, hips stuttering and losing all sense of rhythm as you ride out your release. 

You collapse against his chest with a heavy sigh once you’re done, utterly exhausted from all the effort, but completely satisfied. You’re both breathless, eyes closed as you collect yourselves and racing hearts start to return to normal speed. Well, in Chan’s case it doesn’t completely return to normal; because you’re still naked on top of him, and even after having just had sex, he still can’t believe you’re here with him right now like this.

You lift your hips and let his softening cock slide out of you, laying on Chan’s side with his arm as support so you don’t fall off the sofa. You carefully remove the condom, tying it off and preparing it to be thrown away once you’re ready to get up– for now, you’re too tired to move, and you just want to stay next to Chan for as long as you can. 

You lay your leg across his body, cuddling close to him while he continues to support your weight with his arm. “How was it? Fun?” you ask him, smiling when he blushes and looks away, still unable to help being shy even after all you just did together. “Of course, you’re.. incredible,” he answers honestly, chewing on his lip before he continues, “But, were you– ..was I good enough for you..?”

“Channie, are you kidding? You were perfect, I promise,” you assure him, giggling softly when he breathes a sigh of relief. “You get stuck in your head too much, baby,” you continue, absentmindedly tracing circles in his skin as you speak, “I promise you, you could have anyone you want. I mean it when I say you’re perfect.” He still doesn’t quite believe what you’re saying is true, but he can at least accept that you believe it. 

But he wonders if you know– it’s not just anyone he wants, but you. He was only able to do this because it was you that offered-–anyone else, and he would’ve instantly turned them down, or wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself if he did accept. Looking at you now reaffirms what he’s long since thought– you’re the only one for him. 

“Baby, I want you to be mine-–want you to be my girlfriend,” is what he wants to say– but Chan is much too shy, and can’t bring himself to do it. “C-Can we– can we do this again sometime..?” is what he ends up saying insead. And you smile as you nod, sweetly running your fingers through his messy curls before you give him another kiss, “Course, baby. Anytime you want me, I’m yours.”

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚ REVENGE [PART TWO TO KINSLAYER] ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part one.

synopsis: following your brave defeat of aemond targaryen in the battle of rook’s rest, your dragon silverwing delivers your body back to your mother in dragonstone. as you are discovered, a swearing of revenge is made as your body burns in its funeral pyre.

request: kinslayer is so good. would you ever write a little drabble to see the sadness of her family. especially her mother? also to see how this changed the dance. would you ever write a different ending? where before she fell silverwing saves her. like toothless did with hiccup. i adore it and need more. only if you want to of course.

notes: a bit longer than a drabble but i hope you enjoy anyways😭 thank you sm also to @dracaryxzs @hikaerys @delightfulbluebirdtidalwave & @quickamateur for requesting a part two of the black’s reaction to the reader’s death. i had so much fun exploring what the characters would feel like, esp jacaerys. tbh i don’t think i would write an alternative ending bc i just love writing angst wayyyy too much (it’s a problem)

there’s also a lack of jacaerys requests in my inbox which i think you should all fix by pressing here!

warnings: brief descriptions & mentions death, funeral pyre, angst, feelings of sadness after a death of loved one, burning, self-blame

word count: 1.9k

THE SHRIEKING SCREAM OF SILVERWING WAS THE ONLY THING THAT COULD BE HEARD FOR MILES. it was a shriek of pure pain, a cut wedged so deep had made its home in the poor dragon's heart as she had no choice but to watch on as you plunged your sword into aemond targaryen's eye. silverwing had tried her hardest to swoop down and rescue your body as both you and the man you loved plummeted to the ground in each other's arms. your limbs were intertwined with aemond's, your soul's holding the same love they had held many years ago in your final moments.

your body had crashed to the forest floor from the great height, dying immediately - still weaved with aemond's.

another heart-wrenching scream was heard from silverwing as the bond you two had shared had completely severed with your death. all she could do now was search the forest for you and bring back your fractured body to your mother. 

silverwing had gently picked up your body in her claws, so not to bring you anymore damage than the fall had done. she had completely disregarded the body of your previous lover, sword still plunged in his eye. small whimpers left her body as she rose slowly into the air flying back to dragonstone, having lost another rider had left the dragon in an immense amount of pain as you had reminded her greatly of the good queen alyssane, her first rider.

aegon having fled the battle the moment he had witnessed aemond's death had left rhaenys velaryon, your grandmother, with too little time to come to your aid. piercing cries escaped her lips as she could do nothing but watch you fall to your death. knowing this is what you had wanted still did not heed the tears that escaped her lilac eyes, nor did it stop the blame she held for herself as she accompanied your dragon back to dragonstone, wishing over and over that it had been her instead of you, something she knew she would wish until the end of her days. 

the shrieks of pain silverwing had let out alerted the dragon's on the island as she drew near. many stirred at the noise in fright, but none seemed to be as fretted as vermax, who had replied to silvering's bellow with one in return.

with the sound of her two children's dragon's shrieks, rhaenyra knew something was wrong. her gut instinct had told her something had happened to you, as jace remained safely within the castle. rushing to her balcony, she fixed her gaze intently across the sea for any sign of you, holding her breath as she noticed silverwing's flapping wings over the horizon. as she drew closer rhaenyra's eyes scanned her saddle, and noticing you weren't atop it her eyes flickered hastily down to her trembling claws. 

she was clutching your lifeless body. 

tears streamed down rhaenyra's face as she fell to the ground. uncontrallable sobs left her lips as her body violently shook in pain. admitting defeat she crumbled against the pillars of her balcony. as she did, her eyes bore into the sky above that painted in blues purples and oranges alike. she cursed at all the gods she could as it dawned on her this was what the sky held when lucerys had died just moons before. no amount of screams or curses at both the green's and gods would ever stop the blame that rhaenyra held for herself for your death, she knew you were not ready for battle yet she still sent you anyway. 

your heart still held onto the embers of girlhood which was seen in the way you teased jace, the joy you found when you played with your younger brother's and the soft smiled that adorned your lips as she combed and braided your hair with a gold plated brush. you were too young to pass. you were meant to outlive her, to live a happy life with a husband and children who you adored - something you would never get to do it now. rhaenyra's painful screams were carried off into the wind, her grief-stricken body stuck to the place she had fallen, as her gaze at the sky hardened. she swore that whatever force had killed you would be killed in return. she knew it would never bring you back, her only daughter was gone from this world, but she needed for herself to seek revenge in your name.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

it had been jacaerys who had went to greet your dragon. the poor boy did not realise anything was amiss at first. he trodded happily down to your dragon to congratulate you on your first victory, proud of his younger sister. it wasn't until he noticed silverwing's sad demeanour, how her entire body trembled in despair, curled up into a ball not allowing any guard to pass through the wall she had made. as jace approached the dragon she murmured a small cry as she began to uncurl, the strange behaviour making his mind run rampant and tears start to prickle in his eyes.

no. no.

it was only a matter of seconds before jace's knees buckled, falling to floor where you lay stretched out on the floor. 

he couldn't believe it, you were so full of life only a mere few hours ago. 

reaching for you, he pulled your head onto his lap, cradling your body as he did. he couldn't stop the tears that poured from his cheeks landing softly on your skin, as sobs erupted from his lips. he had hoped in some delusional way, that you would somehow awake, that if he just stayed by your side cradling you, you would return and call him stupid for worrying so much.

the pain of lucerys had returned tenfold. he was meant to protect you, you were his younger sister for gods sake, only a year between the two of you, you had been as thick as theives. always teasing each other, throwing food across the table when petty arguments broke out. the two of you had stuck by each other's sides as you became aware of the questions that arose from the colour of your hair when luke was still too young to understand. you were meant to stay by his side, he had long since planned to make you his hand as you had always been there as his biggest advisor - the person he had trusted most in this world.

jacaerys like his mother, blamed himself. he should have been their to protect you, because that's what brother's are for, right?

there was no doubt he was a targaryen in that moment. his wetted eyes dried with a rage he had never felt before. he too swore at the sky, cursing every green, every god who had willed your fate, his voice breaking as he did. jacaerys did not care what life lay ahead of him in that moment, being heir was long from his mind as he bellowed that he would exact your revenge even if it meant he would die too. 

shallow breathes were taken as he brought his brown eyes onto your closed ones, still laying still in his lap. his anger had quickly faded at the sight of you again, his chest vibrating as he struggled to regain oxygen into his lungs. the softer side of jacaerys velaryon had once more returned as he allowed his forehead to rest against your cold one. his hands absentmindedly began to run through your hair, whispering soft "it will be okay" and "i love you's" as the tears silently fell from his glassy eyes, unsure of whether it was to reassure himself or you.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

rain drops fell from the sky in a heavy rhythm, landing in small plops the cliff side where your family gathered for small funeral pyre after your body had be retrieved. it had been jacaerys who had suggested the place, knowing how you and luke had enjoyed coming up to sit peacefully and read together. 

the somber mood was evident as the rain continued to poor from the sky, each person having their heart ripped out from their chest all over again as they looked upon you body. you had almost looked like you were sleeping if it wasn't for the fact you had turned a sickly pale colour, and your chest failing to rise and fall with the inhale and exhale of oxygen.

the group of targaryen's, velaryon's and silverwing the dragon, gathered around the small wooden pyre as they said their final goodbye's to you. daemon had approached the wooden frame, placing the sword your drove deep into your lover's eye next to you that he had managed to retrieve. he hadn't been aware of how much the sword had meant to you, but to him it showed the fierce love and protection he had felt. despite not being his own daughter, he had loved you like one - always taking the time to teach you the art of sword fighting despite the other knight's looking down on it. he returned to his wife's side who nodded him in gratitude for loving her little girl the way a father should.

tears threatened to spill from jacaerys glassy eyes as he began to approach your body next, his hand clutched little joffrey's who was still too small to understand where his elder sister had left to and why she had yet to return. he had placed the letter's the two of you had exchanged when he had visited the north, the fascination you had for the wall had always brought a smile to his lips when you had asked him questions. even now, a watery smile played on his lips thinking of it as he returned to his place next to his mother. 

small sniffles could also be heard from the two targaryen girls - rhaena and baela - who stood on the opposite end of the pyre, the two girls reminiscing on the time you did spend together talking about boys, and giggling as you gossiped whilst sewing. their grandmother stood tall next to them as she gripped both their hands tightly, grounding herself with the thought that you would have wanted her to project the love she had for you onto your two cousins whom you had loved deeply.

the last to approach the pyre was your mother. her silent demeanour had been an obvious sign that her sadness had been replaced by a vicious anger that would not be calmed. leaning over the wood, she had placed the gold plated hair brush next to you, the very one she had combed your dark locks earlier that day creating the style you had always favoured, recalling how you had always begged her to do whilst you were still alive. 

rhaenyra's lips left a ghost of a kiss on your forehead before she stepped back. calling silverwing forward in high valyrian, the dragon let out a number of whimpers and cries as she knew what came next. 

"dracarys"

a single tear drop shed from rhaenyra's eyes as she turned away from the burning embers, her promise of revenge at the forefront of her mind. 

"broken by the loss of one son, rhaenyra targaryen seemed to find new strength in the loss of a second. her eldest daughter's death hardened her, burning away her fears, leaving only her anger and her hatred."

[radio-fmm]

Dear Luffy… what?!

Luffy x fem!reader

1.6k words, fluff confession, gendered terms such as ‘woman’

!This is a part 2! Sanji found your love letter to Luffy and now everyone knows you like your Captain

Pt.1 | Masterlist

It had been a week since Sanji had found your letter, and somehow things got worse. Everyone on the ship knew about your crush by now, everyone except from the one that should be more concerned about it. The strawhats lived for gossip

Every glance, smile and compliment you’d share with your Captain as you both usually did, was accompanied with giggles, teases and whispers from your crewmates, making you nervous to even breath near Luffy in fear they’ll say something out of place loud enough for him to notice

Even your time alone was disturbed by them trying to convince you to confess to the clueless strawhat boy

“I’m sure he likes you too!”, “It’s not that big of a deal”, “Just go and tell him already!”

As encouraging they were being, it didn’t simmer your nerves, it made them grow bigger and bigger turning you into an anxious mess

Of course your time with Luffy was cut short thanks to your noisy friends; the fun games, fondness and entertaining conversations you’d used to share with him long gone, replaced with you just sulking around the ship and hiding from everyone

Soon enough they’ll either forget or lose interest in the matter

Right?

At this reate, Franky should install a loud very incorrect buzzer on the ship

All of this horrendous energy was getting to you, not only were you feeling frustrated and hopeless; since no longer getting your daily dose of Luffy, your lack of sunlight had your patience running alarmingly low. Consequently, you were feisty. No one could approach, look, ask, or even talk to you without your reaction being blown so out of proportion that it ended on you screaming at them

Today’s victim? Zoro

“Can you move your weights for a sec? I need to mop”

“Can’t” he answered quickly, grunting as he flexed his arms mid push up

“Just put them aside real quick” you were keeping your calm, already growing annoyed

“Do it yourself woman”

Uh oh

Zoro genuinely didn’t mean to sound so condescending and rude, usually you knew this was just the way he talked to everyone, you just had too much going on. The argument got so heated that it had the whole ship witnessing the whole ordeal around both, like a street fight club. You were red, cheeks puffed and up on your tip toes screaming at the swordsman like he couldn’t just cut you in half any moment now

“Can’t you just be nice for one second?!”- heads immediately turn- “Can you stop being a total jerk?!”- eyes widened- “Grow some brains first and I’ll consider it”- gasps bounce around the deck- “What about growing some balls and confess to Luffy already?”

Silence

Deafening silence doesn’t even begin to describe this silence. It’s a heavy one, laced with panic, regret and fear.

Your heart beats loud and then drops to your stomach, suddenly feeling nauseous as a hand flies to your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows jump and sweats profusely

He fucked up

All eyes on you then on the Captain, who’s face you can’t even turn to look at right now, only focused on the embarrassment that was choking you. Embarrassing, so fucking embarrassing. The most dreaded emotion, you hated it to the core, you most rather Zoro cut your chest and throw you out into the open ocean of the Grand Line before feeling this

It’s been a while and no one has dared to speak. A giggle then breaks the freezing moment, melting it completely in its warmth as it slowly builds into joyful laughter

“Good one Zoro!” Luffy comments and it somehow feels like a punch to the gut, even if it’s just him being honest

Nami then curses at her Captain, manicured hand pushing him in pure disbelief

“What? It’s not like I didn’t know”

Silence. Everyone is surprised you haven’t fainted by now

Ussop then joins the navigators side “What? You knew this whole time?”

Finally, with all the remaining strength in your body you turn, slowly, eyes meeting as you drown in too many emotions flowing inside of you

“Hehe yeah!” The Captain smiles, ever so sweetly and you actually taste your breakfast in your mouth

You turn to Zoro, helpless

“I’m sorry” he mutters, genuinely ashamed

But you don’t answer, the only sound being heard being your boots stomping on the hard wood of The Sunny as you leave, tears peeking, and then, a door being slammed

It’s been a while since you had sobbed like this. You didn’t even knew why you were even crying anymore, the last week had been hell for you. You felt bad for snapping at Zoro and being a total ass to the whole crew; you felt so stupid for crying at something that could be resolved by talking and you hated yourself for not giving yourself grace

Because it’s ok to feel too much

It was comical how different you were from Luffy in that sense. Yes you were confident, adventurous and a loyal friend, but you were also reserved, shy and very sensitive. Your Captain was actually very emotionally intelligent, he knew exactly how to identify his emotions and navigate them, but you? It felt like being pushed into the sea without a motive or direction

You were too tender for a pirate, but again, there’s no shame in that

After a deserved lengthy crying session, you wiped yours tears and allowed yourself to take a big breath in. Suddenly, it didn’t felt as bad anymore. You opened your bedroom door and decided to go and wash your face to clear up to then apologize for exploding like you did. Again, embarrassment creeped up on you but you shrugged it off

It’s ok to feel. You reminded yourself on the mirror before leaving

The deck of The Sunny was weirdly quiet, no sign of anyone relaxing or in light conversation. Quickly you notice the familiar strawhat of your Captain and can’t help but smile a little, you had missed him this last week

“Hey Luf” you greet sweetly making him turn, a trace of a scowl leaving his features now replaced by worry, his arms shoot up unexpectedly and wrap around you before pushing you into a big hug, he speaks your name in almost relief making your heart skip a beat

“Oh I was so worried about you!, are you still mad?” His worry makes you feel guilty

“I was never mad at you Luf, or actually anyone… I was just really stressed out” you explain as you slowly melt into his embrace, warmness spreading trough your tired limbs as you feel a smile forming on Luffy’s lips

“I scolded them” your eyes wide slightly and your eyebrows jump

“Really?”

“Usopp told me what was going on and it just wasn’t ok” he tenses, as if the memory of it all makes him uncomfortable

A gentle sigh lefts your lips, leaving the tight hug you were enveloped in to face the man before you

“Thank you Luffy, but I also messed up, I shouldn’t have snapped like that” he shakes his head

“It’s understandable, you were under so much stress didn’t you?”. His understanding was something so foreign to you, his emotional maturity showing, butterflies in your belly going wild

He pulls another smile out of you before he pulls you in once again almost crushing you, it almost felt apologetic

But there was still, the elephant in the room

“So… you knew” it’s all you can muster up to say. Luffy then lets you go completely making a slight pout appear on your face at the motion. He looks a little bashful? you can’t really tell because it’s an emotion you had never related to him before

He scratches the back of his neck “Yeah… you always spend time with me and treat me differently than everyone else, and you make my heart beat so fast! It was obvious”

You don’t really know how to feel about his statement, you were obvious yet he just accepted it?. Your face becomes redish by the moment, feeling embarrassed but a different kind of embarrassed, thus one didn’t made you feel terrible

“Why didn’t you say anything?” your hands drop to play with the hem of your shirt as you waited expectantly, repeating his small hint of reciprocity in your head as comfort at the moment

“Because you never acknowledged it and I didn’t wanna push ya’”

Of course

Suddenly you feel a giggle bubble in your stomach and it hits Luffy’s ears, making him smile widely

“You’re such an idiot” your hands cover your face, the warmth of your cheeks engulfing them

“Also thought I’d pass out if I said a thing, you make me nervous” Luffy thought if he kept confessing this kind of stuff, you would keep laughing, and he adores when you do

“What?!”- you are a fit of giggles at this point. “Me? making you? nervous?!”

You both laugh, and it’s just so endearing, the moment so sugary sweet you fear you’ll have a toothache. Suddenly you are being pulled again, this time by your arms making your soft lips land on top of Luffy’s pillowy ones. You yelp in surprise but immediately ease into it, fitting in his frame like you were meant to be after all

Your tooth aches

Your Captain then looks at your puppy eyes and grins “Wanted to do that for a while now”

After a much needed kissing session to soothe you. Luffy made everyone on the ship apologize to you, one by one (except for Chopper, he never dared tease you) before making it known how much he really really loved you

Like it wasn’t obvious enough

tag list: @guinea-pig16 @cosywinterevenings @angieslove06 @rafis03

Ty for the love on the first part 🥹

[won4kiss]

── ❝ ꒰ 𝑀𝒴 𝐵𝐸𝑆𝑇𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑁𝐷𝑆 𝐵𝑅𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝐼𝑆 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒪𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝑀𝐸 .ᐟㅤ ៸៸ ﹙ 이희승 ﹚ ᶻ𐰁

GENRE ៸៸ fluff & angst ៸ oneshot ﹔ SYPNOSIS┆in which you’re in love with your best friends brother .ᐟㅤ ꒰ WORD COUNT﹕4562 ꒱── 𝓦ARNING(S) not edited ៸ kissing ៸ situationships ៸ . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ⊱ LIBRARY . . . ﹕LUNA 💭 —so many sad & negative things have been happening recently:( i hope this cheers u guys up!! ily all vv much<3 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN HUNG LAZILY IN THE SKY, casting warm golden hues across the suburban streets as you made your way to your best friend jiwon’s house.

the familiar path you’d walked countless times felt different today, each step heavier than the last.

the warmth of the day did little to ease the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach, a feeling that had become all too familiar whenever your thoughts drifted to lee heeseung.

it wasn’t always like this— there was a time when heeseung was just jiwon’s annoying older brother, the one who teased you and her mercilessly whenever you came over.

but as the years passed, those teasing remarks grew sharper, the once playful banter between you morphing into something much more soul crushing.

it seemed like every interaction with heeseung left behind a sting, a reminder that he saw you as nothing more than an annoyance.

you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself constantly to not let it get to you, that his words didn’t matter, that they didn’t affect you. but deep down, that wasn’t true. ── 𝘔𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘊𝘜𝘛 .ᐟㅤ

lately, however, the tension between you had shifted in an even more confusing direction.

the hostility that once defined your relationship with heeseung was now laced with an undercut of something you couldn’t identify.

there were moments when his gaze would linger on you a little too long, or when his usual biting comments softened ever so slightly.

it was in those rare instances that you began to suspect there might be more to your feelings for heeseung than just resentment, and the thought terrified you.

but admitting that was something you don’t think you’d ever be quite ready for.

even as you approached the front door, the echoes of past arguments and cruel remarks entered into your mind.

you thought back to the times heeseung’s words cut deep, leaving behind wounds that never quite healed.

you hated how much they affected you, how much he affected you. and yet, despite everything, there was a part of you that yearned for more than just his cold indifference.

lee jiwon greeted you with her usual bright smile, pulling you into a hug before you could dwell too long on your thoughts.

“eeeek! i’m so glad you’re here! it’s been forever since we had a sleepover,” she exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

you returned her smile, trying to push the anxiety to the back of your mind.

“yeah, it’ll be fun,” you agreed, though your voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

you didn’t want to dampen jiwon’s spirits, but the thought of being under the same roof as heeseung, knowing how strained things were between you, made it hard to relax.

as you stepped inside, the scent of home-cooked meals and the sight of the familiar living room should have comforted you, but all it did was remind you of the tension that awaited.

your eyes instinctively darted towards the hallway that led to heeseung’s room, and sure enough, you heard it—the muffled thump of heeseungs’ emo rock music vibrating through the walls.

it was a sound you associated with him, never once had you come over without hearing the loud metal beat.

jiwon seemed to notice your distraction and followed your gaze.

“oh.. don’t worry about him,” she said lightly, though there was an undertone of concern in her voice.

“heeseung’s probably heading out soon. lia’s coming over.”

the mention of lia sent an inexplicable pang through your chest. you’d heard about her— who hasn’t? she was beautiful, confident, and seemingly always at heeseung’s side.

the two of them had a complicated relationship, one that was the subject of your towns gossip.

they weren’t officially together, but the way they acted around each other told a different story.

it was a story that made your heart ache, though you could never admit why.

you forced a smile, trying to mask your discomfort.

“right. no big deal,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to jiwon.

but inside, you felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite describe—something that had been growing ever since you had first heard lia’s name.

you wanted to ignore it, to pretend that whatever was happening between you and heeseung wasn’t real, wasn’t important.

but as the evening wore on and you found yourself glancing toward the hallway, waiting for the inevitable moment when heeseung would appear, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were in deeper than you ever intended to be. and that terrified you.

as the evening wore on, you and jiwon settled into her room, surrounded by greasy snacks and a half-forgotten romcom playing on the tv.

jiwon’s laughter was a soothing touch to your nerves, but you couldn’t fully shake off the unease.

every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at the door, half expecting heeseung to burst in with one of his sarcastic and cocky remarks.

jiwon noticed your distraction and nudged you playfully.

“hmm.. you’re awfully quiet tonight, y/n. something on your mind?”

you hesitated, not wanting to burden her with your thoughts, but jiwon was your best friend—she’d know if you lied.

“i’m just…thinking,” you admitted, your voice soft.

“about.. heeseung?” she asked, her tone teasing, but her eyes searching yours for the truth.

you let out a small sigh. “kind of. it’s just…he always seems to be around, even when he’s not, you know? like, i can’t escape him.”

jiwon’s expression softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand comfortingly.

“i get it. heeseung can be a pain in the ass— trust me i know, but he’s not all bad. he’s just…different. complicated.”

you raised an eyebrow at her choice of words.

“complicated? that’s one way to put it.”

before jiwon could respond, her phone buzzed with a message. she glanced at the screen and sighed.

“speak of the devil.. lia’s here.”

you swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat and forced a neutral expression.

“i guess heeseung won’t be bothering us tonight, then.”

jiwon smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“yeah, looks like it. but hey, at least we have the place to ourselves.”

you nodded, trying to focus on the positives, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the hallway where heeseung’s room was.

you couldn’t help but wonder what he saw in lia—what made her so special that he kept her close, even if they weren’t officially together.

meanwhile, in the dimly lit chambers of heeseung’s room, heeseung leaned back against the headboard of his bed, staring at the ceiling as the music throbbed around him.

his thoughts were a chaotic mess, a tangled web of frustration, confusion, and something darker that he didn’t care to name.

heeseung wasn’t blind to the way you looked at him—like he was an annoying bug buzzing around your head, one that you couldn’t quite swat away.

and in truth, he enjoyed getting under your skin— there was something oddly satisfying about watching you tense at his remarks, your sharp retorts always leaving him with a smirk on his face.

but lately, he felt that things were different—it wasn’t just about teasing you anymore.

he found himself thinking about you at the oddest times—when he was alone in his room, when he was out with friends, even when he was with lia. it was absolutely maddening.

lia. the thought of her brought a different kind of feeling.

she was everything a guy could possibly want—beautiful, confident, always ready for a good time.

their relationship was simple, uncomplicated, exactly what heeseung needed. or at least, that’s what he told himself.

but as much as lia was a distraction, she wasn’t the one occupying his thoughts at night.

that was you. and it irritated him to no end.

heeseung closed his eyes, trying to drown out the chaos in his mind with the music, but it was no use.

his thoughts kept drifting back to you—your stubbornness, your wittiness, the way you looked at him like you were always one step away from a fight.

and then there was the way you tried to hide your discomfort whenever lia was around, as if it didn’t bother you.

but heeseung saw through it. he saw the way your eyes lingered a little too long when lia was mentioned, the subtle tightening of your jaw.

he hated how much he noticed about you.

the sound of a knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts.

heeseung sighed, knowing who it was before he even answered.

he got up, crossing the room with a tense state of mind, and opened the door to find lia standing there, a sly smile on her lips.

“hey,” she greeted, her voice smooth as silk.

“miss me?”

heeseung returned her smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“yeah.. always.”

as lia stepped inside, heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sinking deeper into a situation he couldn’t control.

and the worst part? he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.

back in jiwon’s room, the laughter and gossip filled conversation eventually gave way to a comfortable silence as you both lay sprawled on the bed, the remnants of your snacks scattered around you.

the movie on the tv had long since been forgotten, but neither of you made the effort to switch it off.

jiwon’s breathing had evened out, signaling that she had drifted off to sleep, but you on the other hand—were wide awake.

your mind was too busy, too restless to find any peace.

all you could think about was the way heeseung’s voice had sounded earlier, muffled through the walls, when lia arrived.

there was something in his tone—something that made your chest tighten in a way that was both familiar and foreign.

you tried to shake it off, reminding yourself that heeseung was nothing more than your best friend’s annoying brother.

but it was no use. the more you tried to ignore it, the more it consumed you.

eventually, you gave up on sleep altogether and slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, careful not to wake jiwon.

the house was eerily silent as you made your way to the kitchen, the only sound the soft buzzing of the refrigerator as you poured yourself a glass of water.

you leaned against the counter, staring out the window into the dark night, eyeing the lit up stars— your thoughts were a swirling mess.

you couldn’t understand why heeseung affected you so much—why he got under your skin in a way no one else did.

and worse, why you cared so much about his relationship with lia.

it wasn’t like you had any right to feel jealous— it was really none of your business, heeseung wasn’t yours, and he never would be.

but as much as you tried to rationalize your feelings, the jealousy gnawed at you, a constant feeling that there was something between you and heeseung, something you couldn’t quite name.

lost in thought, you didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind you until it was too late.

you spun around, nearly dropping the glass in your hand, only to find heeseung standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“what are you doing up? it’s late..” he asked, his voice low, almost hushed.

you tried to steady your racing heart, refusing to let him see how much he’d startled you.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you replied, your tone more defensive than you intended.

heeseung shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “couldn’t sleep.”

you wanted to scoff, to throw some sarcastic remark back at him, but the look in his eyes stopped you.

there was something there—something raw and vulnerable that you’d never seen before. it was like the mask he always wore had slipped, just for a moment, and you caught a glimpse of the real heeseung underneath.

“neither could i,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, intense and searching, as if he was trying to figure out what you were thinking.

and maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same confusion, the same frustration that had been plaguing you all night.

but before either of you could say anything more, the sound of lia’s voice calling heeseung’s name from down the hall shattered the moment like glass.

heeseung’s expression hardened, the vulnerability gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“i should.. go,” he muttered, turning away before you could respond.

you watched him walk away, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

and as you stood there, alone in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but wonder if things between you and heeseung had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

the next morning, you tried to push the events of the night before out of your mind, focusing instead on your plans with jiwon.

but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of heeseung standing in the kitchen, the way he’d looked at you as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

jiwon, ever the observant friend, noticed your distraction but didn’t press you for details.

instead, she dragged you out to meet some friends, hoping a change of scenery would do you good.

one of those friends was choi beomgyu, a mutual acquaintance who’d always been friendly with you but had never crossed the line into anything more.

you liked him—he was sweet, funny, and easy to talk to—but you’d never thought of him as anything other than a friend.

that is, until today.

as the group of you wandered around the city, laughing and joking like old times, you noticed something different in the way beomgyu looked at you.

his usual playful teasing had a new edge to it, something softer, more intimate.

and when he caught you returning his gaze, he smiled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

you tried to dismiss it, telling yourself it was your imagination, but it was hard to ignore the way beomgyu’s gaze lingered on you, the way he found excuses to be close to you, his arm brushing against yours as you walked side by side.

by the time you all stopped for lunch, the tension between you and beomgyu was at an all time high.

you could feel it every time his knee bumped against yours under the table, every time his fingers ‘accidentally’ brushed yours as you reached for the same dish.

and then there was heeseung, a constant presence in the back of your mind, his face flashing before your eyes whenever beomgyu smiled at you.

you couldn’t help but compare the two—heeseung with his rough edges and sarcastic remarks, beomgyu with his gentle smiles and comforting charm.

they were like the sun and moon, and yet you couldn’t decide which one had a stronger hold on your heart, but in your heart, you knew.

as the day wore on, you found yourself drawn to beomgyu in a way you hadn’t expected.

he was so different from heeseung, so uncomplicated and straightforward— it was refreshing.

with beomgyu, there were no mind games, no hidden or longing glances—just a guy who genuinely liked you for who you were.

but even as you allowed yourself to enjoy beomgyu’s attention, a part of you couldn’t stop thinking about heeseung.

you hated that he occupied so much of your mind, especially when you were with someone as kind and attentive as beomgyu.

it wasn’t fair to him—or to you.

that night, after a long day of trying to ignore your conflicting emotions, you found yourself back in jiwon’s house, your thoughts once again consumed by the two boys who had somehow become the center of your world.

jiwon had gone to bed early, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

you sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the wall as the events of the day replayed in your mind.

the more you thought about it, the more confused you became.

how had things gotten so complicated? when had heeseung started to matter so much to you? and why, despite everything, did you feel guilty for even considering the possibility of something with beomgyu?

your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

you looked up, surprised, to see heeseung standing there, his expression unreadable.

“can we uh..talk?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and heeseung stepped inside, closing the living room door behind him.

for a moment, neither of you said anything, the tension between you thick and heavy.

finally, heeseung broke the silence.

“i’ve been thinking,” he began, his eyes fixed on the floor, “about last night.”

you felt your heart rate quicken, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“well.. what about it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung hesitated, his gaze finally meeting yours. there was something in his eyes—something vulnerable and raw that made your chest tighten.

“i didn’t mean to make things weird,” he said, his voice softer now.

“i just…i don’t know how to act around you anymore.”

the confession took you by surprise— heeseung had always been so sure of himself, so confident and assuring.

to see him like this—uncertain and vulnerable—was both unsettling and…comforting in a way.

“neither do i,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your own confusion.

heeseung took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“it’s just…you’re different, y/n. you’re not like anyone else, and it’s driving me crazy because i don’t know what to do about it.”

your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing as you tried to process his words.

heeseung, the boy who had always seemed to take pleasure in pushing your buttons, was standing in front of you, admitting that he didn’t know how to handle his feelings for you.

before you could respond, heeseung continued, his voice laced with frustration.

“and then there’s lia. she’s…she’s easy, you know? there’s no drama, no complications. but with you…it’s different. everything’s different, and i don’t know how to handle it.”

the mention of lia sent a sharp pain through your chest, but you forced yourself to focus on what heeseung was saying.

he was opening up to you, letting you in, and you couldn’t afford to let your jealousy cloud your judgment.

“what are you trying to say, heeseung?” you asked, your voice shaking with the heaviness of the question.

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking with the weight of his own uncertainty.

“all i know is that i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy because i don’t know what to do about it.”

your heart raced, your emotions a chaotic mess as you tried to make sense of everything heeseung was telling you.

he was admitting to feelings you hadn’t even been sure he was capable of, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

but before you could blink— heeseung closed the distance between you in one swift motion, and you quickly realized what was happening.

lee heeseung was… kissing you?

his lips crashed against yours with an intensity that took your breath away.

the kiss was desperate, full of all the feelings you’d both been holding back for so long.

and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the world fading away as you focused on the way heeseung’s lips moved against yours, the way his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

but as quickly as it began, the kiss ended, and heeseung pulled away, his breathing heavy as he stared at you with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

“i’m.. oh my god— i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice shaky as he took a step back.

“i shouldn’t have done that.”

you quickly shook your head in denial, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the kiss.

“no, hee— don’t apologize. i…heeseung, i don’t know what to say.”

heeseung ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident as he struggled to find the right words.

“i just…i can’t keep pretending like you don’t matter to me, y/n. but i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to be with you.”

his admission hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of his words crashing down on you with a force you weren’t prepared for.

heeseung, the boy who had always seemed so sure of himself, was standing in front of you, admitting that he didn’t know how to handle his feelings for you.

before you could respond, heeseung took another step back, his expression pained as he looked at you with a mix of longing and regret.

“maybe it’s better if i just leave,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

panic surged through you at the thought of him walking away, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out, grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving.

“no, please.. don’t go,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions.

heeseung stared at where your hand clung to his arm, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty.

when he finally met your eyes, his voice was laced with pain.

"y/n, i... i don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his words trembling as they left his lips.

"but i’m not sure i can be the person you deserve. i don’t know if i can do this."

tears brimmed in your eyes, stinging as you fought to hold them back.

his honesty cut through you, exposing your deepest fear—that you were holding on to something destined to crumble.

being with heeseung was never going to be easy, you knew that—it came with the promise of complications and inevitable heartbreak.

but the thought of letting him go, of never knowing what could have been, felt unbearable.

"i don’t need you to be perfect, heeseung," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"i just need you to be real with me. i need to know if you're willing to try."

for a moment, heeseung’s resolve seemed to waver, his eyes softened— a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

he seemed to weigh the burden of your words, his silence stretching into what felt like eternity.

finally, he nodded, though the determination in his gaze was shadowed by doubt.

"i’ll try," he said quietly, almost to himself. "i.. don’t know how, but i’ll try."

a fragile hope stirred within you, but it was laced with the lingering ache in your chest.

"that’s all i can ask for," you whispered, though the words felt heavier than before, as if they carried the weight of all your unspoken fears.

heeseung let out a shaky breath, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of his body just inches away.

his hand reached out, hesitating before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch so tender that it made your heart tighten.

the gesture felt like a fleeting moment of comfort in a storm that had no end.

"i’m scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, each word laced with a vulnerability that threatened to undo you.

"i don’t know how to be with you without breaking something—without breaking you."

you reached up, placing your hand over his, your touch gentle as you looked into his eyes.

“we’ll figure it out together,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet assurance.

“we can take it one step at a time.”

heeseung nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you with a mix of gratitude and admiration, something that made your heart race with the possibilities of what could be.

for a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air.

and then, without another word, heeseung leaned in, once again— his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, this time gentle and pure, and filled with the promise of something more.

as you kissed him back, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope blooming in your chest, a hope that just maybe, things between you and heeseung could be different.

that maybe, despite all the complications and uncertainties, you could find a way to make this work.

but as much as you wanted to believe that, there was still a nagging doubt at the back of your mind—a doubt that whispered that things were never that simple, that there were still so many obstacles standing in your way— like your best friend— and his sister.

and as you pulled back from the kiss, your heart still racing with the intensity of your emotions, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were ready for what laid ahead.

if you were ready to face the challenges that came with being with someone as complicated as lee heeseung.

but as you looked into his eyes, filled with a hint of softness and uncertainty, you knew that you were willing to try.

that no matter how difficult it might be, you were willing to take the risk.

because in the end, heeseung was worth it—and you were ready to fight for whatever future that was held in store for you two.

© won4kiss 2024

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