#many many measurements and some relaxing scents! ;)

[britishchick09]

@goodbye-little-yellow-bird recommended this self published phantom book and the preview is amazing! i was looking for the full thing...

and discovered that it was originally a 2005 fic!! :o

[nymphea0]

Kurkans Mate .

His Mate.

Yan! Ishakan x reader

Part 4 (END).

Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Word Count : 2.74 Word.

Hello.. Neva here~, so glad Ishakan's story is finished! Thank you so much to all of you, my dears, who patiently waited and continued to follow this series, seeing that many of you enjoyed this story, I will make special chapters for 'Kurkans Mate', but I will not post it here, but on wattpad, so just wait for it Love♡.- Neva🦋🦋

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

- Kurkans Mate Pt. 1

- Kurkans Mate Pt. 2

- Kurkans Mate Pt. 3

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soft breeze enters a bedroom.

The scent of rose incense scents the corners of the bedroom, early in the morning, you are already awake.

You can't sleep well!, You are worried and anxious about Genin's response if he receives this bottle of blood!.

What if Genin thinks you are a shaman?? Or a witch?!.

Walk to the right then back to the left, panicking and anxious.

You hear footsteps, sit on a soft sofa that is not far from where you are standing, take a breath and relax, as if you didn't look panicked and anxious before.

The bedroom door opens, revealing Genin and a woman who has a very exotic appearance!! Having hair on both sides of her face that is slightly golden.

Exotic eyes, and a soft, seductive grin.

You are not sure who the woman is. What is certain is that she is a woman!! Unlike Genin whose gender you misinterpreted. You are currently quite confident that it is a woman! And not a man!!

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Genin was woken up early in the morning by a rough knock, when she opened the door, it turned out to be Mura who was grinning at her while holding 2 papers in her hands.

"Seriously? It's still morning Mura"

Sighing, which was only answered by Mura with a naughty chuckle.

After a few minutes, Genin finally left with Mura, after saying goodbye to her husband of course.

"So... what's the girl like?"

Mura looked at Genin curiously.

"Fragile, very expressive, full of energy, and small."

Answering as best she could, which Mura replied with a wink and a naughty grin on her lips.

Their journey until they reached the front door of the room.

"I hope you speak a little softly, I think she'll be crushed if we speak normally and loudly"

Mura only nods in response, Genin opened the door of the room slowly after knocking on the door.

The door opened, not seeing you sleeping, but there you were, sitting on the sofa still in a soft pink nightgown combined with gold embroidery typical of Kurkans, staring at the window with a melancholic face so beautiful and Ethereal. Both Genin and Mura thought you must be sad being forced to marry and kidnapped by Ishakan.

Genin and Mura walked slowly towards you, clearing their throats softly, when you were already looking at them, Genin spoke.

"Lady, this is Mura, one of His Majesty Ishakan's subordinates, she will help prepare your wedding dress"

Mura smiled or grinned at you softly.

"Hello lady in there ~, I'm here to measure your body for the wedding dress"

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Standing awkwardly, hands outstretched, Mura who was busy measuring your body, starting from the waist, head circumference, chest circumference, leg circumference, arm length, height and so on.

For quite a while, silence was the position of the 3 of you at this time, very quiet.

You looked at Genin! Thinking about how you can give your blood in a glass bottle without being suspected as a shaman or a sorceress!!.

Genin will definitely be suspicious why you suddenly gave her blood for her husband to drink?! What if Genin thinks you're joking? Or looks like insulting her husband? Or thinks it's poison?!.

Worried, you look forward again.

Mura who has been looking at you from the start is getting more curious, your hair is as smooth as silk, a beautiful blue color like the sky.

Soft, small and fragile.

You think back to Ishakan, you were very surprised when you found out that he was the king of the Kurkans, damn, it feels more and more difficult to escape, is this your destiny? Oh nature... help your lover!!.

Screaming and loving yourself mentally you can only pity your future life.

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5 minutes have passed, your body measurements for the dress and your accessory selection are also complete, just as Genin and Mura are about to leave, this is your time to shine!! Antrabeth's confidence!

Oh elders in heaven! Pray for your juniors! Give yourselves confidence!

"Genin... can we talk.. just face to face?"

Staring at genin then mura.

Mura who understood then lowered her head and blinked mischievously at you and genin then went to close the door.

"Yes lady?"

Genin looked at you confused, you just asked her to sit right in front of you.

"You... what do you know about me Genin?"

Making small talk a little to think of a way to give the blood in the bottle without being suspected.

"Lady... is the Antrabeth tribe right? The Child of Nature Tribe, a tribe that goes against the laws of nature, the 1001 nights Tribe?"

You just nodded, confirming her statement.

"Besides that?"

Asking again.

"Your blood.. can cure all kinds of diseases and give long life?"

Answering uncertainly, Genin had only heard a little information about the Antrabeth tribe, that too from Morga, the Shaman Kurkans healer.

Nodding once more, you confidently ask again.

"I'm sorry if I sound rude but have you ever thought about your husband's legs growing back? And healed again Genin?"

Genin looked at you in disbelief but a sigh was heard.

"I think it's impossible, My husband has been without legs for a long time since the incident I told you the other day, many methods have been tried, Shamans, witches, potions, all of them did not work and were very useless"

Trying to act strong, Genin looked away towards the window showing the view of the Kurkans palace.

"The Antrabeth tribe... we may be famous for our blood that goes against the laws of nature, our blood is as we wish and agree to the blood itself"

Genin looked at you in disbelief.

You then took out a small glass bottle containing 3 drops of your blood, and gave it to the Genin.

"We the Antrabeth tribe, are taught to behave as nature itself, giving and loving without reward,"

You looked towards Genin.

"My father asked me to help those who feel suffering, pain, sadness and imperfection, allow me to help your husband.. Genin, even though it's not much, but I hope this help".

"Just 1 drop is enough"

That was the last sentence from you that Genin heard

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That night, Genin saw her husband sleeping, holding a small bottle of blood that you gave her.

Genin's heart was troubled, she didn't want to hope, but there was no harm in trying, slowly opening the bottle cap, Genin opened her husband's mouth a little who was currently in a deep sleep.

Tilted the bottle slowly, Genin poured as you instructed, just 1 drop of blood was enough.

The 1 drop of blood fell and entered her husband's mouth.

Waiting for what would happen, it turned out nothing happened... as she expected, hoping too much was painful.

Closed the bottle slowly and put it in the drawer, and decided to sleep.

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That morning, Genin woke up surprised by her husband crying and screaming happily!

Staring at Genin! Her husband was standing on the bed! With both feet!.

Genin stared in disbelief! Don't tell that blood really works!

They hugged each other tightly and cried happily!

Genin swore that all her life he would protect his husband, he did not want and would not be willing for his husband to suffer again.

Genin owes you life, even though you say you don't need anything in return, Genin will still uphold their oath to protect and protect you from harm.

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That day, the Kurkans palace was surprised by the genin's husband walking on his two legs!

Of course, that's what brought the two of them to the royal council room.

Both Mura, Haban, as well as the Kurkans council members stared at Genin's husband in disbelief! Especially morga!.

"That genin..." Morga looked uncertain.

"Yes right, my husband grew legs overnight" Genin answered simply.

Ishakan looked at the genin amused.

"You're already close to her, huh, Genin. Tell me a how to get close without being slapped by my wild rabbit."

Ishakan asked jokingly, as if he already knew who was behind the growth of her husband's 2 legs, Genin.

Both Morga and Haban looked at Ishakan suspiciously.

"I think you should be frank, Your Highness, be straightforward and to the point."

Giving a little advice, Genin looked at Ishakan, who was currently just smirking, leaning his arm on the chair handle and his chin on his palm.

Morga looked at Genin and Ishakan became even more suspicious. Because he was the only one who didn't know that Ishakan's bride-to-be was the extinct Antra tribe.

"Excuse me... is there anyone who wants to explain what I actually missed?"

Morga adjusted his glasses.

Instead of answering, Genin just gave Morga a small glass bottle filled with a thick, blood-red liquid.

"What's this? Poison?"

Asking uncertainly, Morga opened the bottle cap to smell it, an expert in the smell of thick iron like blood, what Morga smelled was a sweet scent like flower nectar.

Staring uncertainly at the genin then at the genin's husband and at Ishakan.

Ishakan just whistled a little, with a deep voice full of jokes

"Damn, it turns out she even treats you with great care, why is it different with me huh?"

Grinning sarcastically at the Genin, Ishakan was jealous! Well whatever it was, Ishakan was the only one who tasted blood directly from your finger, in his mouth.

Damn! The heat month was coming soon, he had to hold himself back! Just waiting for 2 more days, then you would be his, his mate!

Morga stared at Ishakan! Ishakan didn't help his curiosity!

That afternoon, right when all the guests were busy talking to each other, Morga, Ishakan, Genin, her husband, Mura and Haban, sat in a circle on chairs, with Ishakan busy smoking his tobacco.

"So? Can anyone explain?"

Morga crossed his arms looking at them with an annoyed look, a bottle of blood right on the table in front of him.

Genin, took a deep breath and then told from A to Z how and where her husband's feet came from.

Morga, Ishakan, Haban and Mura were silent, digesting Genin's story.

Ishakan then laughed straightforwardly and grinned! Unlucky!! he was getting jealous of the genin and her husband!

You are so close and kind to both of them.

But when you was with him 4 days ago you were so wild, fierce and unfriendly like a wild rabbit in front of him!

Ishakan is increasingly unable to resist claiming you as his, there are only 2 days left, after the ceremony is finished, then he will claim you for 5 days and 5 nights, spending his heat time with you!

Morga stared in disbelief! Antrabeth tribe! Turns out it's not extinct yet!

After that brief meeting, Morga asked Ishakan's permission to examine the blood in the glass bottle, Ishakan only let Morga examine it with the other shamans.

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Time passed without realizing it, the guests had arrived, the Kurkans tribes of different species came to fill the palace area.

The wedding ceremony, beautiful, the fabrics moving softly, the flower decorations, gold and the very thick Kurkans culture!.

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2 days have passed! Damn! It's the 6th day! And you're getting married soon! Wearing a white dress, combined with a light gold, purple shawl and a kurkans-style gold waist chain, this wedding dress shows off your belly, not much but the impression you wear it actually looks very beautiful and sexy at the same time!

Ankle bracelets, and headdresses combined with every curve of your body. The fragrance of Roses around you wafts passionately.

Your dress is covered again with a white robe with intricate gold and white embroidery! Makes you look so beautiful!.

Walk out and slowly towards the ceremony venue.

You're not ready! But here you are! It's hard to accept! Yes! But they never treated you badly so maybe you can only accept your fate and your unpredictable destiny.

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Ishakan and all the Kurkans guests, held their breath! Didn't expect Ishakan's bride to be so beautiful, so small and fragile looking!, blue hair ?! It's impossible?!

Morga and the shaman almost ran towards you curiously! And wanted to touch you and your hair! It must be very soft!!.

Right now Ishakan saw you in front of him, looking at him with a look between fierce or accepting fate, Ishakan wasn't sure. He could only grin almost out of laughter!

Ahh... his partner is really turning him on just from the way you breathe and look at him!.

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"Ishakan, in the name of the elders, the old gods of the Kurkans, will you take this woman in front of you as your wife, your woman, the mother of your child, in happy, in bad, in good times, in riches, in poverty, whatever the conditions, you will make her your partner, your lifelong partner, even when death separates you?"

The elder Kurkans led the wedding ceremony.

Ishakan answered firmly and confidently!

"I am willing, to take her, to be mine, my wife, the mother of my child, my partner, my soul, my life, you are the world and the end of my life, my mate"

And the event ended with Ishakan kissing me full of love, passion and primal, possessiveness!.

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The ceremony ended with a feast, you were surrounded by shamans and morgas asking you many questions about yourself, the Kurkans who spoke whispered to you, afraid they might destroy you.

Ishakan introduced you to his entire tribe, asking them to call you by your name as they called Ishakan by his name. name, full of respect and honor, Ishakan directly wants to say that you are part of his tribe!.

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At night, you are taken away by Mura to change your clothes.

While preparing you, Mura asks.

"Should I prepare a healing potion? Morga's healing potion is very fast and effective"

Mura combed your sky blue hair, actually mura was just pretending, this task should be carried out by the palace maid, but mura wanted to be selfish for a moment, you really made her curious!.

You looked at mura in the mirror , confused.

"Why do I need a healing potion?"

Mura just laughed and poked your cheek gently!

"We Kurkans who has beast bloods are famous for having a lot of energy, especially the Beast wolf tribe, His Highness Ishakan from the strong pure-blooded wolf beast tribe"

Mura looked out window where you can see the moon that will soon be full!

"Kurkans, especially wolf blood beasts, have a vulnerability to the full moon, heat."

"The emotional state experienced by kurkans, primal and possessive, during the full moon, kurkans especially the tribe wolf blood beast only spends this time with the person who is considered a life partner"

Helping you wear a blood red dress skirt, on your waist there is a ran decoration gold jewels, Gold flashes like Ishakan's eyes.

"You will spend 5 days and 5 nights with His Highness Ishakan"

You looked at yourself now, a crop that only covered your chest, showing your bare shoulders and stomach, on your stomach there was gold jewelry with a mixture of ruby ​​tear drop colors.

Your hair was beautifully loose, on the side of your head a bright gold headdress neatly arranged on each of your hair.

On both sides of your arms there was gold chain jewelry, around your neck there was a ruby ​​gold necklace.

You looked at yourself in disbelief?! This is you?! How beautiful you are!

(*NOTE : Dress appearance. The dress is a dunhuang hanfu dress, I tried to find clothes similar to the story description but all I found was this and i think is quit similiar to kurkans culture for me and also describ at the original novel what leah wear in her wedding days, feel free to make the dress according to your imagination, the dress is just a raw description for the story. Love- Neva🦋.)

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Walking slowly along the palace hallway, you were escorted by Mura, to Ishakan's bedroom! Which would be your bedroom too.

The room was spacious! More spacious than the room you occupied before, a large bed, around the bed surrounded by bright gold and gray cloth embroidered with gold.

The fragrance of roses around this room. There's Ishakan's desk, a small table and a sofa, and there's a balcony too?!

You were left alone by Mura, staring around the bedroom, you didn't even hear the click of the door opening.

"Like the room?"

A deep voice full of temptation behind you.

You turned around to see Ishakan smirking at you, walking over and taking your hand and kissing it gently.

Your heart was beating fast! This is your first wedding night! And you'll spend 5 days and 5 nights with him as husband and wife!.

"Hello my bride~"

Smirking and looking at you full of love, passion and possessiveness!

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©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi, Since it is the Fall season and Halloween is near, I was wondering if you could do Hazbin Cast x Reader, where it is romantic or platonic short stories but they are all Fall/Halloween-themed?

Romantic:

Lucifer - Haunted Maze -

He didn’t quite grasp why he’d suggested this adventure in the first place. It wasn’t fear that held him back—after all, he was the embodiment of darkness, the big bad devil himself. But amidst his bravado, a flicker of insecurity danced in his chest. Perhaps it was the need to impress you, or maybe it was the realization that after seven long years spent nursing his wounds from Lilith, so much had shifted in the world—and within him.

You both sported casual attire, clad in comfortable jeans and T-shirts that spoke of a relaxed night ahead. Excitement bubbled within you as you approached the entrance of the maze, the air thick with anticipation of what lay beyond. With the king of Hell by your side, this was bound to be an extraordinary experience. You bounced on your heels, your heart racing as you absorbed the eerie ambiance and listened intently to the rules. And just like that, you were off to the races, plunging into the unknown.

It was impossible to choose which aspect thrilled you more: the delightfully creepy atmosphere of the maze or the sight of Lucifer, the master of mischief, visibly unnerved as he navigated the twists and turns. Yet, the most magical part of this escapade was the way you both clung to each other like schoolchildren lost in a thrilling game, your laughter echoing in the shadows, creating an unbreakable bond that brought you closer than ever before.

Alastor - Baking -

He was bursting with enthusiasm to share some of Louisiana's culinary secrets with you, ready to whisk you away into the world of gumbo and jambalaya. But what he hadn’t anticipated was your own infectious excitement as you revealed plans for a homemade apple pie and caramel apples. Despite his usual aversion to sweets, denying you was simply out of the question; your passion was too irresistible.

Clad in your matching aprons, you both chuckled softly as you navigated through the mountain of cookbooks scattered around the cozy kitchen. The air was filled with the intoxicating scents of flour, sugar, and spices while a delightful chaos unfolded. You danced around each other, laughter bubbling up as you measured and mixed, transforming the kitchen into a whimsical wonderland of baked delights.

By the time nightfall claimed the day, the countertops were brimming with an array of confections that could tempt even the most disciplined. Yet, the sweetest part of the evening wasn’t just the delectable treats you’d created together; it was the gentle, lingering kisses shared amidst the flour-dusted chaos, each one a tender reminder of the enchanting memories you were crafting side by side.

Vox - Pumpkin Patch -

In his living years, he’d often heard tales of couples embarking on this charming tradition, though he had never truly participated himself. Now, with you by his side, he felt a surge of willingness to dive into this age-old custom. There was something undeniably endearing about selecting something special together, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you shared. Though he’d never admit it aloud, the thought warmed his heart.

He couldn’t help but blush at the sight of you in your simple overalls, a refreshing contrast to your usual work attire. You radiated a wholesome charm that made his heart flutter. In that moment, he felt an unexpected sense of domesticity, a cozy warmth that enveloped him as you stood together. Even though he was still dressed in his formal suit, your bright smile and gentle words encouraged him to embrace the moment and fully enjoy the date.

After you both selected your pumpkins, his grin widened, stretching from ear to ear. You were delightfully cute, struggling to carry as many pumpkins as your arms would allow, and he couldn’t help but find joy in your determination. He didn’t even think to mention his ability to teleport them home with a snap of his fingers; instead, he allowed his heart to swell with love for you, savoring the simple pleasure of being together in this enchanting moment.

Adam - Scary Movies -

Scary movies held no terror for the first man. Adam had witnessed a myriad of horrifying sights throughout his time as both a living man and an angel. With a heart full of courage, he was ready to be your knight in shining armor as blood-soaked apparitions and creepy clowns flickered menacingly across the screen. Nothing could shake his resolve—or so he thought.

Dressed in comfortable sweats and without his usual mask, Adam wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as you prepared to press play on the TV. His smile was wide and infectious, and he secretly hoped you’d leap into his arms, proclaiming him your one and only lover, your fearless savior. But reality had other plans, far from the fantasy he envisioned.

As the final movie of your horror marathon drew to a close, you found yourself a laughing, blushing mess beside him, while he transformed into an adorably clingy bundle of nerves. It hadn’t even taken an hour for him to succumb to the tension, burying his face in your neck and holding on for dear life. The only silver lining of the night was the way you protected him from nightmares, showering him with sweet kisses and gentle cuddles, ensuring that he felt safe and cherished amidst the chaos of the films.

Husk - Fall Leaves -

He wasn’t one for fun, love, or anything that didn’t involve the comforting depths of a bottle. Yet, you were the radiant light in his otherwise shadowy world, and he would drop everything for you in a heartbeat. You were the only one who stood by him when life felt bleak and heavy, so he was ready to step outside and embrace the messiness of life alongside you.

He had no clue how you managed to charm Lucifer into conjuring trees adorned with vibrant, falling leaves, but your infectious joy made it impossible for him to resist. As he watched you adjust your little outfit, a warm smile tugged at his lips, despite his best efforts to suppress it. With rakes in hand, you both set to work, gathering leaves to create a magnificent pile, eagerly anticipating the moment when you could leap into the crisp autumn bounty.

He had to admit that the first few jumps felt a bit strange, a quirky tradition he was still getting used to. However, as you continued to play and laugh, he discovered that this outdoor activity was more addictive than any drink he’d ever known. The thrill of leaping into the colorful leaves became infinitely more enjoyable simply because you were by his side. He’d gladly dive into autumn leaves all year round if it meant sharing those moments with you, wrapped in laughter and warmth.

Platonic:

Charlie - Pumpkin Carving -

She was the one who suggested pumpkin carving, a clever idea to break the ice and strengthen your friendship. Since you were still relatively new to the hotel, it was the perfect excuse to spend some quality time together and deepen your bond. After all, what better way to get to know someone than through a little arts and crafts?

The lobby was transformed into a creative playground, with a pristine white tarp spread out like a canvas and one enormous pumpkin waiting to be deseeded and carved by the two of you. The experience quickly turned into a delightful mess, with pumpkin seeds flying and the sticky insides of the gourd splattering everywhere. Laughter echoed off the walls as you both embraced the chaos, reveling in the joy of your shared endeavor.

As you carved and chatted, you discovered so much about one another, and with each passing moment, you felt more at home in the hotel. Charlie’s quirky personality was a breath of fresh air, and you couldn’t help but smile at her antics. If she was willing to embrace your own sinful quirks, you could definitely see this blossoming friendship becoming something truly special.

Angel - Dressing up -

This Halloween, you were determined to shine; however, your fashion sense was more frightful than fabulous. Your quirky friend, the spider demon, with a flair for style, was eager to help select the perfect costume. While the thought of being dressed by an overly seductive arachnid gave you hesitance, your trust in him was unwavering.

The real fun kicked off once you stepped into his fabulously chaotic room. You two explored various costume possibilities, from whimsical animals to bizarre inanimate objects. After a spirited debate, you both agreed that a chic, simple costume would be the perfect choice. With some creativity, Angel transformed clothing and makeup into a masterpiece while seamlessly addressing your concerns with a playful grin.

Amidst the playful banter and flirtatious jabs, you could feel the bond between you tightening like a spider's web. When he finally unveiled your outfit, you were relieved and delighted! It was stylish yet tasteful—no “thrown together by a toddler” vibes in sight.

Rosie - Full Moon -

When she invited you to a night of stargazing under the full moon, a tiny voice in your head couldn't help but whisper that she might have sinister intentions—like sacrificing you in some ritualistic feast for her colony. But those wild thoughts melted away as you arrived at the rendezvous point to find her setting up a cozy scene with a telescope and blankets, ready for a night of the moon and stars.

She whipped up a delightful picnic that catered to both your cravings, complete with snacks as varied as the stars above. As you snuggled into the blankets, the chill of the night felt invigorating rather than off-putting. With each passing hour, you watched the sky transform while sharing the latest gossip and secrets, laughter echoing into the night.

The friend date turned out to be nothing short of magical. As dawn began to break, you both reluctantly packed up, yawning but utterly satisfied. She beamed joyfully, thrilled that you had chosen to spend the night exploring the cosmos and each other’s thoughts. It was a night of friendship that was as charming as it was entertaining.

Vaggie - Hay Rides -

You were buzzing with excitement to take Vaggie on an unforgettable adventure! Ever since she and Charlie became an official couple, it had been a challenge to carve out some quality friend time. So, when Charlie graciously offered you both a day to yourselves, you practically flew out the door! Standing in the dusklit field with cash in hand, you couldn’t help but tug Vaggie onto the hayride, giggles bubbling up as you set off on the great ride around a farm.

As the ride bounced along, it took a moment, but soon Vaggie’s initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that mirrored your own excitement. The small farm around you was a whimsical blend of charm and spookiness, with enchanting decorations that made the whole experience feel like a Halloween fairytale. You could see the joy in her eyes, and it warmed your heart to know she was glad to be there.

Once you both hopped off the hayride and snagged some delicious treats for the trek back to the hotel, light banter flowed easily between you two. It felt like old times, and Vaggie expressed her happiness at rekindling a friendship you once feared was lost. She made it clear that she was eager to put in the effort to spend more time together, and the promise of future adventures filled you with anticipation.

Lute - Bonfires -

Lute wasn’t one to slack off—training was her life’s mantra. But when the exorcists practically begged for a Halloween party, it was Adam who ultimately nudged her out of her comfort zone and into the outdoor festivities. You, her best friend, were the first to greet her with a grin, pulling her toward the bonfire where you knew the chaos would be at a minimum.

As you settled down, the crackling flames and the earthy scent of burning wood created a cozy backdrop for your conversation. You and Lute dove into discussions about new training techniques and strategizing battle plans for upcoming exterminations, your voices mingling with the night air. The only interruption came from Adam himself, who swung by with his usual enthusiasm, trying to coax you both into his quirky game of hide and seek. You exchanged knowing glances and politely declined, choosing instead to savor the peaceful moment.

When the party finally wound down, the scene was a chaotic tapestry of friends sprawled out in various states of slumber, with tents holding those lucky enough to make it to shelter. But you and Lute, the dedicated fighters, remained wide awake, the smoky aroma of the campfire still clinging to your clothes. As dawn broke, you plotted your playful revenge on Adam, eager to disrupt his hangover with the kind of mischief only best friends could concoct.

[windvexer]

@thegodwhocums in response to your post for anon!

First Anon, huge props for seeking sobriety and I understand your desire to stay on anon. Trance state and altered states of consciousness can be totally accomplished during sobriety, without the need to use any substances (including milder 'flying ointments').

Here are just my tips and resources coming the context of Traditional Witchcraft:

First, definitely look up brain wave states :) Trance is a measured brainwave thing, right. And we know how different brain states feel. So you should start by researching the expected sensations and mental states associated with entering trance! Don't leave yourself in the dark.

In Traditional Witchcraft there are close parallels between trance state and spirit flight (or 'hedge crossing'), because spirit flight is undertaken in a trance state. Therefore any guide you find that teaches spirit flight/hedge crossing (and even generic 'astral travel') is probably on some level also a guide to induce trance state.

Many such guides specifically for spirit flight encourage finding trance state through rhythm and meditation, as opposed to ecstatic movement; this is of course because spirit flight is usually undertaken while the body is physically at rest.

Don't take meditation to mean zen meditation of clearing the mind. Rather in this context it's a paradox of relaxed focus, like the cat waiting at the gopher hole.

Entering a relaxed trance state is greatly facilitated by sonic drivers, which are rhythmic sounds (like drumming or chanting) that carry the 'pulse' you ride on towards trance state (youtube ""shamanic drumming"" to find great audio tracks). This rhythm is especially well accomplished through careful counting of the breath (look up 'breath work', not to be confused with breath play; deep and rhythmic breathing, even without hyperventilating or limiting oxygen, can help rapidly induce trance).

Guided meditations themselves can be a powerful way to experiment with trance states. Seek out relaxing meditations that involve systematically relaxing the body, especially ones that combine counting down. But these can be completely secular guided meditations for relaxation on youtube, you don't have to find one necessarily written for 'trance state', although many exist.

Especially with spirit flight, entering trance state very often is accompanied by counting down to descend into the underworld or fairyland. Very common meditations (which do not have to be visual in nature) involve taking your consciousness downwards through a tree, down a well, or to the bottom of a lake. You can combine this with counting, counted breath, sonic drivers, and progressive relaxation to achieve deep trance states.

For example, you can record a meditation for yourself (or just remember the steps) wherein you become physically relaxed (sitting or lying down), and count your breaths (in/hold/out/hold of equal lengths; not limiting oxygen). Every time you take three complete breaths, you imagine taking one additional step into a lake. As the water rises up around your body, you focus on relaxing that part of the body. It takes 13 steps (39 breaths) to completely submerse yourself in this imagined lake, and when you do you see a door at the bottom of the lake. You go through it with the knowledge that it will return you to your body within a full trance state. All the while, you can have on a rhythmic drumming track.

A meditation such as this one may need to be practiced several times, but if you get along with the method of relaxed trance, it's the kind of thing that can really take people in.

Other hints are to block the vision to partial or full darkness, to always burn an incense of the same scent (or daub an EO nearby, etc), to always use the same audio track, and especially to always use the same charm or prayer to begin the session.

But a full relaxed meditation can put people to sleep or be a struggle if you have focus issues. Try using a technique like Horne's 'awakening the second sight' exercises in A Broom at Midnight (which I extremely recommend for those interested in the intersection of trance and witchcraft). This technique is to sit in a dark room with a single lit candle and focus on your 'second skin' until it feels like it awakens and comes alive.

If you have a lot of space, trance can be induced more ecstatically by 'treading the mill' or casting a circle by running, walking, or dancing around the circle; you can also dance or run to enter an altered state. I have arthritis and no experience with these things so I couldn't comment further.

Any technique you like will take time to get right. Asking your gods or spirits to help you enter trance is extremely useful, they can sort of 'carry' you into trance (or dunk you underwater, so to speak).

At first, expect to only enter a shallow trance, especially if you can't do extended and deeper exercises. Entering a deep trance may take 30 minutes, or an hour, or a significant period of time. With experience, you may be able to enter shallow trance states very rapidly, but deep trance typically always takes some amount of effort.

Before you enter any trance state you should have a list of things to do to exit trance state and readjust. These are simple things that include envisioning your second skin perfectly aligned with your physical skin, wiggling your fingers and toes, doing psychological grounding (name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, etc), eating food and drinking water, turning on the lights, turning off all sonic drivers (and eliminating incense or other scent triggers), turning on the television or grounding music, and talking to people.

Just have a list of things to do that are very within your comfort zone.

Trance isn't dangerous; people enter trance and flow states all of the time. But knowing the process can be under your control can feel a little unsettling and destabilizing, so it's always a good idea to plan to fill your space back up with good and grounded vibes before you begin. Just as often as you practice entering trance, you should practice intentionally exiting trance and returning to an everyday state of mind. You should be able to do so on purpose and when you choose to.

The only caution I have is if you find yourself entering trance states unexpectedly or when it's not safe to do so, such as when you're driving. If this happens I encourage you to stop practicing trancework for a while, and examine your practices for a lack of clear triggers (like sounds, scents, sights, chants or incantations, etc). If your triggers are too generic or aren't clearly established at all, you may be at a higher risk of accidentally training yourself to slip into a trance state when it's unwise or dangerous given the circumstances. In addition, some people may not necessarily be able to safely practice trance on a regular basis without falling into this - we all have unique minds, after all.

Besides that Horne book above, check out Crooked Path by Kelden which has a few exercises for entering trance state.

[doodle-pops]

Breathe

Fingolfin x reader

Request: I love your writing! Is there any way you could do just a really sweet soft moment between fingolfin and the reader? Maybe she stays awake at night until he finishes his work for the day looking at the stars on their balcony, and he joins her? just something soft and sweet

Warnings: none, fluff

Words: 1.3k

Synopsis: You stay up late waiting for Fingolfin's return from a lengthy day of duties and being locked up in his office.

Masterlist | Navigation

The stars stretched endlessly above Beleriand, a river of silver light scattered across the deep violet sky. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of the night-blooming flowers that trailed along the edges of the balcony. There you sat curled in a chair, wrapped in a light shawl, watching the slow drift of the constellations as you waited for him.

Your beloved husband was still at his desk, attending to the endless duties of his station. You had long since grown used to his late hours, the weight of his responsibilities pulling him away, but tonight, like many nights before, you had chosen to wait. Not in the lonely silence of your chambers, but here, beneath the vast sky, where the world seemed softer and more patient.

The sound of the wind through the trees was soothing, and the flickering lanterns in the distance. You traced absentmindedly along the rim of your goblet, the cool metal grounding you, though your thoughts were elsewhere. The lined of worry were etched into your forehead, unable to escape the attempts of relaxation. Even you had your days like him, troubled and hunched over a overflowing desk. But it was more than that. Your worry was fixated on him—the weight he claimed to carry effortlessly.

As the night deepened, the torches along the walls of Barad Eithel burned low, and the palace was quiet save for the distant steps of the guards on their rounds. You were growing tired, your eyelids heavier, when at last you heard the quiet creak of a door opening within the chamber behind you. You did not turn at first, only listening to the soft sound of measured steps, followed by the faint sigh of a man finally released from his burdens. And moments later, warm hands settled gently on your shoulders.

“You should be asleep,” Fingolfin murmured, with an edge of amusement. His fingers pressed lightly against your shoulders, rubbing small, soothing circles as he bent down, pressing a brief kiss to the silver of exposed skin. “How many nights have I found you here?”

“As many as it takes,” you replied, tilting your head back slightly so you could see him. His features were softened by the candlelight spilling from the chamber behind him, the strong lines of his face relaxed now that he was no longer bound to duty. His inky, gossamer hair was slightly dishevelled from running his hands through it too many times, a sure sign of a long and tiring day. The braids you wove, some were loosened while the others maintained their durability.

Fingolfin sighed, though there was no real exasperation in it. “And if I had worked until dawn?”

“Then I would have seen the sunrise first.”

He huffed a quiet laugh at that and shuffled to sit beside you, stretching his long legs out before him with a satisfied groan. You turned slightly to face him, studying the way the night’s chill had brought a slight flush to his usually pale skin. Age was set upon his face, no longer was he the same youth who grew tongue-tied around you or cast you a boyish grin whenever you gazed at him for too long. He was a man with strands of silver adorning his sideburns—stress was not kind to him, though it added a smoothness to his aged appearance.

“I hope you did not wait because you thought I needed comfort,” he said, tilting his head to glance at you with an unreadable expression. “I am not so wearied that I cannot—”

“I waited because I wanted to,” you interrupted. “Not because I thought you needed me, but because I wanted to be here when you finished. The hours are long, but they do not feel so long when I have the stars for company.”

His expression softened further. He reached out, catching your hand in his and turning it over, his thumb tracing absently along your palm. His hands, strong and calloused, had held both sword and sceptre, had borne the weight of crowns and carried the fate of his people. Yet here, in this quiet moment, they were only hands—warm, gentle, grounding. The hands that loved, nurtured and guided you with patience.

“You are far too patient with me,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

“I like to think of it as determination,” you teased, squeezing his hand lightly. “I have made it my duty to be where you are, even if it means waiting.”

Slowly he exhaled, tilting his head back against the chair and closing his eyes for a brief moment. The tension in his shoulders eased, as though with your presence, the weight of kingship lessened, if only for a little while. He was silent for a while, his fingers still idly tracing patterns against your skin. Then, without opening his eyes, he said, “Tell me what I missed.”

You smiled at the question. He always asked this when he came to you late at night—when duty pulled him away from the simple, quiet moments of the day. You indulged him, shifting closer so that your knees brushed against his.

“Well, the afternoon was warm,” you began, “so I went to the gardens for a while. The roses are beginning to bloom fully now, though the wind has stolen a few petals. One of the younger guards nearly walked into a fountain because he was too busy watching his reflection in his sword.”

Fingolfin let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Vanity and battle steel are rarely a wise mix.”

You grinned. “Indeed. And later, I spent some time in the library. Your brother’s writings are still as difficult to decipher as ever.”

That made him open his eyes, and he gave you a knowing look. “If you have managed to read Fëanor’s early works without developing a headache, then you are braver than most.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “I did not say I understood them, only that I attempted.”

Then he gave you a true, unguarded smile that you knew so few ever saw. He reached out, brushing his fingers against your cheek before letting it lingered. His touch was warm, despite the coolness of the night, and you found yourself leaning into it without thinking.

“I am grateful for you,” he murmured after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “More than you know.”

You felt your heart stutter at the softness in his tone, the way his gaze held yours as though you were the only thing in his world. “I know,” you whispered in return, lifting your hand to cover his where it rested against your cheek. “And I will always be here.”

His fingers curled slightly, his thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone before he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of it settled deep in your chest, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself savour the moment. For a long while, neither of you spoke. The night stretched around you, silent save for the occasional rustling of the wind through the sheer curtains. The torches along the palace walls flickered lower, their golden light casting long, soft shadows.

Eventually, he released another slow breath, his fingers threading loosely with yours once more. “Come,” he murmured, tugging you gently to your feet. “The stars will still be here tomorrow. But tonight, you should rest.”

You hesitated, glancing up at the sky once more, reluctant to let the peace of the night slip away just yet. But then Fingolfin wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close against his side, and you decided that, perhaps, there was no place warmer than this. “Only if you rest too,” you murmured against his shoulder, letting him lead you inside.

His answering hum was noncommittal, but as you stepped into the dim candlelight of your shared chambers, you knew he would not leave your side tonight.

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[winxanity-ii]

⌜Knot in Time | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | weary conqueror⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The battle was won. The war, for now, had ended.

Telemachus rode at the front of the Ithacan forces, his face marked by dust and dried blood, his expression unreadable. The men behind him shouted their triumph, yet their cheers were subdued by exhaustion.

They had seen too much, lost too many. The price of war lingered in their bones, even as the thought of home soothed their aches.

You followed unseen.

Occasionally, you'd drift away; your shears needed elsewhere to snip the threads of those whose time has come. Yet, inevitably, your path brought you back to him, the young prince whose fate you're deeply intrigued by.

You watched as their ships cut through the waves, observing Telemachus.

Despite the surrounding celebration, he remained aloof, separated from his men by the invisible wall of his thoughts and responsibilities. He stood on the deck, his gaze fixed on the horizon, seemingly untouched by the revelry around him.

His isolation was palpable, a solitary figure burdened by the weight of expectation and the ghosts of those he had lost.

Soon, Ithaca's cliffs loomed in the distance; the wind carried the scent of salt and olive trees, a far cry from the stench of battlefields past.

The ship glided into the port, and the soldiers disembarked.

On the docks, the people of Ithaca gathered, their faces a mix of hope and sorrow. Families pressed close, eyes scanning the returning soldiers, searching for familiar faces among the weary ranks.

Some found what they sought.

Joyous reunions unfold before you—tears and laughter mingling in equal measure, relief flooding through those who had feared the worst. Others, however, find only emptiness. Their search ends in the cold realization that some will never return to home's embrace.

And there, among them, stood Penelope.

Her hands were clasped tightly before her, her blue peplos catching in the wind.

She stepped forward—quicker, then running.

Telemachus barely has time to step off the gangplank before she was upon him, cupping his face as though to prove he was real. "My son."

Telemachus didn't speak at first. His fingers twitched at his sides before slowly coming to rest against her arms. He leaned into her touch, if only for a moment.

"Mother," he murmured at last.

Penelope's expression wavered, and then she was fussing over him, brushing strands of hair from his forehead, checking the fresh bruises and cuts marring his skin.

Odysseus watched from a distance.

The years had settled into him, the sharpness of his youth worn into something quieter, more tempered. He did not run to his son as Penelope did, but there was something in his stance—something in the way his gaze lingered on Telemachus—that spoke of pride.

When Telemachus finally turned to him, Odysseus stepped forward, clasping his son's forearm in a warrior's greeting.

"You've done well," Odysseus said simply.

Telemachus met his father's gaze. There is a moment—an understanding that passes between them, unspoken but felt.

And then, Penelope was speaking again.

"There will be a feast," she declared, her voice bubbling with the joy of his return. "You and the others—you must eat, you must rest." She barely gave Telemachus time to protest before she was shooing him away, gesturing for the servants to take him, to see that he was bathed, that he was prepared for the night's celebrations.

Telemachus allowed it.

But he didn't seem eager.

You watched as they led him away.

And later, when the halls grew rowdy and the moon hung high, you made a choice.

☆

☆

You sought him through dreams.

It was late at night when the world was hushed and shadows stretched long and deep, hours after the welcome-back feast had dwindled into quiet conversations and lingering goodbyes.

The palace was silent, save for the soft murmurs of the night breeze.

Telemachus was fast asleep, his body relaxed and unguarded in the deep embrace of exhaustion.

You emerged from the shadows to his sleeping form, pausing for a moment to watch him. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow across his features, softening the hard lines of his warrior's face.

Here, in the quiet of his chambers, he looked different—youthful, at peace, a stark contrast to the cold-faced warrior who had taken a life so simply all those days ago.

You leaned over, and with a gentle brush of your fingers against his temple, a shimmer of connection formed. His consciousness yielded, inviting you into the labyrinth of his dreams.

It wasn't difficult. The mortal mind is pliable in sleep, softened at the edges, drifting between memory and imagination.

You slipped between those cracks with ease, settling into the unguarded spaces where his thoughts lay.

You told yourself you did this to understand.

Was it luck? Coincidence? A warrior's instinct sharpened beyond reason? Or was there something else? Some force—some unknown, unseen thing—that had intervened?

You must know.

You must know so it doesn't happen again.

And so, his dreams opened before you.

And you stepped inside..

.☆.     .✩.        .☆.

You expected carnality.

That's what you've always seen.

Mortal dreams, when not touched by the gods, are selfish things—filled with hunger, with longing, with that ceaseless reaching for what they cannot have.

They dream of flesh, of power, of lost loved ones. They dream of desires so deep they drown in them.

But... Telemachus didn't.

You found him beneath the shade of a cypress tree.

The sun was high, warmth spilling through the branches in soft golden waves. He leaning against the rough bark, eyes closed, his expression unreadable. The grass bent with the wind, whispering in hushes that you didn't strain to hear.

He didn't stir.

It was a dream of peace.

A dream of stillness.

How rare.

You watched for a time, waiting for the dream to shift, for some deeper hunger to surface, but it didn't. If anything, he seemed to sink further into it, as if this moment—this brief pause in an otherwise chaotic existence—was something he wished to preserve.

But you hadn't come here for this.

You stepped forward, deeper.

The world bent.

The cypress and the warmth dissolved into mist, curling around your limbs as you pressed further into the hazy corridors of his mind. The deeper you went, the thinner the veil between memory and dream became.

And then—

A boy.

He was young—no more than five or six summers old. His frame was thin, wiry, his hair tousled from salt and sun. He stood in the courtyard of the palace, surrounded by men—older, stronger, towering above him.

They called him little wolf.

Though, not in kindness.

They laughed, their voices thick with wine, jesting about the boy's mother, about her "faithfulness" during Odysseus' absence. Their words were cruel, each one a barb meant to wound.

"Careful, pup," one of them chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair in a way that made his small hands clench into fists. "You bite too hard, we'll have to wonder who really taught you."

"Maybe you're more a stray than a prince. Who knows who you've really got running in your blood, eh? Maybe that's why you're so quick to snarl."

The boy didn't lash out.

He stood there, shoulders stiff, his jaw locked tight as he took the taunts. His nails dug into his palms.

He didn't look at them.

He didn't cry.

He waited until they were gone.

Only then did he exhale.

Only then did he move, retreating to the shadows of the halls, his small frame vanishing into the vastness of the palace as if he could disappear from the harsh world they'd thrust upon him.

The memory shifted.

A boy of thirteen.

You found him alone—his body leaner, his limbs stretched awkwardly as he grew into himself. He trained in the yard beneath the watchful gaze of no one.

No tutor. No father.

No man to guide his hand, to correct his stance, to sharpen his edge.

So he drilled himself.

Again. And again. And again.

The sun was low, casting long shadows that merged with his own. Yet he didn't stop.

He moved through the drills over and over, a wooden sword clutched in his aching hands, sweat dripping down his back, matting his hair to his forehead. His feet shifted across the packed dirt.

Each movement is deliberate. Repeated. A thousand times over.

His strikes were clumsy. His footing, uncertain.

But he didn't stop.

He pressed forward, his lips pressed thin, his brows furrowed in fierce concentration.

Every time he faltered—every time the blade dipped too low, every time his step was misplaced, every time he felt the sting of his own weakness—he gritted his teeth and began again.

It wasn't a skill he trained for.

It was readiness.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the day his father returned.

Waiting for the day he no longer had to prove he belonged here.

Waiting for the moment he'd no longer be seen as a child, but as something more.

You stepped closer.

Close enough to see the blisters forming on his hands.

Close enough to feel the sheer want burning in his bones.

His frustration mounted with each misstep. The wooden sword becoming an unwieldy extension of his tiring arms.

Finally, his endurance frayed, snapped by the weight of his exertions and the burden of expectations.

With a cry of exasperation, the sword clattered to the ground.

His energy spent, he collapsed beside it, his breaths heaving.

Dragging his knees to his chest, Telemachus tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the reddening sky as the sun dipped below the horizon.

In the silence, his voice cracked—not with pain, nor anger, but with something deeper. "Father... where are you?"

The quiet that followed was deafening.

A silence that spoke louder than any answer ever could.

And then—

The memory shifted again.

And now—he was older.

Not quite the man you saw on the battlefield, but close.

You knew this moment before it unfolded.

The threads of this event were woven long ago, stretched taut over the loom of fate, the echoes of many shears snipping with each thread you severed.

The suitors.

The great hall was awash in blood. It dripped from the marble columns, pooled beneath overturned tables, stained the once-pristine floors of his home.

Telemachus moved through the carnage with the precision of a man who had trained for this moment his entire life.

His movements were methodical, a dance of death perfected through years of silent preparation.

He fought beside his father now.

Odysseus—returned at last.

Reclaimed, reborn, bringing vengeance upon those who defiled his home.

Telemachus mirrored him, step for step, his blade an extension of his will.

Each suitor's life ended with a clean stroke.

Each final breath was swallowed by the great silence of the slaughter.

A man might've wept in such a moment.

Might've crumbled beneath the weight of it all.

But Telemachus didn't.

His expression was a mask of stone, unreadable even as the dying cursed his name.

He cut them down with the same ruthless efficiency as Odysseus.

It wasn't vengeance.

Not rage.

It was something colder.

Something... inevitable.

And you wondered—

How many mortals live their lives so deeply entrenched in both the mythical and the harrowing?

How many face gods and ghosts, war and loss, and emerge still standing, unbroken?

Enough.

You stepped away.

The memories unraveled, mist curling back into the void.

You withdrew from his mind.

You left the sleeping prince behind, returning once more to your duties, and after a few more snips, you returned home... if you can even call it that.

To call it a place would be a mistake. It wasn't a place, and yet it wasn't nothing.

It existed beyond existence, where time didn't pass, where the concept of form and function was a mere afterthought.

Here, the great spool of fate turned without ceasing, an endless thread twisting and stretching into eternity.

It was delicate, vast, incomprehensible.

To mortal minds, it was believed that the Fates worked tirelessly, aided by a hundred attendants—souls chosen to weave and sever the destinies of men.

They were wrong.

It wasn't hands that guided the threads. It wasn't effort that kept fate in motion. It simply was.

An eternal spinning. A balance.

A thing that should not be interrupted.

And yet—

When the halls are dark and your sisters weave their quiet rhythms, you find yourself thinking of him still... mortal who had slipped past his fate.

The son of Odysseus.

Telemachus.

You told yourself this wouldn't happen again. That you'd learned what you needed to. That his life was merely another thread in the grand design, nothing more.

And yet, you found yourself intrigued.

One step outside the weave, and what does a man become?

You think you'll watch him a little longer.

A/N: just wanted to post the first 2 chappies before i hit the hay; so what do you guys think?? it has promise???

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

“if i offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss too?” THIS IS MY FAVOURITE LUCIEN LINE OF ALL TIME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REWRITE IT WITH HIM AND THE READER BCUS WE ALL DESERVE THAT LOOSH SPICE

MINE, TOO! I hope I’ve done this justice and that you enjoy! 🥹

Some young, fun, cocky Lucien to warm us this Wednesday!

Here you go! 💕

Warnings: Just a very light sprinkle of smut 🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The Moon on a String - (Lucien x Reader request)

Energy was heavy in the air, thick on your skin and tasting like moss and woodsmoke.

You felt beautiful. In your gown that flowed around you, with the flowers pinned in your hair, the curls cascading freely about your shoulders…you could well be the poster girl of Calanmai. A true embodiment of the start of spring.

Excitement rose in you as you travelled, on foot, with your small group of friends from your modest Spring Court village. You could see the lit fires from miles away, hear the sensual thudding of drumbeats that seemed to snake over your skin. You couldn’t wait to drink and dance the night away, to laugh and see familiar faces—

One face in particular. Golden skin framed by bright red hair…

“Lucien won’t be able to take his eyes off you tonight.” Your friend said from beside you, as if she’d read your thoughts. Or glimpsed the blush colouring your cheeks.

You rolled your eyes, slipping your shoes off and sinking your feet into the soft grass. “Lucien and I are just friends.”

“Well.” She smirked. “He’s a mighty good friend, considering the efforts he makes to stop by the village to see you so often. You know — considering he works for the High Lord and has a great many important matters he probably has to attend to.”

It was true, Lucien had built up quite the habit of visiting you at your village, distracting you from your work by chatting with you and making you laugh. And blush. And feel giddy every time you were in his company.

He may have been the sole reason behind the heady anticipation building through your body. That, or the charge of lust snaking through the air.

You and your friends crested the hill, coming face-to-face with the celebrations. The ground vibrated beneath your feet with the force of the drumbeats, and you felt yourself being lulled towards the heart of the festival. People were already dancing, their faces tilted to the skies and their bodies moving in tandem with each other. Moans of pleasure were a lilting song caressing your ears.

Immediately, your small group of friends was dispersing, finding familiar faces or being pulled into dances or heading for the tables of food and drink. You headed to one of those tables yourself, your eyes darting around and, not-so-subtly, searching for a certain redhead.

You grabbed a chalice of faerie wine. You wanted to dance with him, to feel his hands on your body. It had never gone beyond lingering glances and flirtatious comments. You wanted — needed — more. And tonight, the festival, was the perfect occasion to take that step.

But as the first hour pedalled on, the wine soaking into your body, Lucien was nowhere to be found. You tried not to think too deeply into it as you mingled with friends and allowed yourself to be tugged into a couple of dances. Pathetic, to measure your good time on whether or not you saw him — and yet, you’d been so looking forward to it. You couldn’t deny that your enthusiasm dipped a little with every passing minute that held his absence. 

Breaking free from a circle of dancers, you floated over to another table, intending to chase your restlessness away with more wine. It was as you reached for a bottle that a pair of hands enclosed over your eyes, blocking your vision. A familiar, earthy scent invaded your senses, and your body was immediately on alert.

“Evening.” Lucien’s deep, caressing voice reached your ears. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

And just like that, a genuine smile was tugging at your lips. Your limbs relaxed, and you turned in his hold, your body brushing his as you faced him.

“You can’t have been looking that hard.” You jibed. “I’ve been dancing.”

His deep russet eyes immediately drank you in, floating from the gentle curls in your hair, over your pretty face, down over your dress and all the spring-themed adornments you’d accessorised with. He licked his lips, meeting your gaze again. 

“You,” he hummed, “are a vision.”

And he was looking mighty resplendent, too, decked head to toe in tailored Spring Court attire, different shades of greens and browns suiting him perfectly. Your eyes snagged on the brilliant burst of red hair that fell about his face. So, so badly, you wanted to run your fingers through it, find out if it was as silken and soft as it looked.

“You clean up nicely yourself.” You returned. “I’ve been looking for you, too, by the way. I wasn’t sure if…”

Your words trailed off, a light blush heating your cheeks. You’d almost shown your hand; revealed the envious thoughts that had begun to claw at you, of Lucien spending the festival with a female that wasn’t you.

His head tilted, the gesture not unlike a curious fox. “You weren’t sure if what?”

The wine — it was the wine that made you so honest. You calmly replied, “If you’d already found yourself company for the evening.”

And Lucien fucking Vanserra saw it for the jealous, insecure worry that it was. His eyes studied your face, and his lips twitched.

“No, madam, I have not.”

The relief that filled you was shameful, but you didn’t care. You smiled up at him, simply happy that the evening wasn’t a lost cause after all.

“I was actually hoping...” He tucked a curl away from your face. “That you might do me the pleasure of keeping me company tonight.”

Trying to keep your smile from splitting your face, you glanced down. “I’d like that.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The two of you danced and drank and laughed until the first sprinkles of daylight began to bleed through the night sky. You didn’t think you’d taken your hands off each other once, even as you’d stopped to refill your glasses and talk to people.

In the blink of an eye, the festival had reached the point of slowing down — the time when people exchanged dancing for kissing and touching, and the music was drowned out by pleasured moans. Lucien took your hand, dragging you past numerous public displays of affection, and though the boldness of it made a thrill shoot through you, you were excited to be alone with Lucien — uninterrupted.

On legs tired and achy from hours of dancing, you climbed a hill a short walk away from the festival. Lucien led you to the top, the grass soft against your bare feet. The peak gave you a perfect view of your surroundings, and Tamlin’s sprawling estate in the distance. 

The two of you laid back in the grass, staring up at the sky that was rapidly lightening. Lucien’s arm brushed yours closely, and you turned your head to find him staring at you, his hair falling around his face. 

“…what?” You breathed a laugh. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Other than the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen? The fullest lips? The—”

“Shut up.” You snorted, swatting him. He quickly grabbed the offending hand and held it to his chest.

“I could spend the rest of this glorious evening waxing poetic about your exquisite features.” He said quietly. “Or I could just show you how wildly I like them. Entirely up to you.”

Your smile slowly softened, nerves and excitement warring in your stomach. “I think I’d prefer it if you showed me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

His warm breath caressed your face, smelling deliciously of berries. You watched as he inched closer to you, his large, warm hand moving up to cup your cheek. Your eyes only fluttered shut when his lips were brushing yours, and you readied yourself for the kiss you’d fantasised about many, many times.

“Y/N?”

The two of you quickly pulled back at the interruption. Glanced up just in time to see the familiar male that was approaching, looking a little breathless.

It took everything in you not to groan in frustration as you painted a mild, pleasant smile on your face at the sight of Peteyr, a male from your village. Your friends had teased you numerous times that the male — a few years younger than you — had taken a shine to you, and spent a lot of time gazing longingly in your direction. He was sweet, harmless enough, and you tried your best to treat him with kindness—

But his timing was awful.

Beside you, Lucien didn’t bother to mask his deep sigh. He slumped back on his elbows, watching as the male reached you.

“Hi, Peteyr.” You sat up. “You look out of breath.”

“I—”

“Hello, Peteyr.” Lucien drawled, a lupine grin on his lips. “New shoes?”

Peteyr seemed stunned that Lucien Vanserra was even acknowledging his existence. He blinked, glancing down at the spotless, polished shoes on his feet. A blush coloured his cheeks. “Yes. I got them for the festival.”

“They’re lovely.” You subtly gave Lucien a warning nudge; one that said, be nice. “Have you had a good time?”

“I have.” His floppy, brown hair moved as he nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been looking for you — to wish you a happy Calanmai. And to give you this.”

From behind his back, he plucked a gathering of wildflowers, bound tightly together by thick blades of grass. He practically thrusted them at you, the movement causing dandelion fluff to float and land at your feet. 

You blinked, accepting the makeshift…bouquet. “That’s so kind, Peteyr. Thank you.”

If possible, the scarlet blush of his cheeks burned darker. His blue eyes were positively glowing as he dipped his head and stepped back.

“Enjoy the rest of the festival.” He said, nodding to Lucien, also.

“You too, Peteyr.” Lucien’s lips kicked up into a lopsided smirk. “Don’t get those shoes dirty, now.”

The poor male looked like he may collapse if he lingered a second longer at the centre of attention. He quickly turned, beginning his descent back down the hill, but you were pushing to your feet.

“Peteyr?” You called, quickly following after him. The male glanced up.

His eyes widened as you caught up to him and pushed up onto the tips of your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled back, a smile on your lips, and poor Peteyr looked like he may be knocked straight down that hill with a feather. Or a plume of dandelion fluff.

“Thank you — really.” You said. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

The male — Mother bless him —  just about mustered the ability to turn on his feet and stumble back down the hill. You waited until he’d got to the bottom before turning back to Lucien.

Lucien, who was the picture of pure, arrogant ease, his hands resting behind his head as he watched you with a grin. 

“Nice flowers.” He said. “I think you just made his entire year.”

You scowled, slumping back down beside him. “You didn’t have to be so…you.”

“But you like it when I’m me.”

“Peteyr is a sweetheart. You should be kind to him.” You folded your arms. “And I like my flowers, thank you very much. He earned that kiss.”

Lucien pushed up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?”

“Not sure. I’m contemplating pushing you down this hill.”

His lips puckered in a jesting pout as brought his face closer to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m just jealous because Peteyr brought you flowers and I didn’t.”

“And he had new shoes. You need to step up your game, Vanserra.”

Lucien snorted as you laid back on the grass, your eyes returning to the sky. But he remained hovering over you, the ends of his hair tickling your face. 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” He leaned down, his nose nudging your cheek. “And I think about you a thousand times a day.”

“Only a thousand? I bet Peteyr thinks about me—”

“Shh.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. His hand gently pressed against your mouth. “No more talk about Peteyr. I need to get that name off your lips.”

You stared up at him, going still. This was how your relationship had always been, and the two of you were damn good at it — joking and teasing, not being serious.

But Lucien’s eyes were utterly serious as he gazed into yours. His hand moved from your mouth, inching up to your hair. To one of the flowers you’d pinned within the strands.

He plucked it out gently, brushing it over your cheek. Your lips. All you could do was watch. 

“It’s not the moon on a string. Not a bouquet of weeds.” He tucked the flower behind your ear. “But it’s a pretty flower. Like you.”

You thought his words may have melted you into the grass. You were nothing but weightless elation as you threaded your fingers through his hair, resting your hand on the back of his head. Lo and behold, the strands were as soft as they looked. Softer, even.

“So?” Lucien murmured, his lips brushing yours. “Have I earned myself a kiss?”

“A kiss.” You breathed. “And whatever else you want.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, before he finally closed the gap, sliding his lips over yours. That berry taste filled your mouth as he slid his tongue in, and his hand moved down to rest on your hip. 

It was everything you’d imagined and more. You became breathless, floating, your mind emptying of all thoughts as your bodies moved together. Items of clothing were torn off and discarded, and it wasn’t long before you and Lucien were skin-to-skin in the grass.

The first slide of him entering you had you throwing your head back on a gasp, and you thought you may cease to exist then and there. Every thrust was like poetry in your body, your veins, and it overwhelmed you until you were nothing but raw, splintering pleasure with spring daylight shining on your skin. 

That daylight seemed to enclose the two of you in a glow when Lucien’s control eventually snapped, his movements inside you becoming sloppy. And as he came, breathing your name against your sweat-slick neck, you realised you would never need a bouquet of wildflowers or the moon on a string — or anything else from him. There was nothing he could give you that would ever come close to how he, his existence, his light and his life, made you feel.

So long as you just had him, you’d be happy. And you’d be damn well content to spend every Calanmai in the same way.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonashes @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling

General tag list: @angrymilfs @lunaralaraspace @maddithefangirl @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @his-sweet-nightmare @kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake @daily-dose-of-sass @missaddamsworld @reiincarnatiion @linduzmunna @leeknows-wife @nightcourtwritings @ann-writes-universes @cosmic-whispers @simplefan-638 @lucyysthings @judig92 @shannonsaid @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iangelofmusic @baybay123455 @poisonousgirlie @kuraikei @sweetandsourwrites @clarkie-carmody-blog @myheartsalwayswithyou @lavenderdreams22 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sadiebluewin @comfortpotato @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @acourtofchaosandmess @marina468 @123345566 @gmey11 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @cloverrover @millsxthrills @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @gamarancianne @rachelnicolee

[shyentsmissingink]

.I'll Kiss You Like I Don't Love You By Rena | Shyent

Scaramouche x fem!reader, taller fml, dry-humping, asexual fml, hand-job, praise, avoidant attachment style, she has so many physical flaws and I love her for that, implied autistic fml

WC: 2.998k

This is a repost from my other account with some minor (BIG, THEY WERE BIG!!) corrections.

You gasp when you feel his knee being shoved further up between your legs against your bare pussy, unshielded by the dress you wore, often without any undergarments for the sake of general comfort at home.

Scaramouche rests his hand on the back of your head and pulls your face towards him. Tilting his head upwards to look up at you, the hairs at the tip of your noses brushing against each other, inflicting a ticklish sensation. A hand quivering with anticipation rests against his cheek, and he leans into your palm that was nearly covering the entirety of the side of his face. Scaramouche rubs against it as a means of feeling your calluses and his skin prickles.

He turns his face into your hand, eyes closing as he inhales your scent, lips pressing into your grasp for a moment of silence (a moment of ceaseless worship). You lean in to kiss his cheek, seeking to get as close to his lips as you can, should, and will.

Scaramouche appeals to his gaze once more, looking back at you through his eyelashes. Turning to you, he would not dare to close his eyes as he leaned in. The world as he knew it became a blur.

His world; your skin, your moles, your eyelashes in an illusion of entanglement with his, the colour of your scarred lips and your eyes. Scaramouche brushes his lips against yours. Grazes would turn into pecks, and pecks would turn into long, drawn-out kisses.

And another, and another, and another.

It was relentless, the creeping flame behind each kiss.

It was measured, yes, the roll of your hips and the warmth pooling at the pit of his stomach as he swallowed every flicker of fire that would spark between you two.

It was bridled, the way he'd consume you. Your scent, warmth beneath his fingers, palm buried in your hair. Your taste, your moans, your searing touch, all of which stoked the embers of a shared fire hot with passion. As always, you lean in. Not to make a plea to an ache you did not feel, but for closeness; the ever-grounding comfort of his presence.

Your desires were cool and steady. However, never in your ignorance mistaken, this want as weak in comparison to his, for it was all but mere. Not when it was so large and present in his conscious mind. Not when it was what tempered the fire you knew burned in him, always for you. Always because of you.

You whine in frustration as he removes his leg from between yours. In an attempt to reclaim his warmth, you’d raise your knee to try and wrap your leg around his waist. Each time, he dodged you by stepping back. Scaramouche chuckled at the sound of your groans of annoyance, his tittering kept light. You’d argue that it was in fact, a giggle. Scaramouche would beg to differ.

The back of his legs hit the soft edge of the sofa, and the corner of his lips curled upwards as he was forced to slump backwards into a relaxed position. Seizing the opportunity to climb on top of him, you jump at the chance to straddle his leg, hands clamped on his shoulders for balance.

You nip his lip before finally pulling back, your gaze shifting from his indigo eyes to the string of saliva that connected your lips. To Scaramouche’s amusement, you regarded him with a victorious, giddy expression, sticking your nose up in the air as a display of conquer.

"I won."

"And pray tell, what have you won?"

Your pause, your features scrunching as you try to articulate your triumph. It was stupidly charming.

"...I won," you say, a giggle slipping out, bouncing on his leg in excitement. You rest your hands over one another on the top of his head, rolling his neck in small circles. You flick your toes and smile teasingly, experimentally rolling your hips with a twinkle in your eyes, "So, may I?".

Scaramouche reaches out a hand to caress your cheek before wrapping his fingers and applying minimal pressure around your neck, whereas his free hand would rest on your thigh. No, his heart will never not flutter at the way your smile would brighten and widen (just for him, only for him) whenever he did it.

"Go ahead," he whispers, softer than he'd intended.

You remove your hands from his head to hold his face, pressing your forehead against his as you try to find your rhythm. Whenever Scaramouche’s face had been held by you, he’d feel so small. Yet, to his surprise, he never found himself feeling undermined or you overbearing. Rather, Scaramouche felt protected in your hands bigger than his, and cherished, and appreciated.

No matter what they did—each time—sometimes it took ten or more minutes for you to feel a spark of arousal, but it never deterred you from the general idea of doing these things with him, and it never made the experience of doing it with you worth any less.

You knew that he was accepting of how your needs differed from him and how enthusiastic he was about accommodating you. You knew it, yet even so, you never quite escaped the creeping anxiety of not being enough, like now.

Flurried and in spite of your better judgement, you press your clit harder, rougher against his thigh, eliciting an ached moan and the aversion of your eyes in something akin to shame, pulling your head back. Scaramouche did not miss a beat.

“Hey, look at me,” he caresses your cheek with his free hand. “You do not have to perform for me.”

“I’m not…I want to do this with you.” your movements were now slow, irregular and stiff, and your heart was racing. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t, you didn't want him to feel undervalued. Not when he was worth so much to you.

He huffs through his nose, rubbing the pad of his thumb into the side of your neck, creating pressure and with efficiency, cutting off your blood flow slightly.

“I know that you do, but I’m reminding you that I want to do this with you too; take your time for me.”

To show you what he meant, he tightened his grasp on your side and forced you to slow down to a more comfortable and relaxed pace.

“Just like that, okay? We'll do this for as long as you want to. The point of this is that I want to feel good with you—not just because of you. You want that too. Don't you, pretty girl?”

You follow the pace Scaramouche eased you into and rests a hand over his stomach before raising his shirt over his chest. You avoid his gaze, the praise making you shy, and gaze down at his bare skin.

“I do…” you murmur, before adding earnestly, willing yourself to look back at him. “I want you too.”

Around the eight-minute mark, you exhale through your nose, nostrils twitching.

“Feeling it now?”

“Yeah…”

His hand on your hip slips up your waist underneath the dress you wore, rubbing tender circles around the fat of your breast, then the areola before pressing down on your nipple, causing you to hum his name.

“And what's this?”

“Good…”

“That's not what I asked, [name]. Let's try again,” Scaramouche pinches your nipple. “What's this?”

“You’re pinching my boob.”

He smiles at the pout on your lips and your furrowed brows, “Go on.”

“Your palm is pressed against my chest…and you feel so cold. And you're rubbing me so slowly…kneading? Yeah, the word is kneading. You're removing your hand from my neck and…”

You continue to narrate what he does. With his now free hand, he raises the hem of your dress over your shoulders for it to cascade down your back, exposing your body bare for him.

Scaramouche palms your neglected breast and rolls each side in opposing directions each with tenderness and care, flicking at and pressing into your cool nipples with his thumbs. As you lean into his touch, he takes it as his to use his right hand to caress your ass. He kisses the areola, before licking circles with his tongue and then finally taking your nipple into his mouth.

And gods, it was adorable. The way Scara looked up at you to gauge your approval, how he’d needily press his face against your breast and flick and twirl his tongue in a careful, methodical manner. The little suckling and clicking sounds he’d make as he sucked on your tit, how heavily he’d breathe through his nose and the occasional puff of his cheek and the pleasured hums muffled against your skin.

The saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth messing up his lips and the drool snaking down his chin and your stomach. The flush of his cheeks and the way he furrowed his brows and sucked on you in heightened fervour as you dragged your fingers through his indigo locks in a manner reminiscent of a cat. At some point, you stopped narrating as there wasn’t much to say anymore, but he did not mind. He didn’t need you to keep on talking to get off any further, not when you were looking at him like that.

“Good boy.”

You almost squeal when he scowls at you, but it wasn’t a scowl he could maintain for long when you decided to reward him. When you slide your hand along his neglected thigh and reach into the looseness of his shorts to palm his clothed cock before reaching into his boxers. Scaramouche rubs into your hand, and the expression on his face, his eyes rolling back and his muted moans did nothing but egg you on. It did nothing but want you to make him feel even better.

Once you’ve had your appetizer, you take your hand out, and you can absolutely hear his whine when you do. Scaramouche grazes his teeth against your nipple as if to threaten you, but returns to licking when you peel the band of his shorts down, allowing his cock to spring out and meet the cold air.

You firmly grasp his dick and rub your thumb around his head. Not enough to make him cum any time soon, but just to induce sensation. He pants, and finally, you hear a pop when he removes his mouth from your nipple, a thick string of saliva between his lips and the mound as he momentarily closes his eyes shut, panting.

Hm, what did you have to lose?

"Your pubes are really cute.”

"...Do you have to tell me that each time you see my dick?"

"They are, though...Can I have some?"

"...I feel I've become so desensitised to your-"

"Love for cute things?"

"If that's another way to say strangeness or degeneracy, then sure, that–to the point that I see no reason to deny you of your request."

"Deadass?"

"Absolutely."

"You're so sweet!"

"And you're ever the romantic."

Despite the sarcasm in his tone, Scaramouche did mean it. As weird, and quite frankly, disturbing, as your request might be, he wouldn’t mind providing you with even his nails torn from the bed..he's unwilling to say that just yet, though; the least he'd want to do is scare you. And he knew that it wouldn’t be the intrusive idea of gory fingers penetrating your imagination that would do it for you, but rather, the idea of him going so far for you. Him being hurt for you voluntarily. To confront the idea of him loving you. To be forced to acknowledge that reality you were not ready to.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, as you tease his cock, moaning into his ear,

“Thank you…thank you so, so much for this…I like you.” You can feel chills crawling up along your skin as your cunt drools on Scara’s thigh.

“If you’re so thankful…” he bites out, giving one hard and aggressive jerk into your hand. “Then touch me like you mean it.”

I love you, he doesn’t say.

And with that, you finally tighten your grip around his wet cock and on the gods, the sound elicited from him was heavenly. How he choked on his moan when you jerked his dick off and dug his teeth into your shoulder.

Giving up on maintaining a cohesive conversation, they allow themselves to be reduced to a cacophony of whining and panting, and on your part, near sobs when the sensation of your impending orgasm becomes overwhelming. When you verbalise this, he grips either side of your hips and forces you to continue rocking your hips. Each jerk was hard, mean and snappy, yet so fucking slow. You didn’t know which hurt more; the anticipation or the stimulation.

“Good good good, so good–oh fuck.” you mewl.

He thrusts his dick into your hand. Through his lashes, eyes half-lidded, his gaze wouldn’t flitter. No, but rather, he’d sensor his eyes up and down from your head to your cradling hips. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be inside of her, forcing himself to align the pace of his hips with hers. As torturous as it was, it did nothing but heighten his arousal.

“Fuck- just like that, don’t stop for me, alright, pretty girl…”

“I’m pretty?”

“Hah…you’re acting as if I don’t call you that on a daily basis.”

“..I just want you to say it again, please...”

“You’re so. Fucking. Beautiful” Each word is accentuated with each thrust. “If I let go, can you, hah, keep moving? Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t…I don’t think that I can…”

“For me. You’ll make me so fucking happy if you can do just this one thing, do you want to make me happy?”

“I do!”

“Then, can I trust you?”

Unfortunately for you, Scaramouche doesn’t provide you the opportunity to answer as he removes his hands to run to explore your body before finally settling on your bare waist. You’d probably pull his cheeks apart if he said it aloud, but the way your sounds had gotten progressively higher when you were forced to carry her pleasure for him was extremely pathetic.

Pitiful, the way you’d try to keep your watering eyes from rolling back (he said that you looked stupidly cute once for it. You had focused on the word ‘stupid’ more than the ‘-ly cute’ part) and trained on him. How you tried and failed to bite down on your lip to keep your mouth clamped shut.

The saliva trailing down your chin, darkened cheeks and tongue occasionally lolling past your lips. The way you’d grunt his name and strings of unintelligible pleas for nonsense was going to send him over the edge. The way, that despite yourself, you stretched yourself between stimulating and performing the task he put onto you. How you’d, despite the burden of his request, would overwhelm yourself with stimulation while putting special attention to his cock.

How you’d flick your wrist, circle his hole and shake. All the while stumbling over your words as you asked him again and again ‘Is this okay?’. Under normal circumstances, he’d tease and mimic you to see your scowl, but how could he now? He admits he’d feel uncharacteristically bad for it. Not when you were doing all of this for him.

Scaramouche didn’t even think that he could speak in full sentences anymore, not when he was panting along with you like a dog in heat. Not when he was pathetically calling your name and reassuring you of your performance. Not while trying his best to swallow the words hot at the tip of his tongue ‘I love you’. Not when he was trying to keep his composure that was melting into a puddle, assuming he still had any, to begin with.

Your thighs, at last, clench around his and you squeal, closing your eyes shut as you grind your pussy down on his leg, your fluids pooling and dripping down into a puddle on the floor. And oh, if you could see how beautiful and fucked up you looked. At the back of his mind, Scaramouche wondered if he could take a picture of you someday.

Your toes curl and you can feel his small body tense under you, your backs arching and chests pressing against each other, the saliva left behind him on yours smudging against his. Scaramouche feels his stomach twitch and his eyes roll back, your hips stuttering and your pussy fluttering on his thigh.

“I’m cumming…”

“I’m gonna cum too…”

Your hand stutters to a near halt, but, if the feeling of you alone wasn’t enough to send him over the edge. He played those words over and over as he rutted into your grasp, digging his fingers into your waist almost painfully as you sloppily licked the side of his neck. When you finally met your climax, you also felt his hot cum shooting between the two of you onto your stomachs and underneath your breasts.

No words were exchanged between the two of you. Not when you removed your head from his shoulder, not when you caressed his cheek with your hand messy with his fluids. Not when he leans into your touch, further smearing them against his face. Not when he pulled you in to lick the sweat off your cheek and forehead, not when you kiss him and suck on his bottom lip. Not when he wraps his arms around you and rolls you over to sit beside him on the couch and not when you burst into a fit of giggles and he hums, both your bodies twitching and coming down from your highs. And not when you quiet down, staring back into his eyes.

No words were spoken, but few were imminent in his mind.

I love you, he doesn’t say.

I know. You close your eyes.

Author's Note: This is my second smut piece. Writing it took me a long time, and I'm a bit dissatisfied with how it turned out. I haven't had the chance to proofread it thoroughly, so please let me know if you notice any errors. I would really appreciate your comments and reblogs! If there are any errors, please tell me, comment and reblog.

[yanderambling]

concept: Handservant!Yandere(gn) x Royal!Reader(gn)

words: ~600

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, stalking, food tampering, manipulation

Laramie has been living in the castle (walls) for nearly a decade now, but they were only hired as your attendant about a year ago.

It was a chance encounter, really. Many of your handmaidens had suddenly fallen ill and you needed interim staff, they just happened to be passing through town looking for work.

They seemed very passionate about "honoring their royal highness", to an arguably worrying degree, but you had this strange sense that you could trust them. Something about them almost felt downright familiar.

You had your security check their records and they were completely spotless (like, completely), so finally you agreed to hire them on a trial period.

Despite their relative unfamiliarity (as far as you can know), they quickly made themself a permanent fixture in your daily life. By this point, their shadow in your periphery is as natural as your own nose.

As the esteemed ruler of your kingdom, you used to have a whole fleet of servants on your call, ready to meet your every need and whim; some to dress you in the morning, some to accompany you throughout the castle, some to run your errands, some to bathe you at night- but almost immediately upon their hiring, Laramie proved themself more than capable of handling all those things and more by themself- and with an unmatched enthusiasm.

They instantly took to the job with remarkable attentiveness and skill; they take such care when removing your clothes, movements measured and even reverent (it took months of exposure therapy before they could even get near you without breaking down into a shuddering mess- good thing you were asleep for those encounters, how embarrassed they would have been to be seen by you in that state!), they worked with a singleminded concentration and didn't hesitate to do away with a piece that they felt was too worn or soiled, (throw it out? and risk somebody defiling your precious garments? no, no, they'll just bring it back to their bedchamber and "take care of it" there, don't worry!).

They showed initiative in other regards too, like pestering your council for increased security around the castle (you never know what kind of low-lifes could exploit your weak spots to sneak inside and bring harm upon their beloved majesty! how did they know about those weak spots? well, they were just being diligent for the sake of their darling ruler!), and insisting on making all your meals themself, for safety of course (you didn’t mind because they turned out to be a magnificent cook, it could be thanks to all the time spent studying your preferences in secret, but they really think it's because you can taste their spit love!).

Once you hired them, you truly wanted for nothing- it's like they know what you're thinking before you do!

They consistently have your favorite foods prepared just when you start feeling peckish, they draw the most perfect baths (and clean you so thoroughly!), they somehow always have your sheets warm when they help you into bed at night (you always relax into them with a subtle but wonderfully satisfied sound, it must be their scent comforting you, it’s why they left it there after all), they're incredible at massaging the tension from your body after a long day (as long as they keep their hands functioning and their drool in their mouth)- you don’t know how you got so lucky, to have such a meticulous and talented servant at your constant disposal!

It wasn’t easy for Laramie to make themself so indispensable, but it’s nothing compared to the lengths they're truly willing to go for you.

They worked hard to be by your side, and they'll do anything they must to stay here.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[yerrenica]

⋯ JAHA LEE x READER | go to hell (affectionately)

⬦ info; fem reader (dom), bickering, whipped jaha, the reader is stealthier than jaha could ever hope to be, they're both lowkey emotionally constipated, begging, grinding, blue balling jaha real, reject canon embrace cringe.

⬦ wc; 2.5k

Jaha Lee is an adult. He has a job, even if unconventional. He has subordinates, even if most of them are incompetent. He even pays with his own money, sometimes. And still, despite all of that, his frontal lobe seems to not have developed enough to know that killing people at 10 p.m. will make him stay up all night.

That's how he finds himself tossing and turning in his bed, burying himself deeper and deeper into his blankets, excitement buzzing in his veins making it impossible to get some needed sleep.  

Normally, Jaha is the type of person who goes down quickly and can sleep through a tornado if he wants to. That's what having too many enemies to count and spending most of your childhood years and all your adult life on the edge does to you - you learn to fall and stay asleep wherever, no matter how uncomfortable the place is because that might be the last time you get to get some rest in a long, long time.

The officer of shining light drove that point home just before Jaha fell off that forsaken cliff.

As he turns for the one-hundredth time in the past ten minutes, the sound of very light footsteps (almost as though the person did not wish for Jaha to know of their arrival) startles him, and his body immediately tenses up. Trying to get murdered from time to time is part of his job description, so it's not unusual to have people try to sneak up on him. However, he doesn't usually deal with assassins on the Black Rabbit clan's soil. The many squads patrolling the streets stop them before they have a sliver of a chance to get close to Jaha's or the Generals' quarters.

He closes his eyes and strains his ears, remaining as still as possible to hear what's going on. The walls are relatively thick, so the sound is muffled, but as soon as he hears the exasperated sigh on the other side of the door, he smiles and lets himself relax once more.

There's only one person who would be so brazen as to step foot anywhere near Jaha's quarters and then sigh with so little care and so much annoyance.

It's weird that [Y/N] is visiting at the wee hours of the night, but maybe she's forgotten something in his room or has finally decided to keep her word and murder Jaha like she has promised to do many times. Just to see what [Y/N] does when unsupervised, Jaha settles down and pretends to be fast asleep.

His bedroom door creaks open, and there's a soft sound of feet tiptoeing around the room. Jaha feels a hand pushing his fringe out of the way, and a pair of lips leaving a kiss on his forehead. It's such an innocent, tender touch, and it's so foreign that he has to bite his tongue and muster all his willpower not to make a sound that alerts [Y/N] that he's awake.

The mattress dips on the opposite side to where he's lying down, and he feels a warm weight settling against his chest. The woman settles down, lets out a contented sigh and plants a kiss on Jaha's chest, right next to where his heart is, with an easiness that seems practised like it's not the first time she's doing this.

And it's then and there when Jaha realizes that the woman's night escapades aren't uncommon and they're probably the reason why sometimes he wakes up with the familiar scent of lavender melon clinging to his skin, even though he's slept by himself (or so he thought) and with freshly washed sheets.

It didn't happen often, though, only after the nights when Jaha was too far gone, when the weight of his blade felt light, and the lives lost to it insignificant beyond measure.

It might be because Jaha is a bit enamoured with this woman, but the thought of [Y/N] sneaking into his bedroom just to sleep next to him and then leaving before sunrise just so she doesn't have to be embarrassed about it is painfully endearing.

[Y/N] mutters something in another language under her breath, and it's the first time Jaha has actively regretted not paying more attention to the foreigners who visited his inn back when he was an errand boy. Weirdly, it doesn't sound like an insult, but it also doesn't sound like the confession of undying love that Jaha would like to hear.

Well, there's only one way to find out what the woman said.

He wraps his arms around [Y/N]'s waist, and before she can react, Jaha flips them around so he's hovering on top of the woman. [Y/N] lets out a surprised yelp, and it's music to Jaha's ears.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." [Y/N] snaps too quickly for it to be nothing. "Let me go."

"No." Jaha singsongs, and he leans down to kiss the woman, but the other turns her head at the last second. Jaha settles on kissing her cheek. "It's rude to speak a language I can't understand and then not tell me what you said."

"I said let me go, you brute." [Y/N] repeats, turning her head to glare at Jaha. There's a beat of silence, and when she sees that the taller man isn't moving, she crocks an eyebrow. "Are you deaf?"

"You can already stop pretending you don't like me, you know?"

"Who says I'm pretending?"

"It's very hard to believe you don't like me at least a little bit when you sneak into my room in the middle of the night to cuddle me." Jaha chuckles, and just to drive the point home he leans in again, this time brushing their lips together.

[Y/N] purses her lips but doesn't say anything, so he keeps going. "You have a key to my room." A pause. "And a drawer full of your clothes here. We're basically dat—"

"Okay, shut up, I get it." The woman interrupts, her voice going slightly louder to block Jaha's words. Of course, she doesn't want to hear the word dating. Of course.

Jaha decides to be the bigger person, literally and metaphorically, and rolls onto his side, dragging [Y/N] with him so they're lying down face to face. He takes a moment to properly look at the other and only then notices the dark circles under her eyes and the way that she's blinking like she's fighting to stay awake. She looks exhausted.

"Hard day?"

"Assassins have been up my ass all day." [Y/N] says, and she doesn't explain further, but Jaha doesn't need her to. He understands what it's like to have a target on one's back. "Need to shut down for a bit."

"Stop calling it shutting down; it freaks me out."

"You've been basically fucking a walking assassin magnet for the past however many months, Jaha. Too late to be freaked out now."

Jaha scrunches his nose. "However many months", he thinks.

It's been seven months since we fucked for the first time and at least four since I realized that knowing the weirdly specific way in which you like your tea in the morning and spending my days off either pestering you until you pay attention to me or thinking about you may indicate that we are a bit more than associates with benefits, but we both seem to be deathly allergic to the word lovers and to any conversation regarding feelings and it's driving me insane.

But he's not dumb (or perhaps brave) enough to say that out loud. So he tugs on [Y/N] to bring her closer and buries his face into the other's hair. "Rest."

"In peace." The woman finishes with a stern tone. "Hopefully, I never wake up."

"It's sweet that you wish to stay in my arms forever."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I know." Jaha concedes with a tired sigh. "Go to sleep."

There's a brief moment of silence, but [Y/N] then pulls back and looks Jaha in the eye.

"You told me to sleep, so now I can't do it." She argues, and the barely-there pout on her lips makes Jaha want to kiss her more than he's wanted anything in his life.

"It's a pride thing." She helpfully explains when she sees the dumbfounded expression on Jaha's face.

"Then stop being stubborn."

"Never."

The ravenette dramatically sighs in defeat and brings a hand to massage the side of his head. "You're going to do the opposite of what I ask you to just to be difficult, correct?"

"Correct."

"So how about..." Jaha starts, and he taps a finger to his lips like he's thinking. "You don't kiss me?"

"You're fucking dumb if you think I'm going to fall for that." The woman says, and she closes her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath like she's trying really hard not to hit Jaha over the head with a blunt object. "I can't believe you managed to become a clan leader. One would imagine you need more than one brain cell to be capable enough."

"One would also imagine that you need to be taller than three inches, but here we are."

He's barely finished speaking when the woman is already barking out a reply. "I'm going to kill you while you sleep."

"I'd love to see you try." Jaha chuckles, and there's something about the fact that the woman would indeed have a chance at besting him in a fight that makes him feel giddy. "Don't do it while I'm asleep though, I want to enjoy it."

"You're a fucking weirdo."

"I'm your fucking weirdo."

[Y/N] only rolls her eyes and huffs, and Jaha takes the opportunity to shove one of his hands under the woman's shirt. He's met with warm, soft skin, and he lets his fingers travel across [Y/N]'s taut stomach until he reaches the waistband of her pants. He hooks his fingers on the fabric, silently asking for permission.

"For fuck's sake, Jaha..." The woman whispers with irritation lacing her tone, but she leans way too much into the touch for someone who's complaining about it. "You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

He unhooks his fingers from the fabric and lets his hand wander to grab [Y/N]'s ass. He squeezes, relishing in the way it makes the other squirm. As [Y/N] lets out a small gasp, Jaha leans in and bites her lower lip, gaining him a small whine. The ravenette almost smiles into the kiss, because [Y/N] might whine and complain, but she always responds so easily to his touch.

Without breaking the kiss, [Y/N] pushes him onto his back and climbs on Jaha's lap. She pulls back ever so slightly, and Jaha feels one of her hands grab his face. She forces his mouth open by pressing a thumb to his lower lip, and Jaha goes pliant under her touch, the only thought that runs through his head being, "Please spit in my mouth, please, please, please."

Instead, like she's reading Jaha's mind and refuses to give him what he wants, the woman takes her fingers out, leans in and shoves her tongue inside Jaha's mouth.

Jaha's mind is half-hazed as he sucks on the other's tongue like his life depends on it, and there's a buzz in his veins that has nothing to do with the copious amounts of murdering he's done that day. He holds [Y/N]'s hips in place and grinds up into her, managing to get a choked-out moan from her.

[Y/N] leans back, the moonlight coming from the window hitting her just right, and Jaha gets a view that he wants to keep in his memory forever - [Y/N]'s cheeks have a rosy flush to them, her lips are spit-slick and bitten red. The familiar sensation of wanting to wreck and be wrecked in return starts to bubble up under Jaha's skin.

Instead of taking Jaha's mouth again, [Y/N] blinks a few times and yawns, and it's a bit of a blow to Jaha's ego. The ravenette almost whines when [Y/N] leans back and props herself up on her knees, lessening the pressure from the one place where Jaha so desperately needs it. She takes both of Jaha's hands off her thighs, leaves them to rest on top of Jaha's clothed crotch, taps the back twice, like saying there you go, and clumsily climbs off of him.

Jaha's mouth falls open. "You're going to leave me like this?"

"Yes? I'm tired." The woman deadpans, and she shuffles to lie on her side, her back to Jaha. "You're a big boy, you can take care of yourself."

His dick twitches at the words big boy, and he looks down at the problem at hand. He realistically could take care of it, jerk himself off and call it a day, but what's the point if it's not her making him cum?

"You're really going to blue ball me?" He huffs as he lamely pulls on the fabric of his pants to release some of the pressure. It does nothing to help.

"You blue balled yourself."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Life doesn't make sense sometimes, Jaha." [Y/N] argues, and she dismissively waves a hand around. "Grow up."

Seeing that he's not getting any, Jaha lies back down on the pillow with a defeated sigh - it already smells like [Y/N], and that small fact shouldn't squeeze his heart the way it does. He takes a few deep breaths, letting his heartbeat go back to normal, and makes a mental note to make [Y/N] take care of all this pent-up frustration the next time he has her on his bed.

"To be honest, it's not the first time I've had to talk myself out of a boner because of you." He confesses with such nonchalance, eyes fixed on the back of [Y/N]'s head. "So I have practice."

[Y/N] turns her head, and even in the dim light, Jaha can see the furrowing of her eyebrows. He reaches a hand to smooth it out and considers it a step in the right direction when he's not pushed away or gets some of his fingers bitten off.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Well—" Jaha helpfully starts, but the woman decides she doesn't actually want to hear about all the ways Jaha's so pathetically whipped for her, and stops him. "Actually, never mind. Don't even tell me."

Jaha unceremoniously hums. "I thought you wanted to know?"

She pauses for a moment and lets out a scoff that sounds way too much like a laugh. Proudly, Jaha makes a mental note of adding "making [Y/N] laugh when she's in such a bad mood" to his list of personal accomplishments.

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep."

Jaha knows that if he asks for a goodnight kiss, he will get either a zap or a knee to his crotch, so he takes it upon himself to reach two fingers and delicately lift [Y/N]'s chin. He leans in, taking his time to kiss the woman properly without the heat of their previous kiss. And maybe he's hallucinating, maybe he's been awake for too long, but he can feel [Y/N] melt at the touch. He pulls back with a last chaste peck and smiles at the woman in his arms.

"Goodnight, [Y/N]."

"Go to hell, Jaha."

Jaha chuckles, and just because he can get away with it, he plants a kiss on [Y/N]'s forehead. "I'll see you there."

© yeri (@yerrenica) ⬦ do not repost, copy, translate, nothing. this is just 2.5k words of them bickering and me projecting. instead of brain there is only jaha.

[0hmyg0th]

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲, #𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 ★ ( modern au! headcannon )

★. . . introducing a new series and a new fandom 𓆩♡𓆪 this is a modern alternative universe of a court of throns and roses. this is only a headcanon! i'm not sure if i'm going to make this into a drabble. we'll see how this goes :) ★ . . . synopsis ⸻ you accidentally throw one to many parties a few... many times and now all of a sudden your landlord is kicking you out. who knew!? and on that unlucky day your angel from above found a "roommate needed" poster on one of the bullent board at school. desperate times calls for desperate measures. who knew this day and every single day after that would turn into the most luckest days in your life. 𓆩♡𓆪 ★ . . . note ⸻ female!blackreader, "the inner cirlce" will only consist of rhys, cassian, azriel for now and mor is not related to rhys in any shape or form.

it's been 3 months since the boys ⸻ ( not azriel apparently ) opened their hearts and their homes to you! and you still couldn't believe how things drastically changed, like you almost found a box to live in! Basically. but in all seriousness, you were extremely grateful. you didn't know where you were gonna end up 3 months ago so now, you carried nothing but gratitude in your heart.

however, living with three grown men can be a hassle and sometimes it can be overwheleming. with their scents suffocating you with every step they took around you and oh! did i mention that they are bigggg like fuck! with their muscle straining against their shirts and sometimes you would get caught staring at them; moslty rhys. but in all honselty it wasn't your fault!, like they should as least put on a shirt once or twice when you are around the house.

which brings up the topic of: ground rules you felt like yall needed some especially after the countless of times the boys would walk in on you changing or walking in on them. so it was perfect time to bring up this conversation

"honey, i'm home" cassian sang the words, with rhys snickering in the back and if you listen real close you can hear the huffs and grunts of azirel.

"hello, boys" you purred, you rose to your heels; trying carefully not to ruin your freshly panited nails. "i need to talk to yall." you stated clamly. the three tall giants gazed over you, azirel was puzzle, rhys show signs of concern and cassian just stuffed his big mouth with trail mix while the crumbles dropped periodically onto the shiny hardwodden floor.

you leaned back onto the kitchen counter, supporting yourself by your elbows. the small movemnet caused your chest to rise towards the celling and with your relaxed posture made the boys feel at ease. all three of them are insanely attractive that it even hurts to look at them.

rhys sat on the arm chair with his legs spreading wide as he steadied himself on it. your eyes didn't faltered, you didn't look down there you told yourself  it was a trap to look there and oh boy there were countless of times where rhys caught you looking.

cassian sat on the edge of the cushions with his elbows perched on his kness.

Azriel standing the farthest away from you and the boys. brooding and letting the shadows of his bedroom engulfed him as he leaned against his doorway.

"so.." you trailed, and they watched intensively. your eyes dropping to rhys to your dried toes. they let you gather your thoughts, “We need to lay some ground rules, or like at least mention it"  The invisible weight dropped off your shoulder, and so did they.

“oh, that's not so bad. you had me worried" cassian confessed. they all agreed in union.

you laughed, “How do feel about me bringing in guys over"  You swallowed. your eyes darted to Rhys, whose expression was shocked to Cassain who tried to hide his smile and Azriel looked puzzled. as if,  you looked like the type to never have a boyfriend or even mention a boy before.

 you felt offended, "well don't look so fucking shocked" you spit out. rhys inhaled deeply as his mouth began to move, "no no, i-its just-

"we don't mind"

your eyes landed on Cassain after he cut off Rhys. you locked eyes on him and somehow he had you under his spell, he was so easy to talk to, and by easy you meant; all he had to do was look at you, and then all of sudden your lips were moving and he's giving you nothing but warmth.

"good, cuz-

"no overnight stays." azriel stated firmly. he locked eyes with you.  holding you into his stare, like some sort type of competion.

 you pushed yourself of the counter and nodded your head in agrument.  "of course, this isn't a bed and breakfast. they leave before the sun comes up" you reply quickly. not backing down from he's intimate stare

"just keep the ...noise down" rhys mutters. you would of thought that you guys was talking about the bird and the bees in front of yall parents.  like im pretty sure they bring in girls here all the time, well.. actually you haven't see that or you haven't even seen them with a girl in the first place. and you are 100% sure that their asses is not celibate.

it kinda makes you wonder a bit.."so um what about you guys ?" you curled you lip behind you teeth. rhys drly chuckled, he turned around to face cassian and azriel. which made you even more curious to know their sexual relations. i mean, its none of your business but at the same time you can't help to wonder. like do they share women secretly? or are they embrassed to bring with them around because you're here. 

"uh, let's refocus. any more rules you got sweetheart?" your attention left rhys's who didn't stop staring to cassian who cheeks stained a pinkish color. you rasied your eyebrows, oh yeah they are definitely hiding something. and you have every intentions on finding out what. 

but for now you continue with your ground rules,

number one: one night stands leave before breakfast 

number two: knock, always knock. 

number three: no snooping. ( az looked at you when he said that )

number four: help with grocery, dishes, cooking etc. ( duh ) 

number five: split household chores/clean after yourselves ( the boys are clean people for the most part but just in case )

number six: no being half naked or naked in the presence of eachother ( very important!!) 

⸻ you know, you thought living with three full grown men would have cause you to pull out your hair in distress but now with ground rules in place you wouldn't mind living here full time. instead of a temporary stay, like you planned in the beginning. 

author's note: i wanted to write more but tumblr got this thing about can't go over 4000 thousands word count so i hope yall enjoy this!

comment and rebloging is appreciated not required :)

[blissfulstarsfics]

Black and White Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Chapter Rating: E

Pairing: A!A X Female Tav (Non-abusive fic.)

Summary: Tav mulls over her night with Astarion, what it means. Meanwhile, he prepares to host another of his grand parties.

Tags: Astarion hosts an orgy. PIV, anal sex, cunnilingus, fellatio

The sun began rising over the horizon, bathing the master bedroom in a soft glow. Tav stirred under the sheets, a bit disoriented upon waking in unfamiliar surroundings. The ascendant rested peacefully next to her. There was no trace of last night’s nightmare on his relaxed and tranquil visage. Wanting to let him trance undisturbed, Tav thought it best to return to her room, but a strong grip pulled her back.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling?” he groggily asked. His eyes displayed a new possessiveness to them that sent a chill down her spine.

“I was going to go back to my room.” A meek reply. Astarion’s mouth curved into a commanding smile as he held her tight.

“You’ll get up when I say you can get up,” he kissed her brow, “and right now you’re not going anywhere.”

 It was futile to struggle against him. Not only was his might far superior to hers, but her own body sought to undermine her interests. Nestled against him, feeling his skin on hers, she contemplated if all those nights she allowed him to feed on her gave him a measure of control over her. If it did, she wasn’t minding it.

Tav watched over Astarion as he fell back into his reverie for a few more hours. It amused her at how this apex predator could look so dovish and serene in his slumber. Finally, his eyes fluttered awake when the sun rose high enough to shine its light menacingly onto his face. He sat up, groaning bitterly.

“I suppose we should start the day.” He smiled half-heartedly. Tav had wanted to talk with him, but she knew he was needed elsewhere. Most of the preparations should be finished, but there were always last minute flubs that inevitably happened. He would need to take care of those. 

The walk back to her chamber felt different than usual. She felt a myriad of emotions, some good, some bad. What did last night mean? What happens next? Tibbi was already in the room, setting up the wash basin and humming a cheery tune. The spawn was practically skipping from one corner to the next whilst performing her duties.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Tav crossed her arms, smiling lightheartedly. Tibbi jovially nodded. 

“The master gave us permission to enjoy ourselves tonight and I intend to enjoy myself fully!” The maid’s titter took her by surprise. Knowing Astarion, there may be ulterior motives for allowing his spawn to be present. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for him to use them to gather intelligence on his guests.

At the same time, she was considering if this was dangerous. So many red eyed and fanged individuals could raise suspicions. More importantly, Tav never thought Tibbi, the woman who was afraid of her own shadow, to be the type to so boldly attend this type of party. 

She sat Tav in front of the vanity to brush her hair, wearing a bright grin. The bard stared blankly at her reflection, as well as the disembodied brush going through her hair. Her plan for the day was to learn the guest list, put faces to names, but she was far too distracted. Last night was, as he would say, an awful lot of fun. Too much fun, perhaps. Now she was left with a painful yearning to be left screaming as he has his way with her.

Servants brought in the bath just as Tav’s hair was finished being secured in a bun. Watching the tub fill with steaming water made her melancholy, knowing she would soon be washing his scent away.

~~~~~

Chairs were covered, the ballroom floor was cushioned, refreshments were being prepared, and oils were being gathered. Astarion nodded in satisfaction during his inspection. He prided himself on being a gracious host, one who left no guest disappointed. Tonight would be no exception. 

Right as he was about to check that the back rooms were locked (hospitable he may be, that didn’t permit attendees to snoop), a courier arrived with a rectangular velvet box. He traipsed over to the lad, who was being generously tipped by Matteo, and took the package. A quick look inside confirmed he had received what he ordered.

Astarion headed straight for Tav’s room. He knocked on the door and let himself in. She was about to step out of the bath and into an outstretched towel being held by her maid. The women were taken aback at the ascendant’s brashness; coming into a lady’s room with barely any warning. After he set the box down, he took the towel from Tibbi and dismissed her. 

“My lord, your timing is,” Tav trailed off, trying to find the right words. 

“Perfect? Yes, I know.” Astarion sensuously ran the cotton fabric over her body, over her breasts, the curve of her buttocks, between her thighs. Once she was sufficiently dry, he let the towel drop to the floor. “Sit,” he instructed, pointing to the vanity. Raising an eyebrow, she complied, curiosity piqued. 

He opened the box and revealed a masterfully crafted choker of three rows of diamonds set in white gold. The gems sparkled as he placed it on her neck, the clasp making a tiny clink as it fastened. Tav raised a hand to touch the piece, mouth agape.

“Astarion, it’s beautiful! Thank you! What shall I wear with it tonight?” She moved her neck about to catch the jewels in the light.draw

“I think what you’re wearing right now is perfect, but that might draw unwanted attention.” Whether her receiving attention was unwanted for him or her, he did not say. He stared at the two of  them in the mirror. Gods, he loved how they looked together! “You should wear red, darling.”

“Red it is,” she agreed. Later, she would wear red. For now, her robe would do. Astarion sat on the bed across from her and leaned forward with a stern look. There was another reason for his sudden visit; he needed to iron out certain details.

“Tav, I need to tell you my new background. For all my ranting about not knowing your past, I failed to mention my fabricated history. The official story is that Cazador Szarr died unexpectedly in the skirmish with the Absolute without heir. His next of kin was an occasionally seen nephew,” he pointed to himself, “from a distant elvish town who permanently moved to the Gate to continue his work. Poor, poor Uncle Cazador. I’m still in mourning,” he giggled.

“Poor Uncle indeed. So, no one looked into your story? Into Cazador’s family history? Do they know you helped save the city?” Tav rolled her hand, beckoning more information from him. Astarion got up in a huff and moved next to her.

“Please, darling. It was little effort to have documents forged to corroborate everything. As for your other question, they know. I was in the city for a visit when I was abducted by the cult.” Astarion thrusted his chin, his nose stuck in the air.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” she nodded, “For once you remembered that details matter.” Her mocking smile wiped the conceit off his face.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Anyway, does this make me the dear friend you made along the way?” She shifted in the chair, one arm draped over the back with her weight resting on one hip.

“Precisely,” he bowed. Astarion stared at the seated woman, wondering if she knew what that pose was doing to him. The panels of her robe had peeled back, exposing the sides of her impeccable breasts. 

Grinning wolfishly, he spun the chair toward him. Tav made no effort to deter him when he tore the robe open and massaged her thighs. Her warm crevice didn’t seem quite ready for him. 

That would need to change. 

Astarion knelt down, threw her legs onto his shoulders, then buried his face between her legs. A few short licks and she was already flowing down his chin, begging for him not to stop, pleading to the gods. 

Luckily for her, he was feeling generous. Assenting to her request, he flicked the tip of her clit with his tongue, sending her squirming under his grasp. Try as she may, she wasn’t getting away from him. She ran her hands through his hair, shuddering from his touch until she arched her back in climax. Astarion mildly bit her inner thigh, losing himself in the titillating flavor of her blood commingled with the scent of her arousal. 

“Tell me, pet, do you want me to fuck you?” he growled in short breaths, freeing his cock from the confines of his trousers. Tav’s lips coiled upward. She slid off the chair to straddle him, but he wouldn’t let her have him just yet. Oh no. She would have to be polite. 

“Ah, ah, ah. I asked you a question. You need to answer. Or will I have to teach you some manners?” Of course, manners weren’t the only thing he was going to teach her. The ascendant poked and prodded her opening with his tip, encouraging her to give in to his demands.

“I want you to fuck me, my lord.” Hearing her say it like that sent a shiver through him. He pulled her onto him, moaning as every inch of him was devoured by her cleft. Astarion gripped her hips, rocking them in unison with his. It didn’t take long for her to move in sync with him. She was catching on quickly, his little lust filled pupil. 

“Good,” he quickened their pace when she tightened around him, “now come for your lord.” Astarion wanted to hear it again; the sound she made when she pulsated all around his erection. Her whole body reacted to him. He held her steady on his lap until she finally obeyed his command. Such a sweet, sweet sound she made. He decided to reward her compliance with his seed inside her hot, dripping cavity.

Amidst the heavy breathing and dizzying rush of dopamine, Tav managed to quip, “I’ll need another bath.” That, he couldn’t deny. He certainly made a mess of her, covered her in sweat, hair disheveled, his seed spilling from her. It made him protective, greedy. 

“Tav,” he stroked her face, “Tonight, I want you to lock yourself in here.” Astarion was beyond caring about being a hypocrite. She was his and he did not want to share. “Oh?” she tilted her head, “Is everything all right?”

“I won’t have anyone see you like this,” he traced his hand over her body, “No one,” he held her tight, “You’re mine. Now, swear to me. Swear you’ll retreat here before events get going.”

“You have my word, I’ll stay safe.” Tav sealed her promise with a kiss.

~~~~~

Eight o’clock came and it was time for the vampire lord and his…Tav didn’t know what to call herself, to receive their visitors. She descended the stairs in a red and silver gown, wearing the gifted choker. Her lips slightly parted when she saw Astarion awaiting her at the bottom in a matching doublet that he left unbuttoned his naval. That’s why he wanted her to wear red.

One by one people poured into the foyer. This was the first time in decades that Tav had played host to a soiree. To say she was nervous was an understatement. She spent the better part of the afternoon refreshing her memory on protocols while getting ready. 

“Soldier!�� Karlach was grinning from ear to ear. Neither of them were sure if she would actually come. Either way, they wouldn’t have been surprised. Tav looked to Astarion, who genuinely seemed pleased that she showed up.

“Ah, my fiery friend. Or should I say ‘not so fiery’ friend,” he laughed, “I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

"Listen, Fangs, I spent ten years unable to touch people and I intend to make up for that,” she jabbed his shoulder, “I’ll have most these fuckers worn out before midnight!” She rubbed her hands together, eagerly. 

As they went back and forth, Tav observed the stream of people flowing in, particularly the female attendees. She had no doubt that the majority of them had been conquested by Astarion; that much didn’t surprise her. What did make her heart sink was the fact that the women bore similar features to her. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. Was she one of Astarion’s many? The thought crushed her.

“Is that so? Don’t be too-” Astarion trailed off. He cocked his head, looking in the direction of the doorway. Tav snapped out of her thoughts, put her feelings under lock and key, then glanced over to see Lord and Lady Foxworth with Mariana Nightshade.

She leaned over and whispered, “Why did you invite them ?”

“It’s best to keep one’s enemies close, darling. I plan on uncovering the most delicious dirt on him however I can. What I don’t understand is why his wife is here. She’s never attended in the past.” The woman looked uneasy. It was clear she would rather be anywhere than this den of debauchery. Even Astarion seemed uncomfortable.

“Let me handle her,” she patted his arm. 

He gave an approving bow, “Thank you.”

 Guests were ushered into the ballroom, Karlach practically skipped inside, and just before she followed her husband inside, Analee was pulled away by Tav. The poorly masked awkwardness dissolved into relief when she saw her new acquaintance had come to her rescue.

“Miss Tav!” She gripped the bard's hands tightly, “Oh, I hope I’m not keeping you.” While Analee was outwardly being polite, her face vociferated, “Help me!” Tav squeezed her hands gently. Inside the ballroom incense had been lit. Smoke and scent billowed over the disrobing crowd, drifting into the hallway.

“Worry not. I’m not much for, well, this,” Tav waved her hand at the ballroom, “and if I’m judging correctly, neither are you.” The bluntness of her statement made Analee’s mouth quiver. She shook her head, dabbing tears from her eyes.

“Carlo wanted me to come and watch. To watch him-” The wafting smoke caused her to start coughing uncontrollably. Tav put an arm around her, quickly guiding her to the courtyard. 

The night was dry and pleasant. Much easier on the lungs. Tav sat the lady on a stone bench to catch her breath, while she grabbed nearby refreshments.

“This wretched cough!” Analee’s disposition began returning to its sunny nature, “A few tendays ago I was fine and now my lungs just don’t want to fill with air.”

“You said Lord Foxworth wanted you to sit there and watch him romp from person to person? Why would he be so cruel?” Tav may have felt a kindred spirit in Analee, and a sincere desire to help this woman, but she couldn’t deny an opportunity to get that “delicious dirt” Astarion wanted.

“Well, I may have made him angry,” she shrugged, “I’m sure you know that he and Lord Astarion are in a bidding war and he’s upset that I don’t support his ideas for the Lower City,” Analee became quite serious, “It’s just wrong! Building housing units in order to drain the pockets of the less fortunate? It’s immoral and unsustainable! He’s lost his sense of noblesse oblige.”

Something about this was key, Tav was sure of it. It may have been that her disapproval stirred basic ire in her husband, causing him to lash out in a power play, as many did, but her intuition told her there was more to this.

Anyway, dear, I’m fine now,” Analee grimaced, “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit and listen to me ramble about my woes.”

“Nonsense,” Tav puffed up, uncorking a bottle of wine, “Lord Astarion wishes for all attendees to be jubilant and if you ‘rambling about your woes’ increases your mood, then we shall do just that. You aren’t getting rid of me whether you like it or not.” 

“He’s lucky to have you.” The lady smiled thoughtfully, “I haven’t known Lord Astarion for long, him being new to the Gate and all, and I know you even less, but he is different around you than he is with those other women.” Tav closed her eyes, remembering the similarities between her and the other ladies.

“He certainly has a type, doesn’t he? It may not be so different,” she sighed. When she opened her eyes, Analee was glaring incredulously at her. Suddenly, she flicked Tav between the eyes. 

~~~~~

Revelries were well underway in the ballroom. Skirts and jackets and pants and tops were all strewn about the hardwood floor. Astarion sat on his throne, stroking the hair of a man whose mouth was firmly around his cock. Everyone partaking of the experience seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Karlach was the one who amused him the most. He observed with glee at her handling of a fellow tiefling under her, being ridden into oblivion, and a halfling on her lap. It was heartwarming, in a way. After being denied for so long, she was able to fully unleash herself. Good for her, he thought.

Three of his spawn indulged in his kindness. Tibbi was on her hands and knees, servicing a man in front and in back. The mage, Zeuril, had Mariana pinned down on the satin cushions. As he was rutting her, he briefly looked up at his master, taking Astarion by surprise. The spawn were never permitted to look upon him directly, not unless they discovered something. He slightly raised his hand in acknowledgement. 

Astarion clutched the man’s hair as he came down his throat. He wasn’t very good at what he was doing, but it gave the vampire time to assess the situation. So far, everything was in order. All gathered before him were filled with reckless abandon, satiating their most base desires as intended.

Two ladies bounced over to him, each tugging at an arm. They began fighting over who was there first, over who would get to fuck him and who would have to wait. 

“Ladies, ladies, no need to fight. There’s enough of me to go around.” He sat them on his lap, a hand in each, relishing in the power he held over them. One finished, then the other. Astarion let them slump into a heap at his feet. 

“Only two, Astarion?” Karlach taunted, pointing at her own pile, “You’ll need three more to catch up to me!”

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score. Very well, if it’s a challenge you want, I accept.” He got up and grabbed the nearest willing participant. Leave it to Karlach to add some extra spice into an already hot scene. Astarion bent the man over and plunged into his backside, torrid and raw. A pair of hands groped him from behind.

“I’m next!” Nurah nibbled on his ear as she made her declaration. Astarion finished his current partner and tossed him aside. He laughed in the young woman’s face, pushing her to the floor. Her mouth flopped around in disbelief.

“I no longer have use for cheap imitations. Find someone else.” He could hear Karlach laughing as he stepped over the humiliated girl. Astarion took two more, a man and a woman, and threw them down.

“Only two?” Karlach shouted. This time she had two halflings, one in each arm, with Tibbi. Astarion pointed at his spawn.

“No,” he ordered. Astarion, true to his nature, wasn’t above using trickery to win.

“Cheater!” She stuck her tongue out. Fortunately for her, with her domineering physique, she had become quite sought after. Once Tibbi left, she soon had a replacement. The rest of the evening proceeded in friendly competition, until incense ran out, signaling the end of the evening. True to her word, Karlach had half the guests worn out and just before midnight. 

Bodies rose from the now sticky floor, going through the equally wet clothing to figure out which garment belonged to whom. They crawled out of the ballroom, leaving Astarion alone with Karlach. He reclined against the wall, satisfied with the night’s outcome. 

“Well, Fangs, I think it was a draw.” 

“A draw. Yes, we’ll call it that.” He would never admit defeat.

She tugged at his shirt, “I noticed you kept this on.”

“I don't let just anyone see the infernal contract carved on my back.” He picked up her clothes, “Too many questions and all that.” She took her clothes with a smile. Karlach wasn’t without sympathy. Those scars were a painful reminder of a time when he felt he was at his lowest.

“Guess that makes me one of the privileged few,” she pounded her chest, “Ugh, I’m beat. The walk home won’t be fun.” There was an implication in her comment, one which Astarion picked up on.

“You can stay here tonight, Karlach.” 

“Yes!” She jumped for joy. Astarion shook his head, shrugging. Exiting the ballroom, he saw a sight he wasn’t expecting, or wanting, to see. Tav was busy seeing the Foxworths off when she should have been safely locked away. She and Lady Foxworth were cackling like hens as her infuriated husband dragged her away. He came up next to her, waving the final stragglers off.

“You swore to me you would lock yourself in your room. Why are you out here?” Astarion maintained a demeanor that was pleasant to the crowd, but also let her know he was displeased. Tav clasped her hands behind her back and gave him a mollifying smile.

“We were locked in the courtyard. Just the two of us and some wine.”

“As long as you were safe.” This was permissible. She was secure, she was within his reach, and that’s all that mattered. Astarion cupped her face in his hands, admiring her elegance. Tav’s fingers lovingly wove with his as he drew her in for a long, tender kiss. 

He yawned loudly, “Tonight was a smashing success, if I do say so myself. We will be having an overnight guest, by the way. Poor Karlach is far too exhausted to make the trip home.”

“Says the one who can barely keep his eyes open. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Darling, I couldn’t agree more.”

Feel free to reblog, like, or comment. I love interacting with everyone. :)

[wisteriaiswriting]

ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘

Prompt: 2

Words: 915

Ever since Yoru gained his abilities he’s learned how quick he had to be. As his abilities didn’t last forever, although they could be counted as one of the slower ones. But there's one time he found a way around that problem, and he’s not even sure how he did it.

In your study was a decently sized bright blue… thing? You aren’t even sure what it was, it seemed like a void as anything you dropped in never returned. All you knew was that it belonged to your boyfriend, Kiritani Ryo.

Quickly into your relationship he made it clear his work came before you, while it sounded terrible you knew enough about it that it would be for the best. He hasn’t told you a lot of his line of work but that fact whenever he returns there is always some sort of injury showing up. So you could only assume it’s something dangerous.

Even with his work once a month he managed to make some time for you. On a random weekend he’ll just show up with no warning, though the only time you get one is if something special is happening. Today wasn’t special to him but to you? It was. The weekend he would visit.

The first thing he noticed was the smell that had quickly filled the room, he smelled honey and the faint scent of sugar. They were coming from the kitchen. He followed the smell, rounding the corner to see you, facing away from him and towards something else.

The counter was full of different contents, although he could easily guess what you were up to. The bag of flour was tipped over, laying a thin layer of its fall. Egg shells were scattered around it, with the honey bottle pushed to the back. The measuring spoons were unwashed, covered in the previous ingredients.

“What’s this then?”

Instead of jumping you slowly turned, as the relationship progressed you managed to get used to this. Yoru just showing up anywhere, anytime.

“A cake.”

Stepping aside to show off the cake, already cut into pieces and put into a container. It was one you’ve made before, one he’s enjoyed every time. Letting him walk closer to see the cake but instead he stepped behind you, slowly leaning his weight onto your back.

His hands made their way over your hips, sneaking underneath your pants to sit on your stomach. His chin sitting on your shoulder, face leaning against your own, feeling everything slowly relax. He watched as you finished decorating your other baked goods, his favourites.

Matcha cookies, in many different shapes and sizes. Half topped with matcha icing, those also included a range of toppings sprinkled on. You just finished, not seeing what he had done.

Snatching one of the closest cookies to have a bite. He would’ve gotten away if the crumbs didn’t fall onto you, he didn’t even realize. They fell from your shoulder to the inside of your shirt, eventually falling onto the floor.

“Ryo!”

You knew if he stayed soon enough there would be none left for later. Quickly packing a container while keeping him from having any more. Shoving the container into his hands before letting him go.

He had returned from your place, showing up in an empty hallway. Of which passed by the agent’s kitchen and their living area. Which currently held multiple of said agents, including Phoenix, who caught sight of the man.

“Yoru!”

He didn’t stop his stride, causing Phoenix to follow.

“Oi, Riftwalker slow down man!”

Yoru didn’t listen, eventually Phoenix caught up. Now catching sight of the container tucked underneath his arm, meaning he could see the contents.

“You brought a treat back?”

Before he could be stopped Phoenix had already snatched the container from Yoru, holding it above his head as if using the light to see. Yoru knew what he was doing, keeping it out of his reach. With the height difference there were few ways to get it back.

He chose one which was very in line for Yoru, but something Phoenix somehow didn’t think of. Giving him a single punch to the gut, letting him double over in pain. Snatching the container back before leaving.

“Not for you though.”

That happened almost a month ago, leaving Yoru to forget about the situation quickly. Except Phoenix didn’t, who spilled about it to Gekko. Who, in turn told Reyna, letting it climb up the ranks before reaching Brimstone.

Surprisingly who didn’t get mad, because he understands, weirdly enough. The no fraternization rule was set between agents, he never specifies about civilians. Plus he was young, why not let him have this one thing. But not with them being a complete stranger, he has to be safe right?

While he was on a mission he managed to bring you to the protocol, pulling you into his office. The meeting unknowingly continued until the end of his mission, leading to him entering, planning to review the mission.

Only to see you at the protocol. While that wasn’t the worst that’s happened, what felt like the worst was the fact you were sharing your baking. A small container that held a few slices of cake from that morning.

He quickly pulled you from your chair and hurried to push you out of the office.

“Enjoy the cake old man, cause you’ll never get anymore.”

The hallway was silent after he shut the door.

“Ryo.”

“What?”

“I’m baking him more”

[megmischief]

Elliott x FemReader fluff - Finding out you're pregnant

T RATED

TW: Throwing up.

It had been a long night. You had been tossing and turning since 1am. You couldn't sleep. Nausea was getting the better of you, and you weren't sure why.

"Are you alright, my love?" Elliott rolled over, pulling the bed sheets over you once more. He appeared concerned.

You looked up at him and nuzzled in closer. His scent brought you comfort despite your distress. "Yeah...I'm good. I just haven't been able to sleep all night and I'm just...not feeling right. I've also been peeing all night and I can't get warm..."

Elliott moved down to peck the top of your head. He pulled you into a gentle embrace. "I'm sorry to hear that, dear. Is there anything I can do to help?" Elliott places his forehead on yours to check your temperature. You can't help but feel yourself get hotter as a faint blush appears across your cheeks.

"Um... a bath would be really nice, please. It might help me feel comfortable enough to sleep again." You sat up, putting on your slippers and stretching with your arms up in the air. As you do that, Elliott reaches over to tickle your sides. Elliott knew what he was doing. He knew your sides were ticklish and was trying to bring a smile back to your face.

As you begin to laugh, you feel another wave of nausea approach. You abruptly rip the remaining bed sheets off and run to the toilet.

"Oh my god! Is everything okay?!" Elliott panics, being the drama queen he is.

"Yeah...I'm fine..." You groan as you begin to throw up into the toilet.

Elliott grabs your hair to hold it for you while he rubs your back. "Hey... you have no fever, and you've been peeing a lot. You're complaining of nausea, too..."

You peer up from the toilet bowl; your eyes glassy from throwing up. "Hmm...yeah?"

"My dear, how long has it been since your last period...?" Elliott, as dramatic as he was, he was always observant. That was one of the many things you loved about him. It was this that proved to you he cared about you. He always picked up on things no matter how small.

You shrugged. "I dunno...I think I'm about three weeks late." You replied with a blank, clueless look upon your face.

Elliott laughed at your cluelessness. He always thought that was adorable. "Well, well, well." He continued to rub your back as you began dry heaving once more. "I'm just going to pop to Dr. Harvey's to grab some bits for your nausea. I'll grab some meds to help you sleep, too. Are there any special requests for snacks and drinks?" Elliott stood up and walked to the bathroom door with a small smirk on his face.

You still appeared clueless as to his intentions. Therefore, shook your head. "No, thank you...and you don't need to do that, Smelliott..." 'Smelliott' was a nickname you had been calling him since your second date. He had just arrived back to his beach hut after helping Willy sort out his stock of fish for the shop. Hence, the nickname.

He giggled and walked back over to give you a peck on the cheek. "I inist. I will be back in half an hour or so. I'll run you a bath in the meantime." Elliott began to run you a nice warm bath using your favourite bath bomb for good measure. After he had finished, he helped you in and grabbed you a glass of water. "Right, I'll be back soon."

You grumbled in protest and sunk your face into the bubbles. "Mmm'kay...I love you."

"I love you too." A brief, gentle smile appeared to across his lips as he walked out.

___________________________________________

"I'm back, my dear!" Elliott called as he walked back into your tiny farm cottage.

You were curled up on the sofa trying to get warm. The bath had helped to soothe your nausea. However, you were still tired and uncomfortable. "Hey..." You replied, softly.

Elliott walked over and sat on the floor beside you. He began stroking your hair out of your face. He loved to see you relax as he did this. "So...I've spoken with Dr. Harvey about your symptoms..." Elliott paused, taking time to think about how to form his next sentence. "Harvey sent me back with these." He looks up at you with a somewhat scared and excited expression.

Your eyes widen as you realise what he's holding. "You can't be serious." You were dumbfounded.

"Darling, you are late for your period. You have morning sickness. All signs pointed to this." Elliott places the pregnancy tests in front of you. "Harvey said to do these and let him know the results. Once we know whether or not it's positive, we can go from there." Placing a kiss on your cheek, he helps you to open up the box. He reads through exactly what to do and reads it back to you.

"Hmm...okay...I think I got this..." You were terrified. You never expected yourself to be in this situation. You loved Elliott, but you were never sure about having kids. A sense of panic washes over you as you make your way over to the bathroom. You follow the exact instructions and then place the tests in the sink.

As you emerge from the bathroom, Elliott looks up at you. "You done, my dear?"

"Mhmm..." You knod.

Elliott makes his way over to you, and you both make your way back into the bathroom to wait. Elliott appears uneasy as he sits on the edge of the bath tapping his feet. "This is the longest two minutes of my life." He nervously giggles.

You were pacing around the bathroom. Thoughts were rushing through your head. How would you look after the farm if you were pregnant?

Elliott hops up. "That should be about time. Shall we look?"

You both walk back over to the sink and peer over at the tests. Two positives.

Elliott just stands there stunned. Words usually came easily to him. However, he could no longer find them. You look up at him with a mix of panic and happiness, and Elliott looks back.

"My dear, you have just made me the happiest man alive for the second time!" As he says this, a look of sheer glee spreads across his face as he grabs you into a tight embrace. "Thank you...thank you so much..." He nuzzles into your neck as he begins to cry tears of joy.

"Thank you too...Smelliott..."

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

i dunno if it'll be a big task for you, but will we ever get a daddy daimyo nsfw alphabet?

I cribbed this alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye

I’ve never actually written one of these before but I do love an easy-breezy prompt so let’s gooooo!

SMUT UNDER THE CUT

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You’re a brat. He’s a brat tamer. In fact he’s THE brat tamer. Boba Fett knows that brat taming is a fine art and that good aftercare is essential. The way he sees it, best practice is to punish behavior he wants to extinguish and reward behavior he wants you to repeat. And his rewards are always doled out in equal or greater measure to his punishments. He knows that you need to be held closely, praised in a low, soothing voice, and fed especially rich and delicious foods. If called for, there will be a bath, a message with warm scented oils, or medicated salve.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his broad chest and muscular forearms because you seem especially fond of resting your head on his chest and in his arms after sex.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - Boba Fett is as ass and thighs man. The thicker, the better. He likes a big round booty and thick jiggly thighs. He likes dimpled, supple flesh on a generally meaty girl.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves coming inside of you. He’s quite possessive and knowing that you’re walking around with his cum dripping from between your thighs gives him a sense of ownership.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you wanted to pursue a romantic or sexual dynamic with Fennec, he would not hesitate to say yes. His relationship with Fennec is platonic, but rooted in a deep sense of trust and understanding. He knows that Fennec would guard your body, mind, and heart. She is the only person with whom he would ever consider sharing you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh he knows. He knows. Boba Fett has been around the Galaxy a time or two and felt the warmth of many beds. He’s grateful that he has so much experience, all the better to pleasure you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s a toss up between mating press and having you bent over. On the one hand, he loves being so close to you and watching your face as he pounds you senseless. On the other, he does love himself some backshots.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

There are moments between the two of you that elicit a chuckle from him - sex is sometimes unintentionally funny. He believes that above all, it’s meant to be enjoyed. He does take your pleasure very seriously, but the act itself is a time to be loose and relaxed and vulnerable with each other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The sarlacc did what sarlaccs are gonna do - digest their prey. Not much of his body hair remains, and what little does is rather fine and downy from integumentary damage. He is unselfconscious about the state of his body hair and enjoys you in whatever state you feel most confident.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

During sex, Boba Fett is at his most vulnerable physically and emotionally. He feels completely at your mercy, especially when he’s inside of you and allowing himself to enjoy the experience of you and your body.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Now that he has you, he feels no need. Your body feels so much more satisfying than his own hand, and you’re so willing when it comes to sex. Much of the time you’re the one who initiates intimate encounters, and in that regard he likes letting you take the lead.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He genuinely enjoys brat taming because he knows that your wily behavior is just a defense mechanism and that a good hard spanking, some fucking, and some snuggles have a therapeutic affect. He also gets a great deal of satisfaction from restraining you, especially when you’re acting out or being sassy. Restraint is a form of reassurance and he knows that you need reassurance from time to time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the safety of his private chambers, but foreplay can take place anywhere - the throne room, the kitchen, the hangar, his ship…

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any time you seek him out for comfort or affection. Again, he LOVES taming a brat - but when you come to him soft and gooey and needy, he melts.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t take you past your limits in terms of pain tolerance. Boba Fett, of all people, knows that pain has a cathartic power, but too much pain is physically and emotionally injurious.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both and he’s quite good at giving. He does strongly prefer to finish inside of you, so oral for him is just a precursor for penetrative sex.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to let you set the pace unless you’ve earned a punishment. In that case, you’ll have only snapping hips and hard, deep thrusts to look forward to.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’ll take a quickie, but he’s not especially partial to quickies. He likes to make sure you’re adequately prepared to take him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s taken enough risks in his time. With you, everything is calculated. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s a fit man who is canonically 41 years old in TBOBF. He can go 2-3 rounds easily but if it’s been a long day, he prefers to keep it to one round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns a few tools specific to disciplining you - a crop, restraints, ropes - but otherwise he has all the tools he needs on him at all times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Boba is not unfair, but he does dole out punishment (including orgasm denial) as necessary to teach you to mind your manners.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He talks a lot, often without realizing it, in Basic and Mando’a. It’s more of a stream of consciousness when he’s inside of you - lots of praise, typically. His voice is low and throaty during sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has a long list of pet names for you - Princess, Little One, Brat, Porglette, Mesh’la, An’edee n’edeemi (when you’re being a brat)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s THICC but not especially long. Uncut with prominent veins. A respectable 6” when hard, but the thickness of him makes him a challenge.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Bob Fett wants honestly and frankness. He doesn’t mind if you’re shy, but you should always be up front with him. It makes both of your lives easier.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He appreciates a solid 8 hours of sleep, preferably with you in his arms. He has too much to do for poor sleep habits. He wants to stay sharp and that means getting plenty of rest, with sex being the ideal end of a long day.

[tantive404]

Willeia fic idea. Double agent Leia and Tarkin as her handler and lover

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

That sounds…. so cool? 😍 And has a lot of potential! The intrigue, the drama… and of course the ultimate question of how Leia ended up in this position to begin with. Did Tarkin corrupt and manipulate her? And what motivated her to become an imperial agent? I’ll definitely have to write this AU; thank you anon!

Have a snippet as a sample of what is to come:

The Grand Moff drummed his fingers on the table before him, waiting for her response. His most faithful of agents… so promising and skillful in her manners… placed firmly in the ranks of the enemy where she would least be expected.

By all accounts, Princess Leia of Alderaan was the model citizen of the Empire. Youthful, bright eyed and eager to please. Quite a charming young lady, if he did say so himself. He had snatched her away from those treasonous influences of her early years, reshaped her into his image.

He was extraordinarily pleased with the results.

A tone rang at the door, and despite the discipline with which Tarkin typically conducted himself, his heart rate increased at the sound. He knew it could only mean one thing— she had arrived.

He pressed the button to open the door, letting her in. Dressed in a slinky, seductive black dress, she was quite the picture— and the Governor knew she must have worn it for his eyes and his alone.

Despite her girlish appearance, she still made a rather sweet attempt at behaving like a soldier, folding her arms behind her back and twisting her features into a stern scowl.

“Sir,” she reported. “I’ve managed to map the rebels’ latest battle plans. They’re preparing to relocate their base, out of concern that the Empire’s forces are tracking them. The Hoth system… an ice world in some far-off corner of the Outer Rim.”

“Excellent work, agent,” the Grand Moff smiled appraisingly from his seat. “And is there any suspicion directed toward you?”

“None, sir,” she answered— a sense of pride evident in her tone.

Satisfied, Tarkin’s manners relaxed— moving from the stern dignity of a military man to the tender lover Leia knew so well. The Wilhuff whose manners she had come to learn so intimately, the man behind the rank, reserved for her and her alone, in the stolen moments they managed to snatch between missions.

“Come here, Leia,” he whispered, patting his lap. Obedient, she moved toward him, perching herself lightly on his chair and turning to face him. She leaned in and gave him a sharp kiss on the cheek. Savoring his taste… the reassuring scent of linen and lavender which she had been left without for so many long months.

“Well, old man…” she spoke up in that playful, cheeky voice of hers. “Did you miss me while I was away?”

He stroked her hair fondly, his slender fingers entangling themselves in her braids.

“Of course, of course,” he purred. “You know how I worry when my good girl is missing, stranded among those rebel vermin…”

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

“Stars, Wilhuff, I’m not a child; I can handle myself just fine. You shouldn’t underestimate me…”

“Certainly, my pet. Far be it from me to demean the skills of my favorite agent…”

He pressed a kiss to her neck, causing shivers to break out all across Leia’s flesh. Secure in his grasp, she gazed out toward the stars, pondering what strand of fate had led her down this path. What strange incidences had brought them together.

She knew had been a time when they hated each other, when she was always at his throat… that the Leia from back then, so naive and full of hope, would have said she’d die before submitting to him. But that Leia felt like a stranger to her. So far away… as if it were a different galaxy entirely.

She wanted only him. Only him and a measure of peace and order for her people— the security he’d promised her when she first joined forces with him. She would remain safe in his strong arms.

She looked up at him, warm adoration in her eyes.

“Let us adjourn to my chambers,” Wilhuff said. “I know there is a great deal I’ve missed out on in your time away… I want to learn all about it…”