#naturally i had to bring it to fruition

[ninawolv3rina]

This might be the best Gethin I've ever drawn, he's so Shaped

OC: Gethin, god of Death (he/him)

[mcondance]

human nature. richie jerimovich.

richie’s got a thing for making you squirt. orgasm after orgasm, he pushes his cock into you, and he couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess you’ve made.

it’s perfect to him, the way you wet his cock, the way your eyes roll back and you tense up right before you let go for him, the way you curl up into him as you gush out around him.

it’s in his nature, you guess, to want more and more, to coast your electric body up and down and press himself flush against you until you spill out onto him, pull him tight and shake in his arms. instinctual, maybe, to crave the sweetest release, to wish for the unleashing of a fountain flowing for his hard work, his angles and pushes and sweet, sweet words.

he’s tied to your pleasure, to this facet of it, the trust and vulnerability it takes to indulge in something as messy as this; he’s tied to the filthiness of it all. so far from divine and yet right there.

every time, he takes his time, knows his end goal takes patience and pleasure, kisses against the right spot, the softness to let you experience the ebbs and flows of it until you feel the push, that pressure inside you so overwhelming you could panic, you could push him off you and stop what you know is coming. but you don’t, because he’s right there.

“i feel it.” he nods, voice earnest and soft. “i feel it. le’me have it, baby. swear i got you.”

and he does. when you let it hit you, when richie’s work comes to fruition, it’s good. the pressure splits, you squeeze around him and gush, eyes squeezing shut as you grip at his back, your other splayed over his arm. he loves you through it all, gazing upon you while he revels in what he’s done.

you’re the image of perfect curled up under him whimpering his name, shaking and shivering with the goodness of it all. wetness coats him and you, and it’s all he wants, his hand on the side of your face to caress and soothe, to keep you here with him.

and he starts again, and he’ll keep going until he’s had his fill. he can’t help it.

[singsangseung]

Public

Hi besties! I am bringing you the first installment of my Valentine’s Day collab with @numberonejeonginstan! This idea has been festering in my head and i am a little too excited to bring it to fruition! 

Summary: Hard launching your relationship with Chan was always in the plan……but not this way

Warnings: taking of a sexual picture that gets uploaded on chan’s instagram, rough sex, multiple rounds, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex( doo not!), creampie, reader is a tease, Afab!reader, hair pulling, slightly traumatizing the band mates( you’ll see and I am sorry), mention of JYP( NOT SEXUAL AND AGAIN IM SORRY), Chan being on the phone with jyp while fucking you senseless, degradation, mention of spitting, dacryphilia 

!!MDNI!!, BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKES!!

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2 years, that is how long you and Chan have been together. Shockingly, you had managed to keep your relationship well hidden and away from the public eye. 

Two happy years of blissful memories and tear jerking earth shattering orgasms. Naturally, you loved being able to gatekeep a side of him that only you knew. The side of him where he pulled your hair and spat in your mouth calling you his “dirty little secret,” his “pretty little cumslut.” 

But, he also had a sweet side, when in the bedroom.  Some days, he would hold your hands, your ankles settled on his slender waist ( right above his plump juicy voluptuous ass) as he so gingerly, sensually, precisely rolled his hips into yours. Those nights you were his angel, his pretty girl. 

As much as you loved keeping your relationship a secret, you both knew that eventually you would post or release a statement about your long term relationship or one of you, probably Chan, would slip up and word would spread like wild fire.

That’s when you came up with the idea of a post, a simple captured image of the two of you that would announce your relationship to the public world. Dating an idol was hard, but you and Chan had lasted two years already, even through all the dating rumors— Chan and Jimin— and tours, promotions, schedules, late nights in the studios.

So, you ,being the ever gracious partner you are, mentioned it to Chan. “Baby, why don’t we just post something to announce us?” You perched, curled against his chest one night in bed. “A post? Where, my love?” He yawned out, placing a soft kiss to your hair.

“Your instagram. The caption doesn’t;t have to be anything magnificent, and neither does the picture. Just something to say ‘ hey i have a partner.” You mumbled, your manicured fingernails tracing shaped along his defined chest. 

“Baby, are you sure?” He felt uncertain. It was so public, and once it was on the internet, it could never be removed. It was permanent. Gazing up at him , you nodded, “yeah. It doesn’t have to be some super spectacular picture, channie. Just us, it doesn’t even have to fully show our faces,” you consoled, sensing that he wasn’t too keen on the idea. 

But ……he was a little too keen…..and had sinister ideas in his head

That’s what got you to where you are now. Chan had completely stripped you and himself of all layers of clothing except underwear. Your sleek black push up bra and an accompanying thong–that was ruined by how wet you were– and his black Calvin klein boxers–that were holding his painfully hard dick. 

“S-so wet chan, please,baby.” You mewled out, feeling yet another surge of wetness ooze from your cunt. “Oh? You're so wet and I haven't even done anything yet,doll?” He teased, with a seductive lilt in his voice and tilt of his head. 

Laying on the bed, you drew your eyes closed and hissed as you felt the slight chap and plushness of his lips sucking at the juncture of your jaw and neck. “A-ah Chan. Fuck, so good,” you whined, your hands finding purchase at the hairs resting at the base of hips neck, pulling and tugging.

Little did you know, Chan had secretly grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of him sucking your neck. The picture only showing the lower half of your face. 

That was what he was going to post

Chuckling, Chan bit his teeth into the skin, hard enough to draw a hickey to the surface of what was your paled skin. “Yeah? Feels so good, honey? Bet your poor cunt is so drippy and wet for me, huh?” All you could do was nod your head quickly, as he slithered his hand down the plane of your torso and into your thong. 

“Poor doll, so fucking wet. You want my fingers?” Chan chuckled, leaning his head in to suck another hickey onto your skin. “Yes, yes please. Hhhnnnngggggg-fuck- please.” The words fumbled out of your mouth. Rubbing his calloused fingers along the slit of your cunt, he pressed them against your clit causing your body to jerk and your head to roll back.

“Oh my fuuck! Chan chan please,” you had all but managed to whine out before he rubbed brazen harsh circles and finger 8s on your clit. “Please what, doll? I'm giving you my fingers.” He laughed,haughtily. He knew what he was doing and he also knew he could make you cum from just rubbing your clit. 

As good as his fingers on your clit felt, and trust me it was good, you needed more. Closing your eyes, your hips bucked up and you cried. “Please more more! Hhhnnnngggggg! Want them in me, please chan!” You cried, hot tears of pleasure rolling down the plump apples of your cheeks. 

Chan loved seeing you cry when he was making you feel so good. It was one of his favorite sights, something he could write a song about. Hell, he already did but it was going to be unreleased.

With a dark chuckle, his fingers let up on your clit and he used his other hand to grab onto the fabric of your thong and pull it down your thighs. “Fuck, doll. So fucking wet. Poor cunt is all drippy for me.” He groaned out, once he saw the clear sticky string of your nectar connecting itself to your thong.

How could you not be wet? You bit your lit harshly and spread your legs further, feeling the pads of his fingers pressing at the entrance of your cunt. “Ah-ah! Fuck! So wet for you, channie!” You cried out, feeling his lips connect themselves with yours as he pushed 2 of his fingers into the wet walls of your cunt. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He breathed against your lips, slowly building a rhythm as he pumped his bulbous fingers into your cunt. “Pretty cunt sucked my fingers right in, doll.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shuddering, you let out a ragged breath and moan, to which he swallowed both. 

“Yes, yes. Hhhhnnnngggg feels so good, channie. Love your fingers!” You choked out, your breathing ragged as your chest rise and fell quickly. “Yeah?like my fingers, doll? Do they fill you up?” He snickered, the pace of his finger's quickening.

Soon enough, he was alternating between harsh pumps, slowed drags and just pressing on your g-spot with small vibrations. It was delicious, delirious and addictive. 

Going back to his fast harsh pumps, the palm of his hand was smacking against your clit with every push in. You were close, the coil of your orgasm tightening with every passing second. “Fuck fuck fuck! Channie! Close, close, ‘m gonna cum!” You sobbed, chest heaving and your legs fidgeting. 

Spitting into your mouth, chan fastened his pace and held your hips down. “Yeah? Wanna be a good little cumslut and soak my fucking fingers? Do it, do it so I can fuck you full of my big cock, doll.”

At that, the coil snapped and your vision went white. “Yeeeeeeesss! Hhhnngggg-fuck fuck fuck! Cumming!” You choked in broken sobs, your orgasm ripping through your body as you soaked his fingers. 

“Good girl, that's my good girl. Soaking my fingers like a dirty slut.” He cooed, venomously. Pulling his fingers out of your cunt, he pushed his boxers down as he hard and dripping cock sprang free. 

“All fours, doll.” He told you, which you somehow managed to hear. “Fuck, okay.” You whimpered, raising yourself into your limbs even though your arms collapsed, leaving only your ass in the air.

“Look at you. Offering that sweet cunt to me,” he chuckled, swiping his red and leaking cock head through your slit. “Please, channie. In me- need -” was all you managed to get out before he was pushing his cock in to the hilt. 

On the typical day, he would inch his cock into you. Sometimes even going as far as to count out each and every inch of his deliciously long, girthy, veiny cock. Hissing out, through bated breaths. “One inch in, doll. Stretching out so pretty around my big fucking cock.” The groans and grunts falling into the air, through his plump lips, into the room whose air smelt of pure unadulterated debauchery and sex. He’d inch another in, the grip your velvet walls on his girth almost suffocating.” Two in, doll. Fuck me.” Another inch, practically half way there. It felt never ending. But, when all 7 and half inches of his cock were sheathed in the warm, hot, suffocating,soft walls of your pussy it felt as if you didn’t know where you started and Chan ended.

At the moment, the base of his pelvis and his neatly trimmed pubic hairs were pressed so hotly smug against the crack of your ass. Slowly, he drew his hips back, eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull as a wet squelch sound echoed along the walls. As slowly as he withdrew his hips, he plunged his cock back into you. “Hnnnng! Oh my fuck! Channie!” You hiccuped, the breathing knocked out of your chest, at the force and precision of his thrust. 

“Fuuuuuuck, me. Pussy is so fucking wet, doll. What, does it get you hot and bothered all creamy in your pathetic little thong to know the world knows you belong to me?” He seethed, his breathing ragged. Picking up his pace, his hips snapped against yours, thus leaving a wet ring of  your arousal at the base of his cock. The most you were capable of doing was gripping the bed sheets around you and crying out in sheer, earth shattering pleasure. “Hnnnnngggg! A-ah-ah! Oh my god!” 

Yes. Yes it did, get you all hot, bothered and creamy to know the world was aware of your relationship—well not yet, at least.

“God can’t help you, doll. Now answer my question.”he barked, only continuing the brutal pummeling of his cock into the warm cavern that was your cunt. Smack. One sharp slap delivered to your ass cheeks, for each passing second you didn’t answer his question. “Answer the fucking question doll!”

Through your cries and hiccups, you nodded your head, feeling yourself get floaty. “Yes! Yes-fuck! Yes, I like knowing the world knows you’re mine and-“ another sharp thrust, his red mushroom cockhead bullying your g-spot. “Yes, it -fuuuuuck- it makes me hot and bothered and so fucking wet!”

While you lay there taking whatever Chan gave you, Chan reached to his bedside table to grab his phone. Opening the instagram app, he clicked the ‘make a new post’ button and threw the phone by your head. “I bet you fucking do, doll.” Snap, his pelvis collided against the swell of your ass, your ass cheeks rippling from the force. “Go ahead, post that fucking picture we took, doll. Let everyone know, I’m taken.” He sneered, a venomous laugh tumbling from his lips as his pace went from hard and brutal to deep and precise rolls. 

Incredulously, you peeked your eyes open, throwing a semi-horrified but mostly shocked face at him. “What!? Post the- hhhngg fuck I’m close- picture?! Are you fucking crazy, Chan!?” You argued, your eyes rolling back, as he punctuated his rolls to hit your g-spot with every punch in. Bending over your back, he sucked a hickey on the sweet spot behind your ear.  Chuckling, he panted, “yeah, crazy for you. Crazy in love with you crazy for this sweet fucking cunt.” He kissed the back of your neck, snapping his hips against yours.

Well. It’s his idea. 

Biting your lip, you moaned and took his phone into your hands, selecting the photo of you two. His plump luscious lips sucking the juncture of your neck and jaw. It was erotic, to say the leases, and definitely confirmed that Chan was in fact in a relationship. Swiping through the motions, you arched your ass into chan’s hips. “Fuck me, Chan. What should the caption be?”

02.14 

Valentine’s Day . This would be your third Valentine’s Day together. Each previous one being celebrated with lavish gifts, romantic candlelit dinners, making love

Which is a stark contrast to your current day. The feeling of chan’s hips ramming against yours, his mushroom cockhead leaking precum as he precisely hit your g-spot, the stretch of his cock in the tightness of your walls( no matter how many times you’d made love and fucked), the sounds of his groans and grunts. 

It was the polar opposite of your past shared valentines days. Chan could tell you were getting close. Man, he always knew. The way your warm wet walls would suffocate his cock in its vice like grip, leaking even more arousal to build at the thigh base of his cock wetting his pubic hair.  

Your breathing becomes shallow and broken with your desperate cries and begs and what he calls “pathetic princess pleas” for him to let you cum. Of course, he always did.

But, he had a little trick up his sleeve.

Sucking your earlobe into his mouth, he could feel every pulse and clench of your cunt as he bullied and abused your cunt with his ,magnificent, cock. “Hhhhhnnggggg!oh my fuuuuck! Chan Chan Chan,” you spilled, eyes clenching, the begs pouring from you like a faucet.

Cute. He thought it was cute. His own orgasm was creeping up on him, his balls full of hot thick cum waiting to be painting your walls. “I know, doll. But …..I need you to do one thing,for me,okay.” 

His rolls and thrusts and the gyrations of his hips never stopped, all the while. “Fuck-yes yes! Anything,channie! I’ll do anything, just let me cum please! I’m so close.” You cried, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as your throat burned from the amount of use it was going through.

“Post it,” he breathed into your ear. Post it? Post what— fuck. You had completely forgot about the post; that was to be uploaded on his instagram. That very instagram where he posted ‘boyfriend coded’ pictures that were taken by you. The instagram that had 7.1 MILLION followers— some of them being his own band members. 

The pleasure full abuse of his dick on your pussy had made you forget the post. The picture captioned a simple yet effective ‘02.14,’ “post it…..post it and I’ll give you my load, pump you full until you’re leaking and gasping for air, doll.” Chan slyly smiled down at your shaking form. Nodding, you shakily grabbed his phone, unlocking it with your Face ID; yes you had Face ID on his phone. 

With all the strength you could muster, your orgasm about to rip you to shreds and wreak havoc on your body, you hit the button. Posted. You cried, and curled your toes, hot cries leaving your body as you flashed him the screen, his post showing on the feed. 

Crying, your body seized and spammed, the hot white release pulling your body to the brink of reality. Damn was this orgasm strong. “Aaaaaggghhhhh! Hnnnggggg, fuck! I’m cumming fuck,Chan! Your vision was white, your release thoroughly coating the entirety of his cock. You came a lot. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of announcing your relationship in such an erotic way or the way Chan was fucking you so addicting lay well or both. 

Probably both.

“Fuck. Good fucking girl. Take my load, like the good doll you are.” He groaned, fully bottomed out as spurt after spurt and ribbon after ribbon of his viscous hot cum filled your walls. “Yeeaahhhhh. Taking your boyfriend’s cum after posting that picture. My good girl,he spat, a tinge of venom laced in his husky voice. 

Regaining your breathing, you collapsed on the bed, Chan collapsing by your side.”wow……..happy Valentine’s Day,baby.” He smiled, placing a kiss to your hair. “Wow, indeed. Happy Valentine’s Day,my channie.” You giggled, still out of breath. “Can’t believe we just hard launched our relationship,” you giggled out, suddenly remembering the post.

He chuckled and nodded, “I know..what do you think they’ll say.” Oh boy did people have a lot to say, you knew they would and you didn’t need to check the post. But, you hadn’t even checked instagram yet. His phone had been tossed somewhere on the bed when he came and yours was charging on your nightstand. That and the fact that your body had been practically turned into a pile of mush and goo with the way Chan was giving it to you. You were just too lazy. 

Pulling you into his side, he placed a delicate kiss on your temple. “Kinda feels good to be out about it, though.” That was true, you wouldn’t have to be so secretive, always hiding and being cautious and careful about being seen together in public. “Agreed, channie. It feels nice, but i know you and you’ll still be flirting with stays on the bubble. “You laughed, patting his toned chest with your hand. “What? I don’t flirt, with them.” 

Lies. Lies lies lies. Lies and he knows it. “Oh shut it, mister “teasing mrs.Bahng is what i live for,” You snorted, the recollection of his bubble messages playing through your head. 

The atmosphere had made a 180 degree turn, hearing the familiar ring of his phone. “Huh?Who could be calling me?” He mumbled, sitting up and perching himself on the foot of the bed, checking the caller ID.

JYP PD-nim

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Shitting bricks. Crying. Throwing up. That was how he felt. You could sense the change of his mood, by the way his eyebrows rose and he cleared his throat. Raising your eyebrows, you crawled until you were sitting behind him letting your cheek rest against his toned and muscular back. 

“Hi, JYP pd-nim.” He chuckled out nervously. Oh fuck……it was his boss. “Hello, Bang Chan. I saw your recent post.” He replied, dryly. Uh oh. “I-I’m so sorry, pd-him. I’m- I don’t know how to even explain it,” Chan stuttered out.

All of a sudden, a devilish idea popped in your head. Mess with him. Resting your cheek on his back, you slid your hands around his front and guided them around his chest. What were you doing, he thought. He was literally on the phone with his boss, for fucks sake. And you want to play games with him?

Dangerous. A dangerous game indeed. “Well, Bang Chan, I will have to release a formal statement and apology,” JYP sounded through the phone. His voice was calm but Chan's voice wouldn’t be. Slowly, you meticulously dragged your hands down to his softening cock. “I- i understand, pd-him.” He admonished, slightly choking on his saliva when your soft hands wrapped around his girth.

Muting the phone, he turned to you. “Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? I'm talking to my boss. Sit on your pretty ass and behave!” Chan barked at you, causing a gush of wetness to escape from your cunt, as you slowly jerked his cock.“ What if i don’t want to?” You giggled. Oh, you were in for it. RIP your pussy, again.

“Hello? Bang Chan are you still there? This is a very important conversation.” You could hear the words come from the speaker, your chin on chan’s shoulder as your lips sucked love bites into his tanned skin. “Yes! Yes, i’m here pd-nim.” He replied, swatting your thigh in warning.

A warning you did not heed, only fastening your hand causing a dribble of precum to spill from the slit of his now hard, again, cock.  Choking back a groan, he covered it with a cough and a “sorry, my throat is a little dry.” Another lie. Softly, you giggled and watched as his breathing hitched and he panicked. 

The conversation continued, as did your teasing. Your manicured fingernails leave scratches on his chest, as your body pressed against his back. He was going to snap, soon. “Listen to your boss, channie.” The whisper crossed his ears, as your lips were against the shell of his right ear.

Oh, he had enough of you and your games. Squishing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he turned to you and pressed you into the mattress. Once he muted the call, he pushed your legs into a mating press. “Wanna be a naughty doll and play games, huh? Well, I’ve had enough,’ and with that he was pushing his cock into your cunt and setting a brutal pace. 

Unmuting the call, JYP was still going on about what if dispatch put an article out, that some stay are young and impressionable, he should’ve talked to JYP about confirming your relationship to the public. 

At the moment, it was falling on Chan’s deaf ears.  he knew this was an important conversation which he should’ve been present in, paying attention because the post was suggestive and slightly erotic and could have big implications. Yes he should have been paying attention to what his boss  was saying.

But, how could he when your cunt was sucking him in and was so tight and snug around him, especially when he had fucked you not even 10 minutes ago? He couldn’t.  What was JYP going to do, anyways? Fire Chan? No, not in a million years. Put him on a hiatus? Shit, that’s mean he’d get to spend more time with you and fuck you more. He wouldn’t be complaining.

“Hello? Hello? Bang Chan?” He heard in one year, the wet squelches of his cock driving into your cunt playing through his other ear. With foxish eyes, you bit your lip. Moans and pants falling from your lips. “Aaaaah…hhhnnggg. So good, channie. More, give me more.”

If more was what you wanted then more was what you would get. Delivering a harsh thrust, his cock was fully bottomed out in you as he withdrew a couple inches. Pushing back in, his cockhead was fully pressing around your g-spot. He knew its location so well. “Yeah? Like that, doll?” He chuckled, his boss still spilling words about the post and blah blah blah.

In all honesty, Chan couldn’t care less. But you wanted to poke the bear some more. “Chan-ah. Pay attention to him,” you breathlessly giggled, feeling your toes curl. Your second orgasm of the night approaching. “Pay attention? How can I pay attention when your tight little pussy is sucking me in, doll?” He punctuated his question with a hard thrust.

“Ah! ah ah fuck,channie!” You moaned, reaching up to tug on his ebony hair. He had a point. If you were on the phone while he was balls deep inside you, you definitely wouldn’t have been able to pay attention. “See, doll? Can’t pay attention when you feel so good around me,” he chuckled out, his lush lips pressing against the swells of your breasts. 

“Chan-fuck! It’s your boss,” you helplessly cried, as he only continued to delve and plow his cock into you. “No, just focus on us, doll. I know you want to cum again. And i know you want me to fill you up again, yeah?” He chided, phone still tucked between his ear and shoulder. 

Rolling your eyes back, you nodded. Damn, he was right that you wanted him to fill you again and that you wanted to cum again. “I can feel you getting close. Your little cunt is all gushy and squeezing me, doll. Give me one more,baby.” He coerced, rolling his hips into your, your thighs perched high on his. “I know you want to,” and damn did you.

As close as you were, you needed just a touch more, a nudge, a push. Something, but you couldn’t put your tongue on it. Tongue. That was what you needed. “Moaning, you pulled Chan down for a hot kiss. Immediately, your tongues fought for dominance. 

That beloved second orgasm was getting closer and closer. “I can tell you want to cum. Come on baby, one more.” Chan breathed in your mouth. His lips swallowed each and every one of your cries, pants, hiccups, pleas. Tearfully, you cried into his mouth, hands pulling his hair. “Right there, I’m right there. Fuck! Hhhnnnggggg channie!” You pleaded, your muscles spamming and twitching again as your back arched from where it laid on your bed. 

“Let go for me doll. Soak me good and I’ll fill you up.” He bargained, the pace in his rolls and thrusts faltering. His own second orgasm on the brink of grasping his conscience. He couldn’t hold out much longer, so he reached a hand to rub quick calculated circles on your clit. 

 “I-hng! Fuuuuck! Yes yes, like that! I’m gonna cum!” You wailed, sobbing as your head tipped back and the band of your orgasm snapped. For the second time that night, your vision went white and your body was made mush. Pliable for whatever Chan wished.

But, all he wished was to cum in you, fill you with his seed. And that was exactly what he did. Pinching his eyes shut, his hips staggered before stilling against your own. “Yeeeeah, taking my cum again. Juuuust like that, squeezing my cock so good.” He groaned out,voice husky and raspy.  He came a lot, leaking out of your abused hole and onto the bedding below your now sweaty bodies. 

Those sheets were absolutely ruined, but it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last. 

Cynically, Chan unmuted the phone call and held his phone to you. “Want to say hi to JYP pd-nim, doll?”

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

tags; @straykeedz : @straykeedz-recs : @kaciidubs : @itsnotmydejavu : @linosssss : @hyunsvngs : @jinnie-ret : open <3 reblog, comment or dm us to be added <3

<3 reblog to show supoort<3

-please do not, repost, translate, copy, steal, paraphrase or claim my works , on any website- ©️SingSangSeung 2023

[dark-and-kawaii]

I love soft Haarlep and I do love your parent!Haarlep stuff but I can't help but wonder about the angst that would come from Soft!Haarlep realizing that Tav is pregnant with their child, ie a cambion (DND lore states cambion births that stem from a human mother x devil/incubus/etc always results in the mother's death).

₊˚⊹♡ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀʀɪꜰɪᴄ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ. ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴜᴛᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ ɪꜱ ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.

⋆˙⟡♡ Angst | Pregnancy | Soft Haarlep ♡

Haarlep’s usual guise of cruelty softened into something almost human as they watched you sleep, your chest rising and falling with the innocent rhythm of peaceful slumber. Oblivious to Haarlep’s unexpected worry. The incubus was always known for their merciless nature, feasting upon souls and taking whatever it is they wished without a care for the other’s wellbeing… But you… You were different.

Haarlep’s gaze drifted, lingering on the delicate features of your face before trailing down to your still flat abdomen. Inside you, unbeknownst to you, a new life was taking root. A life that Haarlep could sense with a clarity that cursed their very being...

Haarlep had always threatened to breed you, to knock you up with their demon spawn to show all of hell and Faerun that you belonged to them, once enslaved incubus, a lowly creature…

Closing their eyes, Haarlep realizes their very nature had gotten the best of them. That their very threat had come to fruition and with each beat of your heart, a silent countdown to your demise had begun…

The knowledge was a blade to Haarlep’s darkened heart. Incubi, like them, were no strangers to the fatal toll their offspring could exact on mortal lovers. History whispered of rare survivals, like Tasha the witch queen, who bore the children of Grazzt and lived to tell the tale. But you were not her. You were just some adventurer, who had gotten tangled with Raphael, which led you inadvertently into Haarlep’s embrace.

If this spawn was anything like a full blooded incubus, your mortal body would have trouble handling such a pregnancy. You could very well die trying to bring it into this world… If you even carried the spawn long enough for that to become an issue. The youngling may take you by surprise in the night and tear through you, feasting upon your very soul as it left your body.

With a heavy breath, Haarlep’s lashes fluttered back open as they placed their large hand gently on your stomach. They could only stare at it as memories flooded their mind of when you whispered dreams of carrying their offspring, begging for their threats of breeding to come true, wishing to feel your own belly swollen with a little mini Haarlep... You had smiled so brightly then… A smile they wished to keep to themselves… Haarlep wondered if that would be the last time they would ever see such a sight… Their favorite treat, always eager for a taste of the them… Always so loyal to them…

The incubus’s eyes began to harden…

A deep growl rumbled from within Haarlep, the sound echoing around the room as they thought of all the ways this could go horribly wrong. All the ways your precious mortal life could end.

The growing soul within you had to go. It must.

You were theirs. You were not supposed to be taken away from them…

They couldn't lose you.

Not you.

As they leaned down and pressed their lips against your stomach. It was a kiss, tender and loving, so out of place from their usual rough manner. Haarlep lingered there, lips brushing against the warm skin, feeling the flutter of your heartbeat underneath the softness of your flesh.

You were theirs.

Not Raphael's, not any other fiend or demon who thought they could get a claim on you.

Just Haarlep's.

Kelemvor, death itself, wouldn’t have you... Haarlep would seize the offspring, tearing it from your flesh with merciless hands if necessary…

[easy-there-leftovers]

Hiii can I just say I’m OBSESSED with ISY,D!! Amazing work truly the best ❤️

I saw asks are open so I thought I’d slip in a little prompt 👀

Astarion and Tav have a bit of a spat at camp. Tav is trying to convince Astarion that ascending would make him just as bad as Cazador, but Astarion craves the power and the freedom. Tav, upset and frustrated, ends up leaving for a walk through the late night streets of the gate to clear their head. One of the vampire spawn out looking for their next prey find Tav, recognizing them immediately as Astarion’s love (and one true weakness) and kidnaps them to bring to Cazador. Cazador, being the sick fuck he is, locks Tav away and sends a note to Astarion that he finds the next morning, saying that he had Tav and that if Astarion wants them back he has to surrender to Cazador and go through with the ceremony. Astarion loses his mind and races to the castle with the gang in tow, praying that Tav is unharmed. Will he be there just in time to save Tav? Or will he be too late, will Cazador have already turned them by the time he gets there?

Sorry for the paragraph but this has been in my mind for DAYS and I would cry if you could make this story come to fruition ❤️

-🌸

Hello 🌸anon!! Thank you so much for liking the series, I'm glad that it's something that you enjoy reading! Also, I've decided to include @simp-4-astarion's request as they were rather similar in nature!! Thank you so much for liking my work :,DDD

In addition!! Just a heads up for people who'd like to request or send an idea in, I don't just write for Astarion! Feel free to include your favorite romanceable pcs (and non romanceable npcs lol) into the mix!!

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

That night at camp had been fraught with tension, like a fraying rope ready to snap. The campfire crackled, the tongues of the flame dancing and flickering about, mirroring the storm within the heated pair.

Your voice, something that he's come to find solace in as of late, quivered with frustration unlike any he's heard directed at him before as you tried to reason with him.

"I don't relish it. but my," He pauses, wondering what he should call them. "--Siblings lured thousands of people to their death over the years. I doubt Baldur's Gate would miss any of them." He seems rather taken with the idea, and you worry about what this could mean for him.

"But we don't even know if it's possible, Astarion. You're hypothesizing that you become the Vampire Ascendant at the expense of eradicating the other spawn." Whether or not they had done things as horrendous as your,-- gods you don't even know what you are,-- as the ex-magistrate, they did not deserve to be subjected to such a ritual.

He paces around you, ascertaining your reactions, and making quick work to think about how he could convince you

"And so what? I've obviously thought about it. If I completed the ritual, this evocation, I'd have insurmountable power. And--" He nears himself to you, practically whispering the following words into the skin of you neck. As if anything he said would etch its way into your skin and carve you anew.

"I could walk in the sun without fear of becoming a mindflayer. Don't you want that for me, darling? For us?" The question instills an indescribable fear in you. Not the same fear that's been riddling you as you wonder if you'd perish in one of your many battles, oh no, it was the fear you'd bear witness to when you lost something dear to you.

It's as if he's giving you an out.

Agree with him, and you seal his fate as the Vampire Ascendant with a sure place at his side.

Or disagree, allowing all those spawn the same chance he had been given all those tendays ago, and snuff out whatever growing relationship you had between you.

He senses your uncertainty.

And he feels lost.

He figured that you would be so sure to keep him at your side. Doing anything it takes to make sure it stays that way, but now you're getting cold feet with his blatant proposal of companionship because of what?

These monsters he's hunted with?

These damned spawn that represent everything you've seeked to correct about the world?

"Astarion, please, give them a chance. They were just like you once, give them that much."

At any other time, he would've admired your efforts to help them. But in this moment, he thinks you a fool who could never truly understand what it means to be a slave.

To want for power.

"You did not know them. And you do not know me as well as you may think, my dear, if you think they deserve a chance more than I do."

He doesn't know why it all happened the way it did. The way that his thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth and only allowing the worst of things to escape him.

All he knows was that it had surely hurt you and that he doesn't think he's ever seen your retreating form look as small as it did as you walked towards somewhere in the city.

And that he wished he had remembered where they were. So near to where his consanguines and he used to hunt.

So when he and the others are greeted with a letter smelling of undeath, telling them that they had their precious leader imprisoned in Cazadaor's manor, he knows not to tell them about the little argument you two had.

Knows not to tell them anything to dampen their mood as they search for you.

Knows not to tell them that the likelihood He kept you alive was slim to none, now that he has Astarion's attention.

Once they had been alerted of your whereabouts, a clear ploy to lure him back to his master, there would be no use for you anymore. They don't know Cazador like he did, and he was sure that by the time they reached their destination, you would be no more.

Stil, he's willing to take any chance he can get to get you back. No use in proclaiming you dead if he hasn't seen you, and he'd be damned if he let Cazador take any more from him.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

[the-monkeies-girl]

Have you ever heard the sound that goes something like:

“What do you think Wackus Bonkus?”

“Kill him.”

“Ooh! You naughty Wackus Bonkus!”

That is literally Blue Eyes but instead it is “Breed her” and he’s battling with his consciousness. My man is NOT beating the breeder allegations.😭 (also please don’t quit people are stupid you can take as long as you want🙏)

Out of all my headcanons that have stuck for characters, I’m so glad that this one stuck because I feel it’s so accurate to his character to want to have a mate be maternal ( like hello? Lake literally takes care of children ) so he makes it his goal to have that happen. 🥲 and our Prince just likes to make you absolutely sticky and messy on the way there.

Kind of falls into that primal idea that as long as Blue Eyes breeds you, his scent is more vivid on you for the entire Colony to know that he’s chosen a human to mate with and it’s something he’s come to terms with and he wants them all to do the same ( there’s gotta be some there who like. Just don’t understand the idea of wanting to be with a human in the first place lol ) so it’s just a big “screw you, my dad is Caesar and I do what I want” lmao.

Also, I have a thought- the first time you two have penetrative sex, he definitely releases like. Quickly. It’s normal for apes, it lasts only a few seconds and there’s not much thought put behind it but then you? Keep moving against him? Blue Eyes just stiffening under you as you ride against him, his cum hot and messy and your thrusts are bringing it deeper and deeper inside of you? Something snaps then, Blue Eyes becomes enamored but in typical Blue Eyes fashion, he’s a bit ashamed or too embarrassed to really ask because mating is definitely not something to be used as a reckless enjoyment.

Don’t touch me he totally talks to Caesar about it, ACTUALLY GOES TO HIS FATHER FOR SOME GAYTDAMN ADVICE. And all Caesar gives him is a simple “Human mating is… different” having intense flash backs to the moments he was able to hear or having accidentally walked in on Will and Caroline. Nothing more and nothing less leaving poor Blue Eyes more confused than before.

Ohhhhh he ignores you after the first time. Like deadass won’t even look you in the face at meals, you tried to instigate another session of sex but Blue Eyes just rolled over and denied it. Even without doing it- he can smell you trailing through the Colony. Places you had been minutes before, and you’re gone and Blue Eyes feels like he’s being tortured because he truly doesn’t understand.

Finally comes to fruition when you force him to sit and talk with you because you think he’s ashamed that you’re a human and that he doesn’t actually want that. The shy nature of his signing trying to use words and phrases that don’t come too naturally to him ‘do not understand why…. It was so… pleasure’ Your heart sinks from the mis-understanding.

Ack making an agreement with him that you’ll talk Blue Eyes through what human mating is and how it works. IMAGINE THE LOOK ON HIS FACE as he’s listening to you. You’re using words he didn’t even knew existed, every single one causing him to rocket a bit more into an odd state of arousal. Like before your eyes you see him getting hard and ultimately the conversation ends with you grasping his cock slowly, giving intense eye contact and asking him gently if he’d like to try again after you had explained more.

Wordlessly he nods and looks down at the hold you have on him, stiffening at the second you move your fingers up the girthy shaft and Blue Eyes is almost squealing and squeezing his eyes shut. Hackles on his shoulder are risen, his breathing his hard through his nose out of the sudden lack of control he has over his own body.

“It’s okay,” the tone in your voice is so reassuring, “I’m not going to hurt y—-“

Your words aren’t even out in a complete sentence and your back is placed against the nest, Blue Eyes dragging off your trousers and panties and railing into you without reserve. The only way he knows how. Animalistic and possessive.

Over time one of Blue Eyes favorite things to experience is you on your back after having him cum inside of you and you begin to finger yourself. He didn’t even know that was a thing until you did it once and he asked you if you’d feel comfortable to do it again and it becomes almost a routine. Loves to see the solidification that you two are a mated pair because your own arousal is mixing with his.

*lays face down* I have a lot of thoughts on this someone motivate me to make a headcanon set

[qqueenofhades]

I also think leftists view liberals and centrists as worse than right wingers because liberals and centrists maintain the status quo, thus prolonging capitalism. In the case of accelerationists, they think a revolution is only possible if people are desperate enough to want one and so they often align themselves with right wingers who they know will make things worse (see MAGA communism as one example). To them it doesn't matter if the fascists will take power because they believe fascism always fails and communism will naturally follow. All the deaths will be worth it in the end.

I hit ask before I finished. I meant to add in parentheses that all of that is of course an oversimplification, but those are pretty much the arguments I saw in multiple leftists subreddit, on tumblr and twitter in the past few months. I know leftists irl are more normal.

See, this is what I mean when I point out that Online Leftists have become just as much of a zero-sum radicalized death cult as the MAGA Trumpists. They're willing to embrace any atrocity, global disaster, terrible people, and massive death toll as long as they think it'll bring their Shining Ideology (TM) to fruition, and then of course this will last a thousand years and never be changed and humans will bow down as a group to this Shining Ideology and destroying everything will be Worth It In The End. Apparently. This is complete ahistorical genocidal nihilistic gibberish, where any progress to fix the world and make a better future for the billions of people alive right now is actually Bad because What About the Glorious Revolution?!?! It is Totally Real! It Will Work! O Bow To Us Great Keyboard Warrior Dipshits! If You Don't Want to Violently Die With Everyone You Love, You Are Part of the Problem!!!!!

Now, I don't know about you, but I sure as fuck don't feel like sacrificing everyone and everything is a great tradeoff for whatever Communist Utopia these cosplaying pissbabies think would be the ultimate fruition of their labors. It's lazy, it's dangerous, it's stupid, it excuses them from ever having to do any effort to make the world better right now, and it feeds into the worst impulses and movements of humanity and the same mistakes that have been repeated in history over and over. This is basically what the late 19th-century and early 20th-century Communists thought: people would rise up in a Great Socialist Revolution, overthrow capitalism and fascism and every other bad thing in the world (which would somehow never ever come back, I guess) and then the future would be bright and shining forever. In practice, it resulted in tons of bloody and pointless deaths, a lot of failure, and some communist regimes that were absolutely zero improvement whatsoever on the oppressive systems they had replaced (and often were in fact MORE oppressive, but online leftists don't listen to people who actually grew up in these regimes and are not eager to see them come back). And guess what? Capitalism and fascism were not actually defeated Once and For All Time! Because yet again, you cannot just Violently Revolute your way to Ultimate Morally Pure Power once and for all, kill the Right People (aka everyone) and then everything is fixed forever. If it was ever going to work, it would have already done so. It has not. This fallacy is the cause of pretty much all the evil in human history. So. Yeah.

[random-fandom1984]

hi! Could I request Yandere tfa and tfp Optimus prime headcannons for a chubby gn reader? Cuddling would also be great thx!

Wish granted Anon! 👍

(Sorry if Prime! Optimus' part seems short. I just don't really see him as a yandere with how stoic he is, and I don't see it in his nature to harm a human knowingly. But, I tried my best.)

TFP! Optimus Prime

And if anyone caused problems for you? Or harassed you? Or have toxic family members or friends trying to manipulate you? Or an ex being a creep and forcing his/her/their way back into your life? They'll never see the light of day again. I mean, who's going to believe them when they report a transforming semi-truck is either stalking them or attempting to run them over?

● You were there with them from the very beginning, when they landed on Earth. The main thing he fell for was your sympathy and kindness.

● He' s your guardian after Raf, Miko, and Jack joined the team. At first, you used to drive yourself home when leaving base, but when you got ambushed by Decepticons and almost getting captured, Optimus Prime swooped in a saved you, and from then on, he took you back and forth from home to base via Groundbridge. Sometimes, he'd drive you back home and stay in your garage, and you would always bring a pillow and blanket to sleep in his cab, almost like having a sleepover you've said.

● Although it was for your protection, this unknowingly gave him the excuse to hang out with you more, and for a tiny seed of obsession to slowly grow over time.

● His yandere side came into fruition after the original base was blown up, he almost died, and when he made his grand return, you cried happy tears because you thought he'd died. Seeing your tear-stained cheeks made him make a promise to himself: To make sure that you were never to be saddened again.

Must be M.E.C.H. up to their old tricks again...

TFA! Optimus Prime

You've always done your best to help those you care about. It wouldn't matter whether they were human, Cybertronian, or whatever.

He fell in love with you because of your compassion and you being there to listen to his problems. You were there when he had flashback of Arachind-7 when Elita-1, no Blackarachnia, showed up. You were there when he felt like he wasn't a good leader. You were always there for him.

He only fell harder when you stood up to him when the Elite Guard showed up. Although he doesn't tolerate tormenting a colleague because they're an asshole, but... seeing Sentinel run, screaming for the hills when you put spiders in the arrogant Prime's habsuite, he couldn't help but hold back a laugh.

He was flattered when you gave him a matching bracelet more like ring considering how small it is to go with your own, a purple charm in the shape of a crystal you found in the woods to match your Amythyst one. You only had one, so you searched for one that you could make the matching jewelry, and when you found it, you believed it to be another Amythyst or a Sugilite.

Over the next few days, he started feeling strange and getting weird thoughts.

Like, one day, he was hanging out with you when someone from high school passed by and the two of you started catching up, making him feel like a third wheel. As it when on, they would catch the passive-aggressive jabs they would verbally make about your figure, and seeing your expression scrunch up with each mention was making him upset. He started thinking to himself about how terrible this person is to you. Luckily, the conversation was cut short do to a Decepticon attack.

When he drove you back to your apartment and went back to base, he started searching up who this person was. Apparently, they're an influencer, very judgmental to people on looks, having flings with rich people, took anything they wanted no matter how many lives they've ruined, and so much more terrible things. He starts thinking, questioning why someone is so terrible when everything was given to them on a silver platter? Why do they make fun of people who have it bad? Why- No one would miss them. ...What? No one would care if they... happen to go missing. But... no one deserves to die- After what they did to your little darling, they should!

The voice, that for some reason sounds like him but also not at the same time, started speaking in his head, going on a rant about how they should die, they should hurt. After all, if they continue to exist or stick around Reader, they'll only make their life worse, making them insecure, isolate themselves, and then... they'll be gone and in the human equivalent of the Well of Allsparks, just like how he lost Elita-1. The voice continued on and on for days, slowly convincing the young Prime about how it'll be the right thing for his darling.

It was only a matter of time when they ended up missing and found dead the next morning.

Then you reunited with an old friend, Charles, who obviously had a crush on you but you were oblivious to it, and the voice spoke up again, how he will take you away from him. Optimus tried to ignore the voice, but the voice in his head started describing various things that would happen if you and your old friend got together, how your old friend would be the one to hold you close at night, sleeping together, getting your kisses, telling your old friend how much you love him, and so much more that it started driving Optimus crazy.

Charles was reported dead, his body torn to shreds, ripped apart limb by limb.

You stayed with Optimus that week, crying in his arms. He offered you words of comfort when you were in his arms, so soft and warm to the touch compared to his rough, cold metal plating. You would fall asleep on him, not noticing how his soft smile turned into a sly grin, optics flashed an ominous purple to them, filled with possessiveness, yearning, and obsession love.

[stonedcoldfoxtarot]

How you will step into your rich bitch era + advice

Pile 1 -> Pile 2 -> Pile 3

Pile 1:

3oS, 9oP, World, 5oW, Empress (AoW)

I see that some of you may have recently experienced a setback in your career or personal life that was mostly outside of your control. For many of you, this may have been in the form of an unexpected job loss or an expensive and contentious divorce or separation. However, I see this situation as a blessing in disguise because whatever you lost had already outgrown its usefulness in your life. For many of you, this misfortune has already led to an unexpected material gain and an increased feeling of self-confidence in your ability to stand on your own two feet. If not, I see this set back being short lived, as you are now well on your way to stepping into your winning season.

Deep down you know the world is yours, and from here on out I see you will be working to achieve a level of self-mastery that allows you to realize all of your goals. Some of you may decide to work in the field of Project Management or Marketing and PR, while others of you may be interested in careers that involve lots of international travel or relocating to a different country. I see that whatever path you choose Pile 1, you have the determination and fortitude to take on the competition and still come out on top.

For a few of you, I feel you could also be fighting with yourself or feeling divided about which direction to take next. You have a lot of different skills that could take you in completely opposite directions and you might be struggling to focus on or pick just one option. However, I see that once you figure out which path to choose you will move forward with determination until you reach a life that resembles the one you’ve always dreamed of. Whatever you decide to do, keep moving forward Pile 1 because it only gets better from here!

Advice: 9oP

Always remember that you have full control over your financial abundance and success. Start cultivating your dream life by building upon the work you have already done and you will be amazed at how quickly things begin to fall into place. If you’ve felt compelled to pursue a career that provides you with the freedom to set your own schedule, you are being advised to explore other options outside of a traditional 9 to 5.

Pile 2

AoW, Empress rev, Chariot, 10oP, Magician (9oP)

If you're not already self-employed, I see that many of you have a lot of creative ideas in your mind that are just waiting to be acted upon or brought to life. For some of you, I see that in the past you may have experienced periods of stagnation in your career which of course left you feeling frustrated and angry or even depressed. At some point, you may have felt rejected in your previous efforts or that others did not recognize all that you really have to offer. If that resonates, I see you are now focused on balancing your emotions surrounding past failures and regaining control over your circumstances as you dust yourself off and try your luck again. Pile 2, many of you are incredibly talented and hard working. I’m hearing that all that is needed to step into your rich bitch era is for you to confidently move forward towards the direction of your dreams, knowing that what is meant for you is already yours.

In fact, pile 2, once you find your niche or begin to put in work towards a new project or idea, I see you quickly becoming unstoppable! Many of you are visionaries and forward thinkers, possessing the strength and vitality necessary to bring your creative ideas or business ventures to fruition in a way that most others cannot. You have a natural talent for thinking outside the box, and this is what makes you so powerful. Regardless of any losses you may have faced in the past, you have all the resources and strength needed to pursue whatever you desire in this lifetime. For many of you, I see that success and abundance are right around the corner, if it’s not already here now. And if you are not self-employed or an independent contractor, I see that you will find success as an entrepreneur once you combine your creative ideas with your knack for selling, investing or bringing in money from multiple sources. I see that some of you may end up retiring early and living off of several streams of passive income or interest & residuals. Pile 2, your life has the potential to be the embodiment of the phrase “work smarter, not harder.”

Advice: Justice

Pile 2, if you have been feeling lost, confused or unbalanced in your career, you are being advised to seek out ways to bring fairness, clear-thinking and balance back into your life. Some of you may be a Libra sun, moon or rising, as represented by The Justice card, or you may feel naturally drawn towards a job or career in the legal field. Those of you who resonate with this card are powerful decision-makers who have reached perfect equilibrium between the intuitive and the intellectual mind. To step into your abundant era, focus on restoring balance in your life, especially emotional balance, so that you can allow the laws of karma to begin working in your favor once again.

Pile 3

10oP, 5oC, 9oC, 8oS, Magician (High Priestess)

Pile 3, I see that many of you have achieved financial abundance and prosperity in the past, but you may have also recently experienced financial losses or setbacks which have effected you quite deeply. Some of you may have been let go from a large company or corporation, or you feel stuck in a dead end job, trying to make ends meet as your costs rise and your savings continue to dwindle. Despite this, I see you haven’t lost hope for a new beginning, as you still really desire to live a life full of abundance and financial freedom like you did once before.

Pile 3, I see here that some of you are not recognizing your own power or that you give it away easily to those who may not have your best interest at heart. There could also be an issue with you simply wishing for things to get better instead of taking action to go after what it is you truly want. I feel this could be due to a fear of failure or of making a decision and being stuck with it. I also feel that some of you may feel stuck or trapped due to internal or external pressures, some of which might stem from your past, your childhood or the unealistic expectations set upon you by others.

However, I see that as you begin to harness the power of your mind to plan, direct and create your ideal life, things will slowly but surely begin to turn around for you. Many of you may be blessed with the ability to easily manifest your desires. Pile 3, your minds are incredibly powerful! In fact, you may be the type who has to stay mindful of your thoughts and words, as you have the power to easily speak things into existence. If you can see it in your mind’s eye, you can achieve it. (I’m hearing the lyrics to I Believe I Can Fly by R. K*lly, so maybe that song might resonate with some of you). The Magician is attributed to Mercury, and deals with communication, intellect and action, so some of you may find you are naturally drawn to careers that allow you to express your thoughts on paper or speak directly with others. You may be great at giving speeches or lectures, writing manuals and SOPs or anything that requires being good at both effective communication and teaching or motivating others. Many will see your success and look up to you in this lifetime, Pile 3. Just remember, what it meant for you will ever ever pass you by. You just have to be willing to go out there and get it.

Advice: High Priestess

Remember that all success and failure begins in the mind. You can manifest your conscious desires by harnessing the power of telepathy, clairvoyance, and intuitive communication to receive insight into your current situation. Here you are being advised to utilize your conscious mind to bring your creative ambitions to life and tap into your intuitive side to receive the answers you’re looking for, instead of manifesting from a place of fear or uncertainty.

Thanks for reading🔮✨

© 2023 stonedcoldfoxtarot. All rights reserved. Please do not copy, translate, edit or redistribute.

[seelestia]

— 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄?

SUMMARY. zhongli never lies; he always says the truth as it is, even if it is a hard pill to swallow. or in which you realize you are not his greatest love and that is alright... right? (3.3k+ words)

CHARACTERS. zhongli.

GENRE. major angst, hurt with little to no comfort (sort of?).

CW. insecurities to a partner's past love and gradual acceptance (?), zhongli's past love is implied to be guizhong and uses she/her pronouns, use of pet names, possible sappiness. + read the alt text on zhongli's header for an extra summary!

THOUGHTS. i haven't written angst in a vv long time, so my sincerest apologies if i've become rusty! but i tried my best and writing zhongli always gets me sniffling <//3

EXTRA THOUGHTS. a gift for @medeaheartly! so, do you remember the "special privilege" request you sent me in this ask?? hehe, tadaaaa. happy birthday, jae! <3

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

THE VERY FIRST TIME you asked him that question was on a day like every other. In fact, there was barely anything special about that day that could've brought rise to such a forward question. Liyue was as calm as the ocean breezes from the direction of Guyun Stone Forest, the same as ever. You were sitting across from the man of your dreams with delicacies laid out on the table at Third-Round Knockout, the same as ever.

But it was no compulsion, no forcefulness either, just a need to reaffirm. For it still felt like a dream that you were here right now, sitting across from him.

"ZHONGLI, do you love me?" You asked.

He was a man of respectable virtue, a man whose knowledge knew no bounds, a man of perfectly sculpted features that you had to rub your eyes in a daze when you met him for the first time. Nothing could begin to describe how honored you felt to have him call you his lover and him yours after all those years of admiring him from afar.

Even now, it still felt surreal. So, so surreal that he chose you, just like how you'd choose him over any other on this land — but, you needed a confirmation, a reassurance that this was all true. And so, that was why you just had to ask.

But love might've been too strong a word for a mutual connection that had only sparked so recently. Maybe he, too, thought the same because Zhongli turned to look at you with an expression that spoke of surprise. For a moment, you felt conscious underneath his questioning gaze.

Goodness, why did you say that? Why did you act so impulsive? It was as if your mouth had a mind of its own and for a moment, you wanted to bury your face in your hands and never look up.

Perhaps, you should just take back that question—

"Let me put my thoughts into words," he hummed in response, the slight shock on his face subtly dissolving into gentleness. By doing so, your thoughts were grounded to a halt as he rested a hand on top of yours. Its warmth was familiar and you had to stop a bashful smile from blooming like a flower on your lips.

Zhongli was actually humoring you and your silly question, you realized.

"Well... oftentimes, I find myself staring at Silk Flowers, knowing that they remind me of your soft gaze and that I'd want to give them to you as a gift. Although, at times, that plan is unable to come to fruition if I forgot to bring a pouch of Mora with me," he mused, eyes closed.

You stifle a mirthful laugh with your hand at the last part, even more when you noticed that he was stating it matter-of-factly rather than saying it as a joke.

"And when I sit down to watch Ms. Yun's performance, there are times where a voice in my mind echoes to me, 'they would've loved this' as I listen. Slowly but surely, you begin to occupy my mind so naturally, as natural as the cycle of the sun and the moon," he added.

You were hanging onto his every word, his melodious voice, his beautiful amber irises, his everything. You knew why; because he was never the type to sweeten his words with sugar or honey, never with the intention to entice you into falling harder for him with speech. No, rather, it was because Zhongli was always honest. As if his words were gospel to your ears; anything he said, he meant it and this time was no exception.

If there was ever a moment that you wished you could capture and replay over and over again like a broken record, it would have surely been this one. It was only when his previously serious tone morphed into a fit of chuckles was how you realized you were spacing out. His eyes crinkled even more beautifully than the crescent in the night sky as he said, "Well, is that enough or shall I tell you more?"

"N-no, that's enough," you tried to hide your face behind your unoccupied hand, albeit horribly failing because Zhongli only seemed to laugh harder. His voice echoed like music in your ears and Archons, you just fell more and more for him.

He said it himself; that he was yours, yours, yours, finally yours.

(But at the time, you were yet to be made aware of the stories from the past.)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

THE SECOND TIME you asked him that question was when you discovered that Zhongli, once, had a lover. At first, it wasn't surprising to you because almost everyone had a love that either wasn't meant to be or lost itself to time. In his case, it was the latter, or so you heard from the whispers of passersby.

"There is a tavern that puts a vase of Glaze Lilies on their tables when they open at nighttime and when the gentleman from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor visits, he stares at the flowers longingly while he sits. I think the flowers remind him of someone."

"Maybe it's Mx. [Y/N] he is thinking about?"

But you knew better, Zhongli said it to you himself; Silk Flowers were what reminded him of you, not Glaze Lilies. A trivial detail to some, but it meant a lot to you. You weren't mad nor angry but instead, you felt rather curious.

You never heard any of the stories from Zhongli himself, although you supposed you already knew why. It was either he never brought it up to shelter your feelings, or maybe even his own. They said curiosity was what killed the cat, but you still held on to this curiosity, whether that be for better or for worse.

When you finally came to the decision that you'd gather the courage to ask him about her someday, it was a time when the both of you were resting from the mundane routines of the day. Your head was on his lap and his fingers were tangled in your hair, courtesy of being gently pulled onto his lap after you complained about a headache quietly.

The desire to ask Zhongli about his previous lover was constantly knocking in the back of your mind, the words of it lost somewhere on your tongue. Was this a good decision? Why did you become so inquisitive as of late? But you finally managed to gulp down the boulder of hesitation caught in your throat.

"...What kind of person was she? The one before me?"

Your tone was doubtful, your question was vague — but still, his fingers that were just carding through your hair stopped. Halted in its tracks so abruptly that you felt an instant rush of worry coursing through you, you sat up from your position with a concerned frown.

"'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"No," the man shook his head, his voice meeker than the usual certainty that you had grown used to. Your heart sank, had you crossed the line? As if your thoughts were written across your forehead, Zhongli placed his hands on your shoulders and laid you back onto his lap. "It's alright," he smiled.

You wondered if that smile was just a front to comfort you, but his gentle gesture was too hard to resist and you found staring up at his face with your head on his thigh. His gaze didn't meet yours, however; he wasn't trying to avoid you but rather, he was looking into the distance.

Looking at something, looking at a memory.

"She was wonderful," he uttered, a delayed answer to the question you asked him. The image of a fond smile had seemed to sew itself tight on his lips, you couldn't help but gape in awe at his beauty. Oblivious to your adoring gaze, he continued his story, "We used to chatter into the night, she more than I, about the present and future of Liyue with cups of Osmanthus Wine in our hands."

His fingers made themselves at home in between your locks again, smoothing out and counting the strands idly. You managed to note a familiar detail in his words as you hummed, "Osmanthus Wine? Like the one you brought home for us the other day?"

"Yes, dear, like the one I brought home for us that day," Zhongli chuckled at the sudden way your sharp memory decided to make itself apparent. "I used to drink the wine with her and my old friends," he added. Zhongli always had a fondness for that drink and only now, had he told you why.

But it invoked an unnamed feeling inside your chest, knowing that mellow yet sweet drink you once shared with your lover was actually a token from the past he used to share with another. ...Was this jealousy? No, you shouldn't. You felt guilty, terrible for feeling this way when he was speaking of nostalgic memories so beautifully.

"You must've loved her greatly," you tried to muster a smile, one that looked sweet from the outside but came from a bitter place deep down. "Yes, I did," Zhongli smiled too and the genuineness in that smile only hurt you even more.

Will he ever speak of you that way too? Will you be able to replicate the happiness that came with his previous lover and his old friends?

"Do you—" Before you knew it, you had already begun to ask yet another question that seemed to bubble up without a second thought. Your lips were dry as you carried on your sentence, "Do you love me too?"

As much as her? More than her? Less than her? Words unspoken.

All you knew was that you craved an answer from him. You didn't want reassurance, you just wanted the truth. But was it hypocrisy if you said that deep down, you were expecting yourself to be more special in his eyes? No, expecting wasn't the right word, it was hoping.

"Yes, I loved her and I love you," Zhongli smiled again, wistful. His voice was loving and his answer was said so clearly — but somehow, it only left you feeling even emptier than before.

You didn't know why, but something was just missing. Unsettled, an uneasy feeling that'd make your stomach churn like realizing that you left the door open or forgot something important at the tip of your tongue.

(Or maybe, you really were a hypocrite, after all.)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

For the past two times, you realized that you had been asking Zhongli the same question, merely presented in different shades. First, it was: "Do you love me?" An innocence that was meant to be a confirmation that your dream to be his finally came true. Second, it was: "Do you love me too?" A question that derived from the insecurity of knowing that he once had a lover who clearly outshone you in every way.

It was only during THE THIRD TIME you asked him that question were you finally able to pinpoint that hidden void in your chest from last time — and it just so happened that this revelation descended as the two of you stood in front of an unnamed grave.

But the bouquet of Glaze Lilies in Zhongli's hands was already telling of whom the place of resting belonged to. The sheer longing in his gaze was a telling indication too, as painful as it was for you to admit.

For these past few days, Zhongli was kind enough to tell you stories about his former lover; of her bright mind, of her delightful demeanor, of her connection to a field of Glaze Lilies in his mind, of her memorable presence in his life. Even in this moment, he invited you to come alongside him to visit her grave, an intimate and precious place that he never disclosed to anyone before. But you knew that he made sure that your comfort was his priority, never speaking or telling too much unless you specifically asked.

"It's growing dark," the sigh that came with his words drifted away to become one with the wind. You assumed if it weren't for the time, the both of you could've lingered for a little bit longer here. Zhongli kneeled on one knee to place the bouquet on top of the grave, you watched silently as a sign of respect. There were a few moments of nostalgic silence as he stood up. He rested his hands on the back of his waist, a little habit of his, and he tore his gaze away from the grave to you.

"I must thank you for accompanying me here today," Zhongli regarded you with a sweet smile but somehow, this smile was much more feeble than usual.

"Before, I was only able to cherish memories of her alone by myself," he stated as he stared into the darkening skies above that was beginning to make way for the moon to shine. But he wanted to look at you in the eyes as he spoke, so the male pivoted aside to face you properly. "You've given me the opportunity to speak of her legacy. I know that this topic might not be the easiest for you to hear, so I just want to thank you. For understanding and for listening." The smile on his face as he spoke was growing wider this time, more earnest.

Words failed you, all you could manage was to return his smile with your own. Zhongli was kind, too kind, really... which only made the guilt upon your shoulders grow heavier, for you had one last question to ask of him.

"Let's go home, dear," he held out a hand towards you, fully expecting you to grab onto it so the two of you can make your journey back to Liyue Harbor — and you did, you grabbed onto his hand but you didn't move from your position.

Your feet were firmly planted on the ground at the very same spot. Your chest felt heavier than any metal bladesmiths could ever hope to get their hands on, but you told yourself multiple things: one, that this question will be the last one and two, that his answer will not change anything between you.

You just needed to know, was all.

"Zhongli," you croaked out his name. His amber eyes crinkled at the corners with concern as he replied, "Yes?" Archons, you couldn't bear the reality that you were the one causing him to feel that way, but you managed to force the words out of your mouth before you put this off any longer.

"...Do you love her most?"

Zhongli froze, just like the very first time you mentioned her name to him that day. His mouth opened then closed again, thinking of the right words to respond. What was happening?

He was always known for his ability to be straightforward and honest. Yes, that was what he'd normally do, but that was one of the concepts about love. Love makes you do strange things, love makes you stray from your usual self before it has yet to course through your veins, love is strange — and for the first time in forever, Zhongli hesitated.

You searched for his eyes for an answer and you couldn't help, but wonder: why was he hesitating now? "Tell me the truth, tell it as it is like how you always do. But if you don't wish to answer, I understand," you squeezed his head reassuringly.

You weren't forceful, you gave him a chance to refuse, but that look in your eyes; just how much you needed to know, just how much you needed an answer. Was this the matter that bothered you all this time? Finally, he was able to figure out why such a forlornly aura had begun following you ever since the day you asked him about her.

He'll do it, he'll give you an answer. Zhongli is never one to lie and this time, he wouldn't either. He repeated your question to himself in his mind: Does he love her the most? And the answer that trickled out of his mouth in a quiet whisper was... "Yes," he said.

Your eyes widened. Not in disappointment, not in expectation, but in disbelief upon finally receiving the answer to the fog that had engulfed you for so long.

"I would cross the ocean for her, I would sacrifice my last breath for her, I would wait a lifetime of solitude for her. Even until now, that has not changed," he murmured.

"I see," you smiled ruefully, but it didn't reach your ears. You weren't able to meet her, but just through witnessing the utter loyalty the man you loved had for her, she must've been as wonderful as he described her to be. Of course, she was his greatest love and that's alright. He had all the rights to love someone that wasn't you, that's alright too. At least, the truth was finally revealed, right? That was all you wanted, right?

Right, [Y/N]?

"Please do not cry."

Zhongli spoke after what felt like an eternity of silence where you were left consumed by your own thoughts. You didn't even notice the tears that were rolling down your cheeks until he pointed it out — the warmth of Zhongli's fingers as he tried to wipe away at the pearly liquids on your face was careful, but that gesture only seemed to bring forward more of them.

He averted his gaze, "It was not my intention to make you cry..." Here came that unfamiliar hesitation again, rendering his tongue into a jumbled mess. But Zhongli decided to push through, there was something he wanted you to know; "I've never lied to you," he said, his voice and gaze were firm.

"When I told you that looking at Silk Flowers reminds me of your gaze and I want to give them to you. When I told you that I loved her and I love you. When I said that I love her the most."

By now, your tears had stopped and the only traces left of them were the drying streaks on your face. The times where you had asked him all those questions came rushing back in an instant as he listed them amidst his musing.

"Those things, they are not lies," Zhongli encased your trembling hand with both of his own, causing your blurry eyes to look at him. "I love you. This is not a lie either," he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

You were silent and he could feel the worry swirling inside his chest. It was only several seconds after that your mouth began to move, yet he couldn't make out what you had said. With a frown, the tall brown-haired male leaned closer and only then did he hear the words falling from your lips: "I never doubted that at all," you whispered in between sniffles.

"That wasn't a lie either, in case you're wondering," you chipped in. He chuckled, mused that you used his words against him so quickly, endeared by your very existence before him. But most importantly, his voice was rid of the sadness that he had upon seeing your tear-stricken face prior.

"Let's go home, my love," Zhongli said those words softly, as soft as the way he tucked back a stray strand of your hair that fell from its original position.

You nodded.

It was during that fateful dusk where you learnt that you were not his greatest love and that's alright. It'll take time to fully register itself in your heart and that's alright too.

(After all, he said that he loves you — and Zhongli is anything but a liar. Everything is alright, right?)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @herdrops @lleoll — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

© SEELESTIA, dec 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own. happy birthday, jae!

[ghostlychief]

Omg, I love all your work! Im gushing over it, how about one with the Master Chief where the reader is just loving kissing his scars and making him feel loved and the reader is a scientist stationed on the infinity

another master chief request, LETS GOOOO

---

The Infinity was in orbit around Reach, and you finally had some time off to rest and relax, after being deployed up in space for a few months. You were starting to miss natural gravity.

You were a scientist stationed on Infinity, so that meant that majority of your time was spent up in space. You’ve wanted to be a scientist for as long as you can remember, always dreaming of studying the stars, and maybe even one day, being able to physically explore them, traveling through the galaxy. And here you were, some twenty odd years later from when you obsession with the cosmos first came to fruition.

You were also eager to get back down to Reach because you know John was back from his last mission, and you were anxious to get back, excited to see your boyfriend. This time, he was gone for only three weeks, which was actually not a long time at all. Sometimes his work would take him away form you for much longer, but you thanked the heavens that he was already back on Reach, safe and sound.

Earlier, you were frantically cleaning your apartment since he was coming over tonight. You were already kind of a clean freak, so when you were expecting company (even though he’s your boyfriend of many years) you went into ultra-cleaning mode, and cleaned for hours on end, making sure everything was spotless, and smelled good. It also helped you clear your mind.

Eight o’clock finally rolled around, and you were expecting John to be here any time now.

You hear a knock on your door, and you sprint up from the couch and basically rip the door open, a wide grin on your face as you take in your boyfriend, who’s standing in your door frame. He’s opted for comfy clothes, wearing his all-black workout clothes. You’ve always commented on how the black brings out the green in his eyes.

He brings you in for a warm hug, his large arms wrapping around your frame and pulling you in close to him. You feel his chin rest on top of your head, and you both gently rock back and forth as you soak up each other’s warmth. He smells just as you remember, like a gentle rainfall with a hint of cedar. It’s your favorite scent. You finally break away from him, formally greeting him this time, and then you both enter your home.

Fast forward a couple hours, finds yourself laying in bed, with John, and you guys are talking about everything under the sun. He told you about his last mission and surprisingly, some drama that’s been going on with the Blue team, among other mundane updates since he last saw you. You do the same, talking about your latest project, which is tracking a certain galaxy through the Universe.

You have your fairy lights turned on, making your room glow softly, and you’re both wrapped under the covers and in each other’s arms. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the universe right now.

Your head rests on John’s bicep, while your leg is thrown over his hip. His arm that is not acting as a pillow for you, is wrapped around your middle, his hand resting on your back, rubbing soft circles there.

“…and where did you get this one from?” Your hand is currently resting on his face, gently cupping it, as your thumb traces of a scar that marks his left cheek. He’s already told you how he got each of his scars, but you always love hearing him tell the stories, so you find yourself asking him to tell you again.

His hand that was resting on your back, moves so now it’s holding your waist, and he gives you a light pinch, teasing you. You squirm and giggle, but you just look up expectantly at John, waiting to hear the story for the hundredth time.

“Well, as you very well know, I got this on the first Halo I visited.”

You perk up, “Ooo, installation 04, right?” John lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, that one.”

“Aka, the one you destroyed.” You grant him a sly grin. This time he more so huffs, rather than laughs, “Yes, that one.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, continue good sir.” You didn’t see him roll his eyes, but you know he did mentally.

“It was probably day 6 since I touched down on Halo, after the whole Flood incident, so I was pretty worse for wear. We happened to run into a Covenant fleet, which had more than the average amount of Elites. Two in which had the invisibility cloaking mechanism, and their infamous energy swords.”

You nod, encouragingly for him to continue, your thumb still gently moving back and forth on his face. You also lean up to give him a quick kiss on his jaw, and you feel his grip on your waist tighten at the action.

“I managed to take one of the cloaked elites out, while the marines focused on the rest of the fleet. The second elite though was a slippery bastard, and he almost managed to slice my head clean off my neck, but luckily, the sword only grazed my face, giving me this lovely blemish.”

“Well, I love it.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, where the discoloration remains form the blade of the energy sword. You rest your forehead on his for a moment, then kiss his nose.

“I also love this one.” You move to right above his left eye, where a long-jagged mark remains, and leave a kiss. You move to his right temple and plant your lips there, “And this one…”

“Now I think you’re just trying to flatter me.” You let out a breathy laugh, “Never.”

He has a couple of very small scars littering his other cheek, so you pepper kisses all over there, “…and these ones.”

You then hover your lips over his, lightly brushing them as you say, “But most importantly, I love you.”

[buzzkillers]

Burning like embers (falling tender)

Pairing: Regulus Black • Black!Reader

Summary: Regulus kidnaps the bride. (Wc:5k)

Warning: Dubcon, Kidnapping, Semi Unrequited Love, Attempted Non-Con, Pseudo-incest, Pureblood Politics, Regulus Embracing His Flaws (Yt and British)

Beta: @darksideofthecocoamoon !!! This would've been way worse without her.

.

.

Regulus Black was not a good man. 

Good men existed in folk tales, in between the thick yellow pages of his childhood books. Where nobility and honor was permeated in ink and their righteousness was outlined in bold roman font, the letters too tiny for baby regulus to read. It was hard to be a good man,  he learned. And by the age of twenty four, he was barely a man at all. 

Rather melodramatic. His mother had said. 

Mother also said he should feel lucky.  

It was luck after all wasn't it? His mother said. A gift to have all of his boyhood crushed out and replaced with a substance that no good man ever possessed. Voldemort knew how to show his favor. He should've been grateful. 

And Regulus was. Grateful that is. He was grateful in the way ravens were grateful for a murder, fire to wood and a cowardly man to…well to him. Regulus. Who had no problem bringing all of these things to fruition. Better than him than the others. His colleagues that liked to add to the fire and wood first, turn a flicker flame to a conflagration. 

It was good that he had all of that goodness ripped out of him, the remnants stuck between Voldemort's teeth.  

Because good men became drunks; drunk on alcohol, indulgent on cheap thrills and even cheaper whores. Complacent. Regulus thought.  

Vermin. His father corrected. Dogs that pretended to be wolves before they latched back on their leashes and trotted home; clean shaven and pristine. 

Regulus knew good men well afterall. 

He's killed many. 

A poison there. A dog bone here. Family cemeteries made entirely in his name. 

So when he said he wasn't a good man, it wasn't an attempt to be humble or modest or bashful or coy or any other fanciful saying. Regulus Black was not a good person. 

The mark proved it. 

The murders cemented it. 

And your body chained to his bed, screamed it. 

Or maybe that was simply a gross overstatement? 

The word 'chained' naturally made one think of those muggle devices. A crude contraption with metallic locks and easily hexed metals. (An insult to human ingenuity, really.) No, your chains were of the metaphysical kind: sophisticated, invisible, snug. It was the nicest thing he's ever done for an opposer to his Lord. 

Unfortunately, you were not raised by Mother. So you didn’t understand to be grateful. Which was a shame. Even a bird admired their cages eventually. It was the least you could do. 

But of course Regulus' life was unfairly hard and his options null. So instead of admiration and dutiful respect, you laid with your back turned and her body curled against the dark corner of your bed. Small and pitiful— a bit wet too. 

Funny.

Maybe he should've called you a fish instead. You wouldn't laugh but it would be funny. After all the white gown that clung to your body was completely translucent, the edges covered in soap suds. (Nastily, Regulus Black curled his bruised lips; a caged bird indeed.)

He closed the door behind him.  

His own clothes drenched and his fingers bloody with scratches before he dumped the wand in his hand to the ground. It clattered unceremoniously. 

"My bird," he began, voice smooth, annoyed. 

"I hope you're incredibly happy with yourself," he slipped his loafers off and untwisted his family rings.  

"There's a dead wizard at our doorstep because of you," parts of him anyway.

The rest of him was about a few yards out. With chunks of flesh too burned and scarred to be identified as human spewed across the acres of land. (Dog meat, his father would say. Hopefully the animals thought the same.) 

The whole ordeal was unnecessarily messy you see? Uncivilized even as he looked at the 'dog' blood splattered against his light robes. Angered, he unbuttoned that too. 

"It was an avoidable death, don't you think?" 

"A complete waste of my time, even?" He cocked his head, his voice heavy with something that made your back tense. 

Yet of course, you refused to turn around, to look back… 

A recent nasty habit of yours as he threw his robes on a nearby chair. The excess blood dripping from hand woven cloth onto the concrete floor. A familiar sight. 

Slowly, his eyes dragged to the wand on the ground, so small and twiggy. It reminded him of the toy wands he saw poor half-bloods play with when no one was looking. A scrap of trash. No different than what you'd throw for a animal to catch. 

Yet, it took death for the wizard to let it go. (A dog and its bone.)

He frowned, then snapped it beneath his heel. 

Magic spurted out and when he looked up your head swirled back towards the wall. He frowned again.

"You could at least cry," he said, voice hoarse. 

“He died for you after all,” 

Besides your frame, a lamp flickered and its shadow danced across your back. He licked his lips, hmm. “They all died for you, actually,” 

"Should I tell them to stop?" He murmured. But you only curled further into yourself. Like a victim, like someone that's done nothing wrong. He gritted his teeth. "No that won't work, you'll just keep sending them," Regulus kicked the wand across the room. 

"Maybe if he had served his purpose…." The air crackled. “..But alas,” Then he crossed the small room and plopped himself on the bed. His head cushioned against the duvet. 

"What did you tell them anyway?" he whispered, before something cracked and your cuffs pulsed. He smiled.  

"Did you say you were captured? That I was holding you prisoner? Did you lie, birdy?" He whispered, before slowly you sat up and turned your head. Your pupils were fat, your breath still.  

"Shut up," 

"B-" he started before all air left his lungs, your hands wrapped around his throat.

"Tu putain de salope—" your knees dug into his waist. “—just stop talking," Spit flew with each word and it took everything in him not to lick it away. He could only smile and make it worse. 

Your eyes widened, a fury of emotion flickering in and out and Regulus only with luck missed the conjured dagger that dug into the place where his head once was. 

"Baise gluante-"  Then with a flick of his wrist the chains tightened, your positions switched and Regulus was on top once more. His bony fingers pressed into a neck that creaked beneath his weight. 

“That was an admirable trick,”

“You almost got me there.” He spoke too soon. 

The knife appeared again, this time pressed too close to his third rib. Huh. What was that muggle saying about kicked dogs again?

"Don’t make me repeat myself," You demanded again between clenched teeth and his skin that was beginning to unravel under the metal. Something in him warmed at that. He killed a man like this the day before. But that was more brutal, cruel even. This was not that. This violence was intimate, affectionate. 

So much so that the moment you spat your words back at him, this time he did lick it off. 

"Sweet," He murmured to himself, like burnt cranberries and raw strawberries, something natural that bursted on his tongue. He licked it again. “A little sour too,” Beneath him you laid frozen, your own eyes widened until your grip on the knife loosened. "Just like me,"

"You're sick," you said it like you were just noticing. "How could you just-"

Quickly, you took a deep breath. 

In. 

Out.

“I'm nothing like you," 

"Nothing?” 

With a grunt you attempted to get up but he kept you down with nails that dug into your wrist. An devilish embrace. "You killed him and you didn't have to, you didn't even need to touch him, you could've let him go, kept him out of it," you insisted, each word said with hard eyes and fat tears on your cheeks. "We're nothing alike," 

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. 

"Then leave," 

"…."

Outside your ‘dogs’ flesh had begun to be pecked off by the ravens and the bones by the flies. Inside, you licked your lips but you did not move an inch. “Here, I’ll even help you,” he confessed before with a whispered incantation, your chain vanished. “Go,”

A symphony of emotions flickered across your face. They all burned hot and they all made Regulus shift above your thigh. Before your knife clattered to smoke and your face twisted into something like hatred. 

His little bird drew back into her cage. 

"Yes," he sighed, his voice not at all shallow and not at all starved for air while he rubbed at the wound that would soon scar by morning, 

"That's what I thought," 

—

When he first met you, his first thought was: 'This isn't going to work,'  and his second thought was 'She's too good for Sirius,'

In hindsight, both statements were correct. 

You were a bold thing really. A beauty covered in rare gems and an aura that spoke of higher breeding. Mother boasted about you highly. The jewel of the west she called you. Someone, born and bred within the confines of a highly respected Afro-Caribbean pure blood family. It was a surprise that Mother even knew you but he guessed that was the point. She wanted someone not as connected in British society after all. Someone who only visited when they had to. 

In other words, the likelihood of Sirius already having fucked you was low and the likelihood  that you knew him was even lower. 

For his mother, ignorance truly was bliss. 

If not for Sirius than also for the fact that no non-British family paid attention to Voldemort.

Voldemort's tyranny was simply an English problem. The bloke didn’t seem to care about the muggles from other countries, much less ones from the Caribbeans. Still, people have heard whispers of him. Only a dip in the pond about a crazed muggleborn that had a bone to pick with British society. 

Nothing special because in hindsight, who didn't? 

So, it was unsurprising that your parents agreed to a marriage of convenience with the one family that was in His pockets. What was surprising was how well you took to it. 

According to Sirius, arranged marriages were archaic and boorish. Not because of any logical reasons like loss of autonomy but because ‘Only a pauper let's their parents pick where his cock goes'. Of course he paid Sirius no mind. 

 Yet, solemnly he wondered if you felt the same. As a boy he would've scoffed at the idea of someone not wanting to marry into the powerful House Of Black but he hasn't been a boy for a long time now. The scales had long fallen from his eyes. In the privacy of his mind, he could not say that it was truly an honor to marry into the Black Family. 

Not with the Potters and Misli’s right there. Not with witches like Bellatrix in the family. On the contrary, it's most likely that you were in for a shock. And you'd probably run for the hills while Sirius laughed into his fifth bottle of ale and mother seethed in the shadows. 

It was the logical conclusion, he knew it and father knew it. But sometimes wolves liked to just watch their prey die. And who were they to go against Mothers will? Father the patriarch and him the–good son. The dog. So he even prepared for it. What a waste of time that was. 

He told Kreacher to prepare for a crying wailing woman. He didn’t prepare for the force that walked through the door instead. It was raining when you visited but you didn't seem to notice. Instead your face was held high as you met mother, your grip firm when you met father and you smiled at him. Very toothy and almost childish but it fit you well.

Father and Mother were nervous that Sirius wouldn't take to you. That they'd have to find another poor woman for their plans but Regulus remembered the sparkle behind his brother's eyes, the twitch of his fingers when you matched fire with oil. You gave him boorish jokes with a classy smile and a mouth no different than a muggle sailor. You were everything dirty about Sirius, wrapped and repackaged into someone pretty, someone that could take it, take him. 

Regulus wasn't impressed of course. It took anyone with a halved brain cell to get along with Sirius. You were really no different than James in his mind. Someone that could code switch between two worlds without making either party uncomfortable. A chameleon with nothing inside. It was good that you only had one job really. One simple, impossible to fail job: 'Bring my son back to me,' He heard mother whisper, both of your bodies hidden in the shadows of the back rooms. ‘Bring Sirius back into the fold’ 

‘Bring him back with a mark,’ She really meant to say and then the conversation was over. 

And of course you failed. 

____

"Do not touch me with blood still on your hands,"  you barked as Regulus dipped your head into the water. The soap suds in your head mingling with the crusted blood on his fingers until the water became a dull, faint pink. 

He hummed. "You demand a lot of me," but his hands do hover away from your hair and to the lip of the porcelain tub. You'd smell so much better without the after-smell of spilt blood anyway. 

Without thinking he rinsed his hands in the water bowl by his side. His pink reflection looking at him before he went back to your puffed- no braided hair. It wasn't like that before. Did you do that while he was upstairs? With your bare hands at that? No, you must've used a spell. Strangled together the few bouts of magic his bindings granted you and did what he offered to do freely. Impressive. 

He should take it all apart. 'Just to spite you,' he thought before with a hum he squeezed more shampoo in your hair. Suds dropped to the wooden floor, and seeped between the cracks. The scent of juniper berry erupted in the air. Your hands gripped the lip of the tub tighter. 

“Sirius used to wash my hair like this.” you murmured, your teeth dug deep into your lip. “Eventually, he’d join me and we’d stay in the tub for hours,” 

He paused, his fingertips wrinkled in your hair before you took a long and hard inhale. In.  Out. 

“Is that so?” he murmured, something tough in his throat. It was only because of the hand of Merlin that he was able to sound nonchalant. 

From his position, he could not see your features. But he could look at the mirror that faced the both of you. It stood at the opposite side of the room; decorated in golds and engraved with faces that he had no interest in knowing. Your own face was the only one that captured his attention. And at this moment, it was closed off. Your lips twisted sardonically and your eyes cut to the side.  

“Yes, there was more that was happening of course, but—that would be inappropriate to tell, " you snickered as if you were the leader on all things dealing with propriety. He took a moment and breathed in. 

“Was this before or after you betrayed him,” Regulus asked. You went silent. 

Coward.

“Or do you even remember,”

“-shut up,”

“Is that a no then?” 

"Are you deaf?" you cut your eyes towards the mirror. "I told you to shut up," 

His own lips curled, "You are still wet," The suds in your hair have now dried. Leaving behind dollops of water that now pooled at his feet. The excess had begun to drip to the floor, the rest down your neck, to your back. 

"Did that also remind you of your time with Sirius?"  Then you shot up, the water falling from your shoulders.  

"Do you constantly think about what gets your brother hard?" What a dirty mouth.

His lips twisted. "You should get back in,"

"No," 

"You'll get a cold," 

You rolled your eyes. "Then you shall tell my family I died of hyperthermia, they'll believe that," 

His eyes fell flat but Regulus didn't say a word. Just kept his touch gentle, his movements soft. As if you were a lover, a friend and not—

The knife only nicked his shoulder this time.

"I said-" you shuddered violently,. "-To stop it," 

In the mirror, Regulus watched as you shot him a look. Weeks ago there was a fiery rage in there, dragon eyes in human form. Now it was just tired, bored even. Then you looked back down, silent. 

He narrowed his eyes. "Ask me,"

Your grimace only deepened, but now there was humor laced in the edges. "Ask?" your lips twisted into a nasty tired smile; 

"Demander?" You giggled. "Did you forget what's in our blood?" You questioned with all that humor quickly gone and replaced with a tone ancient and old.

"We do not ask," you sneered, then rolled your shoulders. 

"Even Sirius knew that,"

_____

You didn't even know Sirius. 

That was the worst part. You giggled in hidden corners and you kissed his hand to make the elders gasp in horror and Sirius like a fool ate it up and you didn't even know him. 

Sometimes,the depths of his brother's stupidity astounded him. Did he really think that a woman like you would just fall in his lap? You were already out of his league. A barmaid would be a better fit. 

It was foolish, idiotic, ridiculous but it worked. Because without knowing Sirius was getting closer to taking the mark. He no longer grimaced when Regulus arrived home smelling of iron. Or when he got caught with scratches on his arm and blood on his collar. Mother's plan was working and he only felt pity.

It was one thing to pretend, it was another to have to dumb yourself down for a bonafide pauper. If Mother had picked him, there would be no farce. Not like he wanted that. He didn't want anything. 

He was fine with watching from the shadows. His entire presence ignored while you and Sirius pretended you were the only ones in England. It was simply the way things were, he realized with clenched knuckles and a tight smile. 

But did it have to be? 

 __

No, it didn't.

—-

Six months later, Regulus understands why Sirius gets so addicted. A drunk like him, so prone to tasting what was bitter, his tongue rotten with ale. You were an overturn. Something annoyingly new. Regulus had never tasted something so sweet. Poppy pomegranate and sunburst cherries. He swore that he’d get a cavity as he dug his fingers into your hair. 

Twisting you into position, tight, proper, the way you gripped the stem of any fruit. Of anything that you wanted to get a better taste of. You were too stunned to fight back then. The bitter after taste of champagne you were prone to drinking sticky on your tongue. Your glass already shattered on the floor. 

In the next room, your husband argued with portraits. And when it's done, and when you slap him. Regulus received a thought. An awful hypothesis. 

What else could he get away with when enclosed by walls? The rest of the world locked away? 

An awful thought indeed. 

—--

It's only a week later that it happened. Sirius waking up to an empty bed and Regulus miles away on a mission, in the middle of nowhere, in a quaint little cottage.

It was almost too easy. 

—

You didn’t leave of course. Not at first. 

Because leaving met acknowledging that you were wrong. That there was nothing to gain at keeping his attention. Leaving meant having to look Sirius in the eye and tell him you lied. 

Of course you had questions. Regulus of course didn’t answer. 

You didn't need to know how distraught Sirius had become. A pathetic puppy that moped around the manor destroying everything in sight. Regulus didn’t even need to plant ideas in the brutes head. No, all the seeds were already there. Sown in from years of idiocy and your failed meddling. 

'It was Dumbledore, I just know.’ 

‘That stupid old git is trying to punish me,' he whined to Regulus. 'He took her, I know he did Reggie, you need to help me' 

'Prongs and-" he'd gnaw at his cracked lips. 'they don't believe me, they think I'm mad, they think I'm—Regulus'

Sirius was mad for you. Unnaturally obsessed. A fool with his alcohol taken away. A dog that's lost his chew toy. He didn't know any better. He couldn't have. But Regulus did, Regulus knew you. He understood your games and twist. Poor Sirius. 

If Regulus had to be the bad guy then so be it. He could be the executioner and the judge, he just needed to play his cards right. 

Murder would create a martyr but someone missing? Someone that Sirius could say left him high and dry. It was what you were planning to do anyway. And if Regulus quickened the process that didn't make him anymore of a bad person than the murder and countrywide slaughter ever did.

—

You were surprisingly clumsy by your lonesome. 

Random scars and cuts littered your body when he wasn’t looking. Ghost of attempts at escape most likely. Which was fine. Regulus could play doctor. Even if it included a bath. A mutual need, probably. The blood on his hands had begun to make his nose burn. 

He watched you flinch, took relevance in the way your eyes settled: tired, bitter. It was the same look worn by others. It reminded him of himself, of mother. Abrasive. Challenging him. 

After all these weeks, you seemed to still be under the impression that Regulus was anything like Sirius. That they shared the same rotten brain cell that Sirius had split amongst his new brothers, his new family. 

He unclenched his fist. Let his anger burn and flick in the atmosphere before with a turn of his head he looked at the hair moisturizer on the counter top. 

"Your hairs going to be tangled tomorrow. You should let me rebraid it," You scuffed at that. 

"Touch me and you die." You said the same thing to Sirius once. He heard it through the walls during your consummation night. Between the sounds of ruffled sheets and curses. And surprisingly, Sirius listened.

Regulus didn't have the same control. He grabbed for a braid, a knife appeared once again at his rib. He sighed. “You’re being stubborn,”

“I will rebraid my own hair,”

“..With what autonomy?”

You rolled your eyes. "Want to find out?”

He snorted, hands gripping your strands. "Sometimes, it astounds me how well you lie."

"Don't you realize that I already know you're guilty?"

You sighed. Tired, as if this was a conversation you two have had a million times before. It was.

You looked away. "I'm not," he yanked your head. "But you are." Then when with a snap of his wand you were dried and dressed. Your body plopped on your bed without care. He rolled his eyes.

"You fed my brother lies and lured him away f when your job was so simple. to bring him back," Get him to take the mark, be the whisper in his ears, that was what Mother told you. All that deceit just so that the family could have a proper Heir. A better head outside of him the runt and Bellatrix the mad woman. 

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “You lured him away and then-” he gripped his fist into the sheets. “-and then you attempted to run with another,” 

“You were going to betray him,” it was funny really. Outside of the curses and the hexes and threats that was the one that got you to pay attention. That indifference melting away with ease.

"You are a liar and you should be happy that I even-":

"Look at me?" You rolled your head to the side. "Cause you look at me alot Black, even when you think I'm not looking back," you said this with shadowed eyes and a laziness to your movements. Like you had all the time in the world to revel in the fact that Regulus watched you back. That he wasn’t as suave as he thought you were. 

Regulus flickered his eyes down to the crotch of your dress. Theres a wet spot there that never fully dried. Regulus shot to his feet.

 "You're angry," 

"Regulus," 

"I get it, truly" he found himself at the edge of your bed. A wand less spell on his lips that warmed the fabric. 

"I've been nothing but terrible to you, completely awful. That's no way to treat a sister-in-law, now is it?" he sat at your side, his hands on your thigh. Fabric brushed against your bare skin. Under his words, you shook. "But if you bring up his name again, I'll-" 

"What?" You sneered, that hatred bleeding back in. "Let me go?" 

"Tell Sirius what I did?" With a blink your eyes began to sheen. "I do not care," 

Then your face twisted. "Not anymore" 

He gripped your face, his own features  suddenly inhumane. "Your boy toy has made you cocky," 

"Do you think I won't do it? Are you prepared to make that gamble?" There was a frenzied tone to his voice as he said this. For a moment he wondered if it was the weather. An effect of being so sick of your behavior. He must've been worse than he thought but you were looking at him with defiance. He wanted to find control but there was a smolder to your eyes, a spark and suddenly Regulus lost all control. You were serious. 

And then you screamed as he gripped your shoulders and shoved you into the mattress. It bounced beneath the weight. "No," he whispered. 

Your slip entangled in his fingers. You were slipping between his fingers. The harsh tear of fabric brought him back to the present as the top of your slip laid torn in his hand. 

You laughed. It too sounded frayed while your fingers trembled. "No?" 

But outside of that you said nothing, just stared at him the way you stared at potion books and Sirius odd muggle gimmicks. Something dangerous, that you were simply waiting to explode and somehow that was worse than screaming. Worse than you cursing at him while his fingers dug into your ripped dress. 

"You do not know him,"

But youre stupid so you only grunted back, "Don't I?," 

He laughed "My own brother? You really think you know him better than I?" 

"No—" 

"No?" 

"I don't know what Sirius was like as a child but I do know that the boy you call your brother is dead" 

You gripped his arms now, like an anchor. "I know that he only exist in your memories, and I mourn your loss"  

"But the man is different and I know him and I know that he would never give into Voldemort—not even for you,"

Don't say his name, rested heavy on his tongue. But he crushed it. In that moment something in him died and something else was born. A substance unknown to good men or even Voldemort. 

 So, he smiled. Soft hands coming up to pick at the soft white gown. The fabric was practically translucent up close. 

"Those are harsh accusations," he plopped on the bed and felt himself jump a bit before his hands relaxed against your knee and then your thigh and then- paused with a look. 

 Your body trembled beneath his fingers. 

"Fratricide, sororicide? You really can't think of anything worse?" He whispered, his words painting a portrait that only you could see.

 Still, he watched your eyes widen and felt your breath stutter. A fine drip of water that didn't come from your hair, slid down your forehead. Before a hummingbirds heart fluttered beneath your skin. And all he could do was stare, his hand pressed firmly against your cunts entrance. 

"I can.." he said, still covered in blood, still burning with the mark, before his fingers slipped between your thighs. Plushy and warm then suddenly damp, drenching his fingers.

 "..I can think of something worse for Sirius to find." 

"He'd only have to look at my hands" 

You jumped back and thrashed but it was worthless, his fingers were already against your cunt.

  The sounds only got louder, your thrashing more manic but the spell he put on your hands and feet kept you plastered to the bed. He grounded into you further, chest against chest before his head nuzzled against your own. 

 'Frankincense and juniper berry' he thought with a whiff. Like the familiar books he read as a child and the aroma of the Black home after night had fallen. Divine and familiar. 

His own little goddess. 

The revelation forced him to kiss your cheek. His own lips pressed firmly against your skin. He could taste the shea butter. Could still smell the fruity body wash as your screams turned into whimpers and then morphed into ugly moans. The sounds of pleasure ripped out of you through clenched teeth and bitten lips. 

He brought his free hand up, clenched your neck. Felt the arteries jump and your jugular twitch. He killed a man like this earlier today. A long and dirty muggle way of murder. 

Still, he took interest in the way the man's eyes slowly turned glossy and the way his hands clenched helplessly at Regulus' clothed arms. As if this would rip him away from Regulus. Force him to not carry out his duty. Beneath him, you did the same. Your soft hands grasping helplessly at his clothes. Pulling him in, pushing him back. Delirious. 

"Tu vas le regretter, Black," 

"You gain nothing-" 

"C'mon you can beg longer than that, give me a tale for Sirius.” He sneered. “Let me tell him that you put up a fight," he bent down. 

"Let me tell him that his wife fought hard for me not to fuck her," you spat on him, he kissed you. 

Then you knee him in the face. He jerked back, blood spurted in his hand. He smeared it against your knee. 

"You palefaced-" you punched him this time, his teeth rattled. the bed met his back. The force ricocheting till the bed frame cracked and your chains went loose and Regulus was back on you like a feral dog. 

You would not leave this place. 

But youre quick, a snap of wind that pushes him to his back, elbow in his throat. Above, him you look like a God. Vengeful.  And ready to destroy the only person who exists just for you. “You can't stop me, “ 

And Regulus is weak. A small pathetic thing just like Bellatrix said he was because his eyes burn. The edges wet with admonishment. The edges of his lips quiver. And suddenly all that anger bleeds away.  He gripped your wrist. Sharps nail dug into your skin with something worse.  

“He doesn't deserve you,” He pierced, throat burning. Above him, your eyes melted. The look indescribable.  

“I know.” 

“You will get bored of him, and I'll still be here waiting, watching,” he pulled you closer, nose to nose. You filled his vision. “Do you like making me your dog?”

You opened your mouth but no–

He persisted, tears fat. “Can't I just have you,”

“Can't you just want me? Is that too much to ask? Is it too much to want?” Regulus wanted so much already. He rarely ever had it in his grasp. The back of his mind filled with ideologies of freedom, and family and lonely nights in nowhere cities where no one would know his name. All of that was too far away though, intangible. But this–

He crawled into your space,  gripped your skin. 

–This was so close.

He shuddered. Lips red and his face damp with anticipation. Below him, you looked ethereal. The edges of your eyes burning soft.  

“Is this really all you want from me? Sex? After everything?” 

No. What Regulus wanted was much darker than that.  More debased and immoral and such an awful sticky thing that he could not even admit it to himself. But for now, if that's what you needed to believe. If only a physical communion was what you thought he wanted of you. Then so be it.  

He opened his mouth, ready to lie. 

Yes.  

It's right on his tongue.  

Yes.  He was not greedy. Yes. He did not want anything more. 

Yes. The oath of one easily satisfied. 

But nothing came out. His voice stolen as you looked up at him. Eyes wide.  All seeing. Knowing of everything. 

Regulus shook his head.  

“No.” the word bled out in spurts. 

Weak. Bellatrix whispered in his ear.  So fucking weak. Maybe he was no better than Sirius. 

Because you were only going to deny him. You were going to say no. Laughing at his face because that's what people did in the face of fools. Regulus grip loosened. Beneath him you sighed. 

“Merde.”

“You're a piece of work, do you understand–” your lips twisted, eyes narrowed. “This is not my home and yet you keep me here, this is not my country and yet you keep me here, don't you think I've given up enough to simply be in your presence? Can't this be enough?” 

You say that but Regulus sees the molten desire in your eyes. The way you flickered across his face, unable to stay in one spot but lingering all the same as you crowded in him too.

Suddenly the air was dry. Regulus forgetting how to breath as you leaned back. Exposing your neck, dematerializing the knife. 

He gets closer. “Speak plainly.”

You looked away.  Outside the dog was barely bones. Rotten in the earth. You seemed to contemplate something, eyes distant before you're brought back to reality. 

“...I'll allow it.” 

Oh.

‘We’ can have this. Not just him, not just you. This had to be a gift. Before your grip turned tight, your face feral. A certain kind of wildness found only in martyrs and heroes and righteous fools littered your eyes before you smiled, teeth bloody. “Ask any more of me and i'll leave you here,”

“Alone, and then you’ll have to kill me to get me to stay.”  

"I will haunt you till you are dust and bones and-" he kissed you, his own blood smeared with yours before he pressed his forehead against your own. "Yes," he whispered, and it couldn't help but notice that it sounded like a prayer. Like holiness,a type of reverence found only at the foot of gods and priest. 

He said it again. You froze. 

"Just don't go where I can't find you." 

He smiled. 

Then he kissed you again, on your nose this time, then your eyelids. Then sweetly, softly the space between your lips and your nose. He sighed and then he took you. 

He puts his mouth on you. Slipped his head beneath your layers of clothing. 

Unbuckled and unzipped and pulled apart each single one before your bareness glistened in his face. Until he could see the disbelief at his urgency flood your features. The confusion at his delicacy. Regulus understood.

There was something horrific but about taking someone's defenses apart with a sensitivity. With the precision of a monster that did not have to rip you to shreds to make you feel fear. And when he got to your core Regulus wasted no time. 

....You tasted like pussy. 

Musky and sweet, and in your skin he smelt the juniper berry and in your lower hairs drenched with the smell of arousal. 

Above him you flinched and you shivered. It reminded him of a siren.

The unseelie ones that would flinch and cry as he electrocuted their water. Taking their oxygen away, fucking up the chemical imbalance, till their nails cracked the glass, 

All while his fingers brushed against your own. Your ring finger still entrapped by a silver snake ring. Regulus was not a good man. He was flawed with impatience, entitlement, narcissism, the list went on. But it was his entitlement that got you in his bunker. It was his impatience that made him act, his familial nature that got you here on your back. Body drained and his head placed timidly on your belly. 

He listened to your heart beat through skin and bones. Through vertebrae and arteries. Because everything was louder there, your blood even sang for him. A frenzied beat that made your skin hot to the touch. 

He collapsed further into you. Nuzzling his nose into the crux of your neck.

An unleashed dog indeed.

.

.

.

.

[koogl001]

Hello! Can I request alastor with an eldritch s/o that's more powerful than him. I love the creepy flare that you give your alastor fics but since he's naturally the more dominant type I sorta wanna see him react to someone who could probably rival lucifer.

One-Shots and Headcanons Masterlist

When Alastor first arrived in Hell, he made it his point to start gathering territory as soon as possible, leaving a blood bath behind him

He was strong, stronger than any mortal soul you have ever seen, and that intrigued you immensely

Being one of the Overlords, you constantly seeked new challengers whom would be worthy of fighting and most of the times, you ended up being disappointed

To you, fighting was something you lived for

When Alastor finally arrived at the borders of your territory in search of his next victim, you were ecstatic to finally see just how powerful he truly was

Your battle was the most enjoyable one you had for centuries, but it wasn’t enough

The deer demon was new to Hell and therefore, new to his powers so he hasn’t quite reached his full potential yet, and you just couldn’t kill him before he did

No, you had to face him at his strongest, a battle to death

Taking Alastor down, you expressed immense interest in teaching him about his powers and helping him become stronger for the single purpose of crushing that power of his once he was ready in your eyes

Despite his pride not allowing him to accept your assistance, his interest in you kept him in your presence as you were the first being to ever bring him to his knees

He knew you held a high status down here and was ready to strip you of that status and take it as his own, crushing you under his shoe as he felt the overwhelming feeling of dominancy

That was his new goal, and he would see to it that it would be fulfilled, no matter how low he would have to stoop

He tried setting traps, using cheap tricks, surprise attacks, angel weapons, blackmailing and anything else he could think of, but you were always one step ahead of him

For once in his life, he wasn’t the one on the top and strangely, he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would

Your fights were enjoyable, you were quick on your feet and smart with your strategies

To him, you had it all

Smarts, power, status, and beauty

He decided it would be only fitting for you to become his once he overpowered you, but with each passing day he realised time and time again that there was no taking you down

So, he decided that if he couldn’t have the pleasure of defeating you physically, he would do so mentally

He was aware of the effect he had on women and some men, and knew just how to spin that to his advantage

He’d start subtly by complimenting your fighting style while you two sparred, engaging more in your conversations, being in your presence more often and of course, secretly watching your every move

You saw the change in him but didn’t pay it much attention as it was not indicating the possibility of a threat, until he started gathering information from you about what you liked and disliked

Now that was out of character for him, and you became slightly suspicious so whatever you told him, you always chose your words and the information you were giving up carefully

Hunting was something you shared an interest in, there was just something so appealing about stalking your unsuspecting pray and slaughtering it, feeling the power you had over it

The power to choose whether it shall live or die

Passionately discussing the topic for days, you soon grew emotionally closer, and for some strange reason, you no longer wished to kill him

Alastor’s plan was slowly coming into fruition, but what he hadn’t accounted for was the fact he was staring to have romantic feelings for you

You were the first woman that make him feel this way, and he wasn’t sure how to handle this

His instinct was to just take you and claim you as his, but with your power that would be impossible

He took to being with you 24/7

His overprotectiveness was starting to show as all it would take for Alastor to attack was for a man to simply look your way

In your eyes however, he was the one who needed protection

He was weaker than you and quite reckless at times, but it was a nice gesture from him

It reassured you that he truly cared about you not only because of your status and it made you want to return the gesture

You approached him and asked to form a contract with him, which took him by surprise of course

You had everything, so what could you possibly want?

You told him you wanted him, and you knew he wanted you

Green light emitted from Alastor as he extended his hand towards you

“I shall be yours till the end of time”

[pagesfromthevoid]

Enchanted | g.d. | 3

Gale Dekarios x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Smuuuuut baby (but also plot). Little bit of angst, Gale talking about blowing himself up

Author’s Note: Listen I know this is going a bit fast but I also just. Couldn’t prolong it. I love him too much.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go

I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home…

Gale had held his realization close to his heart for the time being. He had to, if anything because he simply needed time to process that the Fates had aligned enough to bring him and his bard together. The divine had not been kind to Gale in so long —yet, as it would be, they decided that Tav would be there to save him that day.

Even if he wanted to address it, to reveal how he felt and who he was to her, none of that was able to come to fruition once they saved Halsin. Of course, the Fates decided to be just as cruel as ever when Elminster appeared in the camp shortly after they saved the druid, breaking the news that Mystra wanted Gale to give his life to stop the Absolute.

Tav’s reaction was…well, it was incredibly reassuring, honestly. Heartbreaking, but reassuring. She had ripped Elminster a new one, yelling at the legendary wizard that it was not Mystra’s choice to have Gale off himself in her fucking name. That they would find another way to stop the Absolute that didn’t involve him dying. The tears in her eyes, the rage that radiated off her –Gale realized that even if she didn’t know he wrote that missive to her, she felt strongly for him.

And of course, even after Elminster disappeared from camp, they couldn’t settle down to discuss everything. Almost immediately, they had found themselves thrown into yet another quest –now moving them into an awful, shadow-cursed land that threatened to consume every single one of them whole.

Literally.

The shadows literally threatened to consume them.

As Gale trudged through the shadow-cursed land, his mind buzzed with conflicting emotions. The weight of his unspoken feelings for Tav bore down on him like the darkness that surrounded them. He stole glances at her whenever he could, drinking in her every movement, her every word, with a mixture of longing and apprehension. Amidst the palpable tension, he couldn't shake off the feeling that every step they took brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation, not just with the shadowy threats around them, but with the truths he had kept hidden.

Even with the help of the lantern and Karniss, the guide they had trusted to lead them, the trip felt far more perilous than it should have. Every minute they spent fighting harpers, or beasts, or shadows was another minute that they risked losing their lives. And, more so, he worried with every step and every fight that he would risk losing her again –and more permanently this time. The shadows seemed to whisper his fears back to him, amplifying the relentless doubts that gnawed at his resolve.

But no time seemed to be a good time to pull her aside, to admit to her that he was the one who sent that missive from Waterdeep. There was always someone else with her, and they hadn’t been able to make camp yet or else risk their lives with the shadows. They needed to make it to Last Light Inn in order to make camp, and truly there was no actual path that led to the inn safely. The urgency of their mission, coupled with the ever-looming threat, left little room for the heartfelt confession he yearned to make.

And then, naturally, when they did manage to find themselves at the Inn, they were ambushed. Naturally, they broke out in a fight that almost killed every single one of them. Even if they did manage to save Isobel, and even if they did manage to stop the shadows from consuming all the harpers –they had to fight to the last breath before they had properly rested and Gale thought truly, this might be the end of them. And naturally, they had to go find Ketheric Thorm and stop him now in order to actually stop whatever this curse was in this horrible place. The relentless onslaught of challenges seemed to conspire against any chance for a moment of respite, let alone a moment for personal revelations.

Naturally. Naturally. 

Gale wanted so badly to curse Tav’s incessant need to get herself almost killed in order to save others. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her and beg the bard to stop, and consider herself for five minutes. Consider how people –how he would feel if she died and they could not save her. Did she have no regard for herself? Did she have no regard for her own safety? 

But he couldn’t. 

Because the very incessant need to help and ensure everyone’s safety was one of the many qualities he admired about her very existence. 

Tav was kind, and loyal, and he was painfully in love with someone who had no idea it was him that wrote that damn note, that she had saved his life long before she was saving the lives of everyone around her. Watching her fight stirred every emotion inside of him –pride, awe, lust –and he couldn’t bottle it all up any longer.

When the fight had finally ended –when the blood was spilled all over the courtyard of the inn and his companions caught their breaths and all but collapsed against one another –he was resolved to give in. Orb be damned, he was going to tell Tav he loved her because he had to if they were going to keep on the way they were.

*****

“Hello! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep. He is requesting a private conversation with you, if you would oblige.”

Tav stared up at the image of Gale before her. It glowed with an aura that was unmistakably magic, though it was so drastically similar that from a distance, she was certain it was him when she approached.

“Oh, uh –yeah, of course. Where is he?”

The image of the wizard motioned towards a path outside of camp. “Just down the path. If you would like, I will happily guide you.”

She nodded, motioning for it to lead the way. The image moved freely, walking through camp without issue. Shadowheart and Lae’Zel both gave her strange looks, following Gale’s magical counterpart with their eyes as the two passed by. Tav simply shrugged in response and continued on her way, until the path was well out of camp and the image of Gale was replaced by the actual man.

He sat with his legs crossed, hands moving through the air as he manipulated the sky above him to form a night sky and borealis. Tav smiled softly at the sight, slowly sitting down beside him with her knees to her chest. 

“I love this time of night,” he explained as if answering the question she had not asked. “There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, where you’d almost believe the dawn will never break. The cradle of eternity; the timelessness of lovers; the most beautiful of fantasies.” 

She watched him for a moment before looking back up at the sky. “It’s breathtaking. Is it your doing?”

He nodded once, but she could feel his gaze on her. “The curse is still present, of course. Just veiled and at arm’s length. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight…tonight is different.”

For a moment, they simply watched each other with soft smiles. Sometimes, she wished that he was less captivating or sweet; it made life so much more difficult for her when she was trying to keep feelings for him at bay. But then he went and did things like this –created beauty in a place that was so broken –and Tav found herself further drawn into her feelings for him.

“This may be my last night alive,” he explained, though his voice was soft. “I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty of wonder and with company to match.”

Her brow furrowed as she opened her mouth to argue, to remind him that she would not let him die but he interrupted her.

“I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought…it might make the weight of what I must do to feel a little lighter. But I am not so sure.”

“I refuse to believe that this is the end, Gale. I refuse to let you die for the promise of forgiveness from a goddess who cast you out.”

“Babe or crone, coward or hero…death is assured, Tav. If you knew the end was near, would you not want to ensure it had meaning?”

“Gale –,”

“I am terrified,” he interrupted once again. “I will not claim otherwise. My face could scarcely conceal it even if my words ought to deny it. There is no point in running from the inevitable; Better to meet it, on my own terms.”

“No,” she snapped at him, grabbing his hand in hers. Her heart ached, thinking that Gale had resigned himself to death even before considering the other options. Not that she knew what those options were, but they were better than dying. “Nothing is inevitable. Not when we face it together. You don’t have to die.”

“One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, Tav.” It was as if he wasn’t even hearing her; that he was so certain of his fate that he was just reciting his lines to her. “And I am very happy you came here tonight, to share this with me.  I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you. You must know that you’re…that you’re very special to me.”

Of course she knew. He made it clear, even if he never explicitly said it. Gale cared for her –loved her, even, if she dared assume –and it showed in his actions every day. Perhaps she should have told him to stop sooner; that she wasn’t spoken for but her heart belonged to her poet. But it was hard to walk away from someone so warm, and caring. And after her own heartbreak, having someone who gave her everything he had even when she didn’t deserve it –she knew there was love for him in her own heart now too.

“If things were different, if you were still performing and we were home, I would have done things properly. I would have never written that note, I would have found you before all this. But time is short, and I…I need you to know that I was enchanted to meet you, Tav.”

For a brief moment, everything stopped. 

Gale was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to say something; to respond. But her mind was stuck. I would have never written that note. I was enchanted to meet you…

“You…it was you?” She managed to ask, her voice catching in her throat as she finally looked up at him. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she fished her parchment out of her pocket, unfolding it. “You wrote this?”

He took the note from her, tears pricking his eyes too, as he read it over. He nodded slowly. “I listened to you sing every night for weeks, Tav. You know I trapped myself in my tower –but you don’t know that it was you that made me leave for the first time in a year. That when I left that day, it was to find you and tell you how much your music healed my broken heart. I’m just pleasantly surprised the kobold managed to actually deliver the note.

“You added lines to it the other night,” he continued, reaching up to take her face in his hands. His thumbs wiped away her tears as she leaned into his touch, still crying. “You asked me not to be in love with someone else –to not have someone waiting for me. Tav –I have been waiting for you. And if I’m going to live my last day, I need you to know that I am in love with you.”

Through tear blurred eyes, Tav took in every detail of Gale’s sincerity. The spark in his eyes as he looked down at her, with his own tears that threatened to spill. The adoration that filled his smile as he held her face in his hands still. He loved her; he was her poet, and he loved her, and Tav was going to lose him because of some petty goddess who wanted him to beg for her forgiveness.

Without thinking any harder, she surged forward and kissed him hard. Gale let out a small gasp of surprise, seemingly not expecting her to kiss him, but soon enough he was threading his fingers through her hair to hold her closer. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him as close as she could get him without climbing into his lap –and even then, she was almost there anyway.

But he pulled away too soon, resting his forehead against hers. Tav’s tears hadn’t stopped, though she wasn’t sure if they were tears of joy or fear anymore. 

“I hope that wasn’t a parting kiss,” she murmured, pressing another one against the corner of his mouth gently. 

“Not if I have any say in the matter,” he chuckled, wiping her tears away again. “I want it to be perfect –to bond with you in the way that gods do…intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.”

Gale stood, pulling her up with him. She refused to let him go, arms still tightly wound around neck, keeping him close to her. “I don’t need illusions. I want the Gale standing right in front of me.”

“Are you sure?” He seemed surprised, brow furrowing as his fingers reached for her hips, holding her just as tight. “I could conjure up any sight you can imagine; some you probably can’t too. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning.”

He leaned in closer, his nose bumping against hers. “I could do more than woo you. I could wow you.”

She hesitated a moment, considering what he was offering. “I suppose you could show me, if that’s what you want.”

He squeezed her hips with a bright grin, then pulled away raising his hands in the air. Streaks of the Weave surrounded them momentarily, then they were standing in a room full of books and scrolls, with a piano playing quietly in the background. 

“How about a perfect night in Waterdeep, then?” He asked, reaching for her hand to guide her through what she could only assume was his home. It felt very much like a place that Gale would enjoy. “With the warmth of the fire in the hearth, and the spines of a thousand books greeting us.” He pushed the double doors open, exposing the balcony and the sunlight on the water. 

“I’ve seen this before!” She exclaimed, pushing past him to lean over the edge of the balcony. “I performed right down there, with the circus.” She pointed down to the courtyard below, where a stage had appeared. 

Gale wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head. She leaned back into his embrace, sighing contentedly. “I spent many evenings listening to you from my balcony, Tav. Mesmerized by how well you pulled at my own heartbreak with yours. I couldn’t see you, but I could hear you.

“Some nights, I’d simply sit out here and get lost in the pages of a book while listening to your voice. It haunted my dreams, day and night. I had been so consumed with my self loathing and the orb that I feared stepping foot outside my tower —but your voice brought me light in my darkest days.”

Gale pulled her away from the balcony, beckoning her to the settee where he pulled her into his lap. Tav sighed, burying her face into the crook of his neck as he lifted the book that rested beside him. 

“One of my favorites,” he explained, opening it up to show her. “It follows the first thousand nights of a newlywed king and queen. They make an art out of touch, out of taste –perhaps we should take a page from their book ourselves. What do you say?”

Tav giggled, reaching up to run her nails over his jaw. “I don’t see a bed.”

“The stars will be our bed.”

Her brow furrowed for a moment as she shook her head. “Gale, this is beautiful, and I am wholly impressed by everything you can do –but I want you. The real you. Not some conjuring within the Weave.”

“Tav, I am nothing special in comparison to what I can show you –,”

“You are very special, Gale,” she scolded, pulling herself from his arms. “To me, especially. And I don’t want to experience anything with you that’s not real.”

He nodded, eyes softening as the tower disappeared around them and they returned to the field that they were truly in. “Then we’ll do it your way, my love. Whatever you desire from me, I will give you.”

Though, the devilish grin of his suggested he still had a trick up his sleeve as he waved his hand. She gave him a pointed look but nothing around them changed –except for the appearance of a very extravagant, four poster bed. Tav looked it over before grinning at him.

“For your comfort, of course,” he explained simply, guiding her backwards towards it. “I would be remiss if you had to lay in the dirt to be with me.”

“Perhaps I like laying in the dirt,” she teased, taking his face in her hands to pull him into a kiss. “Perhaps I enjoy getting a bit dirty.”

“You’ll have to prove that to me another night,” Gale countered, pushing her back onto the velvety sheets. For an illusion, it was still much more comfortable than any bedroll she’d lain on. “Tonight, I want you to feel my love for you.”

She fell back onto the bed, hitting the pillows and basking in the plushness that she hadn’t felt in so long. Sitting up on her elbow, she beckoned for him to join her and smiled when he didn’t hesitate to climb over her. 

Like a man starved, Gale pulled her in by her chin and kissed her passionately. This kiss was different from the one they had shared earlier in the night. This kiss was frantic and hungry, with every emotion the two had poured into it. He was kissing her like this was the last time he ever would –though if he had it his way, perhaps it would be. Tav parted her legs, hitching one over his hip to pull him closer to her. There was too much space between them; too many clothes. Her hands drifted down his chest, pulling the laces of his shirt undone as she went, exposing not only the expanse of his chest but the markings of the cursed orb that threatened to take him from her.

Hand dropping from her chin to unlace her bodice and pants, Gale pulled away from the kiss to trail hot, wet kisses down her throat and over her chest as the skin became more exposed to him. She squirmed some, trying to pull his shirt off as her own shirt lay open finally. He chuckled against her skin, his beard tickling at the base of her throat as he pulled back and pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. 

Then he moved to hover over her, hands resting on either side of her body now as he looked over her naked form lovingly. Bare beneath him – she thought she should be shying away from his gaze, but she couldn’t find herself feeling anything less than adored –Tav reached out to ensure they matched each other’s nakedness finally. And when Gale was finally just as bare as she was, her tears threatened to return as she traced the markings on his chest. But he took her hand, flattening it against where his heart beat, and she looked up at him longingly.

“I love you, Gale,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and she swore he meant it.

His mouth was on hers again with a new found urgency, his pointer and thumb holding her chin as he kissed her hard. His other hand, which was sitting on her hip, had begun to drift down. She shivered from the drag of his fingers over her skin before finally feeling how hard he was against her thigh. With a groan, she pulled her hands from his chest to touch him –to pull some sound from him. 

The sound he made went straight to her core, causing her to clench around nothing, as she slowly stroked him. Gale pulled his mouth from hers to kiss along her jaw, leaving hot, wet kisses along her skin. Her head fell back, allowing him to trail kisses from her jaw down her throat. Then his fingers flicked just barely between her legs, spreading them so he could better access her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes closed as he ghosted his touch over her arousal. Gale kept his hand still, allowing her a moment to get used to his touch there before his fingers circled her clit gently. She keened, back arching off the bed as she chased his touch –her own touch dropping from him as she reacted. He dragged his lips from her throat over her collarbone, then down further until his tongue lapped at one of her pert nipples. Her gasp at the sudden sensation caused her hips to buck, meeting his hand in a gentle grind. The friction of his hand against her most sensitive place was overwhelming for a moment as she pulled at his hair again. Gale’s teeth grazed over her nipple now, nipping at it before he sucked it into his mouth. 

Satisfied with his work on one nipple, he bit down one more time before he switched to the other. His hand drifted down between her legs as he sucked and bit her, and Tav wondered briefly how she would ever do without him again if she lost him. She let out a gasp as he slipped a finger inside her with ease, being pressed into the bed as his teeth grazed over her nipple.

“Oh gods, Gale,” she begged, trying to move against his hand as he eased a second finger inside of her. 

He released her nipple finally, trailing wet, open mouth kisses down her body as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her body writhed beneath him, and she could feel his grin against her skin as he moved further down her body, kissing her stomach and right above her core. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at it as he sped up his fingers.

Then, without warning, his teeth grazed her clit and she gasped, unable to keep herself still as she jolted up. He sped up movement with his fingers, curling them up as he sucked and nipped gently at her clit. Her legs started to tremble as her hands ran through his hair, yanking it by the roots. 

“Fuck, please. I’m gonna cum, please, Gale,” she gasped, bucking her hips up. 

But he pulled his fingers away too soon, and she whined, body shaking. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, trailing his lips from her right thigh, over her clit once more until he reached her left. Then he repeated the process back —before finally, his mouth was on her like she was the last meal he’d ever eat. She cried out, stars spilling behind her eyes as she pulled at his hair again. He pushed his tongue deeper, devouring every inch of her that he could. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her even closer to him. 

She started to move her hips to match his movements, pressing against his face to try to get any more possible friction. She was so close, if he just kept going –Tav groaned as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. Her hands had become permanently attached to his hair, pulling as she begged him to keep going, to make her cum. Gale’s fingers returned as he lapped at her clit, pumping in and out at a steady, torturous pace. But then –he stopped. And Tav hissed in frustration.

Pulling his fingers from her –prompting a desperate whine as she fell back against the bed –Gale moved to hover over her once more. She grabbed his chin, slick with her, and pulled him into a heated kiss. He groaned into the kiss, licking into her mouth and allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

“I need you,” he admitted, pulling from the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. His hips ground into hers, revealing how bad off he was for her. 

“I’m yours, Gale.” She took his hand and pressed it against her heart, holding it there as she bumped her nose with his. Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in. “Only yours.”

Gale found himself between her legs once more, his aching cock in his hand as he stroked himself. His breathing was hard, ragged as he stared down at her naked body. Tav gazed up at him, empty and longing as he stroked himself at the sight of her.

“I need you to touch me,” she begged, reaching for him once more.

Suddenly, Gale was on his back with her straddling his waist. He was surprised for a moment, caught off guard by her new position. However, even with his hazy, lust blown eyes –the way he looked up at her made her stomach flutter and her heart skip. His hands found her hips, pulling her down against him and she grinded down against his cock, humming at the feeling of his hardness against her sensitive folds. He closed his eyes, catching his breath. She leaned in, kissing along his jaw, as her hand finally grasped his cock and lined it up against her. Gale sucked in a breath, and she could tell he was trying to savor the feeling and not rush it.

But she couldn’t take it slow anymore; she sunk down on him without question, burying him to the hilt inside her core with a deep moan and her hands on his chest to keep her balanced. Gale’s hands held her hips, no doubt bruising her, as he held her close to him. Now he truly wouldn’t let her move, savoring the feeling of her tight warmth around him. Finally, Gale opened his eyes, keeping her still for several moments as if he was trying to memorize the sight of her full of him. She tried moving, but he held her tight, cock buried in her while he basked in how tight she was. 

“Gale,” she moaned, reaching between her legs to drag her fingers over her clit. “Please.”

He flipped them over once more, bringing her leg around his waist. She groaned at the change of angle, but didn’t fight him as he started a steady pace. One hand held her leg against him while the other supported his weight over her, allowing him to kiss her hard as he pulled out. She whined at the loss, but then he was slamming back into her without warning and her whine turned into a cry of pleasure. Gale’s mouth captured her sounds, kissing her again as he set a steady, delicious pace. She moaned into the kiss again, hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders as he picked up speed. 

“Oh, gods, Gale,” she sighed as he trailed kisses down her throat again, taking a moment to rest his head in the crook of her neck. “Sweet hells, I love you —I-I love you so much. I’m so close —please —,”

His hips stuttered as she clenched around him, his grip tightening as his pace became more and more frantic. Tav wasn’t prepared for how hard her orgasm hit her, but when it did, she cried out his name and begged the gods for mercy. It was overwhelming, and wonderful, and every second he was still buried inside her was the only divine intervention she’d ever need. And as the warmth of his own climax filled her, Gale buried his face in the crook of her neck. Catching his breath as he came, her hands tangled in his hair once more, coaxing every last ounce of him into her. She was writhing under him, overstimulated from her own climax as well as his now. But he didn’t want to leave her warmth; he wanted to stay buried in her forever.

Eventually, he did pull out, rolling off of her and onto his back. She didn’t let him stray, however, and hitched her leg over his waist again and laid her head on his chest. Gale’s arms snaked their way around her, holding her close to him as his breathing began to even out. 

And then, she started humming softly, her own eyes closing as Gale trailed his fingers up and down her back.

This night is flawless, don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

[junosmindpalace]

i find discourse around the rdr women so...fascinating and infuriating at the same time. because a lot of the time it doesn't seem like rdr fans want to apply the same level of complex analysis to the women like they do for the men, but when they do, it still doesnt seem all that well-intentioned or that it does right by their characters.

this is a very long analysis/spam/defense so be warned :,)

even though the majority of sadie's character revolves around the fact she not only lost her home and her husband and was thrust into a new life of crime, but was actively struggling with robberies BEFORE the events of the game, people instead choose to focus on whether or not she had feelings for arthur or whether he actions in the game were actually impactful. she helped saved abigail and john when no else would, she fought alongside the men against the army, she helped john set up a stable life, she helped rob the payroll train, helped ensure colm’s death, she fought alongside arthur TIME AGAIN and took over in a leadership role when half the gang was absent in the guarma chapter. to say that she did nothing more except “be badass” undermines all of these contributions to the story that she was either at the forefront of or helped bring to fruition.

in my opinion, abigail is the EASIEST character to defend out of any of the women, and yet somehow she receives the most backlash from dudebros. I lose ten braincells every time i have to read a theory post over whether or not she slept with other camp members besides john, whether or not she was a rat, and about how much shes a nag. the woman has not known a moment's rest in her entire life. by the age of eight she was working in a cathouse. she was a child prior to then scrapping whatever money she could earn at her young age in saloons and dive bars as a woman and child just to survive as a orphan. jack's birth was clearly not planned, and she has voiced multiple times her grievances at the circumstances of his upbringing. everything she does is for a better life for her son: a life she never had. her constant nagging to get john to man up and be a father is for her son's benefit, not her own. she even says so herself when she tells him that she doesn't mind if a relationship between them doesn't work out, but to at least try being there for jack. she can't work a job because she is a mother living a life of crime and danger; she can't afford to leave the camp and her son unsupervised. she still does her share around camp. why would anyone blame her for not wanting to return to a life that has made her miserable, especially now that she has a child who she wants to model a good life for? many people seem to somehow also forget that she herself was a child when she gave birth to jack; only 17-18. she is 22 in the game in a bad situation with the father of her child and financially. she is doing her best to raise her son when she is not fully equipped to do so. how can anyone even blame her for being skeptical of john when hes affectionate in the epilogue when for so long hes been distant? she does not even ask much of john--just to be there for him sometimes, and to live honestly. she is also incredibly kindhearted. comforting other women in the camp, offering a listening ear, taking care of john when hes injured. she puts in her share of effort when it comes to finding a job in the epilogue and maintaining beechers hope.

molly is a young woman who is presumably incredibly far from her home where her family is, and trying to navigate a way of life completely unfamiliar to her. her stuck up nature comes not only from the way she was raised, but also dutch's uplifting affection and presumed lovebombing in the early stages of their relationship. shes even been suggested to be somewhat sociable until dutch and her became somewhat of an official item, in which she grew somewhat of a bigger ego with a mentality that she was his right hand. she deeply depended on dutch for her stability in every way, and its evident in her eventual spiral. she hated being seen as weak and pitiful as somewhat of an outsider among outsiders. she seemed to be close to no one besides dutch, who repeatedly cut her off when she attempted to talk to him about her growing feelings of anxiety, paranoia and sadness. the loss of the one thing that had built her up, coupled with immense tragedy she just wasnt used to, and desperate for a semblance of respect and dignity that she had presumably been all too accustomed to, of course she was going to come off brash and confront dutch about his distant, high and mighty attitude. it's why by the end, she doesnt care if she is killed: there is nothing left for her. karen's comment about her pretending to rat them out for the sake of attention is also interesting in terms of their relationship and parallels, which i dont see ANYONE talk about.

karen very clearly struggles with...a lot. she has even said so herself when talking with molly. she struggles to accept help, evident in pieces of dialogue where she brushes off concerned gang members about her drinking (mary-beth, arthur, javier), and when she seems somewhat ashamed and embarrassed having to have been rescued by arthur in the valentine mission (SAYING EXPLICITLY "i dont much like being saved"). she struggles with believing people have good intentions/feelings toward her, illustrated in the way she's constantly rejecting sean, yet seemingly disappeared further down the bottle after his death, and her conversation with mary beth and tilly about the world having no equal and fair place for women. her negative experiences in the world as a woman could also influence her view of the world, perhaps being why she finds herself somewhat hostile toward feminist mindsets and why she, for a while, enjoyed the outlaw lifestyle: it was her little slice of freedom. her hatred for the rich can also be because she has experiences as a poor woman, perhaps some direct experiences in which rich people have negatively impacted her life. though molly and karen don't get along through most of the game, karen actually tries to step in and help her near the end, and its this action + defending her after her death that shows she was sympathetic toward her situation and on some level able to relate to it, both craving some kind of love beyond superficial things.

@/cryptidcr3ature said it very well in a post i reblogged recently: mary is essentially "her brother's keeper and her father's caretaker". she herself lives somewhere middle class with traditional notions of the time impacting her views on arthur's lifestyle and anything below those middle class standards being deemed as socially unacceptable (which is evident from the very first letter mary sends to arthur, in which she seems confused on what a polite term would be to refer to prostitutes, who were obviously thought very lowly of in the time). i also don't think its fair to criticise her condemnation of arthur's lifestyle when pretty much all audiences, contemporary and not, including members of the gang, acknowledge that it isnt anything pretty. killing is not fun. running from the law is not fun. mary was not only influenced by her father's views of arthur (a person that, despite being horrible, she still deeply loves), but looking after her own family, herself, and arthur's wellbeing when she ended their relationship + suggested they run away. she had given him an opportunity at compromise. perhaps the first time, scared and unfamiliar with his lifestyle, she had offered arthur an ultimatum: her or his outlaw life, but later was willing to also leave behind her brother and father, two figures that tie her down and make her life more miserable than need be despite loving them very much, in order to settle somewhere with arthur and start over. her asking for arthur's help comes from a place of desperation and excuse to allow herself some semblance of stability when she hadn't had it; at least not since her mother and husband passed. if arthur refuses to help her, she is incredibly understanding and sympathetic. she does not lash out. if arthur does help, she is immensely grateful, and even tries to bond with him despite their years apart.

this post isnt to excuse some of their more negative behaviours and aspects of their characters'-- but im saying that they deserve to be fairly treated and analyzed just like any of the rdr men. many of them are young. many of them have unique challenges as women. that isn’t to say the men have it easier, but their struggles and less prettier aspects of their characters are always met with more sympathy than the women. why do arthur and john get passes as reformed absent fathers and criminals? why does sean receive sympathy when karen rejects his pushy advances? why does hosea get a pass at being better than dutch when he still groomed younger members of the gang for a life of crime alongside dutch? why does dutch get a pass by having his downfall be justified by tough circumstances? lets just be fair

[ellsvault]

someone on reddit (i cant find the post now!!) posted this along with the caption: "rocky if he had a youtube channel"

so, naturally i felt a civil duty to bring that idea to fruition. 2 hours and 22 minutes later, i bring you THIS:

not the best, but is my first fanart of anything and i'm proud of it. thank you for your time, have a nice day!