#now back to my incomprehensible chanting

[belle--ofthebrawl]

You are most definitely some sort of fae creature and bad at hiding it. With a light dusting of chaos incarnate.

Who said anything about trying to hide my impish nature? Perhaps at the start when I didn't know anyone but now...the glamour is dropped. Look through this hagstone, if you have the nerve to try. What will you see, I wonder...

[pucksandpower]

Under the Influence

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc knows three things (1) wisdom teeth have nothing to do with being wise (2) his face looks like a chipmunk and (3) he really really really loves his girlfriend

Warnings: mention of minor medical procedure

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. Bleary eyed, you reach for it and squint at the screen. 37 missed calls and too many texts to count, all from Charles.

It’s the big day — your boyfriend is finally getting his wisdom teeth removed this morning. You had wanted to go with him to the oral surgeon but Charles insisted he would be fine on his own.

Clearly, that was not the case.

The phone starts vibrating again and you swipe to answer. Before you can even say hello, Charles’ slurred voice comes through the speaker. “Ma choupinette! I misssss you!” He draws out the last word for several seconds. You stifle a laugh at how loopy he sounds from the painkillers.

“Hi, my love. How are you feeling?” You ask gently.

You hear some shuffling on his end of the line.

“I feel ... so good! I can’t feel my face though. Is it still there?” More shuffling noises. “Yep, still here! Wow, my cheeks are soooo big and fluffy now!” He descends into a fit of giggles.

You grin and shake your head. Your poor Charles is definitely still under the influence of the drugs. “I’m glad you’re not in any pain. Are you home already?”

“Yep! Safe and sound in my bed. But it’s so lonely without you here. You should come over and cuddle me!” His words come out muffled, no doubt because his mouth is still numb.

You glance at the clock — it’s still relatively early in the morning. “I would love to but I have a few things to take care of first. I’ll come by this afternoon to check on you though, okay?”

Charles lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiiiiine. Hey, did you know you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world? And you’re so nice too! I’m the luckiest ...” He trails off into incomprehensible mumbling.

You have to press your hand to your mouth to hold in your laughter. Anesthetized Charles is even more adorable than regular Charles. “Thank you, my love. You’re very kind. Now get some rest, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okayyyy, bye bye gorgeous!” Charles singsongs before hanging up. Still chuckling, you set your phone down to start getting ready for the day. Your productivity is short lived however, as your phone immediately starts buzzing again.

Charles is calling you back.

With a mix of amusement and exasperation, you answer the call. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Charles’ cheerful voice exclaims, “I forgot to tell you I love you!”

You can’t help but laugh out loud this time. “I love you too, Charles.”

“Yay!” He cheers. In the background, you hear a woman’s voice telling Charles to stay in bed and get some rest. It must be his mother looking after him. Thank goodness for her help today.

You talk Charles into hanging up and leaving you be for now. As entertaining as loopy Charles is, you do need to run some errands. You eventually make it out the door and head into town. While perusing the aisles of the grocery store, your phone buzzes again. Expecting it to be Charles, you don’t even look at the screen before answering with an amused, “Yes, my love?”

Instead of your boyfriend’s sleepy voice, you hear numerous screams and squeals on the other end. Before you can ask what’s happening, the chaos turns into a bunch of people chanting “Say it again! Say it again! Say it again!”

Your stomach drops. You pull the phone away to look at the screen. Sure enough, Charles is broadcasting on Instagram Live and waving at an alarmingly large crowd of fans gathered below his apartment. Dreading what you’re about to witness, you bring the phone back to your ear. The chanting continues until Charles finally obliges.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you sooooo much! You’re the bestest, most bootiful, charming girl in the whole universe and I love you more than racing!” His confession is met with deafening squeals from his adoring devotees. You stand frozen in the cheese aisle, one hand clutching your grocery basket, cheeks flaming red. This is not exactly how you hoped your relationship would go public.

Charles is still slurring sluggishly into the phone, rambling on about how perfect and wonderful you are. You try to get a word in edgewise to stop him but his fans keep egging him on.

“Charles, honey, maybe you should get off Live and rest ...” you attempt feebly.

He gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you my girlfriend? Y/N? Is that you?”

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “Yes Charles, it’s me.”

The screams somehow increase in volume at this admission. Charles laughs with delight. “Guys, this is my girlfriend! Isn’t she the coolest? I’m the luckiest guy ever!”

Despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but melt a little at his ear-to-ear grin and heart eyes on the screen. He looks utterly smitten, even in his disoriented, post-op state. His fans seem to be eating it up too, flooding the comments with things like “My life won’t be complete until someone looks at me the way that Charles looks at Y/N” and “Charles is boyfriend of the year!”

You spend the next 15 minutes gently trying to persuade Charles to end the livestream and rest to no avail. He is having far too much fun gushing about you and interacting with his followers. You field a few questions from curious fans, keeping your answers light to avoid revealing too much. It’s clear they are enthralled by this lovestruck version of the normally private Ferrari driver.

Finally, after Charles has told the story of your first date no less than five times, his mother comes to your rescue. She appears on camera and tenderly tells Charles the “show” is over and he needs to sleep. He pouts adorably but allows her to tuck him back into bed and take away his phone. Just before the Live ends, he blows a loopy kiss to the camera and says “Love you, mon chouchou!” The fans go wild in the chat before the feed cuts out.

You slump against your shopping cart in relief. Your phone is already flooded with texts from friends and family who saw the Instagram fiasco. You shoot off some quick reassurances that you’re both fine and it was just the medication talking. Bagging the rest of your abandoned groceries, you check out as fast as possible. There’s somewhere you need to be right now.

Twenty minutes later you’re knocking on the door of Charles’ apartment. His mother opens it with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry about earlier dear, the anesthesia made him a bit out of it as I’m sure you noticed.”

Charles perks up when you enter his bedroom. “You came!” He mumbles happily, making grabby hands at you. You settle onto the bed next to him and he immediately nuzzles into you like an affectionate kitten. His mother slips out to give you two some privacy.

You run your fingers soothingly through his hair. “How are you feeling now, my love?”

“Mmm ... sleepy. And really happy you’re here." He smiles dopily up at you. “Did I do something silly earlier? I don’t really remember.”

You debate downplaying it but figure he’ll find out eventually when the internet explodes. “You may have repeatedly declared your undying love for me on an Instagram Live ...” you say sheepishly.

Charles’ eyes go wide. “No way, really? Wow ...” He blinks slowly, processing this new information. A sly grin spreads across his swollen face. “Well it’s true. I meant every word.”

You kiss his forehead tenderly. “I know you did. Now get some more rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Charles looks up at you adoringly. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more,” you boop him on the nose.

He giggles. “No way. I love you more-er.”

“Impossible. I love you most,” you insist.

“Nuh-uh,” Charles protests. “I love you most-est.”

You laugh at his stubborn persistence. “Alright, you win. Now close your eyes.”

Charles snuggles impossibly closer into your side and soon his breathing evens out as he drifts back to sleep. You brush a few curls off his forehead and whisper “I love you most-est-est.”

You make sure the blankets are wrapped securely around him and shake your head affectionately at your adorable, clueless boyfriend. Today certainly didn’t go as expected but you wouldn’t trade your Charles for anything in the world.

[melancholiaincarnate]

so far so good

warnings - none

authors note - hi :P this is my first published acotar fic :3 i mentioned in a post a couple of days ago i wanted to start a series with ficlets about mated azriel x reader who happen to adopt a shadowsinger child named piper. here's the first installment :) i plan on making more so if you have requests for them send em in :D

"okay piper," azriel stretches, an action that causes a swirl in your stomach as his shirt lifts up slightly, revealing the hair decorating his tummy. "ready?"

"i'm ready!" she bounces on her feet, excitement visible on her face. shadows zip quickly around her - faster than you can blink. her shadows are impatient and easily excited, unlike azriel's, who prefer to wait and watch.

"remember, we're practicing winnowing. can you do that?" azriel cracks his knuckles and his wings shudder, then he disappears. he shortly reappears behind piper, and she squeals with delight. "i can't winnow so my winnowing looks a little different than yours but i promise - it's practically the same thing."

"yes! yes! i know! you told me! i can do it, azzy, i swear!" she shouts back at him, shadows twirling at her feet, "it's my turn!"

"alright, alright. it's your turn, pip." he smiles softly at her, crouching down to whisper something in her ear before she shuts her eyes so hard her whole face squishes.

"remember to envision where you want to go." his voice is soft in the child's ear. you watch as he smoothes down her hair as he stands to observe.

piper's body begins to slowly disappear but when she murmurs a "i'm doing it!" her body comes back into focus.

"you have to stay focused, pip." he reminds, giving her a nod. "focus is key."

"focus is key." her small voice repeats, and then suddenly she's at your side.

"hi! wait - woah- hi- hi! i did it! look, i was over there and now i'm over here!" you're sure you've never seen such delight on a single person's face before. "i did it! i did it, azzy i did it! look!"

"good job, piper." his voice is as stoic as ever but pride swims in his veins. azriel assumes that this is why cassian and rhys want children. the pure joy that sits in his chest right now has no match for anything he's ever experienced.

and yet, there's a clawing deep in his mind. it's in his chest, his bones, in the scars on his hand. he feels an attachment to this child - this girl that he and you found in the woods alone. this is not his daughter.

as piper runs off with you in tow, screaming about telling cassia, azriel glances at the scars on his hands. azriel could never think about hurting piper. it'd taken half of the inner court to restrain him from going to hunt down piper's attackers.

piper was not his daughter but he was his fathers son. anger rises through him - how could his father look at his own child and do what he'd done, when azriel could not fathom doing it to a child he had no part in creating?

shadows swarm in his ear chanting incomprehensible words to him. the anger is white and hot and it's so consuming that it sends a throng down the bond towards you.

in return, he feels you tugging the bond, tugging towards you, tugging him towards the light again. he breathes - he is not in that basement. "come, az." you whisper softly down the bond, "please."

and who is he to deny you? he unclenches his fists, steadying his breathing once more before tucking his wings and strolling away from the room as if he hadn't nearly fallen into a pit with no way out.

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Play It As It Lays

[taehyung x reader] [1.5k smut: mirror sex, creampie, unprotected sex, virgin kink??, really just porn with a lil bit of plot; Taehyung is a famous Cellist who was hired to tutor OC.

Just a self-indulgent fic.

-

People said to never meet your heroes.

You'll be let down, they say.

But you would beg to differ.

And beg, you do.

With your bodies sitting naked on the couch, Taehyung has you facing the mirror and the sight of your petite frame slotted between his bulging naked thighs shoots up your arousal. Your perfectly intertwined limbs could inspire a whole series of shunga artwork.

Calloused hands grip each of your knees and push them wider apart before a hand returns to cup your dripping sex.

"Please," you whine. The words that fell from your swollen lips were almost incomprehensible because of how breathy and timid it sounded.

But that was just one of Kim Taehyung's effect.

The man lives up to his reputation in the Classical music industry—charisma just as alluring as people described and his presence calls for attention, not because he, himself, demands it, rather there is something lingering in his aura that just lures and pulls you into him. And when he looks at you, it's a mixed feeling of intimidation and desire to keep his eyes on you.

And to you, it makes you want to defy him. You itch to see if you can crack that calm and stoic demeanor of his.

Taehyung only hums in response to your plea and you feel his chest rumble on your back. It's close to an hour and yet all he did with his finger was tease you. Everything he has done was all build-up, never the climax.

"You're so delicate." His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you. His body is so close, you hear the wet smacking of his tongue inside his mouth as he speaks. He dips his fingers inside your pussy as he presses his thumb on your nub, leaving you shuddering in pleasure. "And so sensitive. My pretty virgin," he tsks. "You're making a mess, darling."

You mumble out a half-hearted apology to which he snorts at. You struggle to keep your tears at bay. Frustration and defeat are obviously written on your face. If only you knew how to touch yourself, you would've done the job yourself. But no. You can play with yourself all you want, but you've never experienced an orgasm. And none of what Taehyung does to your body now matches the pleasure when you touch yourself.

And so, you remain at his mercy.

It was torture to be teased, but the way Taehyung's arm muscle clenches and your body twitches has your attention stuck to the mirror. It was as if his hand was a bow and your body held the strings that create the most beautiful melodies.

His right hand pushes in and out of you in timed intervals and his left hand grips your neck, arms across your body to hold you close to his. It was oh-so-intimate.

But of course, this was also a way for Taehyung to restrain you.

"Take it," he lectured when your body thrashed around from sensitivity. "The pleasure is tenfold if you endure it. Just like playing the cello—a sublime piece is achieved from laborious and seemingly endless revisions. So, take it."

The growing warmth between you has you both sweating—the smell of sex in the air grows potent by the minute, pushing you further into your shared haze.

You don't mind that all Taehyung does is play with your body. He can do whatever he wants to you for all you care. But you also have this feral need to learn about his body—play with his cock and grip it as tight as you hold your instrument in place between your thighs. You want to hear the sounds he makes as you play with his body. He has been hearing you chant his name with moans and sighs in different pitches; it's his turn to sing.

You focus on Taehyung's hand disappearing and reappearing from your cunt. The velvet couch that carries your bodies is vandalized with your slick and his precum. His hands are truly just as skilled in playing the cello as it is in flitting around your body. You can almost taste it again—your sweet peak.

But you can't come like this. Not yet.

Your hand halts Taehyung's movement, tongue darting to wet your lips, "S-stop," you stutter. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, one eyebrow raising in question. And so, with your senses still muffled with lust, you try your best to answer clearly, "Wanna cum on your cock, sir.”

Your legs wobbled as you changed positions—you're now kneeling on the floor with his thick dick right on your face. You gulp at Taehyung's size but also swallow the pooling drool in your mouth.

You ought to thank your parents for hiring Taehyung to give you private lessons. Albeit this isn't the lesson they had in mind, you personally think this is more… beneficial for you.

Without wasting another second, your hand grips his base to erect his cock and you run your warm tongue from his balls to his slit. The man above you throws his head back as air is expelled from his pretty lips. He leans his body backward, arms propping him up and he sets his eyes on you. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

You only respond with a smirk; smug eyes refusing to look away as you make a big show of sucking his tip like it’s the sweetest lollipop.

You're halfway there, you encourage yourself. You want to see the moment you break him.

Mimicking a move you watched on porn, you wet your hands with your slick before returning your hold on Taehyung's dick. With one hand stroking him up and down, your other hand caresses his balls within your palms like two delicate marbles.

Taehyung curses. You were sin incarnated.

Determined to get more from him, you push your head closer to his crotch, deep-throating his cock.

Unexpected and unprepared, Taehyung makes a guttural wail; his arm shoots up to hold you by your hair and his body reflexively sits up and pushes his cock at another deep angle inside your mouth which pulls another moan from the man.

You fight the urge to gag, and your eyes start to flood with tears. You could only claw at Taehyung's thighs.

Taehyung was quick to gather his wits and then chuckled at your state. His hand on your hair moves to cup your face before smudging your mascara as he wipes your tears before they fall.

"Come up," he instructs as he pulls his cock from your mouth. A plop is heard, and a string of your saliva mixed with his precum lingers from your lips. Taehyung's hands take control of your hips—his bruising hold guides you to sink down to his cock until you take all of him, pulling a pained moan from you.

Taehyung is a tight fit, and you fight through the initial discomfort as you move your hips. You teeter between the stinging stretch and warm addicting pleasure.

With a satisfied groan, Taehyung gently guides your head to level your sight with the full-length mirror and holds you in place. "Take a look at yourself. You look as heavenly as you sound," his voice in your ear is so soft and saccharine, you believe him. "And see how well you take me like a good girl," he praises, the tone switching to a little bit strained as your pussy clenches—the pain morphing to lust and desire. His hand goes back to your hips to help you ride his cock. The minimal movement gives you both pleasurable tugs, you can't help but moan.

With his thighs now caged between your own, you momentarily bend down to kiss his knees. Your action has him throwing his head back once again. But his eyes trail down to your curved spine all the way down to your ass perched on his hips.

Deciding that you've adjusted to his cock, Taehyung bounces your hips on his cock. The sight of your arousal creaming around his crotch has him salivating. As much as he wants to lick you clean, he badly needs a release. It's a miracle he lasted almost more than an hour.

You plant your feet on the ground and start moving at your own pace. Each slam of your ass on his thighs reverberated in the room as if cheering you on as you bounced faster and harder on his cock.

A contrast of warmth and shivers washed over your body as Taehyung laid open-mouth kisses on your back. As he reaches your neck, he sucks on the soft flesh to claim you, mark you—so you remember this night which will be the first of many. He promises.

You grab and tug at his hair to pull him toward your puckered lips and he obliges. The echoing sound in the room is no longer just your skin slapping but the smacking sound of your lips as you breathe each other in.

"Sir-r, I-I’m close," you stutter out between kisses amidst overwhelming pleasure. Taehyung meets your thrusts halfway. And as your pace increases, so does the frequency of the moans of the man behind you.

With a powered thrust, your body trembles as you climax. Taehyung follows not long after—your pussy spasming around his dick has him shooting up his cum inside you as he wraps you in his arms.

People who warned you to never meet your heroes, clearly never had the privilege of meeting Kim Taehyung.

-

[giorno-plays-piano]

House of Chains

Part V

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x mage!reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, obsession, threats, canon-typical violence, chase scenes, death of minor characters.

Words: 1.5k

Summary: In return for help to come back to your home world, you have been faithfully supporting the Greens to put Aegon on the throne. But when your promise is fulfilled, neither Otto nor Aemond are keen on letting you go.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

_________

The end of your dagger touches the boy’s throat before he takes a breath.

“Don’t move, and I won’t kill you.”

He nearly jumps, and you have to restrain him further, making Lucerys put his head up to glance at you, the dagger so close he can feel the sharp cold steel on his skin. You don’t want to hurt him, but you are not playing games.

“You!” He gasps, blinking rapidly when he recognizes your face, having to say nothing but, “you are the Queen’s niece!”

You huff out a little laugh at the statement, but don’t correct him. It doesn’t matter. The only thing he needs to know is that you will kill him if he doesn’t do what you say. Although, considering you had just appeared out of thin air for all he knows, you have already attained your goal as Luce just stares at you dumbly, open-mouthed.

“Where did you- The room was empty!” He squeaks, frozen in place, and you do your best not to roll your eyes at his reaction. Everything points out to the boy being extremely unprepared for the war that is to come. The fact that Rhaenyra leaves her son unguarded in these volatile times is unbelievable to you, but it’s only to your advantage.

“It was,” you agree, snorting. “Take a note, Luce. Now stop asking me stupid questions and take me to Daemon.”

The boy starts to visibly tremble, finally recognizing how deep in shit he is with you ready to cut his head off, “Wha- what? Why?”

Your grip on him is firm, but it seems you don’t need to resort to violence: Lucerys already got scared out of his wits, his breathing growing elaborate, heart pounding violently against your arm as you hold him close. It seems he is the best target you could have chosen. Hopefully, everything goes as planned. You can’t have any intervention - it’ll result in your death, no doubt. But it’s easier like this, with plain violence and threats than going the long way and hoping for Rhaenyra’s understanding. You are more than convinced she will treat you similarly as Otto has done. Despite her image in Viserys’ eyes, she isn’t much different from the Greens, and with war arriving swiftly, she won’t let you go.

Dealing with monsters is easier. Hence, you go to Daemon the Rouge Prince who hates the threats with all his being, retorting to violence for even smaller offenses. You can predict what he’ll say when he sees you and Luce.

“The guards will catch you!” The boy cries in hysterics as you move to the door along with him, your sharp dagger gleaming dangerously in the daylight.

“They won’t,” you murmur against his ear before you chant an invisibility spell again, and Luce stills against you, listening to the strange words of a language he has never heard before. Thankfully, he stops resisting, and you feel the need to calm him down. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just be a good boy and take me to Daemon.”

Luce hiccups, “So you could kill him?”

“I would have if I wanted to. Don’t be silly, I just need a favor from him.”

“What sort of favor?”

You grow tired of the rows of questions he keeps shooting at you, so you growl, pressing the blade until the boy whimpers against you. “Bring me to your stepfather, Lucerys Velarion, before you force my hand.”

He mumbles something incomprehensible but then shows you the right corridor with a trembling hand, seeing the guards looking right through the both of you as if you simply don’t exist. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but you have no time to explain when Luce tells you Daemon is in the catacombs below the Dragonstone’s castle.

Funny, it seems you will have to examine all of Westeros’ dungeons before you get a chance to leave.

You feel your blood pressure rising with each step you take closer to the catacombs despite the inconvenience of dragging the boy with you, your heartbeat growing irratic. You can’t fuck this up. If there’s not enough dragon breath, you’re as good as dead: either Daemon makes Caraxes eat your alive for your offense or keeps you hostage for your magic. You don’t even know which is worse.

Lucerys shakes even harder once you move past the guards who don’t pay him any attention, but he keeps his promise and doesn’t ask any more stupid questions. He feels something is very, very wrong. Maybe it’s for the best, though, that he is compliant. You don’t plan on hurting him unless he does something silly: you aren’t in the business of killing children, even if they are dumb and privileged. Luce is Aemond’s problem, not yours.

“Down to the left,” the boy whispers, horrified when his own brother walks by without giving him a single look, and you turn, taking the stairs, walking carefully not to let the kid or yourself slip. Your hand, holding a dagger to his throat, doesn’t waver.

After many minutes of painful wandering in the catacombes that reek of dragons - in a good and a bad way - you can almost see the tall figure with a torch in his hand.

Calm down, you tell yourself, biting your tongue, metallic taste immediately filling your mouth. Daemon is clearly insane but not stupid. He wouldn’t risk the death of Rhaenyra’s child over something so inconsequential. Hell, if anything, he’d probably be extatic if he had a possibility to burn Otto’s supporter just like this, quietly, with no fuss. What are the chances someone would even know? Besides, he’d get to see someone he hates screaming inside the fire of his own dragon, and you’re pretty sure it’ll be the highlight of his week.

“Please don’t kill me,” the kid whispers, and you raise your brows at him, finally remembering you’re not alone on your way to the mad prince consort. You didn’t expect Lucerys to plead.

With a sigh, you stalk closer to Daemon until there are but fifty meters between you. “I won’t, kid. A word of a mage.”

You don’t realize it was a slip of the tongue, but Luce is quiet against your dagger. You don’t see his expression changing to pure horror at your words.

The cave you end up in is a large one - big enough to fit a couple of dragons. Considering how many bones and sheep leftovers you see around, it seems Caraxes made it his lair: you can see a huge, lean, red beast with its nasty horns, baring its teeth at you, an abomination as all dragons are. It is a pity killing a dragon is a feast for heroes, not mages, you think with disgust. You surely wouldn’t mind pearcing a skull of this one with a spear.

The creature grows restless: born with an ancient magic running its veins, they are granted protection against most spells, and Caraxes can feel a stranger approaching. So does Daemon when he turns to you, taking the veil of the spell off. His eyes fixate on your dagger as you keep it close to the boy’s pale neck.

“You chose a peculiar way to threaten Rhaenyra,” he says in a too-calm voice, eyes narrowed. “She’s upstairs, not here.”

Although there is no threat in his words, you feel his desire to hurt you with your skin. Daemon is no paper soldier, and, unlike with Aemond, you don’t humor yourself, thinking there is much human left in him. He’s like his dragon, a vile, heartless creature that wants to burn and bring death to anyone he can. Were Viserys to abandon his throne, Daemon would drown Westeros in the blood of its own people.

You have to swallow before you speak, remembering to put on a brave face in front of the Rouge Prince. Daemon is the same sort of predator as Aemond, only older: when he feels someone’s weakness, he capitalizes on it overly quickly.

“I’m not here for her,” you smile, showing all your teeth in the same fashion as Caraxes just behind the prince. “I’m here to ask you for a favor.”

Judging by the sniffling you hear, Luce is crying.

Daemon cocks his head to the side, not even looking at the boy. “My favor? Surely, you aren’t trying to convince me to give up on this war?”

“No.” Your smile grows wider as you see Caraxes takes one step towards you, and press the blade into boy’s skin so much he starts to bleed a little. “I won’t be fighting a battle that wasn’t mine to begin with.”

Daemon doesn’t divert his attention to anything, regardless if Lucerys is whimpering in your hands, absolutely defenseless, but the eyes of the Rouge Prince gleam dangerously when he stares you in the face. “What do you want, Hightower girl?”

Well, finally, you think, your smile unnaturally wide. You hope this time it would go better because your enemy wants you die the most painful way possible.

________

“I want Caraxes to burn me.”

Part VI

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild

[hwangyu]

smile for the camera!

kai is blonde. you record him.

pairing; huening kai x gn reader (no pronouns are used and no body parts of readers are mentioned)

warnings; overstimulation, crying from overstim, dom reader pretty much, mentions of sweat and drooling, a little bit of begging? cum eating, praise, a vibrator is used, reader records him. it's p short but lmk if i forgot smth! not proofread. 18+ mdni.

wc; 628

“Smile for the camera, baby.” You told him with a teasing grin, your chin resting on his shoulder. You aimed the phone to get Kai’s face in the shot as he drooled all over your fingers that were placed in his mouth to keep it open. After all, you just couldn’t accept the way he had been trying to stay so quiet. If you’re making him feel so good that he moans loud enough that everyone in the building hears it, then so be it, right?

Kai’s gaze shifted to look into the camera lens after a second or two had passed since you asked and another second or two passed before he whined, seeing himself all fucked out and dumb, cheeks red, dried tears and drool and his messy, blonde hair. Along with the vibrator strapped around the base of his cock going at its highest speed and the also dried cum on his tummy barely in the frame.

“Please.” He pleaded, head turning slightly to look at you, somewhat incomprehensible from the way your fingers were still stuffed in his mouth, the poor boy—he’d lost count of how many times you’ve made him cum by now. 

Tilting your head to the side and letting your fingers slide out of his mouth, you feigned ignorance and asked, “Please what, sweetheart?” 

”Please!” Kai cried, squirming vigorously in your lap, “‘Ts too much! I— I can’t!” 

You clicked your tongue. “Aw, my poor boy. You’ll just have to take it, though. Come on, I know you can give me another one, just one more for me, okay?” you told him, keeping your eyes on him through your phone, “Just one more.”

Kai shook his head rapidly, “Can’t!” He squeaked, but you weren’t having it. “You can, you will. Look at the camera while you cum for me, okay?” Your tone was stern and despite the boy’s state, he let his head fall to rest against yours as he turned back to look into the lens. 

Taking your free hand, you took your index finger to tease at the tip of his cock, Kai lifting his hips up slightly in response with a moan and mumbling incoherent words. “Do you see yourself, pretty boy? See how good you look for me, how good you look all fucked out? Now you’ll get to see how pretty you look when you cum all over yourself.”

You trailed your finger down to the vibrator, pressing it against his cock and Kai let out a long whine, placing his hand on your thigh to dig his nails into the fabric of your pants and chanting your name as he just barely reminded himself to look into the camera as he came for the nth time all over his tummy while you placed soft kisses along his shoulder.

“There you go, my good boy. Let it out, just like that.” You told him softly, letting him ride it out for a few more moments before you took your finger off of the vibrator to feel for the remote you had placed somewhere beside him earlier, switching it off. 

Kai’s chest heaved, hair messier than it had been just minutes earlier and sweat dripping down from his neck onto his chest. Scooping up some of the cum from his tummy, you brought it to his lips and he complied immediately, wrapping his lips around your fingers and sucking them clean until you pulled them out of his mouth.

Humming in content, you ended the recording and set your phone down. “Such a good boy for me.” You praised with a soft voice before pressing a few more kisses to his neck, Kai hummed himself to your praise and gave a lopsided smile and mumbled,

“Thank you.”

a/n; yall i struggled so hard to post this. srry if its not the greatest i wrote it all in one day and just a lil drabble for my cute ningdungies </3 smut is so embarrassing to post istfg

[thefallofophanim]

ACT TWO - THE PETALS OF SIN

I added a prayer to my edifice of shame with each new incident - they multiplied at an unhoped-for speed. The human mind is surprisingly maellable; even I didn't know it could be that easily troubled. The clear water that once was the collective unconscious of the Silk is now tainted with the black, sorrowed ink of the anonymous Prophet I have become, and its lost followers can only drink the unholy beverage of my truth- a truth that will, at last, allow us to merge with the divine and feel in our luminous core what it means to be human.

The chain of incidents has deeply shaken the Order of the Silk, so much so that I opened this morning a written order giving me the obligation to receive, alongside Semione, individuals in need of confession. To do so, I had to bid a temporary farewell to my black robe, and proudly but superficially don the true scribe's clothing, similar in shape but gleaming white; which would normally have been given to me at the end of my apprenticeship, by the end of winter. I would say "when I am finally a Man", but a Scribe's life is no comparable to a Man's. We are ostracized, sacrificed, and maniacally worshipped as we agonize on our shrine.

These moments don't mark my thoughts, nor my emotions. I remember neither the hollow confessions that could not ever possibly interest our Lord, nor the pleading faces of sinners - I know them all too well. Each one of them, more than they would imagine, or expect. Years and years of observation, of silence, and it is now my duty to feign ignorance. For them, for the Ophanim, and for my own self.

Surprisingly, wearing that new colour had an instant effect on my behavior. My shy, withdrawn temperament gave way to a certain charisma to which the impure ones are sensitive. The broken scribe, searching for a talisman in pieces of stained glass, gave way to a prince of the heavens, guided and worshipped by a choir of Angels who put as much faith in him as men put in God. I am losing myself. I am drowning, for the sake of a better tomorrow- glorious days unmatched by any work of art. Semione was the most sensitive to this change. "White certainly fits you well", they said, their heart seemingly full of pride at the sight of my new self. And yet... you can only fool a mentor for so long. "

What is the meaning of this?" They asked harshly, scornfully tossing the sheets marked with my ink onto our shared desk. Their voice is hoarse, their eyes marked by fatigue. I don't even have to look down to know what they're blaming me for. "My duty." My response is scathing, though I mean it sincerely. Suffering Semione's wrath (justified wrath, I admit!) is profoundly disturbing, and my defense is as pathetic as my actions. "Your duty, as you call it, is responsible for the chaos The Silk is going through. All the fear, all the death. Every moment of it." They articulate every word, dominated by wrath and shame. "I didn't expect you to be that insightful, Lysander", They continue. "Not so soon."

"Is that so."

Silently, we challenge each other with our eyes. So much to say, so few words. Mutual incomprehension, and the lord knows that Semione knows me as if I was their own- hence their ability to see through me so soon, despite my best efforts at discretion. Their facade breaks a little when they whisper, "Don't do this. You have to grieve."

"I saw you", I say without even paying attention to their plea. "In the land of Silhouettes." Her eyes widen and I see in her gaze all the horror of the world, something completely beyond us. A divine horror. "I saw you. So young, and already so full of talent. You are remarkable, Semione, truly remarkable, a lot more than I could ever be." They take a step back and I get up, piercing through them with a morbidly insisting gaze. "So why did you walk away from Them? They would've welcomed you, without an ounce of hypocrisy unlike our fellow humans. Why did you refuse to hear their chant?"

They swallow, and for a moment I catch myself believing they will faint. "You have to walk away, too, Lysander." "I have no reason to." "You have every reason to. Do you even know what indulging into the irrational means?" I do not answer. I can only smile at them, in a way that I want to be reassuring, but their anger is a fire's at this point, consuming. They violently overturn the pile of sheets they have brought, which fly in all directions, crumpled. They refuse to look at me, suffocating in their own torment, before turning away and walking out the door. "Clean all of this up. If I can't stop you, I can at least slow you down. Do think about the reasons why I refused the Celestials."

"Only to do the same as me, in the end", I sarcastically let out. "Don't think I didn't notice your own influence in those so-called historical, or sacred texts. Who is the real threat to humanity, after all- the one slapping it with heinous truth, or the one cradling it with deceitful lies?"

Semione leaves the room without a word, their quick footsteps disappearing down the monastery's spiral staircase, leaving me alone amid a flurry of loose, inked sheets. The Ophanim laugh.

[ejzah]

A/N: Here’s my first post-series fic. Sigh.

***

Happy Ever After

Deeks stepped in through the patio door, a blast of cool air shocking compared to the heat outside. What had started out as a suggestion of drinks with Sam yesterday had turned into a full blown cookout with the inclusion of Anna and Callen.

Quietly padding through the house, he found Kensi curled up with one year old Caleb cradled against her chest. She’d brought him inside to escape the heat for a little while she nursed him. She looked up from her phone with a smile as he walked in.

“Hey, I thought you were manning the grill.”

“Hotdogs, hamburgers, and fowl all cooked,” Deeks replied, leaving over to kiss the top of Caleb’s head. Caleb looked out of the corner of his eye, distracted from his current task.

“I really wish you would quit calling the chicken that,” Kensi said with a roll of her eyes.

“So why aren’t you being the gracious and enigmatic host?”

Deeks shrugged. “I missed you guys.”

“Oh, well that’s a very good reason,” Kensi decided, kissing Caleb’s cheek. “You’re going to be too big for me to hold like that soon,” she to,d him, rearranging her shirt.

Caleb regarded her seriously for a second, the smiled, revealing to tiny white bottom teeth.

“How’s everybody doing out there?”

“Well, I heard Callen talking with Rosa about the best way to dissolve a body and I’m pretty sure Sam’s giving Sophia state secrets,” Deeks responded flippantly.

“Excellent,” Kensi said with a nod. “Can you take him back outside?” She stood, giving him a last squeeze.

“Yep. You need anything?”

“Just this.” Kensi beckoned to him, drawing him closer by the back of his neck, kissing him soundly. “Now I’m perfect.”

“Mm, me too,” Deeks murmured. Between them, Caleb made a smacking noise, looking at each of them expectantly. “And a kiss for baby too,” he added, kissing his round little cheek.

“Ok, I’ll be out in a few minutes. I gotta cut up some more fruit.”

When Deeks walked back out, things were much the same as he’d left them, though Anna was now standing with Rosa and Callen, and they seemed to be mapping out some kind of game in the grass.

Deeks wandered over a few yards where Sam sat on a law chair, Caleb’s twin, Sophia, balanced on his knee. “Uncle Sam,” Sam coached her slowly, emphasizing each sound.

“Dee,” she said.

“That was a good try, but not quite. Watch my mouth. Ssssam.”

Sophia screwed up her little face. “Deeeee!”

“We’re still kind of working on the basics,” Deeks informed Sam with a smile. “Like mom, dad, up. We’re very good at saying ‘no’.”

“No!” Sophia and Caleb shouted together right on cue, reaching for each other.

Deeks set Caleb on his feet, letting the little boy hold onto his index fingers as he toddled forward to his sister. Sam set her on the ground with a reluctant sigh.

“You know, I swear the only reason you come around anymore is for the babies,” Deeks teased him.

“So what if I do? Nothing like a baby’s laugh,” Sam said without any embarrassment.

“You got that right, brother.” They watched the twins “talk” to each other in a combination of almost words and incomprehensible jargon. Apparently it made perfect sense to them though.

“The one you should be questioning is Mr. I-Don’t-Know-If-I-Want-Kids over there,” Sam told him, pointing across the yard. “Every time I come here, he manages to find some excuse to tag along.”

“Hey, we’re happy to have you guys. Makes up for not seeing you every day at work,” Deeks said.

Picking Caleb up under his armpits, Deeks swung him around to face him, then tossed him a few feet in the air. Caleb squealed, face delighted as he safely landed back in Deeks’ hands.

“Mo!” he shouted, clapping his hands together. Grinning, Deeks obliged. Sophia pulled herself up using Sam’s leg as leverage, clinging with one hand as she reached towards Deeks with the other, and chanted,

“Da! Da! Da!”

“Of course I wouldn’t forget my baby girl,” Deeks crooned, giving her a couple turns.

“Which is why you’re going to be in so much trouble when she gets older,” Kensi observed, approaching them with a partitioned plate full of strawberries, watermelon, and blueberries.

“Heh, tell me about it,” Sam chuckled.

“Bebe?” Sophia requested, pointing to the plate and Kensi handed a halved strawberry to her. Caleb chose “meme” (watermelon).

Sam winced as a sticky had grabbed onto his clean shorts.

“Yeah, you’re probably going to wanna keep your distance until these guys are done and we have a chance to hose ‘Em down,” Deeks suggested wisely.

“Oh, Uncle Sammie wouldn’t mind a little stickiness for his favorite little niece and nephew, would he?” Kensi asked innocently.

“First of all, it’s Uncle Sam and they’re my only little nephew and niece at the moment. And I’ll change diapers and burp them, but I draw the line at sticky and gooey,” he disagreed. “But I bet their Uncle Grisha would feel differently.”

“Ok, but last chance to smell like strawberries and watermelon for the rest of the day. No takers? Fine.” Letting Kensi take Caleb, he hefted Sophia onto his hip, ruffling her golden brown curls. “There’s more beer in the white cooler if you want it.”

Stepping into the grass, they made their way over to Sam, Callen, and Rosa.

“You guys give up on the game?” Deeks asked.

“Callen wanted to play volleyball, but Rosa and I convinced him it was too hot,” she explained, nodding hopefully at Sophia. Kensi handed her over with a good-natured smile.

“And also really difficult without a net.”

“So why’s Sam pouting?” Callen asked.

“He was trying to get the kids to say his name.” Deeks pulled a face. “Sophia keeps calling him “Dee” for some reason.”

Callen snorted, face breaking into a delighted grin. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, I’ve been teaching them to call him Mr. T,” he said, barely containing his amusement.

“Dee!” Caleb shouted excitedly while Sophia pointed and waved at Sam.

“Oh no, Callen, you didn’t,” Kensi said, covering her mouth. Rosa just laughed outright.

“That is amazing,” Deeks chuckled.

“I honestly didn’t think they’d pick it up that quick.”

“Callen, that’s terrible,” Anna admonished him. “Funny, but really, really terrible.”

“Hey, this stay between us for now,” Callen said, looking between them.

“Of course,” Kensi agreed.

“Or, at least until the twins learn to pronounce ‘t’,” Deeks amended.

“And Mister,” Rosa added under her breath.

***

A/N: Yes, I’m sticking with twins and their names are officially Caleb and Sophia. Also, they’re very fresh one year olds, which is why their words still sound a more baby like.

[redforests]

Hey any and all! I made this short story thing like, a long while ago now cause I was interested in making my own lil SCP story but I moved on and it's just been sitting in my docs forever so I decided I'd post it here just for brevity's sake.

It is primarily about religion so if you dont like that feel free to click off. enjoy!!!!!

—————————————————————

His Book

The following is an excerpt from a book titled “His Book”, found within a home residing in ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇, Oregon, belonging to a man named ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇. It is unknown as to the true contents of the book and what it is referring to; the Foundation has yet to discover any further objects of interest within ▇▇▇▇▇▇’s home. Holding no author, it is possible this is referring to a new SCP. See Addendum ▇▇▇▇▇▇¹ for more information.

And so Ezekiel was met with God and His four angels at His side. Simply the sound and fleeting sight of being in The Lord’s realm brings Ezekiel to his hands and knees, looking down. He dare not look upon His visage at this moment, for Ezekiel fears it would be too beautiful. He instead glances at the four angels below Him, the only things that can be described in words being their multifaceted heads. An Unholy— no, an unapologetically and purely holy— amalgamation of the head of a ram, a human, a lion and an eagle “singing”. Though they chant holy words in a melodic tune, it is unable to be described as song. It is almost shrieking, their chants; yet Ezekiel smiles, listening. YHWH—God’s name, the Tetragrammaton, perfection to a point it is unable to be properly said, holy script writers in bygone times said to have even censored or omitted His full name so that no mere man may utter the holy phonetics—looks at Ezekiel.

He can feel the One True God’s eternal, all-seeing gaze on his back. And He says, “Look at me, Ezekiel.” And so Ezekiel obeys His word, and cranes his neck upward. His appearance is glorious. His throne— and the Thrones; floating, spinning wheels covered from tip to tip in eyes, hold up His throne made of gold. A beaming, cleansing light shining at Ezekiel, near-blinding. He fears that if he was given the unbridled look of God, his brain would melt and bubble into sanct nothingness. The visage of pure perfection would drive him mad. “Hush, my child.” He says.

Though Ezekiel had not realized it, he was attempting to chant with the angels. He was screaming, attempting to replicate their beautifully incomprehensible intonations. Ezekiel obeys His word. The chanting from the cherubs grows louder and louder. And He says; “Do not be afraid, Ezekiel. For my kingdom is coming soon.” Ezekiel looks up as the blinding light in which God himself is in; the shroud dissipates. Holiness, goodliness, and purity is revealed to Ezekiel. Sanctity in its most unbridled form. And Ezekiel screams.

¹Message from O-3: Addendum removed by order of the O-3 Council. Dr. ▇▇▇▇▇▇, do not publish any entire work resembling anything like this ever again. For the safety of Site-64, and the Foundation as a whole.

P.S: Transfer order for the book to Site-73 is underway.

—————————————————————

man it is weird reading this again lol

hope anyone who came across this blurb of a grander story i wrote likes it!

[lynnarang]

A Family Found 7

It wasn't an easy thing, tracking down a hunter who knew a witch's mannerisms. For them, avoiding a witch's careful gaze was a skill far more important than any killing technique.

So rather than any magical omniscience or name-feeding Fae network, more archaic methods were used.

Word-of-mouth, looking for tracks, finding campfires that were likely used by the target… It was insufferably inconvenient, until a breakthrough finally exposed the target.

Still, it took some time to catch up, and upon arrival the scene was anything but welcoming.

Half a dozen hunter's were strewn up with their own organs in grim bouquets. A young creature, perhaps an apprentice of one of the corpses, was frozen in shock in a puddle of its own piss. Pathetic, but a little cute.

It'd make a cute doll but there were more important matters.

With a sigh, the witch released Her spell and allowed Herself to shift back into existence.

"Run, little toy, before you get broken like one."

Her command seemed not to register in the boy-thing's head. Snapping Her fingers, the witch ordered the taller doll, ai, to attention.

"Carry this one to the nearby village and return. If it sees any other hunter's, drop him and return to me immediately."

The doll gave a quiet nod, not meeting its witch's eyes but obeying all the same.

This left the witch and Her other doll to attend to Her primary objective.

"So, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The witch asked with a raised eyebrow, approaching the beast that She had been pointedly ignoring until now. It was covered in a multitude of claws, tentacles, eyes and mouths, all drenched in blood.

"h҉u҉p҉p҉ ҉a҉x҉a҉l҉o҉ ҉u҉g҉ ҉w҉h҉o

The beast shrieked its words in a incomprehensible mess, a thousand different tongues chanting from each of its mouths. A lesser witch wouldn't have been able to discern meaning from the words.

She was not a lesser witch.

"You know why I'm here. I'm taking you back."

"P҉u҉m҉ ҉c҉a҉x҉a҉n҉i҉z҉ ҉k҉e҉ ҉f҉a҉x҉a҉n҉g҉,҉ ҉P҉u҉m҉'҉v҉ ҉p҉i҉t҉ ҉v҉e҉n҉c҉h҉o҉l҉,҉ ҉P҉u҉m҉'҉r҉r҉ ҉w҉h҉u҉l҉t҉ ҉u҉g҉"

"Oh please darling, if I was scared of a few tentacles and my flesh being ripped in half I'd hardly be a very good witch, would I?"

She rolled her eyes again.

"You WILL return home with me, regardless."

Authority dripped from Her every word.

"We'll find a way to put that new form of yours to use, or perhaps shove you into a vessel more appealing to your tastes. But first, you must return home, and I would prefer you do so willingly.

The beast rocked on its many hind legs, shuffling backwards. Afraid… Afraid of what? Its countless eyes dug into the witch, hungrily, lustfully, anxiously.

"Um, Miss Good Hunter?"

The remaining doll spoke up, its presence having been ignored.

"It is Miss Good Hunter, right?"

"P҉u҉m҉'҉v҉ ҉j҉e҉t҉h҉i҉c҉k҉ ҉a҉x҉a҉n҉y҉m҉e҉l҉o҉"

"This one was really scared when you disappeared… But Miss was even more scared."

"Know your place, doll. I was not scared, just disappointed in her foolishness."

"Mmm, if Miss says so."

"…I should have sent it with ai."

The doll stepped closer tentatively, fearful eyes not matching the quivering smile it gave the beast, a familiar expression to the person who visited so often. No, the beast was no longer that person, it was no longer a person at all.

The beast stepped back, the doll pursued.

"Miss was just going to let you go, She made a bunch of excuses.."

"yuu, if it doesn't shut its mouth right now it's going straight into the dollhole when we get home.

"But She looked so sad, always leaving Her room with puffy eyes, staring out the windows for hours at a time."

Ignoring the witch's threats and the beast's monstrous form, the doll stepped close enough to rest its tiny porcelain fingers on one of the beast's claws. At any moment it could be chewed up and spit out just like the corpses that surrounded it. But that was okay too.

"This one may be a mere toy-servant, but it wishes for nothing more than its Witch's happiness. It knows you're afraid of hurting its witch, itself and ai, but…"

The doll beamed up brightly at one of the beast's many faces.

"Your presence brings us far greater joy than pain."

The beast's many voices lay silent, its many eyes blinked and misted.

"You make me sound like a maiden going through her first breakup."

The witch scoffed as She joined Her doll, resting a hand on its trembling back. Catching Her breath, the witch met the beast's many gazes.

"Please, love, come home with us. We'll find a way to make things work."

"P҉u҉m҉.҉.҉.҉ ҉P҉u҉m҉ ҉w҉a҉x҉a҉n҉k҉ ҉t҉e҉ ҉f҉u҉t҉.҉.҉.҉"

"No buts. I promise I will make sure you don't hurt any of us in a way that can't be fixed, and I trust you regardless."

A silence lingered.

The beast spoke up tentatively, voices sounding… shameful?

"F҉u҉t҉ ҉P҉u҉m҉'҉v҉ ҉w҉h҉i҉d҉o҉e҉u҉s҉ ҉p҉i҉-҉"

The witch interrupted the cacophony of language with Her laughter.

"Oh darling, what are you talking about? You're beautiful like this."

The beast flinched.

"What? You honestly grew all those mouths and tentacles and didn't think it was the hottest thing ever?"

It was stunned into silence now, especially when it saw the familiar lust in its former… current(?) lover's eyes.

"You look like you could tear me apart in your sleep~"

Bewildered and mildly horny, the beast croaked out in a single one of its voices.

"W-Why are.. Y-You like this..?"

The witch leaned in and kissed a mouth still covered in gore.

"Because I love you, idiot. Now come on, who knows how long it will be before more hunters arrive."

Defeated, confused, hungry, and painfully relieved, the hunter-turned-beast allowed its witch to lead it from the clearing by one of its tentacles.

"You'll need a body for walking around the house, unfortunately, but you'll have plenty of space to run around in the yard~"

A red tint matched the blood on the beast's faces.

"D-Don't.. T-Treat us like a pet…"

The doll giggled at the exchange, happy to have its family back. A short time later the other doll returned from its errand and the family embarked on the journey home… together.

[thepalelfe]

* @betraal ! less cringey nsfw prompts ( accepting ! ) ; [ TRAIL ]:  sender leaves a trail of kisses down receivers stomach + [ ORAL ]: sender goes down on receiver.

his eyes are heavy, drowsiness weaving through every curled strand as moonlight streams through an open window, curtains jostled by the evening breeze as he stirs to consciousness.

astarion is nude to no one's surprise, especially the previously slumbering form next to him, body covered by sheets and a thick duvet which hides them both from the world, for a moment. daemos is characteristically sweltering, and astarion pushes back the blankets with a huff, kicking the remainder with a foot. " darling, you're burning up. " he grumbles against the pillows, face hidden in their feathered comfort, and attempting to wiggle his way out of the sorcerer's grasp. daemos's response to his words is to pull him closer in his sleepy state and the elf groans, turning so they're chest to chest. fully awake now, he scrunches his nose and leans forward, delivering a barrage of gentle kisses to daemos's face until the other wakes, languid and yawning. " finally, i was going to melt. " astarion complains and daemos sends a demure quirk of his lips.

a kiss follows, planted on his cheek before landing on his mouth. the rogue reciprocates the peck, which turns into something deeper as they lay languorous against the bedding which begins to fade in warmth the longer the wind blows. " good evening to you too. " astarion comments breathlessly in between kisses, skin flushing as daemos begins to travel his lips down his chest. " ravenous are we? " he teases, stomach tightening as his beloved sinks lower, lips trailing where a pre existing array of fading hickeys remain.

daemos responds with something astarion doesn't catch, feather light touch nearly incomprehensible till he feels daemos's thick fingers wrap around his still hardening cock. astarion echoes a gasp into their quiet bedroom, propping himself up onto his elbows so he can watch daemos with lidded eyes. " dae. " he calls quietly, which causes the other to peer up at him, blinking and halting their movements. " i want to look at you. " astarion requests as politely as he's able, chest rising and falling with bated breaths.

there's a silent agreement between them, two pairs of eyes remaining locked on each other. daemos is set on driving him to delirium with his onslaught of open mouthed kisses to his hips, tongue trailing after each individual peck, a delightful squeeze of his dick causing astarion to exhale a significant amount of air out of his nose. " you're teasing love. " he remarks as he watches daemos dribble a significant amount of saliva onto his reddening tip.

the vampire was pretty content that he could stay like this forever, maybe even cum untouched if he stared long enough, but daemos seems to have other plans, that expert forked tongue of theirs peeking from behind his pretty lips to take the place of their hand. " gods. " astarion bleats pathetically, legs spreading wider as a welcomed invitation, one which daemos takes easily enough, palm grasping his inner thigh and kneading the skin beneath his fingers. " i think you were just made to have my cock in your mouth love. " the elf chokes out clearly in jest, cheeks dusting a rosey shade of pink when daemos fully takes him down to the hilt, unable to keep his eyes open any longer as colorful dots explode behind his lids. " shit. "

hips stir - craving more, and daemos, ever patient, allows this for some time until it's clear by the irregularity in astarion's movements that he's close, if the quiet chanting befalling his lips wasn't an indicator. " pleaseplea- " the white hot fire shoots up his spine and abdomen, licking every inch of available skin until he whimpers and stops moving altogether. it's silent, save for his rapid breaths and the sound of daemos unsheathing him from their mouth. he and the sheets are both soaked, growing chilly the longer he remains in this position, and as though noticing this, the draconian draws near once more, encircling astarion in a flurry of limbs and heat. the vampire sighs sweetly, shifting back into their embrace, slanted grin placed against his shoulder.

" you've ruined me, my love. i'm going to dream of your talented mouth until the day i turn to ashes. " there's a deep snicker from above him and astarion can't help the silly grin that stays plastered on his lips until he falls back into another dreamless (thankfully) rest.

[sigomaru]

i incoherently ramble about how working on this was like on my art blog:

i left this out to dry for a few days, so now that it has indeed been a few days here are gifs of shots i liked in the final thing

shots i like didn't mean i actually liked working on them though (at the time the shot of old men running from the dog felt like a cop out to me). production is a wild thing. still, keeping the words of Miku of Hatsune true to heart, 'learn to complete things', i still had fun working on this overall!

when i was working on this, i had...less than a month to finish this. i thought that was fine, i had worked on music videos for school in much tighter schedules (the video with the song about kisaragi station was done in under a week)

did i mention that i'm god-awful at predicting how long it takes me to finish things?

the entire time i was really worried that my lack of proper planning beforehand would make the video incomprehensible to anyone but myself. would people question the dog? are people gonna notice the scenes i scrimped on? is valjean too passive in here, and so on and forth. but one thing i learned from other things i've made is that most of the time, i'm the only one who cares about stuff like that. as long as the story in the video is cohesive, it's probably ok, and people generally fill in the blanks themselves.

genuinely, i was blown away by the positive responses i got on the video, and especially people picking up on deliberate choices i made with the imagery! if people are able to get the symbolism i used in the video, then it will all have been worth it in the end. that being said i won't talk too much about what this and that means because i like seeing what people make of this

but past me didn't realise that people would receive this video that well, so the entire time, i had to ignore that corner of my brain worrying about the final output, internally chanting 'learn to complete things' over and over in my head.

again, my lack of proper planning scared me a little, because. well. the thing was barely storyboarded at all, save for a few scenes. and what i did storyboard had a lot of complex motions that i had to sacrifice to get it out by the end of the week.

(my pre-production stuff looks better than this i swear i just slack off if i alone am my own production crew) for example, that scene where they were eating was supposed to have this bit where the soup flashes back at an angry prisoner valjean. i was going to try to keep the Soup but at that point i was establishing a routine in the video, and i tried to rationalise dropping the shot with 'the second time they're eating, we don't get a soup shot, so it'd be weird to get a soup shot here if i'm trying to show a mundane daily life'.

on the note of barely storyboarded, the visuals for the first chorus were a nightmare to work on. in fact, they were the last part of the video to be completed! other scenes weren't fully boarded either (latter half of the second verse, bridge, first half of the final chorus) but i at least had some idea of what to do for them--the second verse is flashback zone and the final chorus was always going to have valjean running towards a falling javert with a shot that would connect directly from the bridge. and any grand idea i had in my head was easy to distill into something workable in a short amount of time.

but the first chorus? oh christ. absolutely head empty no thoughts. had a great starting shot with valjean nearly getting chomped but trying to transition into any other shot just felt so awkward. one earlier iteration was going to have valjean taming the wolf, but it would never come into play again in any of the later scenes. another iteration was going to have valjean attack the wolf for javert, but that made javert too much of a damsel. at some point i ended up coming up with that final shot for that scene where they hide in an alleyway, and then the trouble came with connecting the first and the last shots in a way that looked cool. like i said, working on it i felt like the way i handled it was a cop-out, but honestly, i think the editing portion saved it in the end. sometimes i forget just how much editing can add to shots that look limp when first drawn.

honestly, me talking about the first chorus just felt like

speaking of limp drawings, here are what the dog chomps used to look like before i added all those effects.

it's not so much a 'crunch' more than it is a 'nom'.

so to end this off--this sent my soul in the next dimension to finish. but i had fun and after a cooldown period i will do something like this again (i have two ideas in the backburner)

...

...as for the vocaloid cover, uh, there's not really much to say other than the fact that i was debating between two versions? between the masculine and the realistic one, the masculine one won as you can hear in the video.

normally this is the part where i make some kind of caption that's funny or related to the video, but honestly i'm just so glad i got this done in time

anyway happy valvert week part 2. the song is 命の食べ方 by eve

@valvertweek

[silverslipstream]

wrote another little snippet about Tony and Ben

fuck I hate you guys. get out of my head. shut up and fuck off (they won't). anyway yeah just a complete spur of the moment scene that randomly came into my head just now and I wrote in like fifteen minutes (ily tony you idiot. you just watch footy so you can ogle the boys don't you /hj)

Tony's not one for football. Honestly, he can't stand it. The chanting, the nonsensical rules, the weird tribalism that it pushes people into. Sure, there's something to be said for the rumpled hair and pumping calves, but at the end of the day he'd rather spend Saturday morning drinking coffee in the garden or cooking omelettes. He'd never be spotted within a mile's radius of the footy pitch if it wasn't for Ben. He's at the front of the pitch, looking over his shoulder and shouting some incomprehensible order. There's something alive in his face, something that jumps behind his eyes and darts in the creases of his cheeks. Tony knows he can never talk about it. Maybe that's okay. Maybe it's nice to keep some observations to himself. A burly, curly-haired player wearing the same maroon-and-turquoise kit as Ben boots the ball up the field, and Ben's body instinctively pivots and curves to receive it. It thuds against the inside of his boot, and he seems to flow around the ball immediately, as if the ball is a barycentre and he's just orbiting it. Seconds later, he's running up the field. The ball moves in short, staccato bursts in front of his feet. He whips past Tony, eyes down and laser-focused, and Tony can feel the air between them ripple like a train passing between platforms. There's a collective gasp as Ben spins past one of the opposing players. The other guy's decked out in white-and-black striped shirt and shorts, a cartoon prisoner standing stock-still. He turns dumbly in delayed shock as Ben deftly curves the ball across the pitch, just shy of the goal. At first, Tony thinks he's missed: then one of Ben's teammates appears from nowhere on the other side of the pitch, punting the ball forward with an almighty kick. It flies forward, shedding mud and grass like the world's dirtiest comet. There's an almost eerie silence as the ball barrels past the goalkeeper's outstretched hands and into the back of the net. Suddenly, as if playing from an un-paused tape, the crowd on Tony's side of the pitch erupts into whoops and hollers of excitement. Tony sweeps his hands into the air and cheers, involuntarily caught up in that strange frenzy of communal human excitement. The maroon-and-turquoise-striped scarf loosens around his neck.

(you didn't HAVE to buy that scarf in the football team's colours for your secret gay lover, did you Tony? no. no you didn't. but maybe you wanted to. maybe you wanted a bit of connection that you didn't have to hide.)

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

Your Imagination | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: none i think, just making out with harry :)

Summary: Harry gets distracted by you during a Quidditch pratice. Later, you meet him alone in the changing rooms.

a/n: Set in Harry's sixth year. He's Quidditch captain and he and reader already have an established relationship. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes.

“Watch it, Potter – okay, great.”

Katie’s disappointed voice echoed over the pitch right after the dull ‘Plonk’ of the Bludger meeting Harry’s head.

“That’s the second Bludger that’s hit you today, so will you please stop watching Y/N and concentrate on the Snitch?”

I glanced up from my Transfiguration homework with a grin and watched how Ginny stopped beside Katie.

“But he’s in lo-ove,” Ginny chanted, balancing the Quaffle in her hands.

“Okay, as much as I adore your concerns for my head,” Harry said sarcastically, “will you please concentrate on scoring goals instead of observing what I do?”

“Maybe we should stick a photograph of Y/N on the Snitch,” Ginny snickered, ignoring his request. “Hey, Y/N, what do you think?”

I held up both thumbs.

“Yes, very funny, now will you –”

“I think what this team needs is a complete restructure,” McLaggen said loudly and left his position at the goalposts to fly closer to his teammates. “You know, maybe Potter should be a Beater if the Bludgers come to him that often.”

“That’s not how Bludgers work…,” Demelza interfered with an annoyed undertone.

“But they come to him more often than they come to Peakes and –”

“Still not how they work.”

“But if Potter plays as Beater and Peakes as Chaser and Weasley as Seeker then –”

“Okay, that’s it,” Harry shouted over McLaggen. “We’re gonna take a break. Two minutes.”

“But –”

“McLaggen, with all due respect, shut up or I’ll have you write Potter is the Gryffindor Quidditch captain a hundred times and let McGonagall play Keeper.”

McLaggen grunted something incomprehensible before flying after the others to land on the pitch, disappearing in the changing rooms beneath the stands. Instead of following them, Harry turned his broom around and flew up to me.

I put my homework aside and watched how he plopped down beside me, rubbing the back of his head.

“You know, maybe I shouldn’t come to the match if I distract you so much,” I said, smiling smugly. “I don’t want you to lose against Hufflepuff.”

Harry smiled, his cheeks flushing, and he buried his face in his hands. “It’s just because you’re the only one watching right now.”

“I can also wait in the changing room; I’m freezing my ass off here.”

“No, that would be worse… then I had to imagine what you’re doing and that’s much more distracting.”

I grinned and nudged my face against his neck, placing kisses underneath his ear.

“What am I doing in your imagination?” I whispered, and he chuckled. “Or you just show me later.”

“But I rented the pitch for another hour,” He said, and finally met my eyes.

“Well, I still have some homework and you still have to knock your team into shape, because quite frankly you’re all really shit right now.”

“Thanks, really encouraging.”

Harry was about to lean into a kiss, as Katie yelled, “Potter, get your love-struck ass up here!”

He groaned and tried again, but this time I backed away.

“Save that for later.” I stroked over the wrinkles in his scarlet-red jersey. He sighed and reached for his Firebolt. “And don’t get hit by another Bludger, I don’t wanna carry you to the hospital wing.”

“I’ll try,” He said and flew back up to the rest of his Quidditch team. With a grin on my lips, I turned back to my Transfiguration essay, only occasionally glancing up at Harry.

After an hour and with a finished essay on Human Transfiguration in my bag, I strolled down the stands and lingered at the entrance to the floor leading up to the changing rooms, acting like I was waiting for Harry to come out.

Ginny sent me a knowing look as she walked past me, arms locked with Demelza. The last to leave was, of course, McLaggen, without so much as looking at me.

I rolled my eyes at his back and slipped through the door, leaving my schoolbag in the floor before opening the door to the boys changing room.

Harry stood next to his stuff, folding his sweaty jersey, but not yet dressed in a shirt. I leaned against the doorframe, grinning.

“Hello,” I said, and Harry startled and swayed around, though his muscles relaxed as he saw me, a broad smile spreading over his lips.

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, throwing the Snitch he’d just caught upwards and effortlessly catching it again with the same hand.

“You tell me,” I said, taking off my coat and walking up to him. “It’s your imagination.”

Harry smiled, tossing the Snitch onto his pile of clothing, and leaning down to kiss me. Instead of meeting my mouth, he traced wet kisses over my jawline up to my ear while his right hand wandered down my back.

“Take off your jumper,” He whispered.

I did not hesitate and pulled the knitted jumper over my head, revealing my red bra. The corners of his mouth jumped up as his eyes glanced down.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry said as he caught my gaze again.

I smiled and cupped his face to kiss him hard on the lips. His hands found a place on my naked waist, stroking over the naked skin, and slowly, I let go off his face, my fingers gracing his strong arms.

“You too,” I mumbled as I detached my lips from his, catching my breath.

Harry wasted no time and quickly closed the gap between us, his warm tongue teasingly gracing over my bottom lip. One of his hands wandered from my waist up into my hair, and he pushed me backwards until my back hit the wall, his body pressed up against mine.

Out of surprise at the sudden closeness, I parted my lips, and he slipped his tongue inside my mouth, kissing me more intensely, his breath warm and sweet. A tingling feelings unfurled in my stomach area, leaving me dizzy.

I stroked over his naked shoulders, pulling him even closer, and felt his heart beating against my chest. When my lungs could no longer endure the lack of oxygen, I broke away, and we were both breathing heavily.

He bent down again, and just like before, he traced kisses over my jawline and neck, alongside the golden necklace he had given me on Christmas Eve.

I tilted my head further away, pressing my face against his neck and breathing in his scent – honey, salt, and sandalwood – while my hands found their way back into his hair. Harry groaned against my skin as I lightly pulled at his messy hair and sucked harder on the skin above my collarbone.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” I whispered, and I heard him chuckling.

“That’s what I’m going for,” He answered and attached his lips with my skin again.

I sighed and dropped my hands over his chest and down to his waist, carefully stroking over the skin above the hem of his trousers.

Harry moaned and shifted but reacted quickly by grabbing my hands and pressing them against the wall above my head. With his right hand around my wrists, he kissed me on the mouth, and I captured his bottom lip in between my lips, softly biting down.

This time, he was the one to pull way for air, his eyes gliding over my face and his hand letting go off my arms.

“The Hufflepuff team booked the pitch after us,” Harry said upon my questioning look. “I don’t want them to see us making out.”

I grinned. “Really? Because you made it very obvious that we made out,” I said, stroking over the hickey on my neck.

“Well, they can know, but they don’t need to watch.” He cupped my face and kissed me much gentler than before, and I smiled against his lips, sinking into the kiss.

[not-another-parable]

clickonmedotexe

"What is your job, Mary Belle?" Rex didn't even let her finish, her pleas falling to deaf ears. He stood up then, making sure he was towering over her trembling form so she knew exactly who was in charge. Of course, he wasn't nearly as angry as he might've appeared to her. There were a lot of complicated emotions swirling in his chest, some of which were a subdued panicking of what if he's gone for good what if this time he won't come back fuck fuck fuck. It felt good to feel like he was in control. He needed her to remember that he didn't want her to think for herself. She was to obey him. Always. "Your job is not to think. Your job is not to decide what happens with my partners." His prosthetic hand, cold and unforgiving, fists itself into her hair, lightly pulling her head back so she would look into the face of her displeased Master. He held her gaze for a few more moments, letting this look sear into her memory, so she would never forget the pain of her mistakes. And then, with practiced ease, Rex let his expression soften. His other hand, warm and human, cupped her tear streaked cheek. He sighed, shaking his head. "Look at you. What a mess." He chided gently. "I must've been too hard on you, you only wanted to help. You didn't mean any harm, did you? No, my poor darling, you were doing what you thought was right. And I hate to have to scold you like this, Mary Belle." Rex sat beside her again, the hand in her hair smoothing it back in a comforting caress. Using the sleeve of his jacket, he tenderly dabbed at her cheeks, fussing over her appearance like a worried lover. "I do love you, Mary. And I forgive you for messing up, you clearly didn't know any better. Poor thing. Don't worry, alright? I will take care of everything. I'll fix this."

Incomprehensible stammering was all she could answer him with. Through her blurred vision, she watched him tower over her, and she very nearly threw herself out of her chair and at his feet to continue begging for forgiveness. When his hand clutched her hair, her body tensed enough to keep her frozen in place as she was scolded. In a fit of regret, self-directed hatred, and slight terror at the realization of what she'd done, she could only whisper soft sobs of 'sorry' again and again as he suddenly wiped away at her face, his demeanour now shifting once again.

"Yes, yes-- I love you." She chanted as her face was gradually cleaned off. "Thank you, thank you so much, Master, I-I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you so much...."

clickonmedotexe

As Mary talked, Rex stayed silent, listening to the torments she put Cas through. He could imagine it so vividly. Cas' screams, the deep gashes in his flesh, the way he would struggled against his bindings to escape the blade as it tore mercilessly through him, uncaring for his protestations. He studied the heart, the sticky black now clinging to his fingers and running down his palm. The rage inside of him died down, but he was not done with making Mary squirm yet. He set his cold eyes upon her. "So let me get this straight." Rex said, his voice as calm as the air before a disasterous storm. "You decided to pay Cas a visit, knowing that I had already claimed him as my own and then decided to just…carve him up? Without asking me for permission? I don't recall givin you the go ahead to touch what is mine." He placed the heart back in the box and set it aside, so Mary would have his unrelenting attention. "And he's what, now? He's dead? Good as dead? What am I supposed to do with this information, Mary Belle? I had plans for Cas, yknow. Big ones. And they didn't involve him being carved into gory bits."

The slight fidgeting only worsened the longer Rex stared at her and the longer he spoke. For a short while, Mary tried desperately to bring her smile back onto her face, but every word he said only worked to whittle it back down. "Well, I- I didn't intend- with, with the way he was speaking, I- I couldn't--!"

Her helpless stammering fell silent as Rex continued verbally slicing into her. All she could do was stare back at him with wide, wet eyes as faint streaks as black rolled down her cheeks, while her mind forced itself to process what he was saying to her. This isn't how it was supposed to be. You idiot.

"I-I was... I didn't...." She whispered, before finding her voice once again. "He was-- he was speaking such heresy against you, I-I couldn't just allow him to go unpunished for it! I, I thought you would have been proud, I didn't know, I was- I only wanted to do right by you, b-but-- I-- I don't--!" She pulled in deep breaths, bringing herself back from the edge of a breakdown. "He... he'll have restarted by now, maybe I-I could find him, I just need some time, and I could make a virus for him-- he'll be just the way you left him, it will be like this never happened! I, I just... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please...."

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

All 6 of the Knights know about Merlin's magic, but all think they're the only one to know:

So the Knights (Arthur, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon, Lancelot) + Merlin are like,,,, investigating something

Ya know, the norm

They're out in the woods tracking down some really mean dude, and whadya know? They get attacked by bandits, as per

So, as per, Merlin hides behind a tree, keeping a careful eye on the fighting

(The knights are drastically outnumbered, BUT they're far more skilled than the bandits so it basically evens out.)

Only planning to step in, to make their own luck, when he needs to, he waits

Everything is going fine, and Merlin need only sit and watch...

UNTIL!

One more person creeps out from the shadows, and begins chanting, the knights notice this of course, and are, all of a sudden, made painfully aware that the bandit attack had just been a distraction to keep them busy, so the sorcerer could step in and do some evil shit

But distraction or not, they still need to actually subdue these arseholes with swords before they can do anything about the sorcerer

BUT that is taking far too long and as the chanting grows louder, Lancelot throws a glance Merlins way, and nods, before giving a shout in an effort to draw attention to himself, and away from Merlin

Merlin follows his cue to step out from his hiding place, but before he can drop a tree branch or something similar onto the head of the sorcerer, he's spotted

The sorcerer looks his way as he stops chanting, let's out a shout-

"Emrys!! You filthy traitor!"

- and throws his arm out towards Merlin, who instinctively, before he even realises what he's doing, extends his own arm in retaliation

Both pairs of eyes glow brighter and brighter, and streams of colour extend from each of their arms, meeting in the middle with an explosion of light that seems far brighter on the sorcerer's (or the...not-Merlin) side

Merlin had clearly overpowered the other sorcerer, but everyone is thrown to the floor with a bang

Merlin conks his head, not dangerously hard, not enough to bleed, but hard enough to leave him properly dazed for a few seconds, and confuse his thoughts

Those few seconds are enough to leave the bandits scampering off into the night in fear, and for the sorcerer to spit at the floor before quickly following them, obviously unimpressed with the fact that he was beaten

Those few seconds are ALSO long enough, for Merlin to look up, and see that the knights have rushed to stand in a circle around him

For a moment, Merlin fears that they mean to tie him down, or even kill him on the spot....

....that is until he realises that none of them are even looking at him, and are instead gesturing their swords wildly at each other, and shouting incomprehensibly, leaving Merlin very confused (not helped by the obvious concussion)

As his vision clears, he takes note of everyones position

Lancelot stands the closest to him, his sword pointed at Arthur (who is opposite him in the circle), shouting something about loyalty and fear and bravery

Arthur in return is pointing his sword at Leon (though is yelling at everyone in the circle), Leon has his sword pointed back at Arthur

Elyan has a sword pointed at Lancelot

Percival and Gwaine have somehow managed to gain second swords, with Percival pointing one at Elyan, and one at Gwaine,

Gwaine is pointing one at Percival, and the other at Arthur

(To help, it's looking like this, the colour of the arrow references who the sword is pointing at)

Merlins head hurts, and he's very confused at why everyone is yelling at each other and not him

Well he understands Lancelot shouting in his defense but....what was going on??

Despite the noise, Lancelot notices Merlin look up, and immediately calls:

"Merlin! Get behind me, quick!"

Merlin tilts his head but goes to move towards Lancelot. He doesn't really understand what's going on but,,,, he remembers doing magic, and not the subtle kind he normally goes for

but his head hurts and he's tired, and Lancelot is the only one who knows his secret, so doing what he says right now is probably the safest option for him to take at the moment

But before he can take more than one stumbled step:

"NO, Merlin I won't let anyone hurt you, come here, my friend." from Leon, (loud and forceful, but gentle as well) stops him in his tracks

At this, Gwaine let's out a growl, and both him and Lancelot move the swords previously pointed at Arthur, to Leon's direction

Merlin is even more confused at this point, and Arthur yelling-

"Absolutely Not! Get your scrawny arse over hear Merlin you idiot, I'm the King, I wont let ANY harm come to you, I swear."

- does NOT help matters

At this, Merlin reckons it's best to just stand still. His head hurts and his magic has been outed and everyone was shouting at him. Probably best to just,,,, wait it out and see what happens. His head hurts

In all honestly, he's not quite sure any of this is real, I mean he wasn't really sure what the sorcerer was chanting before the big explosion thingy, could've been anything. His head hurts, he thinks again

Maybe he hit it harder than he thought

Everyone has stopped shouting at this point, though the swords stay raised, every one of them obviously prepared to jump into battle ("with each other?? " Merlin thinks) at a moments notice

Elyan, quietly "Are you alright Merlin? You hit your head pretty hard. Everything's going to be ok just.... step behind me, I'll protect you."

When he first starts speaking, the others growl, and go to yell over him,,,, by the end of his demand, they all quiet down, and furrow their brows, though they all keep their swords high

It's Percival who speaks next:

"Wait.... are we all trying to protect Merlin?"

Gwaine shouts at this:

"I won't let any of you hurt him! He may have magic but he just saved us, and I'll run the King himself through if I have to in order to keep him safe!"

(if Arthur wasn't preoccupied with....well everything that's happening, he would be offended at the notion that his Knight is far more loyal to his manservant than him)

It's Leon again next:

"Shut up, Gwaine, did all of you...wait. Who knew about Merlins...magic, before now?"

All of them look nervously at each other, but Lancelot is the first to nod, with a:

"I won't let him be punished for bravery."

Despite threatening to kill each other for Merlin, none of them are looking him during this conversation, he however is following whoever is speaking with his eyes, becoming more and more confused... do all of them...know??

Percival and Elyan nod at the same time, and Gwaine (who is looking more serious than any of them have ever seen him) clench his jaw before letting out a low:

"I knew."

Leon looks at Arthur next, whose brow is deeply furrowed, his mouth open slightly, as he give a slow nod

It's Leon, who slowly lowers his sword first, closely followed by Elyan, Pervival. Gwaine follows them, and then Arthur, but Lancelot keeps his sword aimed at the King

"Lower your sword Lancelot, it would appear, that all of us are attempting to protect Merlin from... each other." From Arthur finally has Lancelot relaxing slightly

"...uuh, Lancelot?" From Merlin draws everyones attention back to him, and his very confused (and slightly fearful) face

Lancelot goes to rush towards him, but before his first step even lands, everyone has at least one sword pointed in his direction, quick as lightening,

He huffs as he drops his own sword to the floor:

"Look, we all know about Merlin's magic, and we're all trying to protect him alright? Come off it guys, we need to check his head."

Everyone fully relaxes at that, but it's Leon who reaches Merlin first (he had always been freakishly fast, the bastard) and as he gently tilts Merlin's head forward so he can take a look at the back of it, Arthur puts one hand on Merlin's shoulder, the other still gripping his sword tightly

Merlin is looking very surprised at all this, but his head still hurts and no one seems to be trying to build a pyre or bring out the cuffs, and Lancelot seems relaxed so...that's a good thing right?

He allows Leon to examine his head with no resistance at all,

"He's almost certainly concussed, so we'll need to keep an eye on him for a day or two, but he'll be fine, he's not bleeding and his skull isn't cracked."

Leon steps back from the dark haired manservant, and Merlin looks over his shoulder to give him a dopey smile.

Arthur, with his hand still tightly on Merlin's shoulder, starts giving orders, Percival and Gwaine were to see if they can track down the horses, who had been spooked in the attack, but were trained well to stay close by (and also had all their packs still on them)

Gwaine starts with a "Look princess, if you think I'm leaving Merlin with Uther's so-"

But is interrupted by Percival telling him to shut up, and dragging him in the direction of where the horses were last stood.

Elyan is to starting to build a fire, and Leon and Lancelot are to double check the perimeter, and collect anything left by the bandits in their hasty retreat

Lancelot looks to Merlin for confirmation, a silent "you ok with me going?" hangs in the air, and Arthur looks as though he's going to start yelling again, but Merlin's head hurts and he really doesnt want that, so he gives Lancelot a slight nod, and smile.

Lancelot glances at Arthur once more, face drawn and serious, before walking towards Leon, waiting at the edge of the clearing

Arthur watches them go, before finally settling his gaze in Merlin, and tilting his head slightly in question

Merlins response-

"My head hurts :( "

-causes Arthur to huff out a small laugh before attempting to get Merlin settled against a log, close ish to where Elyan is getting the fire lit

After half an hour or so, everyone is back at camp, the horses have successfully been returned to camp, and are grazing off to the side. The fire is roaring, and Elyan is cooking what had been caught for dinner earlier in the day

Merlin is sat in the same place as he was before, though he seems to now be squidged between a very protective Lancelot, and a very protective Arthur

Gwaine is sat on the opposite side of the fire, and has had a glare leveled at Arthur since he first sat (with Percival sat next to him. No one would say it, but everyone knows it was so Percival could grab Gwaine if he decided to keep to his word and attempt to run the King through with is sword.)

Other than Elyan, Leon seems to be the only completely relaxed one. He knows Arthur the best, and he is aware of the Kings inability to lie on the spot, or keep control of his anger,

If Arthur was intending to hurt Merlin, he would certainly have made it obvious by now

The whole camp is painfully silent all through the meal, it's only after Leon comes back with clean bowls (being one of only two people who were willing to leave the camp (Elyan had already cooked, it wouldn't be fair to make him clean as well)) that Merlin breaks the silence,

His eyes are looking a bit clearer now, but he still has a headache, and he feels like he would probably end up passing out if he tried to stand up:

"So.... I knew about Lancelot but, how long?" The question is obviously aimed at everyone, but all take in a sharp breathe, with Arthur and Gwaine narrowing their eyes, at "I knew about Lancelot"

Percival looks from Merlin to Lancelot and raises an eyebrow in question:

"I realised it wasn't possible for me to have killed that Griffin on my own, but Merlin was the only other one with me. I figured that he had enchanted by lance,"

Everyones brows lower at that

"That was years ago? You've known all this time??" From Leon

Lancelot gives a shrug, "He wasnt exactly subtle. The lance was glowing so brightly I almost fell off my horse, and the only things I could hear were my horses hooves, and Merlin crouched at the side of the road muttering to himself....or to the lance I suppose."

Everyone but Arthur huffs out a laugh at that

I guess he doesn't like to be reminded that Merlin had been closer to Lancelot this whole time

And I can't be arsed to write it out, but all of them explain when, and how, they found out about Merlin's magic. It had been Leon first (which is unsurprising, he's the only one of them who's known him the same length of time as Arthur), a year or two after Lancelot first left.

He was conflicted at first, but after witnessing all the passed up opportunities that would've been perfect for Merlin to strike, like any self respecting evil sorcerer would, he couldn't convince himself that Merlin was evil.

He of course, kept an eye on him, but stopped worrying about him as a danger after only a couple months. He laughingly admits to losing sleep all these years, worrying about Merlin being an idiot and outing himself accidentally.

Though Arthur was the last of the group to speak, he realised Merlin had magic next, shortly after Balinors death.

After some questioning (at the time) Merlin had admitted that he met his father briefly "almost recently" (which was as specific as Merlin was prepared to get at the time) but he'd died shortly after

Arthur could tell Merlin had been upset about it, and made the connection between the timings of Balinors escape from Camelot, Merlins age, and how upset Merlin had been over the death of a near stranger

He explains that he wasn't sure at first, told himself he was seeing connections that weren't there, but he paid more attention to Merlin when Merlin thought no one was looking, and learned the truth soon enough

Gwaine figured it out next, within a week of meeting Merlin, repeating Lancelot's sentiment that he wasnt that subtle with it.

Theres no cool story here, Gwaine is just a lot smarter than people give him credit for

(all those years of trying to tell if another drunkard was about to start a fight, or walk off, made Gwaine very observant)

Like Gwaine, Percival noticed Merlin's magic within a couple weeks of arriving in Camelot

He grew up in kingdom where, as much as it wasn't common, it wasnt illegal. He saw the occasional bits of magic, and knew enough to recognise it

One too many instances of luck, in the midst of a battle, had been what clued him in

Elyan was reluctant to admit it, but he'd only realised a few months ago

(probably, Merlin thinks, probably why he'd been acting so weird recently)

Though he had realised in the same manner as Percival, one too many fallen branches, one too many instances of Merlin seemingly knowing they were about to be attacked, or follow the wrong path

After all their confessions they quietly wait, mostly focused on Merlin

Who at this point

Is still concussed

Though he is greatly appreciative of the fact that none of his friends (and also Arthur, the love of his life but like,,,, he's concussed. If he starts thinking about that too much he'll start talking about it and there is a time and place. Which isn't here and now) are trying to kill him:

"Huh. Gaius is gonna have a field day with this. But he'll probably also yell soooooo... please don't leave when I tell him and also maybe stand in front of me?"

he says with a chuckle. Someone goes to reply with a "Gaius kno-?? Of course he does." But before they can speak, they're interrupted by Merlin mumbling that-

"my head hurts :( "

Everyone else lets out a chuckle at this, but it's Leon who tells Arthur that it's been long enough now,

"Get some rest Merlin, we'll head back to Camelot in the morning, and we'll protect you from Gaius' famous wrath when we get there :) " from Arthur, has Merlin going:

"Oh thank the gods." Before promptly passing out on Arthur's shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone else.

~

THE END!

There is of course a merthur love confession at some point. And also Gaius expectedly yelling at Merlin when they get back (for being stupid and unsubtle all these years, for revealing his magic in such a dramatic fashion the previous day, for essentially concussing himself). The lot of them giggle at that, despite Merlin glaring at them the whole time

Arthur also reveals to the whole gang, the draft on the Magic Ban Repeal he'd been secretly working on. He always wanted Merlin to trust him enough to tell him the truth, but started work on the repeal when he came to the realisation that trust and respect goes both ways.

SO like always gang, I'm shitty at writing in full so like,,,,, if someone wants to wrote this go for it, credit and tag me✌