#or push her body further down like i want to see more sky for the last one :/

[nikki-handholder]

Chang'e thinks of home

[utterlyazriel]

an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

[aerynwrites]

It's About The Chase

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: FINALLY finished this halsin pic I've been working on for the past like month lmao. a huge shout out to @princessbatears @hdlynnslibraryand @maybegefor being the pushes I needed to finish it! I hope you all enjoy! <3

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT! Hunter/Prey Kink, halsin is chasing reader through the forest lol, P in V sex, cream pie, cock warming, marking, biting, rough sex, soft sex, fluff, slight aftercare, cuddling.

Summary: You and Halsin have been together for sometime now, so when Halsin approaches you and asks you to partake in a Ritual custom of his people to further your relationship...who are you to deny him?

Orange embers add to the number of stars in the night sky before flickering out of existence against the blanket of night.

The fire roars fierce before you; orange, yellow, and red tangling together in a dangerous dance to the euphony of songs around you.  Your heart races, blood thrumming through your veins like a raging river.  The heat from the flames only adds to the heat bubbling beneath your skin, making the fingers dragging across its surface seem startlingly cool in contrast. 

You look down at your friend, Avella, as she drags her fingers down the length of your arm in mesmerizing patterns, leaving a shimmering trail of golden paint in their wake. You watch in fascination as the liquid coats her finger tips, dripping in a glimmering trail down the back of her hand before she moves to retrieve more from the bowl at her feet. 

You’ve only ever bared witness to this ritual once, Halsin wanting you to see it before committing to it with him, and while you remember it being just as intriguing, it feels…different, now. 

Now that it’s happening to you. 

Avella, one of your closest friends, had helped you prepare for the ritual just earlier. The golden paths she is painting now, are a continuation of the ones that snake beneath the simple white dress adorning your body.  

You look across from you to see Halsin garnering the same treatment, except the paint adorning his skin is a crimson red, appropriately matching the tattoos inked into him. The only thing that separates you from one another are the flames, making him flicker in and out of view as the fire laps at each new log added to it. 

But even from this distance you can see the way he looks at you. See the way his eyes darken with hunger. The way his shoulders tense and his fists clench from where they rest at his sides. 

He’s ready to pounce. A predator with his prey in sight but just out of reach. 

At least for now. 

You can feel your breathing speed up,  becoming shallow, chest rising and falling quicker as Avella finishes her artwork and the harmony of songs and drums alike come to a complete stop around you.

One of the elders, a druid you’ve only met on occasion, comes to stand in front of the fire, between you and Halsin. He speaks in an old language, one you don’t understand before slipping back into common. Yet, even then, the words do not reach you. 

The elder speaks eloquently about tonight's ritual, describing everything Halsin had already prepared you for. 

This ritual is a sacred one, that you know. Halsin, like many druids, believed that life, like nature, is a fluid thing. Not to be bound to one person or place or thing in one's life. Yet, this very practice seemed to contradict that very principle. You still had lingering questions, one that Halsin promised would be answered come the end of tonight. 

Because, by the end of the night you would be Halsin’s, and he would be yours. Completely and wholly, under the watchful eye of Silvanus himself, you and Halsin would become one with the natural world he holds so dear, cementing one another as an inseparable part of each other's existence. 

You only realize the elder had ended his prayers by the low blow of a horn, and the steady reverberation of the drums picking up once more. Your eyes dart from where you had been staring off, to your partner across the fire, his brows drawn in slight concern at your hesitance. 

That’s right…you must run. 

And so you do.

Turning on your heel, you take off into the forest behind you, the moss and fallen leaves surprisingly springy beneath your bare feet as you dash deeper into the trees embrace. 

The singing grows louder behind you at the start of your retreat, but as you put distance between yourself and the others, the sounds grow softer, quieter – muffled by nature until the only thing you can hear is your own breathing, the blood rushing in your ears, and the rustle of foliage beneath your feet. 

Only then do you pause, not knowing how far you’ve gone or where you’re even going. It’s then that Halsin’s words echo in your mind, your eyes slipping close as you try to reign in in your excitement, your panic. 

“You mustn’t let your mind get the better of you. It will be dark, unfamiliar, but you know where to go. Find the tree.”

You wring your hands together nervously, worry evident in your features. “What if I can’t find it? What if – what if I fail?”

Halsin smiles softly, reaching out to take your hands in his own, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

“You will not fail. Even if you cannot find the tree…the oak father will guide you.”

With a deep breath, you open your eyes once more, taking in your surroundings as quickly, but as efficiently as possible. Halsin was right, this place is utterly unfamiliar to you. A forest he’s lived in for most of his life, yet you have never truly seen before. Yet another advantage in his favor. 

Another breath. 

He believes in you, he trusts you. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. So, with one last steadying breath you turn slowly in place – listening, looking, feeling…until you see it. 

It would have been almost impossible to see just moments ago, dark clouds shrouding the moon’s light. But just as you turn, there is a break in the sky, the celestial light making the silvery underbellies of oak leaves that sprout from branches that tower above the rest, glint at you.

“The heart of the forest. That is your goal,” Halsin’s voice rings in your ears again. 

You smile, heart leaping with triumph as you take off at a sprint once more, all while sending up a silent prayer to Silvanus for guiding your way. 

– – – – – – – – – – 

Despite seeming to know the way you need to go, you continuously doubt yourself. The forest all looks the same, the trees too similar, the sounds never changing, and it feels like you’ve not made any progress towards the heart of the forest. 

The branches whip past you, brushing against your face and arms, surely leaving behind evidence of their assault, but you couldn’t care less. Despite the rush of anxiety and primal flight coursing through you, there’s also...a thrill. A thrill like you’ve never felt before. A thrill that makes you giddy as you continue your race. And it only seems to intensify as you hear the distance sounds of a pursuer in the distance. 

The chase has begun.

Without thought, you move faster. Feet digging into the earth beneath you, arms pumping faster, breathing harder. You will succeed. You will not fail. Not tonight.

And once again, as if the Oak Father himself heard your earlier prayers, the forest around you changes for what feels like the first time. Endless trees give way to a small clearing; an iridescent, bubbling stream running through it, separating you from more forest on the other side. 

You come to a pause at the stream's edge, mind racing with what to do. But each second matters. Each breath matters. 

One. 

Your mind races with information that Halsin has told you about his hunts. 

Two.

A branch cracks in the distance as your eyes scan the water. 

Three.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you step into the stream, the water splashing around your ankles. 

Four. 

Tracks…you have to leave tracks. 

Five.

The mud squishes between your toes as you emerge on the other side of the river. One step, another, and another -

Six. 

You hear footsteps now, clear as day as the massive bulk of your partner crashes through the woods. 

Seven. 

Quickly, you dart back into the stream, rushing in the opposite direction of the heart of the forest before moving to crouch behind a large boulder in the water, your dress tugging at you with the movement of the current. 

Eight.

This breath you don’t release, as Halsin burst from the tree line, pausing at the edge of the stream just as you had. 

You watch silently, blood rushing in your ears as you peer around the edge of your hiding place. Halsin is breathing just as hard as you were, and even from here you can see the sheen of sweat adoring his skin, the moonlight reflecting off him. His eyes scan the water before they pause. Quickly, he makes his way through the water, kneeling on the other side where you exited the water. He follows them with his gaze carefully until they disappear back into the water in the opposite direction. From this distance, you can’t be sure, but you think you catch him smiling. 

“Using the water to hide your tracks…” his voice is almost lost to the bubbling stream, but you manage to hear him. “Clever, girl.”

His words send a pang of arousal through you, and you have to cling to the boulder to fight the urge to reveal yourself, but you manage. You stay in place and watch as Halsin stands to his full height once more and takes off jogging upstream, until he’s out of sight within the trees. 

You wait a few moments longer, and then just a moment more before leaving your hiding place and darting out of the water and back into the forest’s sanctuary. You see the towering top of the sacred tree, closer now than you ever hoped, and you know - you know, you’re going to make it. 

And you do. 

Somehow this last push to the end feels quicker than the rest. The forest doesn’t feel endless, time doesn’t feel like it’s dragging on. In fact, the closer you get, it feels as if a warmth flows through you, a calm you haven’t felt since the night started. And as if on cue, you burst from the trees once more into an awe-inspiring sanctuary. 

You understand now, why this place is called the heart of the forest - a huge clearing cut naturally in the middle of this vast place. The air is cooler here, a light breeze rustling the fabric of your simple gown as you come to a stop at the edge of the trees, your breath coming in quick deep breaths as you are finally able to stop running. If just for a moment. 

Your eyes trail over the space, catching instantly on the fireflies dancing through the air, blinking in and out of existence as they fly. With slow reverent steps, you make your way closer to your goal, standing tall and unmoving at the center of the clearing. 

The Sacred Tree. 

It stands silhouetted against the night sky, a looming presence that towers hundreds of feet above you, its base thick and imposing as roots sprawl out in a vast network from its center. 

With as much care and reverence you are able, you pick your way over the roots, trying to memorize every detail of this magnificent place. After a moment you even notice another stream bubbling steadily into a small pool at the base of the tree, sparkling with moonlight and calling to you. 

Soon, you kneel next to the pool, hands dipping into the water, dissipating your reflection on the surface. You lean down, bringing your cupped hands up to your lips as you take small sips. You nearly moan at the cool liquid cascading over your tongue, quenching the intense thirst you didn’t even know you had. It even tastes…sweet, like fresh honeysuckles in spring, or the faint sweetness of honeydew. 

You stay at the edge of the pool for a long few moments, taking slow sips and deep breaths before finally standing back to your feet. As you do, your eyes trail over yourself, astonished to find that the paint adorning you has stayed intact, not even the dirt or branches rubbing it off.  

Your dress is another matter however, the garment showing clear evidence of your traipse through the woods. Tugging at the hem of the piece of cloth, you send a small smile to the tree above you. 

“I suppose it’s a reasonable sacrifice, a dress for…”

For what exactly?

While Halsin had told you the basics of the ritual, and the things that were to come, you can’t help but feel like you still don't understand the cultural importance of this sacred rite. 

And you don’t have time to wonder, for just as you step closer to the tree, the world around you spins uncontrollably as familiar strong arms wrap around you and rough bark meets your back as you are pressed up against the imposing trunk. 

You didn’t even hear him approach, his steps surprisingly silent for a man of his size. But he’s here now - he’s here and wasting no time as his lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, his hands gripping you wherever he can. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he presses you further into the tree behind you, fisting the delicate white fabric of your dress in his need to get impossibly closer to you.

“Halsin-” his name leaves your lips in a gasp, barely able to pull away from him before he’s dominating you once more. 

Your mind cannot even keep pace with what’s happening, Halsin’s presence cutting off any and all logical thought you may have. The only reprieve you get is when his lips leave your own only to leave a trail of messy kiss down your jaw and lower, one of his hands sliding up to cradle your jaw and expose the line of your neck to him as he continues to explore you. 

Blunt teeth nip at the delicate skin of your neck and you can’t stop the whimper that slips past your lips, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders as he continues his assault. You’re so absorbed in him, in the way he presses against you and mouths at your skin that you don’t even notice his hands as they move to take hold of the gauzy neckline of your dress.

You’re only able to utter a gasp of his name as he tears the thin fabric clean down the center. The threads rip easily under his grip, snapping and popping until it hands In tatter remains on your shoulders. You’re barely able to take in another breath, before calloused palms cradle your cheeks, and for the first time since he’s found you are you able to truly see him.

The sight nearly takes you to your knees. 

He towers over you, pupils blown wide with lust as he drinks you in. His shoulders heave with labored breaths, sweat damp skin glistening in the light of the moon. He looks like a god, cut and carved from stone before you. 

Halsin has always been an attentive lover, and at times you would even describe him as tame. Always doting on you, putting your pleasure first and handling you with the delicacy of a newly blossoming rose petal.

Not now. 

The man that stands before you, clutching you in his hands, fingers pressing into the base of your skull, is nothing more than the beast he always tries to contain. yet, even now you can sense a moment of hesitation in him, restraint. A moment you know won’t last - nor do you want it too. 

“I’ve found you, my heart,” he says, voice nothing but a low rumble in his chest. “I’ve found you, and I intend to make you mine. Wholly and completely with no one but Silvanus as witness and I…I cannot promise gentleness. Not tonight.”

He didn’t ask, not out right - but you know he’s asking. As much as he wants this - wants you - you know he would back down if you so much as hesitated. He would take his hands from you and walk away and never hold any ill-intent towards you. 

But you want this. You want this more than you ever could have imagined. Halsin unrestrained and untempered…

You want him to devour you.

You nod resolutely, hands sliding up his arms to rest upon his wrists. 

“You’ve found me,” you tell him, voice but a whisper as you squeeze his wrists, inviting him imperceptibly closer. “So, claim your prize.”

The only response Halsin offers is a growl as he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours in a mess of teeth and tongue and you don’t dare refuse him when he pushes past the seam of your lips to explore you further. 

Halsin makes quick work of the remnants of your dress, tugging the tattered fabric from your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Once free from it, you reach up and cling to his shoulders as he divests himself of his own clothing before his hands come to grip at your thighs lifting you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. 

From this position, you can feel the heat of him against your inner thigh, hard and just as eager as you are. A fact he is more than aware of as he brushes up against you, groaning into your mouth as he feels your wetness against him. 

“I knew you would be ready for me,” Halsin says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves to press faint kisses to the skin there. “I could smell you even back at the stream.”

You pause at his words, surprise coloring your pleasure and Halsin laughs, breath warm against your sweat damp skin. 

“Oh, yes,” he whispers, “I knew you were there. placing fake tracks, hiding…”

He presses you further back into the tree, the bark bringing a pleasant sting of pain to the pleasure building in your belly as he lines himself up. 

“Why…” you trail off, words choked out into a whimper as he finally - finally - presses into you, inch by agonizing inch.

Halsin lets out sinful sounds of his own, grunts and sighs that make you quiver in his hold as he continues to fill you until his hips are flush against you own and you feel so full that you might burst. 

“Because,” he breaths, nipping quickly at the juncture of your shoulder and neck, “It’s about the chase. The hunter and his prey-” he grinds his hips into you, eliciting a moan from you that would have made yo blush in any other circumstance. “It’s the catch that makes it worth it.”

Halsin emphasizes his words with one swift movement, pulling out of you before thrusting forward to the hilt once more, as stars burst behind your eyelids. No more words are said as he sets a devastating pace. Anything you do try to say slipping from your mind like warm honey as he drives into you. 

With Halsin, there’s usually build up. He’s a man who loves to play with you, wring out your pleasure in the most torturously pleasurable way he knows how. Tonight, however, there is none of that. And you thank the gods above that you found the chase itself so exhilarating, because even with how ready you were, how eager you are for him - the size of him is bordering on overwhelming. 

Yet you can’t find it in you to truly care. 

All you can do is clutch helplessly at his shoulders and back, nails digging into taut skin as your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to pull him even deeper inside you. 

It feels as if he just started touching you and you can already feel that familiar tug deep in your belly, arousal burning bright as he continues his furious pace. But you also notice a falter in his rhythm, his hips stuttering ever so slightly as you assume his own end approaches. 

“Halsin-” his name falls from your lips in a whimper, hands moving to tangle in his hair as he comes back up to claim your lips once more. 

You expect him to acknowledge your silent plea or agree and tell you he’s close too, but you should know to not expect anything tonight. instead, your surroundings blur around you. Your back leaves the rough bark of the tree in a blink and soon, up becomes down and cool moss meets your knees as warm hands meet your back and before you can even take another breath Halsin has you on your hands and knees before him as he presses into you once more. 

You can’t stop the cry that falls from your lips, this position letting Halsin even deeper into you, allowing him to touch places that make it feel like magma runs through your veins. 

“Oh, gods…”  you moan, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers dig helplessly into the soft ground beneath you. 

“No,” Halsin growls, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair as he moves to lean over you, surrounding you in him. “There are no gods here, not now.”

His words and the combination of his cock buried so deep inside you at this new angle catapults you over the edge. You come with a cry of Halsin’s name on your tongue. 

Your lover helps you through your high, his thrusts growing more erratic until he too finishes with animalistic grunts as he spills himself inside of you. 

You still struggle for air beneath him, chest heaving in the aftermath of your orgasm, that it takes you a moment too long to realize that warm hands are tugging at your hips. A small whine slips past your lips when Halsin pulls himself from you, and it’s then as he rolls you onto your back and leans down to capture your lips in a much more tender kiss than before, that you realize he’s still hard. His release doing nothing to satiate the need coursing through him. 

“I love you, my heart,” Halsin says as he pulls away from you to nose at your temple. “You have given me a gift, this night - a gift I do not think I will ever have words enough to repay you.”

Then, for the first time tonight do you truly seem him. He’s pull away from you slightly, just enough so he is able to look upon your face, and you can seem him clearly. His eyes glisten with emotion, vulnerability and utter devotion swimming in pools of hazel. You take this instant to take your lover in, commit this reverent moment to memory as your eyes flit over his face and lower. From the scars cutting through his brow to his tousled hair. To the paint that adorns him - the paint that now lies muddled against his bronze skin, red mixing with your gold. A visual representation to anyone who sees that you two are bound to one another. 

Your hands slide up his arms, fingers dancing across his shoulder before finally coming to cradle his face - your heart fluttering when he leans into your touch. 

“Then show me,” you whisper, puling him into another searing kiss.

His lips are hot against your own, yet despite the sureness of his movements there’s just a hint of tenderness there. A familiar warmth that encompasses you as he touches you once more. 

His hands are firm against your skin, squeezing and gripping and pulling you tighter to him, but gone is the pure urgency that was just moments ago.  Halsin is all consuming - he always is - but now it’s as if he is taking up every part of your existence. 

Solid arms wrap around you, holding you to him as he slots himself in the cradle of your hips. The familiar scent of him seems to envelop you whole as he presses himself further against you - sandalwood, sage and  moist earth after a spring rain. He breaks away from your lips only to nose at your temple, and you take this moment to breath him in, your hands sliding up his back in an effort to pull him closer. 

Halsin sighs against you, warm breath ghosting over your ear as he shifts his hips, pressing into you once more. He moves to kiss you once again as you take him, swallowing the moans that bubble from your chest until his hips meet yours.

He stops, then, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against your own, as he allows you both pauses to bask in one another completely. You, for one, are grateful for the small reprieve, the moment becoming completely overwhelming in a new way. 

You and Halsin have lain together more times than you’re able to count, each time never ceasing to take you to new heights, but this…this feels as if you’re seeing him for the first time - being with him for the first time. 

He holds you to him in a reverence you never thought possible from a man, cradling you with a delicacy that makes your chest tight with emotion. He presses featherlight kisses to your brow and then your lips once more before he finally moves. 

And it’s as if the heavens open up above you. 

Ecstasy burns through your veins with each push and pull of his hips, as if you can feel every vein and ridge of him inside you. He sets a steady pace, but nothing like the hurried fucking he gave you earlier. No…this was slower, more measured, as if he never wants this night to end. 

“I love you.”

The words are a mere whisper against your cheek as Halsin moves, his hips pressing deep into you forcing you into the soft moss beneath you as he tries to mold himself further into you. 

“I love you, my heart,” he says again, voice strained. “I have never felt…” he trails off voice going soft before he picks up again. “I am bound to you, body and soul. And by the Oak Fathers grace I will never be parted from you. Not if…If you’ll have me.”

His words make your heart flutter, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn your head to look at him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair once more. 

“I would have no one else,” you tell him solemnly, pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “I love you, too.”

At your acceptance, your reciprocation of his vow, Halsin shudders in pleasure above you. With one arm still wrapped snugly around you, his other hand trails down, over your hip coming to rest at the back of your knee only to tug it quickly over his hip, changing the angle and allowing him to slide deeper inside you. 

The cry that falls from your lips in nothing short of erotic, his name falling from your lips in a jumbled prayer as his pace speeds up, bring you both closer to the climax you feel burning in your belly. 

Gone are the sounds of nature that greeted you when you first entered this sacred place. Now the only sounds that meet your ears are your lovers groans of pleasure in your ear and the blood raring in your veins. His skin slides against your own, damp with sweat and swirled in gold and red as the paint so delicately applied to you both now mixes together. 

Halsin’s thrusts become erratic, and a wave of golden light washes over him as he ruts against you. He pulls your hips closer to him, and you wrap your legs around him obediently as the hand that was supporting you comes up to cup your jaw, titling your head up and away, presenting the delicate expanse of your throat to him.

You catch the familiar flash of druidic magic in his eyes through your lashes, and you know he’s fighting the beast, holding it back as he lowers his head down, lips brushing the underside of your jaw as he thrusts into you again, harsher this time. 

“You are mine,” he growls, voice octaves lower than his usual deep timbre. 

“Yours,” You relent, voice a whispered plea into the night air. 

The only warning you receive is another harsh thrust of his hips, this one making him reach so deep inside of you that you see stars as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, breaking skin and sending you to another plane of euphoria you’ve never experienced before. Moans and cry of pleasure spill from your lips as you come, nearly sobbing as Halsin follows you over the precipice once again, pressing himself into you fully as he fills you. 

With ears ringing and heart racing, you almost don’t hear the soft call of your name, Halsin’s lips placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and lips, drawing you closer to coherency as gently as he can. 

He has not separated from you - the forest floor still at your back as he presses his weight comfortingly against your front, brushing errant strands of hair from your face.

“I love you,” you finally say, voice raw. 

When you speak, Halsin lifts himself from you slightly, bringing one hadn’t up to stroke at your hair affectionately, eyes brimming with emotions you can’t yet place. 

“And I you,” he says, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. 

After a few quiet moments, Halsin takes you into his arms once more and rolls so he is on his back with you resting against his chest, never separating himself from you in the process. 

His heart beats strong beneath your ear, his chest rising and falling in long even breaths, and if it weren’t for his fingers tracing patterns up and down your spine, you’d think he’d fallen asleep. 

Neither of you speak for a long while, using the silence to bask in one another’s presence, your mind still reeling from your experience. the silence is only broken when you hear the faint call of song birds and you see the barely there streaks of grey tinting the horizon beyond the trees. 

You sit up turning your head and wincing at the tinge of pain that accompanies the movement. a hand comes up to touch the spot at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and your suddenly reminded of the mark Halsin left behind. 

His hand comes up to cover your own, calloused fingertips tracing over the bite gently, and you look down to see concern tugging as his brow. 

“I’m sorry, my heart, I lost myself-”

“Will it scar?” You cut him off, turning your hand to lace your fingers with his own. 

Halsin pauses at your question, lips tugging downward. “I can make sure it will not-”

You shake your head, leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, pulling back to stare into familiar hazel eyes. 

“Don’t.” you say. “Leave it. I…like the idea of it. But I…” you trail off, your courage waning. 

Halsin’s other hand comes up to card through your hair, urging you to face him again.

“Speak freely here,” he encourages. 

You nod, sliding one hand up to run your fingers over the spot on his neck that mirrors your own.

“I’d like you to bear a similar mark.”

Halsin smiles, pulling you down to him so your lips are a mere hairsbreadth away.

“You are mine just as much as I am yours, my heart.”

You smile.

You could get used to that. 

[karaeilishh]

Your Sabrina fic lives rent free in my head foreverrrrr. Can we have more of her soon?

ughhh literally adore her. i’m sure she would be so desperate for you on her face 💞

SIT ON IT s.carpenter

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 …sit on my fucking face

"please, please, please..." sabrina whines pathetically, kneeling in front of you. her hands rest on your spread thighs, scratching your soft skin, reddened by her nails. her gaze darting from time to time to your naked pussy, barely peeking out from under your skirt. she looked like she hadn't eaten in years, starving.

you look down at her boredly, enjoying her desperation. you see how she can barely stand still, her knees hurting from how long she's been in this position between your legs. begging you to let her eat your pussy. but she's done something wrong and she deserves it.

because of the huge amount of work, sabrina hasn't left her home studio for days, working on new songs and beats. she forgot about you. the only times you saw her were when you brought her plates of food during mealtimes a few times a day, only to receive a kiss on the cheek and a fucking 'thank you'. and now she was working off her punishment for all the days you had to touch yourself in an empty bed.

"i don't get what you want at all" you leaned towards her, looking into her sky blue eyes that were almost brimming with tears. maybe another time you would feel sorry for her, but not now. she deserved this punishment. "use your mouth for something more useful than whining, baby"

and you could almost hear the fucking growl in her voice as her seemingly soft and weak hands wrapped tightly around your hips. oh, she was stronger than she looked. "sit on it..." she takes a few deep breaths, continuing, "sit on my fucking face"

"do you think you deserve this?" your breath is hot on her lips, making her grit her teeth. she knows you have every right to tease her, but she still wants you so badly. "you've been such a bitch, sabrina, ignoring me for almost a week... and now you're asking me to sit on your pretty face? slut"

"princess, please..." her knees weaken even more, barely holding her upright. all you hear for the next few minutes is her pathetic begging and whining. she really was such a slut for your pussy.

and you let her prove it, slowly lowering yourself onto her face. your hands grip the headboard for support, because you already know how weak you'll be after her. that was the problem, no matter how mad you were at her, she always fucked you too good. she always made you such a mess. "fuck"

your eyes close as you feel her tongue running along your slit, collecting your wetness. sabrina moans sweetly, pulling you closer to her face. "fuck, you're so wet..." she moans into your pussy, sending vibrations through your body. you can't do anything but grab her hair and shut her up, pushing her further into your pussy.

her tongue swirled around your clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. her tongue was so fucking talented. and not just for the songs. all her songs were for you. she was all just for you and your pleasure... "sabrina!" you can't help but moan loudly as she pushes her tongue into your hole.

your skirt covers the lower part of her face because you didn't even try to take it off, but you see her eyes. full of lust and pleasure. she's never moaned so contentedly except between your legs. she tells herself that her place is between your legs. she's eating you, devouring you.

"fuck, fuck, i'm so close..." your hand tugs harder on her blonde hair, turning it into a real mess. no one cares when you're both drowning in your pleasure, merging into one.

"b-brina..."

you see stars. they explode in your eyes when she makes you cum all over her cute face. all over her fucking tongue. you can hear her swallowing every drop. her tongue still slowly working on your pussy, helping you overcome the long-awaited orgasm she gave you.

and she will make you cum over and over again until the only thing you remember is her name.

tags: @chrissv4mp, @swamppmonsteer

[vanishingstarrs]

pancakes for dinner ( k bakugo x nurse!reader, pro hero era, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo aka my boyfie fr, slight smut at the end, NSFW, minors DNI ) ( guysss i’ve been so sick and i’ve been suffering having to work still bc #hispanic we ain’t eva allowed to call out )): i’ve been wanting to write please please please x bakugo but haven’t had the energy, meantime hope y’all enjoy this little fic <3 just wholesome mushy stuff for y’all but then it turned smutty at the end because why not lol also i’m pretty new to writing explicitly so pls lmk how it came out !! idk if i'll do that again lmao we shall see i guess )

You were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

Work had been a tad overwhelming lately, with extra things being piled onto your already heavy workload after a big merger between two of Japan’s biggest hospitals, which in turn caused a lot of people to be let go. Not only had it been stressful wondering whether you’d make the cut or not after a “re-interview”, but when you learned that you had been accepted you’d also been asked if you could take on a few extra duties.

You had never been one to back down from work, always taking initiative and being happy to help any one of your coworkers that might need it.

Lately though, it seemed every single person needed help. Your coworkers, your patients, and if it wasn’t those two then it was your boss asking if you could help her with management duties that had nothing to do with the extra work you’d been assigned to do on top of everything else.

You were sick and tired.

Your muscles cried out as you pushed your apartment door open and immediately kicked off your shoes, groaning as you bent down in order to place them onto the shoe stand. You were sure you heard your back crack as you stood straight once more to hang your purse and keys.

You didn’t bother unpacking the lunch you never got time to eat, leaving the bag you packed it in tied up and in the fridge before heading into your bedroom and immediately shedding your scrubs. You hated doing skincare, but thought about how dirty your face must be after dealing with so many patients and dragged yourself into the bathroom to get it over with.

By the time you were finished doing everything, your body was begging you to lay down for just a minute.

A little power nap never hurt, you told yourself as you fell onto your bed face first and sighed. You hugged your pillow to your aching body and allowed yourself to relax for just a little while.

Though “a minute” quickly turned into three hours as the sun went down and the night sky pulled you further into dreamland.

You didn’t hear the front door open or close, you didn’t stir when your boyfriend started removing his hero equipment, much less wake when those heavy gauntlets he somehow wore all day hit the floor or when his pounding footsteps carried across the hardwood as he made his way to your shared bedroom to check on you.

You missed the brief smirk on his face as he found you lying on his side of the bed, on your right side with a leg propped up for comfort.

Katsuki knew how hard you’d been working lately with the merger between the two hospitals and how stressed it made you. With him working as a hero, he encountered many people that wound up needing to go to the hospital. On top of that, you also had all the other sick people that hadn’t been involved in some villain attack. You likely dealt and saved more people in a single day than he did in a month, he knew this, he was proud of the fact, actually, and incredibly proud of you.

He was damn lucky to have you.

And for all these reasons, he was happy to see you rest for a bit.

He’d often come home late and find that you’d already done all the cleaning around the house, as well as meal prep for both you and him, and still found the time to bake desert on top of making him dinner. You went above and beyond in all aspects of your life, often even calling and checking up on his parents when he hadn’t done so in too long. He’d receive texts from his mother scolding him and making sure he was taking good care of you the way she knew you did him, he swore you were the favorite and he understood why you were.

Everyone loved you.

He adored you.

Except he hadn’t been doing his part as well as he should be lately.

And so, while you slept, he quietly changed into some loungewear before carefully shutting the bedroom door closed behind him.

He tried his hardest to be quiet as he went around cleaning up throughout the house, he swept, he steam mopped the floors (and prayed he didn’t miss a spot), he did your laundry, took your work shoes and scrubbed them clean for your next workday, he took your old lunch and tossed it out before setting to work on preparing you something delicious for tomorrow.

Being in the kitchen was actually soothing for him, he liked being able to experiment with recipes and different things for you to try. He hated that he hadn’t made the time to recently. He cooked enough dinner to pack lunch for both you and him, then last minutely decided that you’d definitely want something sweet when you woke up and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

You liked it best when you had pancakes for dinner, not breakfast.

He was extremely pleased when they turned out light and fluffy just the way you liked them and he set out to cut up some fruit for you to put on top, making sure everything was ready before heading back to your shared room.

Katsuki was less quiet this time around, as he slid into bed next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow as he buried his fingers into your hair and gently scratched your scalp.

You were exhausted, and likely wouldn’t have woken up if not for him leaning over and placing kisses from your neck all the way up to your ear. You felt his hot breath as he whispered for you to please wake up, which made you groan softly.

You’d yet to open your eyes, but who else would it be? You asked,“Katsuki?”

“Made you food, baby, c’mon, I saw you didn’t eat your lunch, you gotta put somethin’ in your belly.” He explained as he removed his hand from your hair and lifted the material of your shirt to rub up and down your stomach, you felt him inch closer to your chest before stopping himself and tugging your tank top back down to your waist.

You turned toward him, quickly finding the divet in between his shoulder and neck to plant your face in. You were barely awake, not really comprehending what he was trying to say.

“Missed you.” You relaxed further into him.

“Missed you so much, sweets.” You felt him kiss your forehead,“Hate to pull you from bed, but you really gotta open your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked, smiling as his face came into view, lit up by the soft light streaming in from the hallway. “Hi, honey.” You managed to get out as he smushed your cheeks (cuteness aggression) and placed three kisses onto your nose.

You grinned as he said hi back and repeated that he’d cooked for you.

You beamed, you hadn’t had his cooking in a while, but didn’t exactly make a move to get up from bed. It wasn’t until he revealed that he’d made you pancakes, that had you up in seconds.

He chuckled as he followed you down the hall, lightly smacking your butt as you happily made your way through the apartment. You turned to him with surprise,“You cleaned too?”

“Course.” He scoffed as he tugged on your hand and sat you down at your small table that sat four people max. “I’d do it more if you didn’t always beat me to everything, I was thinking I should be doing a bit more around here anyway.”

“I can handle it.” You said, like always.

He rolled his eyes as he brought over the plate he’d prepared for you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying you don’t have to give a hundred percent every day, you know? You could give me thirty and I’d be more than happy to give the remaining seventy.” He began to explain,“I wanna take care of you too, and that starts by you not doing everything.”

You silently watched him cut up your pancakes before placing some fruit onto them and drizzling maple syrup all over, he gave you tea to drink and pulled his chair closer to you while you ate.

He ran his fingers through your hair again as you told him all about your day before asking about his and what time he’d gotten home. He let you feed him a couple bites of food and you snagged a few extra kisses each time you lied and told him he had syrup on his face.

When you finished, he asked if you’d like a bit of real food, claiming he wanted you nice and full. You agreed, happy to eat what he’d prepared.

You were less tired now, satisfied with your belly full and sitting with your lover as he recalled a story about retrieving someone’s lost kitten in a tree. You laughed at the classic save and felt your mental load becoming lighter the more the minutes went on.

After eating, the pampering continued.

Katsuki demanded you allow him to run you a bath, and he quickly made the bathroom up with a few candles. He set up a movie for you to watch on your laptop as he came into the room with you and offered to wash your hair. You requested he get in with you then, and he obliged quickly, taking his time when it came to massaging his hands through your hair and pressing kisses against your back at every opportunity. He held you against his chest as you relaxed into him.

You honestly started to get sleepy again.

And then it was ripped away from you once more as Katsuki led you to bed, not to sleep, but to have you spread out against the mattress for him to plaster his tongue against you and demand he get his dinner now.

“Wanna take care of you.” He’d said.

He quickly had you squirming and writhing underneath his touch and the feel of his fingers inside as he worked you until completion. He sung you praises about how hard you’d been working lately, telling you how you deserved this and more, as well as making sure you knew how good you always did for him.

“One more, baby.” He begged.

One more turned into two then three, and by the time he finally lined himself up to your entrance you were spent. He worshipped your body, kneading your breasts and holding one of your hands back so you couldn’t hide how flushed your face had become from not just his compliments, but from the way he fucked you.

“Katsuki,” You moaned,“Close.” Again.

“Cum with me, baby, please.”

The movement of his hips was starting to get sloppy, but neither of you noticed through the haze. He whined in your ear as you latched onto his back with your hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, your walls squeezed him and he moaned one last time as he got lost in euphoria. He didn’t make a move to remove himself as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own and kissed your cheek and then your neck and then your collarbone, making a line all the way down to your bellybutton.

He occupied himself with making sure you stayed awake despite your eyes being closed as you attempted to catch your breath, he sucked hard enough to leave a few marks along your chest and before you knew it you started to feel him become hard inside of you again.

Your eyes snapped open as you gave him a look.

Katsuki smirked as he rubbed your hip and stole your mouth briefly,“Gotta make sure you’re nice and full, baby, one more time f’me, please?”

“You’re insatiable.” You told him.

And yet, how could you say no to him when he looked at you that way?

It was a good thing you’d taken that nap earlier, especially now that your body would soon be aching for a different reason.

[oh-theseus]

bloody stones

pairing: astarion x gn!reader, astarion x gn!tav summary: you nearly die and astarion still can't bring himself to be honest with you. word count: 4,018 a/n: first time trying to write for astarion (or just bg3 in general) & i'm not sure it came out how i wanted it to, BUT i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless <333 i kind of wrote this to be like a background for a future thing i think... but no promises bc i am anything if not inconsistent 😭

warnings: descriptions of blood & injury, canon typical violence, mentions of past abuse. lmk if i should add more!

You were fairly certain you had never been as close to death as you currently were. Even while trapped inside of the nautiloid ship, you had felt like you would make it out. Granted, that might have been because you thought Lae’zel was going to kill you if you died, but still. Even then, on a ship that was actively crashing from hundreds of miles in the sky, you’d thought you’d make it out.

That hope is nowhere to be found as Z’rell drives her ax into your lower leg. You have been injured in battle dozens of times but this is the first time your injury has ever made you fall to your knees within three seconds of receiving it. There is next to no pain at first, but then she pulls her ax from your leg, and it feels like… well, like your leg was just split open.

Blood gushes down your leg, and you can’t stand up again, but by the grace of one of the gods, you manage to block her next attack. Her ax meets the blade of your sword with a loud clang that you can hear over the sounds of other blades clashing and spells being conjured. Anger blazes in Z’rell’s eyes and she surges her weapon further with as much strength as she can muster. You met her with the same effort, but you’re losing so much blood so fast. You’re not nearly as strong as she is.

A noise that is somewhere between a cry and a grunt falls from your lips. But you are certain this is it. You’ll die here. In Moonrise Towers with a parasite wiggling within your skull. You’ll die in a blighted land and your friends will go on without you. If they survive, that is. You can feel your arms wobbling, about to give out. Her ax will come down on your neck and you’ll sit here choking on your own blood until you die. Maybe she’ll dig the Illithid parasite out of your skull and consume it just as your Dream Guardian had urged you to do so many times before. You doubt Z’rell would have qualms about it though - if fact, she might just keep you alive while she digs around in your skull. She seems like the type.

But then there’s an arrow embedded in Z’rell’s neck. And now she’s the one choking on her blood, her weapon faltering. You don’t have time to be grateful, not when she’s determined to make a killing blow and take you out with her. It takes all of your effort to roll out of the way, her ax bouncing off of the bloody stone floor where your head had just been seconds previous. Your head is spinning from the movement, and your leg feels like dead weight, but you manage to draw your dagger and shove it deep into the disciples stomach.

Z’rell falls to her knees. Then forward, onto her face. Dead. 

Hands are underneath your arms, dragging you away from the rest of the battle before you even have time to process that you aren’t dead. You have half a mind to kick and struggle, but when you try to push the hands off of your body you stop your fighting. You know these hands.

“Astarion,” you choke out, tilting your head upwards to see him above you, carefully dragging you behind a turned over table. You can feel a trail of blood being left by your leg; for a moment you wonder if Astarion had smelled your blood before he saw it.

“Don’t talk,” Astarion scolds, propping your back against the table. Blood is splattered on his face and armor, his bow slung across his body. Your eyes shift to his quiver where only three arrows remain. If you weren’t so busy trying not to pass out from blood loss, you might have told him you were right when you’d told him this morning he needed more arrows. But you can hardly convince yourself to breathe, let alone make a joke.

Astarion’s face is twisted into an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear before. There is determination there as he examines your wound, cursing beneath his breath. There’s concern too. But something else dances in his crimson eyes that makes you tilt your head to the side curiously. 

Fear.

Astarion is scared. 

“How bad?” you force out, leaning your head back against the overturned table. Your eyes lock on the ceiling of Moonrise. This had been a temple once. Briefly, as you fight to keep your eyes open, you decide that it might’ve even been beautiful.

“Not terrible,” Astarion lies. You know it’s a lie, and he knows you know that, too. You might’ve looked at him, tried to assure him you would be okay if you believed it. But you’re not quite sure that you do, so you keep your eyes on the ceiling, listening to the sounds of battle slowing down behind you.

Astarion stops talking after that. Your silence and sudden interest in the ceiling is enough to make Astarion certain his heart will start beating again just so it can race in fear. But his hands are quick in grabbing a healing potion from your belt and helping you get it down. They’re faster still as he shuffles through his discarded back for cloth to press to your wound. 

Blood quickly soaks the white cloth and Astarion’s hands, but the vampire doesn’t mind. He can’t be bothered to think about how potent your blood smells, how easy it would be to just take some for himself. He is certain that if you’d been bleeding out in front of him like this when you first met that he would’ve taken every last drop of blood that he could get. But right now… Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to puke at the sight of blood more.

Astarion isn’t sure he’s ever felt a panic quite like this before. Perhaps when he’d woken up in a coffin six feet underground. Maybe when he’d realized he was a slave to an evil vampire lord. But other than that? No, Astarion had never felt fear like this. Fear that clutches him by the throat, makes his hands start to tremble. Fear that won’t let him focus on the battle coming to end. Not even to see if his companions - his friends - had survived. All he knows is you, your blood coating his hands, and terror coursing through his entire being.

He’s so consumed by his fear that he doesn’t notice you’ve finally passed out. Nor does he hear Shadowheart approach until she’s shoving Astarion away from you, her hands immediately coming to rest above the gash in your leg. She starts to mutter the words of a healing spell and even Astarion can tell that she’s completely spent, that she’s using her last bit of magic and strength to coax your skin back together.

“Wake them up,” Shadowheart hisses, her eyes still locked on your leg. “Wake them up now, Astarion!”

The near crack in Shadowheart’s voice stirs Astarion from his fear driven stupor. His hands are on your face immediately, your name falling from his lips once, twice. His fingers find the pulsepoint at your neck, and Astarion doesn’t dare to move until he feels it. It’s faint, but it is there.

But your eyes are still closed, and no matter how hard Astarion tries, you will not wake up. You’re still breathing, but it’s hard and labored, and Astarion is certain that if he looks away from you for even a moment you will be gone for good. He didn’t know much, but Astarion did know that a world without you was not one he was willing to return to.

By the grace of… something, Shadowheart manages to mend the skin of your leg. She’s exhausted and can hardly stand by the time she’s finished, but she does it. You’re still out cold, and Astarion is not sure whether to start crying or to find something else to kill to distract himself.

“It’s the blood loss,” Wyll assures him quickly, hauling Shadowheart up from the ground with her arm over his shoulders. “They’ll live. But we need to move them. Now.”

The Blade of Frontiers does not waste another moment, leading Shadowheart across the main floor of Moonrise Towers, down into the basement. Astarion doesn’t hesitate to do the same with you, his blood coated hands holding you so, so carefully.

When you wake up, you’re pretty sure you’re dead. You didn’t know what you expected the afterlife to hold, but it certainly was not a stone floor and the smell of mildew. For a second you think that maybe you could be somewhere else (somewhere where you are not dead) but you can’t think very clearly right now. All you can feel is a distant throbbing in your head and a bone deep cold. Your leg… You could feel your leg. That was good, considering the last thing you could recall before passing out was taking Z’rell’s ax to your shin.

And Astarion. You remembered his familiar grip, pulling you to safety. You remembered his crimson eyes, the fear you’d seen in them. But that was it. You didn’t remember passing out or how light you had felt while blood seeped from your leg. For a moment, it troubles you that you can’t remember. But if this was truly your eternal resting place… maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember. You’re not sure that it's really something you’d enjoy dwelling on for the rest of eternity.

You’re not sure how long you lay there. You don’t move your body, and your eyes keep falling closed every once in a while. You feel lightheaded, yet impossibly heavy at the same time. All you can bring yourself to do is stare at the ceiling. Maybe there is a god here, because you’re gifted the memory of doing the very same thing before passing out the first time. And this ceiling looks remarkably similar to the one in Moonrise Towers.

That voice, too. The one you can hear in the distance - almost as if they are shouting for you from the other room. The voice is so similar to…

“Astarion?” You breathe out, your eyes finally shifting away from the ceiling. They fall instead to the person beside you. At first, they’re just a jumble of white curls and red eyes. But then your vision clears and so does your hearing. Astarion’s repeating your name, asking if you can hear him. All you can do is nod. At least you know you’re alive, though. Or at least, you’re pretty sure. Your brain is still foggy. The lingering effects of blood loss? Or perhaps one too many healing potions?

You somehow manage to force yourself into a sitting position. Astarion’s right hand splays against your lower back carefully, his left one hovering in front of your body to catch you if you fold in on yourself. When you straighten your back, the room spins so fast you’re certain that Gale’s cast a spell to make it do that. Your hands grip Astarion’s left arm to keep from falling over.

“Easy, easy,” Astarion says softly. You’re not certain of many things right now, but you are certain that you have never heard Astarion use that tone before. One so gentle, so soft. Even when he’d told you of Cazador and the scar that tainted his back. 

“I’m okay,” you reply after a moment. Your hands still grip his arm but neither of you seem to mind it. “I’m okay, promise.” The sentiment is just as much for yourself as it is for Astarion.

Astarion only hums in reply. His eyes are flickering over your face. Like he’s taking you in for the first time - or perhaps even the last. His hand on your back is a welcome weight and the feeling of his forearm under your fingertips keeps you grounded. This is real. You are here.

You are alive.

“Holy shit,” you curse. Your eyes widen and your breathing slowly begins to pick up. You’d been so close to dying, to bleeding out in a cursed land so far from home. You’d never thought you’d be one to care so much about something like this, but the fear that you could’ve died is gripping you by the throat, pinning you beneath its clutches. 

Astarion notices this. Of course he notices. He notices everything about you. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How you shift your weight from foot to foot when unsure about something. How your hands flex when you’re growing frustrated. So of course he notices your breathing picking up, your grip on his arms becoming just slightly tighter.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You need to breathe, love.” He says your name softly then, still in that foreign tone of his. The hand at your back comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. “Breathe,” his voice is firmer now, one you’re used to from him. Maybe it’s that tone of his that compels you to listen. Maybe it’s his hand cradling your face like you might slip away as soon as he lets you go. Or maybe it’s the fact that his eyes are still swimming with that fear you’d seen before you lost consciousness.

It takes a few moments, but you manage to even out your breathing. Those invisible claws at your neck retract, fading into the shadows of the room. The basement of Moonrise Towers, you realize. That was why the ceiling looked similar to the one upstairs. 

Everything returns to you then. The battle, Ketheric, the ax, the amount of blood you’d lost. Astarion’s arrow in Z’rell’s neck.

“You killed her,” you say, as if Astarion had not killed dozens of other enemies during your travels. “Nice aim.”

Astarion visibly deflates as soon as the joke leaves your lips. Your lips quirk into the smallest of smiles despite yourself. But then Astarion retracts his hand from your face, and that small smile falls away slowly. Astarion pretends not to notice it. You pretend like you don’t either; your attention shifts to your right leg, studying the skin exposed by the large tear in your pants. You make a mental note to find new pants.

Your hand trembles slightly as you remove it from Astarion’s arm and bring it down on your leg. Gingerly, you pull the ruined fabric back more and take in where the wound should have been. Instead, your skin looks near perfect. There is a thin scar from where Shadowheart’s healing had knitted the skin together but that is the only indication that your flesh had been torn apart that very same day.

“For a woman who worshiped the Lady of Loss, Shadowheart was rather good at keeping me - us from losing you.”

Your eyes shift to Astarion’s at his slip. You try to not let your face fall when he pulls his arm from beneath your other hand. He leans back in the chair that matches the table you’re laid out on top of, crossing his arms and screwing his face into that expression you’ve grown to recognize as a mask. A flash of hurt floods through you. Selfishly, you wonder how much more you will need to do to prove yourself before Astarion finally, finally trusts you.

“Shadowheart is a good healer,” you say instead of what you want to say. You want to comment on him being scared. You want to point out that he had literally saved your life. You want to tell him that that is not something you just do for someone you’re looking at with sheer indifference. “I think you’re the only one who doubts her.” Your own tone has changed. Despite the hurt in your heart, your tone is sharp.

“I do not doubt her, my dear. I don’t trust her. There is a difference,” Astarion replies with a wave of his hand. You don’t like this game. You hate this game. Why must he insist on playing it?

“Do you trust anyone, Astarion?”

If you were anyone else, Astarion would’ve had a quick retort. Or if you’d said it with anger in your voice. But you’re you and the question comes out with far less frustration than you had wanted it to. Instead, you sound sad. Hurt. And somehow, seeing you look like this is almost as bad as watching you bleed out. He predicts your next words before you say them, but he still winces at them all the same.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question hangs in the air between the two of you. Maybe it’s the lack of blood in your system that makes you say it. You never would have dared to ask something so vulnerable just a few feet from the rest of your companions normally. Maybe it’s the fact that you had almost died. Almost died with so many unsaid words swimming through your mind. Maybe that’s why you say it. Or maybe you’re just tired of not knowing what Astarion is truly thinking and feeling.

“You know I care for you,” Astarion replies after a moment. And you do know - how could you not when you’d seen his fear at the prospect of losing you with your own two eyes. How could you not know that he cared for you when he was so gentle every time he took your blood? How could you not know that he cared for you when he had sat beside you on sleepless nights? 

But that was not what your question was. 

“That’s not what I asked.” You intend to sound firm still. You fail, though, and you sound every bit as hurt and frustrated as you feel. “Why not?” Why didn’t he trust you? Or better, why did he not trust you enough? He trusted you enough to tell you about Cazador and what his former master had done to him. But he didn’t trust you enough to be honest about his emotions - especially his emotions towards you. Why? Why?

You watch as Astarion shifts in his seat. At first, you think he’s going to get up and walk away from you. Instead, he shifts forward, and his left hand finds yours. Your eyes fall to where your skin meets, they watch as Astarion holds your hand on top of his gently. His own attention is drawn to it, watching carefully as his other hand fidgets with your fingers.

“I thought you were going to die.”

His confession is soft, heartfelt. You might even be able to convince yourself he sounds like he might cry. But when he looks up to meet your eyes again, his crimson eyes are clear of tears. But there is pain there. Pain and torment and that fear. 

“I thought you were going to die and I would… And I would have to live with -” He gestures to himself with his hand that had been fidgeting with your fingers. “This.”

Your eyebrows knit together at his words, but you say nothing. You had long since learned that when Astarion was on the verge of opening up, it was best to let him get the words out on his own. Pressuring him had never gotten you anywhere. Well, except for right now. Every other time it had been entirely fruitless. 

“You have shown a kindness to me that I am unfamiliar with. With Cazador… His version of kindness was letting me eat instead of starving. But it always had a price. Always,” he can’t look at you anymore, instead looking intently at your hand in his. “Your kindness - I am learning - comes freely.”

“You are waiting for the other boot to drop,” You say, understanding what he is trying to tell you without directly saying it. When he nods, you swallow thickly. Words seem to fail you as you search desperately for the right thing to say. But there are no words that feel good enough.

Astarion also seems to be at a loss for words. Carefully, you place your hand not holding his under his chin and tilt his face upwards, so that your eyes meet once more. Your hand slides to cup his cheek, and your heart swells when you feel him press into your touch gently. 

“I am not him.”

Astarion’s eyes close at your words. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything except sit there for a long moment. So long that you think he isn’t going to reply. But then he turns his head, and he kisses the palm of your hand. Then where your hand meets your wrist. Then the inside of your wrist. As he places the third kiss to your skin, you let your hand fall away and watch as he picks it up with his free hand.

He doesn’t say it, but you know he understands. He knows you are not Cazador. And you don’t say it, but he knows you understand. You know he is trying. And neither of you say it, but both of you see those three words swimming in each other’s eyes. But you both know they’re there.

“Thank you,” you say after a long minute. “For not letting me die. Not that I expected you to, but…”

But you knew he wouldn’t have saved you a few weeks ago. 

“I mean it. Thank you.”

The fear in Astarion’s eyes finally melts away and that smirk of his falls onto his lips. But this was not his mask - no, this was his real joy. His real happiness at your not being dead and at being able to let a joke slip past his lips knowing you didn’t expect anything because of it.

“I can think of a few ways you could show that gratitude,” he says suggestively. A smile of your own spreads across your face, despite the color that floods it, too. Weakly, you shove his hands off of yours and roll your eyes at him. “You are welcome. I’ll save you a thousand times over if it means I get to see your smile once more.”

“Oh, don’t get soft on me now,” You say through your grin. But you’d like nothing more. A soft Astarion meant a healed one, a safe one. If that meant you were subjected to a few sappy lines here and there, you wouldn’t mind it.

“Hard to be soft with you around.”

“Astarion,” You hiss, realizing the joke you’ve walked yourself right into. For a second you debate getting off of the table and smacking him over the head, but when you shift your leg just slightly, that dizziness returns and has you gripping the edge of the table. 

Astarion is on his feet within a moment, noticing the change in you as soon as it happens. His hand has returned to your back, steadying you as the room starts to spin again. With your head a little clearer now, you recognize the feeling as similar to what you feel when Astarion drinks from you. With how strongly you’re feeling it… you don’t want to think about how much blood you must have lost.

“Rest. Please,” Astarion says in that soft voice again. And truly, who are you to deny him when he’s being so gentle? You let him coax you onto the table, onto the soft pile of fabrics you hadn’t realized had been under your head until just now. You want to stay conscious, to talk to Astarion more, but as soon as you’ve settled back down, you realize just how tired you are.

When you stir hours later, you’re tucked into your bedroll within your tent. And Astarion is sitting not far from you, reading. You don’t say anything as sleep overtakes you again, but you’re pretty certain you could get used to waking up to the sight of Astarion.

And Astarion’s pretty certain he wouldn’t mind it either.

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[back2bluesidex]

Dear Darling - JHS [Masterlist/Prologue]

Pairing: Serpent king (imoogi)!Hoseok X Human!Reader

Theme: Angst, dark romance, smut, fantasy au.

Wordcount: 1.5+ for the prologue

Summary: After his bride flees from his clutches and reaches the realm of mortals to reunite with her lover - Hoseok has no choice but to chase her. Upon his arrival to the land of obnoxious humans, he crosses paths with you. You are a small, driven mortal who walks with a load of despair on her back. You are nothing but a delicious meal to him and he wants nothing more than to suck your life out of you, find his runaway wife and return to his kingdom. But much to his dismay, you ruin his plans, make him do what he never imagined doing in 600 years of his life - like making him fall in love and keeping him bound to you.

Warnings: Hoseok is cruel, there maybe some mentions of blood but nothing too crazy, eventual smut, heavy themes, quite dark actually (more will be added with each chapter). NSFW!!

Accepting Taglist Requests.

A/N: Got this idea in a dream.... that's all:')

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

Masterlist | Patreon (Early access to the chapters)

Jung Hoseok. 

The name was enough to shake the core of dark creatures with terror. Even serpents like him would not dare to cross paths with him. 

He is an ominous creature of the night, rules the realm of darkness. He stays under the shadow and attacks when his preys are at their weakest. 

He is powerful, cruel, horrendous and everything that can be one’s nightmare. And to climb at the peak of his power, to rule the underworld with more and more ruthlessness - he must get married. 

He was about to be completed with the coupling ceremony by now only if - his bride didn’t run away. 

“Do you think I believe you, sir?” Hoseok speaks with a voice so cold that he can clearly see the shiver that runs down the subject's entire body. 

The old man - or more likely - an old serpent is sitting on his knees in front of him. His head is hanging low, palms conjoined with each other to beg the king. 

“You- you must believe me, my lord. I know n-nothing of the lady’s departure.” his voice is trembling but he keeps lying regardless. 

Does he not know Hoseok can see him through? 

“Really? I must believe you?” he laughs, one that prickles on your skin in the worst possible way, “then.. Would you be able to pay the price of my trust?” 

The old being doesn’t say anything. One of Hoseok’s guards pushes the tip of his sword further in his side. That coaxes a reply out of him, “what- what price must I pay, my lord?” 

Hoseok smiles, “I heard you have a freshly transformed son? Only a year old, if I am right. I was wondering how enjoyable it would be to rip off his very new scales one by one and then behead him in front of the entire kingdom?” 

The old man jerks at that “My-My lord. No. I beg you no. I- I will tell you as much as I know.” 

“That’s good. So tell me, where is the soon-to-be queen hiding? Down the sea or up the mountains?” Hoseok bends one of his knees to come face to face with his prey. His heavy cloak falls on the ground as if to make a carpeted floor for the king. 

“She… she has fled to the realm of mortals. My- my brother, who- who is half human has helped her out. I heard that her lover, a gumiho, is settled there. But I swear to my kids, my lord, I don’t know where she is, how she fled. I only helped her in contacting my brother. That’s all.” 

“What? What did you say? Realm of mortals? Her lover is a gumiho?” Hoseok roars, stands abruptly. His anger flares like a ring of fire and as a result dark clouds start swinging in the already dark sky. 

The storm starts raging just as Hoseok’s anger, “Guards! Behead his entire family right this instant! And make sure he watches them die before having the pleasure himself.” 

He ignores the pleas of the old serpent as he walks away. And even if he didn’t ignore those, what could he do? 

The blood that runs in his veins is cold, there is no heart that beats inside his chest. Even monsters call him a beast. He is just that bad. 

But he is even worse to the ones who betray him - like his wife-to-be, who has managed to flee from his grips, who also has fallen in love with the enemies of his kind. 

Only if she wasn’t the chosen one - the one who can increase his powers by tenfold. He would have killed her right the moment he found her. 

However, he can’t do so, not at least now. Before everything he has to find her. He has to visit the realms of humans, whom he loathes so much, to pull her between his clutches again. 

“How are the Mins doing?” Hoseok’s dark eyes focus on the goblet of dark red liquid that sits atop the table. 

On the other side of the table sits his trusted advisor Kim Seokjin. He is probably the only serpent in the kingdom, whom hoseok as a speck of trust on. 

“Thanks to you, my king. They have been running a very successful business on the land of humans.” Kim Seokjin states. 

“Tell them to prepare a comfortable stay for me there. I will be finding and bringing my bride back myself.” Hoseok orders. His fingers curl underneath the goblet in the meantime. 

“My lord, it will not be wise for you to visit alo-”

Hoseok slams the goblet on the table interrupting his advisor, “Mr. Kim, do you perhaps doubt my capabilities? I assume you already know I am more than capable of destroying the entire mortal land all by myself.” 

“Yes, my lord, I am well aware of that. I will convey your message to Min Yoongi.” Kim Seokjin stands on his feet and bends down on a deep bow before leaving the room. 

Hoseok feels a buzz in his cold veins. He is eager to find out how love can be more important than the power he was going to provide Soojin with. 

She could be the queen of this kingdom but she chose to fall in love with a gumiho instead. 

Love? Huh! He scoffs to himself. He is proud that he can feel no such emotions. And he would rather have his scales rip off than falling in love with another creature. 

Extravaganza. 

These lowly human beings know nothing but extravaganza. 

From the full glass buildings to the noisy music on the streets, they overdo everything and anything. 

Hoseok’s eyes scans each and every corner of the mansion that the Mins have organized for him to stay. This, too, is extravagance in every way. 

Min Yoongi, the head of this generation’s half-serpents, sits on both of his knees in front of Hoseok. 

“My king, it is a reward to have a chance of serving you personally. Just name what you want, I will have it presented right before you.” he speaks like the obedient servant that he is.

“A job. I need a job.” Hoseok speaks absent-mindedly. 

“My lord, forgive this lowly creature but did I hear you right? You need a job?” Min Yoongi’s confusion makes Hoseok smirk. 

“Yes, Mr. Min. you heard that right. I need a job to blend with these mortals. I am certain my wife-to-be has put the tigerlilies at work. You might already know, inhaling the pollen of those flowers once is enough to be transformed into any other creature for two nights. And even the King, as I am, is unable to defy its power.” Hoseok comes to stand in front of Yoongi, his hands are kept behind his back. 

His dark eyes find the pale man amusing and quite obedient. 

“Yes, my lord. I am well aware of the magical powers of the flower. About the job - thanks to you, my business here is running well. I can arrange an executive position for you at the company, if you’d like.” 

“Executive?” Hoseok raises one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows, “what kind of work do they do?” 

“They don’t have to do anything much, my lord. I will take care of whatever work your position might be responsible for, you can invest your sole concentration on your task.” Min Yoongi bows lightly. 

“I like your proposition. Tell me how to get to your company.” Hoseok takes a few steps back towards the staircase. The intricate designs of the railing catches his eyes. 

“I will have a car ready for you, if you want to visit now.” 

“I would like that.” 

Hoseok climbs out of the car and stands in front of the large building that the Mins have been ruling with the power of wealth that he had gifted them, some hundred years back. 

He scrutinizes the glass walls. His gaze zeros on his own reflection and he devilishly smiles at the way he looks so human. 

Min Yoongi has arranged some clothes for him. Some black silk pants with a silk shirt and a short cloak that they call a blazer. 

Hoseok has always been proud of the way he looks. But he must admit - he looks even better and more eye-catching in human clothes. 

His, now invisible, scales rise under the material of his clothes when he senses someone else watching him from a short distance. 

He projects his eyes in that direction and finds a woman with petite form, big pebbly eyes and a beautiful face. 

It’s you. 

With just one glance he sees right through you. He can see your breath getting stuck in your throat at the sight of him. He can see the cogs of your brain working and your heart leaping inside of your chest. 

He knows you are getting attracted towards him. And that’s good for him. Having a human right on his foot as a servant can help him in tracing Soojin faster. 

It’s one of his powers to attract his prey, like how a pitcher plant emits a sweet smell to attract insects only to eat those up when those near it. 

But with those innocent eyes, that alluring face - it’s a waste that you are just another moth driven to the flame.

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[alonelybih]

love drought - Jhea.

“ I have to go” Jey drawled out, his deep voice disrupting the calm silence.

“ No. You have to stay here with me” Rhea firmly whispered against his neck, pulling him towards her a little bit tighter.

Jey sighed rubbing softly her arm with his fingers in a slow up and down motion.

Rhea thought that if only he could stay right there, under the warm bedsheets, tucked into her side, clothes forgotten on the floor and both of their familiar scents mixed together. She’d be happy. Truly. Like she hasn’t been since the last time they were together.

But Jey was only there for the night. He got places to be, and he was supposed to leave ten minutes ago.

He was staring at the big window in Rhea’s hotel room, the lights of the nearby buildings being the only source of light there. The dark sky only feeding his wistful thoughts of staying a little longer.

Maybe he could stay the night, maybe if he skipped breakfast, the driver could pick him up from Rhea’s hotel in the early morning, and if the traffic was low, he could get breakfast at the airport just in time. Maybe, if he really wanted it, he could fall asleep by Rhea’s side, like he used to.

Rhea’s gentle breaths made her chest rise and fall against his while the low light coated their bodies in a yellow glow. As Jey peered down at the leg wrapped around his own, and at his hand slotted comfortably around her waist, he pulled himself out of the plans forming in his head.

In truth, it wasn't like it used to be. Back when they were caught up in carefree dates in different Waffle houses and fun rendezvouses. The countless hours watching tv and playing games and taking things further than they should, just to roll over and wake up as friends again. It's not like that at all now.

Jey was in Smackdown. They didn't talk everyday like they used to. He was rumored to be dating a new girl back in the other roster (which definitely made her heart ache every time she thought about it). Rhea got a new hairstyle . And a couple of other tattoos. Both of them have change a lot.

His draft to Smackdown changed everything and Rhea really thinks that maybe he doesn't feel the same way about her. Not anymore.

When in reality he feels like he loves her more than he ever could.

The physical distance between them never brought down the fire of their relationship. The sparks that reignited every time they saw each other made him realise what the butterflies in his stomach had yet to announce. The exciting reunions after time apart proved how good they could be and made him long for her more.

But it wasn't possible. Jey could see himself drowning in Rhea, turning his life upside down to be with her, growing to hate being in Smackdown because it's where she can't be, never once leaving the warmth her arms provided. It couldn't happen. Not now. Not when everything else was as good as it was.

Jey took a deep breath and took Rhea’s arm off him.

“No” he huffed quietly, “ I gotta go”.

He could barely look at Rhea as he sat up and pulled the sheets out of the way, fearing that any trace of disappointment on her face would pull him right back into the dream. He was careful in his movements but Rhea’s side immediately turned cold in his absence.

The drop in her heart went unspoken as she watched him slip his clothes back on. The heavy silence filled Jey with regret and he cursed himself inside. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head a little at the feeling of the mattress moving as Rhea pushed herself against the headboard. Just watching him.

Jey wished he could find the right words, certain that anything he could say at that moment would only cause more harm. So he sat on the edge of the bed, putting on his hoodie without a word, refusing to turn to meet the eyes that bore a hole into his back. Hoping he could stay.

——-

hi, i know this is not what i usually do but i’ve had this on my drafts for a while. and of course is angsty.

let me know if you wanna see something like this. i got a couple of ideas but idk if yall would be interested in reading them. ty<3

[feedthepheasants]

By Firelight

Remember this post from a while back, and this one from the other day? Well, if you were hoping to read the full fic, look no further than this post! (unless you want to pop over to my Ao3...)

pairing: Gale X f!Tav

wc: 2,785

[nsfw] there is sex in here. there is a mirror. there is hair pulling. there is some edging. there is dominant gale. there is also soft gale. i'm terrible at tagging things like this. i'm sorry. ENJOY!

The storm had come upon the city of Waterdeep before anyone had realized. Other than the pattering of the rain along the windows, the house had been fairly quiet. Tav had tried to do anything to keep her hands busy – tidying in the kitchen, folding her laundry, sketching – and failed. She’d also tried to get comfortable by the now-crackling hearth and read, but found she couldn’t force herself to sit still for that long. So instead, she’d decided to make her way down to the study to bother Gale. 

He’d been so enthralled with the papers before him that he hadn’t heard her soft approaching footsteps; taking advantage of the moment, Tav watches him hum as he works, almost glowing in the candlelight. Gale pulls out his quill and scrawls a few notes on one of the pieces of parchment before turning his attention to another. 

Without saying a word, Tav walks in, making her presence known. She’s halfway to the desk before he looks up, smiling when he sees her. “Hello, my darling,” Gale says quietly, setting down the paper and quill and turning in his chair. 

“Hi,” Tav replies, returning the smile. She rounds the edge of the desk before coming to a halt, leaning back against the edge of the surface. “How’s your work coming along?” 

“Still quite a bit to do,” Gale sighs, glancing at the parchment scattered before him. “But not too much. Is everything alright?” 

Tav nods. “Just restless,” she answers, glancing out the window at the sky. “I thought I would go for a walk around the city this afternoon, but I don’t think the storm will be letting up any time soon.” 

Gale looks over his shoulder at the window. “Well, it’s no walk in the park–” Tav rolls her eyes, “–but I suppose we could find our own entertainment…” 

“Oh?” Tav says, raising a brow. Gale turns back to face her, a presumptuous smile spread across his face. She narrows her gaze at him. “And what exactly did you have in mind?” 

Gale had a lot in mind, as a matter of fact. 

It had started innocent and playful – Gale rising from his chair, caging Tav against the desk and lifting her to sit on the surface. Pushing aside the stacks of parchment and books, rubbing his hands along her bare thighs, selfish in his need to touch her. He’d tucked a finger under her chin and kissed her with such excruciating sweetness it had made her heart swim. More kisses had followed, peppered along her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her forehead, her eyes. He’d continued on until she couldn’t stop laughing at the sensation, and had only stopped when she’d pushed him away for a moment to catch her breath; and at the sight of her flushed skin, the length of Tav’s neck exposed when she’d thrown her head back in laughter, he shifted. 

The tenderness in Gale’s warm brown eyes was now pure, unwavering desire. 

“What, Gale?” Tav asked a bit breathlessly. 

He answered with a claiming kiss, taking her by such surprise that she’d let out a small moan, which only pushed him further over the edge. 

And then, Gale had hoisted Tav up off the desk and she’d wrapped her legs tight around his middle as he carried her out of the study and up the stairs. The feeling of Gale’s hands splayed across her backside and rear had Tav’s heartbeat quickening. When she’d felt the bulge in his pants against her body, she’d leaned down to kiss along the column of his throat. 

There was no time to make it to the bedroom after that. 

With a wave of his hand, a soft bed of cushions and blankets materializes on the floor next to the hearth and before Tav can say a word she’s plopped right in the center. They barely break apart from the other as they undo the fastenings of their clothes. There were nights when they – usually Gale – took the time to tease and undress at a snail’s pace, nearly getting his pleasure from watching Tav squirm and whine and beg for it. 

This was no such night. 

The minute Tav’s breasts are exposed Gale’s tongue is there, dragging along her goosebump-ridden skin. She’s desperate to touch him anywhere, but as soon as she lifts a hand Gale takes it in his own before she can make contact. 

“Lie down,” he says, barely able to remove his lips from her chest to utter the words. 

“I want to–” 

“Lie, down,” Gale says again, his eyes pleading. She knows that look, and she is not about to deny him what he wants – what he’s so close to begging for. 

Tav lowers herself onto her back and shoves off her unlaced shorts with Gale’s help, eyes fluttering closed as he moves his attention back to her breasts, lips closed around one nipple while caressing the other with his ink-stained thumb. Only once he’s satisfied does he start pressing a trail of kisses along the underside of her breasts, down her stomach and all the way to the planes of her hips. His hands grip hard at her sides as he lowers himself even further, teasing Tav with his breath along her awaiting folds, knowing that with each second that passed, he would no longer be the one to beg. 

Gale feasts, savoring every moan that Tav lets out at the movements of his tongue. He keeps his grip firm on her hips, but rubs careful, soothing circles with his thumbs along the bare skin there. After some time, Gale slides his hands to the backs of Tav’s thighs, spreading her even further for their mutual enjoyment. Tav takes a breath low in her belly and feels her climax building. 

“Gale,” she breathes. 

“Hmm?” Gale’s hummed reply reverberates through her, drawing yet another glorious moan from Tav. 

“Fuck me,” Tav says. It’s meant as a command, but her voice is thick with desperation and Gale knows it. She swallows hard as Gale’s fingers press harder into her soft flesh, driving his tongue and nose deeper into her. “Please,” she whines, “I need you to fuck me.” 

And that’s all it takes. 

Gale frees his erection from his trousers, not bothering to take them off completely before nudging the tip of his length against her heat. 

“Oh gods–”

“I’d prefer if you cried out to me, Tav,” Gale grunts as he sinks into her, “not the gods.” 

It’s heaven to be joined with her like this. Gale’s loving gaze beams down at Tav as he eases in and out of her, brushing her hair from her eyes and neck as she writhes beneath him. She’s beautiful always, but like this – with her cheeks red and skin sticky with sweat – she’s something else entirely. 

“Harder,” Tav whispers, pressing a hand flat against Gale’s bare, warm chest as she looks up into his eyes. Gale immediately folds his own free hand over top of hers, grounding himself as he drives further and further into her, acquiescing to her words.

The duet of their rasping breaths is his favorite composition, underscored by the crackling in the hearth and the rain beating hard against the windows. Their breathing becomes frantic and needy as they inch closer and closer to their mutual release. As Tav digs her nails into Gale’s chest, tugging at the patch of hair there, his tenderness once again gives way to pure, starving lust. 

Gale slowed his pace, much to his own chagrin; but he’d wanted to watch – wanted her to watch him – as he claimed her. So, even through the crying out of every bone and muscle in his body, he pulled his cock from her. 

“Do not move,” he says between breaths. Though she’d whimpered at the loss of him, the fervor in his voice gave her no choice but to stay put. In this state, she was likely to bend to any command – and gods, did he know it. Tav lies there, naked and warm by the fire, squeezing her thighs tight together for any sort of friction as she waits for Gale’s return. 

There’s a thump in the corner, and then his footsteps draw closer. “Come here, my darling,” Gale says when he reaches her, taking Tav’s hands within his and helping her into an upright position. The threatening wave of an orgasm pulses within her, skin on fire where Gale’s fingers now brush curled wisps of hair from her sweaty brow. “Now,” he breathes, “I want you down on your knees, in front of me, watching,” Gale tells her, nodding his head towards the large, ornate mirror now propped against the wall. “Can you do that for me?” Tav barely manages a single nod before Gale leans in towards her and steals a hungry, wanting kiss, one hand cupping the back of her neck as the other rubs small circles to the inside of her wrist. 

When they break apart, Gale’s steady hands guide Tav up and onto her knees. She takes up her position, palms and knees to the floor; she watches him in the reflection as he finally removes his trousers, lowering his fully naked body to his knees and slowly sliding his hands around the curve of her hips. Her eyes flutter with pleasure as he presses a lingering kiss to the base of her spine, but the sensation drives her to further madness when he whispers against her skin, “Lower.” 

Without so much as a sound, Tav lowers herself from palms to elbows, arms stretched out in front of her. She watches in the mirror as Gale presses a line of kisses to her rear, fingers digging into her flushed, soft skin as he makes his way lower and lower. She gasps when his tongue and lips find their way once again to her cunt, throbbing and wet. One hand rises beneath her, and his middle and ring fingers begin working away at her clit, bringing her closer and closer and– 

He hums against her as her muscles tighten with pleasure. As the twitching of her hips threatens to break their contact, Gale presses further into her, his free hand pulling her closer. 

“Gale–” She chokes out, knuckles going white as she grasps the blanket beneath her for stability. “Gale, I need you inside of me– please–” 

Another hum of his own pleasure sounds as Gale sits back on his knees, meeting Tav’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. He maintains their eye contact as he moves closer to her, using a knee to spread her legs wider. Gale still doesn’t break their gaze as he guides the length of his cock to her entrance, sheathing himself back into her with one long, languid stroke. Tav revels in the sensation, closing her eyes as her body threatens to sink further into the floor. 

“Ah ah,” Gale chides, pulling out of Tav. She’d begged too much, and now he’d wield her desire to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. “What did I say, hm?” In one swift movement, Gale threads his fingers through her loosened hair, twisting and wrapping his fist in her curly strands. His grip is gentle, but firm; loving, but full of command. He tugs, lifting Tav’s head to once again meet his eyes in the mirror. Tav takes in deep, ragged breaths, the muscles in her legs beginning to shake. “Use your words, my darling.” 

Tav swallows hard. “You – you want me to watch,” she says between breaths. 

The hint of a smile flashes across his face. His grip tightens on her hair. “Close your eyes or look away again, and I’ll stop.” Tav whines again but nods, and Gale’s eyes darken. “Now – are you ready for me?” 

Gods, she could melt under the heat of his gaze. Tav nods again, biting down hard on her lower lip as Gale lines the head of his cock back up and pushes into her again. A low moan escapes him and it causes every single one of Tav’s muscles to tighten again – tighten around him – and it drives them both mad. 

Gale’s thrusts are calculated and tortuously slow at first. With his free hand he grabs at the soft flesh of Tav’s hip to bring them closer. She doesn’t dare close her eyes again, taking in every one of Gale’s gasps and moans, each sharp breath. Tav’s head eddies out as she watches sweat begin to bead along his temples, glistening in the light of the hearth. She’s drunk at the very sight of him, and wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As his own pleasure builds up again, his pace becomes more eager. He’d not yet brought her to orgasm – as Tav was brutally aware – but he’s determined to take Tav with him over the edge. He releases her hip and moves his fingers down to her clit, working in small circles, drawing another deep moan from Tav. 

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” Gale says, looking like he might devour her right here. “Do you like when I touch you like this?” Tav nods, feeling her eyes flutter at the influx of sensations coursing through her. “Eyes open,” he says with another hard tug to her hair. “Do you like–” 

“Yes,” Tav cries, “yes, fuck, I do!” The familiar coiling within Tav’s body begins to tighten again. 

Gale leans forward, releasing her hair to brace himself at her side. “And do you like watching me fuck you like this?” His breath is hot along the shell of her ear. 

Tav nods. A meager, “Mmhmm,” is all she can manage. 

“I want you to finish with me,” Gale whispers. “I know you can, and you will.” 

“I–” Tav shakes her head. “I can’t,” she gasps.

“Yes you can, my darling,” Gale breathes, lifting his hand from the floor and pressing it at the center of Tav’s torso, bringing her arched back against his chest and exposing her naked body to their reflections. The angle makes the sensation of his cock and his fingers too good, the crest of her orgasm nearly within reach. Gale’s tongue works its way along the side of her neck and when his teeth catch on her earlobe, she nearly finishes right then. “Tav,” Gale warns. “Eyes open–” 

Gale mutters something along Tav’s sweat-slick skin, and in a moment he removes his fingers from Tav’s sensitive bud. She cries out at the loss, but is immediately quieted when another hand replaces it, shimmering an icy blue and nearly translucent in the firelight. Gale’s steading hands help lower Tav back to her elbows. 

“Fuck–” Gale hisses. Though Tav’s gaze stays plastered to Gale’s face, his focus is to where their bodies are joined, his fingers pressing firmly into her backside, kneading and stretching and roving as he grinds into her. “Tav– are you–” Gale throws his head back with a gasp. “I’m about to–”  

“Please,” Tav begs. “Gale, please–” 

“Say my name like that again,” Gale commands, thrusting harder and harder. 

The conjured hand at Tav’s clit is unforgiving in its pursuits to bring her to her climax, forcing her to stammer over her words. “G-Gale–” 

“Oh, fuck yes,” he growls, bracing himself with one hand tight on her waist and the other gripping her shoulder. “Again.” 

“Gale, I can’t,” she pants, her release seconds from exploding through her. “I can’t–” 

It’s like clockwork, then; as Tav’s body gives in to the pleasure, her muscles constrict around Gale’s length and he can’t help but spill into her. Tav finishes with a yelp, and Gale with some kind of choked gasp. The corners of his vision begin to speckle as his release rolls throughout his body, holding tight to Tav as the thunderstorm howls outside. 

The conjured hand is dismissed and Gale slowly withdraws himself from Tav, but is quick to kiss along her spine, once again roaming his greedy hands over her body and rolling her onto her side. He snaps his fingers and they’re clean in an instant. 

“Come here,” Gale whispers, voice raw. He pulls Tav close to his chest with one arm as the other reaches for a blanket to cover them. Tav concedes, allowing him to move and adjust her in any way to be comfortable. He strokes Tav’s hair for a few minutes as their hearts calm, savoring these moments of intimacy as much as the impassioned ones. 

And though Tav’s asleep in minutes, he still leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” Gale whispers, tenderness returned. Sleep finds him soon after, lulled by the rain and the warmth of his love in his arms.

taglist!

@dr-demi-bee @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @lanafofana

@marlowethebard @crimson-and-lavender @spooky-lil-bee

@12thhouse-sun @waterdeep-weavemoss @amorgansgal

@honeybee-bard (i figured since i tagged you in the two snippets, i should tag you when i posted the full fic lol)

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Cold

TW: angst, smoking, drinking

Word count: 1011

The cold from the cement beneath you is more intense than you expected, the rough grit of it digging into the back of your thighs, that biting cold crawling up your skin and settling in your chest. 

It's enough to make your hands tremble, clutching that half-finished cigarette like it’s a lifeline. But it’s not enough to make you want to go back inside, the music thumping from inside the house party is no longer fun, no longer inviting. Now all it does is irritate you. 

Things were going so so well. You felt normal for the first time in six months. Up until that familiar leather jacket caught your eye, until those icy blue eyes caught yours for exactly half a second, not a shred of emotion in them.

That fun buzz from the shots had immediately turned sour in your stomach, twisting until you were absolutely sure you were going to throw up at that very moment. It had been rude, the way you’d shoved past the handsome blonde that had been mid-conversation with you, but none of that mattered when it felt like all the air in your lungs had been snatched away.

You’d made a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it before the tears had started, before you could properly muffle yourself with the back of your hand (Not that anyone would hear given how loud the music was, anyways). But even that precious solitude the bathroom provided wasn’t enough. You needed out, you needed out that instant.

You barely remember pushing past the bodies, head down, cheeks streaked with mascara. Don’t even remember sitting down really, or pulling out the worn pack of cigarettes- a brand you never even really liked. 

Its crumpled in your lap now, that pack. Staring up at you, taunting you. Lighting one up was a mistake, because now all you taste as you take a drag is him. It tastes like his kiss, bites the same way too, leaves a lump in your throat like he did.

But you will not keep crying, you will not be that girl. That girl who makes a scene when she sees her ex at a party. At least that’s what you desperately try to convince yourself as the tears well up again. 

At least he’s not out here.

Not that you expected him to be, not that you even hoped he would have follow you out. At least not out loud, anyways. You’re glad for that absence, for that blatant uncaring. 

You wish you hated him for that, wished you were angry. That would be easier, but a tiny part of you was glad he was here, even more so that he didn't seem affected by your presence.

Because deep down there is something so deeply comforting about being unwanted. Especially by him.

Something so familiar in those long silences, those unanswered texts, that obvious avoidance, followed by empty promises. At least there was a pattern, something to expect. He did always warn you he was bad at relationships.

And then, like the universe senses your relief, the music gets louder as the door opens, and you don’t even have to turn to know who it is, that laugh cut short as he realizes who’s on the steps in front of him. 

You don’t turn, eyes closed as you pray he just goes back in. But of course that’s not how this is going to go. There’s quiet footsteps, and then familiar boots settle on the steps next to your converse, a warm body entirely too close to yours, like he thinks he still belongs there.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, and then he finally speaks. “Can I have one of those?”

You glance down at the pack he's pointing to, and you crumple it in your grasp again.

“No.” Your voice is a lot hoarser than you wish it was, further evidence of your crying, and you curse internally. He doesn’t get to know how much of your attention he still has, doesn’t deserve that satisfaction.

He has the nerve to chuckle at your response, hand withdrawing as he leans back on the step. Casual, comfortable, while you feel like you’re dying inside.

“Thought you didn’t like my brand,” he muses, head tilted as he looks up at the night sky. He waits then, expecting a response, frowning when all you do is take another long drag, smoke curling around your face. He opens his mouth again, but you beat him to it.

“Go back inside, Touya.” you mutter, pointedly avoiding looking at him. He sighs at that, long and heavy as he leans forward, running a hand through his hair.

“You said we were good. Said we could be friends.” he reminds you softly, echoing the exact words you’d said when he’d called you out of the blue six months ago, called to end things. 

“And you said you loved me, so I guess we’re both good liars.” You don’t mean for it to come out with so much venom, but it does, the alcohol and hurt burning in your veins making things that much harder.

He flinches at that, mouth snapping shut as his gaze hardens for a fraction of a second. But he doesn’t argue, doesn't object. He just sits there for a moment, letting the silence stretch.

“You seem cold.” he remarks softly, changing the subject easily, like he always did when things got hard. 

“Go. Inside.” It’s not an order this time, it’s a plea. For any sort of mercy, for the chance to save what little pride he hasn’t destroyed. For him to just leave you alone. He was good at that while you were together, it should be easy for him.

And something in your voice must strike a chord with him, because he stands with a sigh, footsteps leaving, the music louder again as he opens the door and disappears inside.

But not before that familiar leather jacket is draped over your shoulders, leaving you alone in the cold with the bitter taste of him on your tongue, and the warmth of his absence.

[rs-hawk]

(Batb) Belle can’t sleep properly because of nightmares,one stormy night she decided to go to the west wing,asking beast for some company,the problem is so beast has sleeping problems and he’s kinda self conscious about how he sleeps (probably naked) and where he sleeps (a smashed bed turned into an animal nest)

Once again apologizing for the delay in Day Six.

CW: mostly a fluff piece but does discuss nudity and themes of arousal, pregnancy and breeding. Intended for an 18+ audience

Belle always had a little bit of trouble sleeping, but when the rain came pouring down, it’s like she can’t breathe on her own. After hours of tossing and turning, she decided to make her way to the West Wing. While she knew that Beast has told her not to, she hoped that he would understand why tonight she felt like she had to. She just couldn’t be alone, and the furniture servants wouldn’t make her feel safe the way he did.

Cautiously, she made her way to the West Wing, not wanting to wake any of the servants up. She worried that they would make her go back to her own room. Luckily, everyone seemed to be fast asleep, and her footsteps were drowned out by the loud cracks of thunder that made the castle rumble. Each crack made another chill run down her spine, but that only spurned her on.

Finally, she got to the West Wing. It took her a little while to navigate the unfamiliar wing of the castle, guided by streaks of lightening flashing across the sky. There were portraits that she wanted to come back and look at when there was more light, but for now, all she wanted was to find Beast.

When she got to a set of heavy doors, she tugged them open, hoping that they were the doors to his bedroom. Inside the room was a mess, with a small table and a glowing rose shining on it. Her eyes were glued to the rose for but a moment, because in the soft glow of it, she realized that she could see Beast, tossing and turning in what seemed to be a sort of… nest?

“Beast?” Belle whispered, taking a few steps closer. Beast snored, curling almost into himself. “Beast, can I lay down with you?”

As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder made her jump, knocking over a chair. The sound of the chair hitting the ground stirred Beast from his fitful sleep. When his eyes met Belle’s, whose were wide and terrified, the anger bubbling in his chest immediately dissipated.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position. However, as he did, he realized that he had been in bed. As always, he wore nothing to sleep. Heat burned his face, making him grateful for the thick layer of fur covering it. “Why did you come here?”

“The storm,” she answered, looking down at her slippered feet. “I just… I hate storms. It’s hard for me to sleep. I was hoping you would keep me company. Could I sleep in your bed?”

Beast looked down at his nest, and his unclothed body, his nostrils flaring slightly with embarrassment. “Belle, I don’t think this would be very comfortable for you.”

“It’s okay! I’m sure is plenty comfortable. Please?” she asked, not realizing yet that he was naked, assuming he was only talking about the nest.

After another moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Fine. Come in then.”

Belle smiled, slipping off her slippers before crawling into the nest-like ruins of Beast’s bed. Only when she laid down, cuddling up against Beast, did she realize she could feel his cock rubbing against her leg. Her face flushed, making her bury her face into his chest.

Beast let out a low groan, her warmth making it difficult to ignore how badly he wanted to bury himself in her hot cunt. He wondered how she would look with her belly swollen with his child. How a ring he had inherited from his mother would look on her finger. The leaking tip of his cock only further made him wish he slept with something on, but it was too late now. Belle was dozing off, taking comfort in his presence. He couldn’t move her now.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕ ❤️

[ender1821]

behold. me coping with session 9 SL!shinyduo

— — —

The crackle of a lightning strike hits at the exact same moment Pearl hears a resounding crack from her neck. After she had been shot by Scar, the impact of the arrow led her to stumble down the ravine beside Scar’s base, leaving her at the bottom of the pit.

Well, at least it was quick.

She finds herself lying on the stone ground, a view of a clear blue sky above her.

The only thing she could do was let herself breathe. (Do ghosts even need to breathe? Eh, who knows.)

Her eyes close as she builds a steady rhythm with the rise and fall of her chest, willing for the aching and exhaustion riddled all throughout her body to somehow dissipate.

Aside from the sound of her breaths, she can pick up Scar’s voice off in the distance. It doesn’t sound much like a cheer, or a cry, or anything— but then again, Pearl’s not in a fit state to focus on whatever he’s saying.

Instead, she tries to think back on everything that just unfolded, all the deaths, the hunts…the duel. The zombie that had been creeping towards Scar before Pearl warned him.

She sighs, “I swear, if he dies to a zombie, after all that…”

Now, she wasn’t really expecting a reply.

Especially not a reply from a voice that’s so familiar.

“I know, right? It’d be embarrassing for both of us.”

Pearl’s eyes snap open in an instant, as though the answer gave her a surge of energy, overpowering the waves of numbing pain.

“…Gem?”

She looks…just like she used to, when they were red…together.

Pearl blinks, trying to focus on the figure looming over her. It’s only then, that she notices Gem’s body is slightly translucent, allowing rays of sunlight to pass through.

“Hey, Pearl.” Gem extends a greeting they both know far too well. She crouches down, tilting her head. “Are you going to keep lying on the ground, or…?”

“I might.” Pearl chuckles. “It’s pretty comfy down here, actually.”

“I can imagine.” Gem shifts to sitting cross-legged next to Pearl, which prompts her to try and actually sit upright as well.

Pearl grunts when she finally manages to move, scooting over to Gem. Sitting underneath the shades of a bit of overhang of the earth above, they find themselves situated in a corner of the ravine, now further ruined with scorch marks and splatters of blood on the walls.

Despite the destruction, sunlight casts shadows of sunflowers into the chasm. It must be the ones Scar has around his base.

Silence follows. Pearl tries her best to stare only at the walls around, but she ends up glancing at Gem a few too many times. She hopes Gem is too preoccupied to notice. (Pretty slim chance of that happening, considering the fact that there’s nothing of interest nearby but them.)

Eventually, though, something in Pearl pushes her to speak.

“So,” Pearl starts, “what’s got you wanting to give me a visit? I thought you’d be with Scott and Impulse.”

Gem jerks up at the sudden question, then turns away from Pearl. “I— I dunno, I just… We died pretty close to each other, you’re the first one I saw.”

If Pearl’s head had been a bit more clearer, maybe she would’ve questioned why Gem was so insistent on not facing Pearl when she answered. Instead, she accepts the answer with a nonchalant “Ah, I see.”

“Well, I appreciate the company. And…” Pearl adds, pausing as the following words get caught in her throat for a brief second:

“I’m sorry.”

That seemingly got Gem’s attention, causing her to look at Pearl once again.

Just today, Pearl was met with those same pair of eyes on multiple occasions. For some, they sparkled with a sense of joy. For others, they held a flurry of panic behind them.

At this moment, they were glazed with a whirlwind of emotions Pearl couldn’t even begin to decipher.

Pearl can see Gem obviously struggling to find something to say, or to piece together the thoughts in her head. Either way, Pearl waits.

“When you— when Scar was coming for me, you asked me if I wanted to duel it out with you, with swords.”

Pearl nods.

“Why?”

It’s such a simple question, really. Pearl knows exactly why she did it. Just as she knows why she went into the End earlier in the game to fight the dragon, why she rode a camel with the same person who’s killed her twice, why she couldn’t get a successful ambush when she’d been in the siege against Gem and the Scotts.

What leaves her lips is not the answer. Not a clear one, at least.

(It’s never easy, is it? When Scar and Gem had begun fighting, all Pearl wanted was a moment to think. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know why she began shooting, she just didn’t know. She couldn’t decide.)

“You said you didn’t want a bow fight.”

“But a sword fight, Pearl?” Gem pushes on in an instant. “I know you, Pearl, I know you prefer using an axe.”

“I do, yeah.” Pearl doesn’t give away any more than that, choosing to give Gem a noncommittal response.

“So— If Scar hadn’t— If I agreed, you—”

“You probably would’ve kicked my butt.” Pearl admits with a smile.

Gem takes a deep breath. Then, in the quietest voice Pearl has heard all day, Gem asks, “And you would’ve been fine with that?”

(I would’ve been more than fine with it.)

“You would’ve beat me fair and square, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“But you—” Gem cuts herself off with a groan, growing more and more frustrated with Pearl’s vague replies. It’s no use when they’re both dancing around the topic, even though all Gem wants is to ask: would you have let me kill you? Could we have stayed friends? What went wrong?

Gem recalls Pearl backing away after one swing of her sword, when she was fighting Scar, she caught a glimpse of Pearl leaving the fight to them. She remembers how Pearl could’ve pulled out her bow, could’ve ended her right there.

(Do I forgive you?)

A breeze blows past the Sunflower Valley, leading the flowers above, along with their shadows, into a gentle dance.

Nearly every question Gem has dies on the tip of her tongue, leaving only one:

“What now?”

Pearl gives it some quick pondering, before stretching her legs out and bracing herself to stand. “I wanna check on Mailbox and Matchbox.”

“Then,” She helps herself up by leaning on a wall. “I wanna see if I can find my Mounders anywhere.”

Lastly, she extends a hand out to Gem. “After that… I think I remember Scott saying something about a spare camel around Etho’s?”

Gem returns the smirk on Pearl’s face with one of her own. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“The Murder Camel rides once more!” Pearl cheers as she pulls Gem up with her.

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, romance, smut, masturbation link to all chapters link to ao3

note from the author: so sorry for how long it has taken to update this fic, I appreciate the comments/asks - they all inspire me to continue writing. I hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Sixteen

——————————————————————————————————

Warmth spread along Reina’s face as she gazed at the sky, the sun beaming down. The suitcase trailing behind her clanged against the uneven sidewalk. With an exaggerated huff she yanked it over the curb. 

Shielding her eyes from the light she drank in the sight of the tall building stretched in front of her. Striding through the door, Reina nodded politely at the attendant standing near the entrance - swiftly refusing his attempt to assist with her bag. 

Reina scanned the lobby, her eyes landing on a familiar sight - a handsome white haired man leaning against the front desk. 

Gojo tipped his glasses down to drag his stare along Reina’s body before piercing her with a smile. An unfamiliar sensation echoed through her stomach.

“Good morning, Iyashi.” he purred before handing over a card. Reina yanked it from his grasp, scowling. 

“Good morning, Gojo. Could you have picked a hotel further from the airport?” Reina bit out, pulling her battered suitcase to her side.

“If you booked the travel arrangements, we would have ended up in entirely separate buildings.” he laughed, heading in the direction of the elevator.

Reina had offered to fly in separately, Gojo was requested at a meeting within the city a day prior. What would have delighted her mere months ago proved to be rather inconvenient. She hadn’t noticed the effort Gojo went through to ensure her life went smoothly. 

He held the door open for her as she sidled in next to him. 

“I am eager to see how you plan on making up for our last sleeping arrangements.” Reina rolled her eyes, warmth spreading on the back of her neck at the memory of waking up tangled on top of Gojo at the inn.

She reached back, placing her cool hand on the area - careful to avoid his gaze. 

“Oh, you’re going to like this one.” Gojo stepped out of the elevator, leading her down the hallway. 

He gestured towards one door at the end, “Yours.” Before his finger slowly moved to the one next to it, “Mine.”

“Good.” Reina pushed past him and entered her room. Her eyes darting to the side as she watched Gojo do the same. 

She sighed as she closed the door behind her, placing her back against the wood. There was a feeling threatening to spill through her body. One that felt surprisingly similar to disappointment.

Pushing her suitcase through the room, she placed it in the corner before throwing herself onto the king sized bed.

“See? I knew you would like it.” a voice sounded near the entrance of the room. Reina bolted upwards, her eyes connecting with Gojo’s.

Her brows furrowed as she realized he was leaning against the frame of an open door - one that led straight into his room.

A slow smile spread through his face as hers burned. 

——————————————————————————————————

A hurried knock at the door shattered the tension in the room. Reina continued to scowl as the gloating Gojo strode over to let in the visitor.

Itadori burst into the space, excitedly exclaiming, “Did you show her the conjoined rooms?” 

“Did she hate it?” Fushiguro stood in the doorway, holding it open for Kugisaki before entering. 

“More importantly, did she beat you up?” she asked with a laugh, venturing over to where Reina sat. She plopped down next to her, running her hands along the comforter. “Her room is way nicer than ours, sensei!”

“That’s because I actually like her,” he replied. 

Itadori threw the patio door open, both of his hands wrapping the railing as he admired the water. Kugisaki muscled her way next to him, shielding her eyes from the sun as she mimicked his expression.

He pointed towards the beach enthusiastically, “Let’s go swimming!”

Kugisaki whipped around, looking at Gojo pleadingly. He pretended to consider whether they could, dramatically placing his hand on his chin.

“Get your swimsuit, Iyashi!” he exclaimed, the two raced past him and back towards the exit.

Gojo strode towards his room, he slowly inched the door closed - his face occupying the remaining space. 

“That cute pink one you packed,” he winked before it clicked shut. 

——————————————————————————————————

The ocean glittered against the sky, appearing to extend endlessly along the sandy outline. The heat clung to Reina’s curves, sweat beginning to accumulate on the back of her neck. 

Repositioning underneath the umbrella, she looked on in amusement as Itadori attempted to push Fushiguro into the waves. He fought him off valiantly until Gojo snuck up behind, pulling him under with a hearty laugh. 

Kugisaki stretched alongside Reina, propping herself onto her elbows she yelled, “Don’t let him treat you like that, Megumi! Come on!”

Reina laughed as Kugisaki stood - brushing the sand from her body. She raced towards the water, Gojo prepared himself for an attack with a smile playing on his lips. 

Her eyes softened as he gently flipped Kugisaki into the water, careful to avoid her neck. The laughs echoing through the air were enough to warm Reina’s heart, a reminder of Gojo’s character.

She swallowed hard as he started towards her, the sunlight reflecting on his glasses and creating a sheen on his abs that forced Reina’s to tighten. 

He towered over her, she watched a droplet of water slide from his bellybutton to the edge of his swimsuit. Her eyes dragged along him until she met his gaze.

His glasses slipped onto the edge of his nose, his blue eyes trailing her swimsuit before smirking. Reina straightened, one of her hands smoothing the seams of the pink fabric.

He leaned down to grab a towel, his arm brushing hers.

“You’re so obedient sometimes, Iyashi,” he whispered.

He chuckled as he admired the slow build of warmth erupting through Reina’s body. Gojo dried off before collapsing in a dramatic heap next to her. She handed him a water bottle, careful to avoid his gaze. 

The sound of erratic splashing and squealing captured their attention. Sitting in silence, they were unable to do anything but admire the three. Reina stole a glance at Gojo, her smile faltering at the tinge of sadness in his eyes.

She reflexively reached for him, her hand resting on his knee - as if waking him from a dream he startled slightly at the contact. Gojo offered her a small reassuring smile, placing his hand on hers. 

“Your students are lucky to have you for a mentor. Whatever happens, remember that you have given them every tool necessary to survive,” Reina squeezed his knee before releasing her hold. “They aren’t them, stop torturing yourself.” 

Gojo leaned back, his gaze angled towards the sky. A long stretch of silence before he sighed, “You can’t be smart and hot, Iyashi. It’s not fair.”

Reina breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. Gojo stood up with a groan before turning towards her.

“Alright, your turn.” he brushed his hands off, extending one in her direction.

Reina furrowed her brows, “Oh, no.” 

“Oh, yes.” Gojo re-extended his hand dramatically.

“Seriously. I’m good.” she replied firmly.

“Stop torturing yourself and have some fun, Iyashi.” Gojo raised his eyebrows in her direction, he gave her a moment to surrender. When she made no sign of moving he darted out, pulling her quickly upwards by the arm.

Reina squealed at the sudden movement, Gojo managed to raise her into the air in one fell swoop and was now gleefully carrying her over his shoulder towards the ocean. 

Itadori laughed at the sight of Reina beating her fists against Gojo’s back, her legs kicking as the waves sprayed onto her back. 

——————————————————————————————————

The steam curled through the air as Reina stepped onto the damp tile. A droplet of condensation rolling down the mirror as she wiped her hand over the surface, revealing her pink tinged face. 

Her eyes followed the trickle of the water, reminding her briefly of light skin covering a muscled torso. Reina’s imagination drifted to what could be underneath that swimsuit, how easily she could drop to her knees in front of him. How good he would taste. How sweet his moans would sound in her ear.

“Iyashi! I require a kiss goodnight, please!” yelled Gojo through the door, pulling her from the fantasy. Shaking her head softly she wrapped herself in the robe before turning the knob.

Gojo leaned against the bathroom door, a pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips - Reina’s eyes darted to the edge of the fabric before quickly returning to his eyes. 

“In your dreams, Gojo.” she rolled her eyes, striding towards her suitcase. She found herself fighting the urge to turn in his direction if only to have the opportunity to admire his bare torso. 

He sighed dramatically before returning to his room, leaving a noticeable gap as he shut the door behind. She watched as the light dimmed on the other side.

Reina continued to settle down, drying her hair and sorting through her suitcase. Bending over the organized section of clothes she slowly lifted a familiar pink set of intimates. 

The image of Gojo’s outstretched, teasing hand dangling the lace flashed through her mind. Reina squeezed her thighs together unconsciously, biting her lip. Before she lost the courage, she stood abruptly - ripping the robe off and sliding the set on. 

She jumped into the bed and pulled the comforter to her chin. Breathing heavily, the silence filled the room before Reina nearly burst into a fit of giggles at her idiocy. 

She stared at the dark ceiling for what felt like hours - her imagination relentless and unforgiving. Memories turning over of her pushed against the wall of an alley or laid on top of a desk. 

Sliding her fingers along the undercurve of her breasts, Reina mindlessly trailed downwards. She closed her eyes and slowly filled her vision with large, soft hands. 

Tracing slow circles over the pink fabric, echoes of Gojo’s voice replayed softly in her ear. Reina could nearly feel his hot breath on the back of her neck, whispering words that she ached to hear. 

A shudder slid through her body as a finger slipped underneath the fabric, gathering the accumulated wetness before increasing the pace. A small, strangled moan slipped from her lips - Reina froze. 

“Don’t stop,” Gojo stood in the doorway, his hair tousled slightly - illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window.

Reina swallowed hard, heat spreading through her body. Gojo slowly walked to the edge of the bed, his eyes dark as he stared down at her.

“I said, don’t stop,” he repeated. 

She licked her lips, a small bit of hesitance before her fingers started to move again. Gojo reached out a hand, grabbing onto the edge of the comforter and sliding it onto the floor. 

Reina lay bare in front of him, unable to keep her eyes off of his chest as his breathing quickened. He drank in the sight of her, admiring the soft curve of her thighs. She longed for him to reach out - to run his hands along her but he stood still. 

“A little faster, Iyashi,” Gojo said firmly.

Reina hastened, her heart racing as she noted his growing hardness. There was a familiar tightening sensation beginning to build.

As if he could sense it, Gojo swallowed hard before he stated in a low tone, “Look what a good little girl you are.”

“A little faster now,” he slid his own hands along the edge of his sweatpants, “You’re such a good listener.”

A raspy moan slipped from Reina’s mouth, “Oh, fuck.”

“Iyashi, please, I want to hear you,” Gojo cocked his head to the side. He was intent on keeping his hands to himself much to her dismay. 

“Gojo, please,” Reina moaned, the pleasure was riding a tight string - one that she could feel close to snapping.

“Cum for me,” demanded Gojo. 

In an instant, she came undone - writhing against her fingers as Gojo stood over her. 

Knock knock knock.

Reina jumped, her head whipping towards the door. Gojo groaned, extending his hand in her direction. He pulled her from the bed and slid the robe over her before answering the call.

“So help me God, if someone isn’t dying…”

“Too late for that,” Kugisaki stood in the hallway, Itadori behind her - noticeably out of breath. 

Fushiguro leaned against the wall, “How about a dead body in the hotel lobby?”

——————————————————————————————————

chapter seventeen

if you want to be notified when a new chapter is posted

[iliketangerines]

hii, i really like ur writings and i always binge reading your masterlist because they're just that good lol.

and do you still take requests? if you do, can you please do tomas who is a vampire and is soo obsessed over fem!reader?

Idk why, I've always associated tomas with gothic vibes (he just gives me vampire/dracula vibes). so, i can imagine him living on a castle alone as a vampire until one day when he was wandering around he suddenly finds reader who is lost and kidnaps her and put her on a cell? (im sorry if this sounds really weird lol). oh and please make tomas dominant because honestly dom!tomas is soo underrated 😔

im sorry if this doesn't make sense lol and it's okay if you don't want to do it! thanks beforehand :)

the castle in the woods

a/n: this is...also going to have to be a part 2...originally gonna be nice and short and then...um...got a bit carried away. also, i do NOT condone this behavior in real life

pairing: vampire!tomas vrbada x gn!reader

warnings: nonconseual blood drinking :)

you shiver as the rain soaks your clothing and sends chills down to your very bone, and the tree leaves do nothing but make the raindrops fat and wet as they fall onto you

clutching your basket closer to your body, you move forward in the stormy weather, trying to find a semblance of shelter in this godforsaken forest

all you wanted was to pick a nice bouquet of flowers for your mother’s birthday, and you friend had suggested a meadow deep in the woods straight ahead

your friend was right, and you had gotten straight to picking the flowers and then had lost track of time as you fell asleep, only waking up to complete darkness and the first few drops of rain on your cheek

then, in the dark of the night, you couldn’t find where you had entered the meadow and now you were utterly and completely lost, about to catch a sickness at this point

still, you have to find some sort of shelter or else you will die out here, the coldness already settling into your bones as the wind screams around you

crashing into another tree in the complete darkness of the night with no moon in the sky, you fall down to the ground and contemplate giving up

then, a flash of lightning that beams down from the sky, you can see the faint reflection of metal gates in front of you

immediately, you perk up and scramble to your feet, wiping your muddy hands on your soaked cloak, and you walk over to the metal gates as quick as you can

as you get closer you realize just how tall the gates are, towering over you as you push at the gates, and they creak open under the weight of your push

you follow along the path, only guided by occasional flash of lightning, and you can see a castle in the distance, dark and gloomy and looking much older than you or your village

something inside you screams danger, and you can feel pinpricks crawling up your spine as you freeze in your tracks as you continue to stare at the castle

thunder laughs in the sky above, dark and angry, and the rain pours down harder

without any choice, you walk briskly to the castle and arrive there in a few short minutes strangely enough, it looked like a much more hefty walk, one meant to be traveled by horses

it didn’t matter, you used the knocker to pound on the entrance of the door, and it’s only a few seconds when the door opens and the face of a pale man with gray hair reveals himself

you shiver and shake and ask if you can come inside and warm up, just until the rain passes and then you’ll take your leave

the man blinks slow at you, nose wrinkling slightly, and he opens the door further to let you inside, gesturing for you to come in

you thank him profusely, shivering and tracking water into the castle, and he closes the door behind you, the clicks and clanks echoing in the empty and vast entry way

it’s dark and cold in here as well, drier than the outside, but somehow you feel colder in here than in the swirling storm outside

the man walks up next to you and asks you to follow him to the living room, and he pauses before saying that his name is Tomas

you nod and through chattering teeth, you introduce yourself and thank him once more as water droplets fall from your body and onto the marble floors

the entire castle is dark but is certainly kept well with how the marble shines beneath your feet and how the statues gleam in the flashes of lightning through the arching windows

yet, there’s not a single maid or butler in sight, just this strange tall man who carries himself much older than he looks

he reaches a dark room, dust free and rather clean and regal and holds his hand out, and he walks into the darkness, the sound of rocks clacking against each other

but then the fire roars to life, and the room is bathed in a warm light, seemingly the only light in this dark castle

the floor is a deep red lush carpet and by the wall, books are stacked neatly and precisely on the bookshelf that extends to the ceiling

a large wooden desk with a rather fancy looking chair sits near the edge of the room, and you toe off your shoes before stepping into the room as to not dirty the lush carpet with mud

by the warm fire, there’s a set of couches and a table for snacks and drinks, much more expensive than your entire cottage house if you had to guess

Tomas looks to you and gestures you over, and you can see clearly that he’s dressed in sleep wear and slippers, looking rather tired for his age

you walk over and untie your cloak and set it near the fire flat on the ground and apologize quietly for interrupting his sleep

he waves you off and says that he is okay and that he does not feel tired, and he eyes you up and down and says he will be right back with some dry clothes for you

before you can even protest, he’s disappeared, leaving you alone in the firelit room to warm and dry your clothes

you strip off the outermost layer of your clothes and set them by the fire, looking around the room for something to hang the clothing on, but you find none

as you put your hands near the fire, turning them front to back to warm them, you can feel exhaustion start to replace the cold feeling in your body, the adrenaline sputtering out as you sit in front of the fire

putting your hands in your face and squishing it, you wake yourself up and stand up, looking to the bookshelf to your right, and you walk on over and browse the titles

you needed to stay awake, just long enough for the storm to pass or for the man to come back, and you pick out a book that has a nice title

flipping to the first page, you start to read, trying to keep your attention on the book as the fire warms and dries the clothes sitting on your body

the sound of footsteps padding along the carpet tears your attention from the book as you look up to Tomas holding up a set of clean and dry clothing

he hands them to you, raising his eyebrows at the book you were reading, and he asks if you’ve read the book before

you laugh and say no but that you wish you had, the book really is riveting, the small library back at home doesn’t even compare to the quality of the books here

the man laughs and says with an amused smile that you should see the actual library in the castle then, and you gape at him, asking that he had more

he nods but insists on you changing first, or else you’ll catch a cold and a shiver runs down your body again as your wet clothing still sticks to your clothing

taking clothing from his hands, he slightly bows his head and then leaves the room for you to change, and you do so quickly

rubbing at the material between your fingertips, it feels much nicer than anything you’ve ever owned, even your nicest gown, and it’s smooth and thin but completely engulfs you

you pull off your underwear, soaked down to every fiber, and place it near the fire, hopefully inconspicuous enough that he didn’t notice you weren’t wearing underwear

pulling the pants of its neat folded state, they’re much too baggy for you to wear, falling down to your ankles even when you tie the drawstrings

you forgo them, the shirt was baggy enough anyway to cover you to halfway down your thighs, and you spread the rest of your clothes by the fire

Tomas calls from outside the room to ask if he can come in, and you say that he can as you stand up carefully and make sure the shirt covered everything indecent

he steps in and blinks, hands clenching onto the tray of tea in his hands, and you thank him again for giving you shelter and dry clothes, bowing as you do so

waving you off, he says it’s no problem and takes a seat on the lush couch across from you, and he asks you what your thoughts are on the book

his large hands comes up to pour a cup of dark tea, darker than any that you’ve seen before, and he slides it over to where you’ve sitten down

you take the cup gratefully, letting it warm your hands further as you take a sip, and you let the flavor sit on your tongue, unsure of exactly what Tomas had put into the tea

he takes his own sip of the tea, placing a sugar cube into his cup, and you ask what kind of tea this is

it’s red tea from china, dark and red and delicious, he explains and you nod and take another sip, letting the rich taste settle into your stomach and warm you

Tomas repeats his question from before, and you perk up and pick the book up, saying that you’ve only gotten a few chapters in but it’s quite a fun read

he laughs and tells you to read the book and tell him your thoughts as you read, he hasn’t someone to read with in ages, and you quirk an eyebrow at him, asking why he doesn’t have one of his maids or butlers read with him them

looking to the side, he says that he has none, he takes care of the castle and grounds by himself, but he doesn’t mind it at all, it takes up the time 

you press your lips together and nod, how strange that he took care of the whole castle by himself, even in the distance you could tell how vast the building was and the grounds were expansive

he looks to you and flicks his eyes back down to the book, resting in your hands, and you take another sip of your tea and open the book up to read

it’s not like you had any reading buddies back in your own village either, and the thought of having someone to express opinions about a book you both have read excited you

going through the book, you read quietly and listen to the crackle of the flames, adjusting your position on the couch so that you back rested on the armrest and your legs spread along the cushions

thankfully, the shirt was still baggy enough to hide everything, and Tomas sipped on the rest of his tea before standing up and going to pick out his own book to read

the both of you read in silence, and you let the words of the book envelop around you and bring you into their world

the rain continues to pound against the window as the both of you read and every so often you gasp, and he asks what’s happened in the book

it’s a comfortable routine, and you read about the romance of the two characters in the book, talking to each other and arguing about something

very quickly, the book devolves into something much more raunchier, and your face burns as you close the book to take a second to process what you just read

Tomas asks if everything was okay, and you nod and cross your legs, saying that everything was okay, the book had just made a sudden turn

he tilts his head and asks how, and you turn your head to look at him, finding his eyes trailing up the length of your legs before landing on your face once more

you shift in your seat to sit properly again, feet landing on the soft carpet, and you say that you just hadn’t expected the book to delve into more…sexual topics

smiling at you, he just tilts his head, unblinking as he continues to stare at you, eyes flicking downwards, and you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly cold and uncomfortable in the heat of his stare

he seems to notice your discomfort and says that you could skip a few pages ahead, but you would be missing important plot information if you did that

the story had sucked you in unexpectedly, and you did want to know how the story ended

opening the book back in and leaning back into the couch, you start to read where you had left off, trying to not seem so tense as you read about the two characters

you can’t help as you feel arousal pool in your gut, and you cross your legs tightly to try and get rid of some of the tension as you continue to read

your face seems to burn hotter than the fire you sit next to, and you press your lips together as you finally reach the end of the story

there’s a whoosh of air, and you flinch as you find Tomas standing in front of you, leaning over your body and asking if you liked the scene

there’s a sense of dread settling in your bones, and a sense of danger that screams and coils in your gut as he leans in closer, smiling at you

in the gleam of the lightning, you can see his canines glint, long and pointed and how his eyes are a dark red instead of a brown like you had thought

you had walked into a vampire’s home and conversed with a vampire and drank tea with a vampire and now the vampire stood in front of you, smile growing wider as he realizes that you’ve found him out

he laughs, hand planting by your side, and he licks his lips as you tremble in your seat, frozen to your spot as his other hand comes up to grip onto your chin

tilting your chin up, he says that he can hear your heartbeat, can smell the sweet blood running through your veins, can nearly taste your arousal on his tongue

you’re the first human to come to this castle in decades, and he had been so bored, unable to leave the estate, taking care of the same places over and over again

with inhuman strength and speed, everything had just become so easy and boring, but you had walked right into his home, sweet and innocent as a lamb

he thinks he’ll be keeping for a while, his little pet and treat, and before you can even blink he’s moved you, slammed you onto the couch, one thigh in between your legs

the sudden movement makes your head spin, and your hands finally move, scrabbling to hit and scratch him

his hand easily catches yours and pins them above your head, and you squirm and whimper for him to please let you go as he just laughs in your face

he leans in close to your neck, pressing his nose against the flesh, and he breathes in your scent with a deep breath, letting out a contented sigh at the smell

looking back up at you, he says that you’re his now, as long as you’re on his property, you are his and he will play with you as he sees fit

you can’t help it as you start to sob, the weight of the situation settling in as you realize that you will never be able to escape him and that you had become his the second you had saw him

he coos at you, telling you that he won’t hurt you, or at the very least not too much, and that you’ll be well-taken care of

his castle holds everything, gardens with crops, farm animals in the stables outside, fresh water from the wells, a kitchen for cooking all the food, and if you want something, he can get it for you with no problem

you cry out that you want to go home, and Tomas grins at you, saying that you are home now

leaning his head down, his tongue drags along the length of your neck, and he hums at the taste as you whimper and shut your eyes at the feeling

Tomas laughs against your skin as he continues to lick about the length, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses

this time you can’t stop the whimper that leaves your mouth, and he sighs at the sound, mumbling against your skin to stop fighting, that you were going to stay here forever with him and that you would grow more comfortable with the fact if you just stopped struggling

his teeth press against the pulse in your neck, and your breath catches as you start to squirm again, trying to get away from him

he doesn’t care about your struggle and simply presses his weight further into your body, stilling you just long enough for his teeth to break the surface and drink in your blood

you whimper and cry pitifully as he drinks from you, and blood seeps out of his mouth and down your neck slowly

his hands clench tighter onto your wrists as he moans at the taste of your blood, eyes fluttering shut, and it sounds lewd as he continues to drink from you

the sound is wet and loud as he sucks in blood from your neck, drinking and drinking and drinking, and you can feel your head becoming light and see the world start to spin about you

finally he brings his face away from your neck, licking at the last little droplets dripping down his lips, and you can make out through your hazy vision the droplets of blood that have fallen down to his chin

his eyes seem brighter now, red as your blood as you stare at him, and his lips are a deep shade of red as his tongue darts out to wet his lips

you can see how his face has more color in it, how his skin seems to glow and how a flush grows on his cheeks as he continues to stare down at you

he lets go of you, and you leave your wrists above you, body too exhausted to even think about moving and trying to fight against a vampire

he rips at his own sleep shirt, pressing the cloth against your neck to stop the bleeding

your eyes are drooping close and your body feels so heavy as he brings one of your hands down to press against the cloth at your neck

as your eyes finally close, too heavy to stay open, you can feel him kiss your forehead in the haze of sleepiness filling your senses

you wake up to high ceilings and a dark room, only lit by the torch in the corner of the room, and under the comfort of cool dark silk sheets

struggling to sit up, you fight through the dizziness and to observe your surroundings, pulling the covers off of your body and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed

your legs give out from under you immediately, and you fall to the floor, barely catching yourself with your arms as your head violently pounds at your head

there’s a whoosh of air, and you feel strong arms pick you up to deposit you back onto the bed, mumbling that you shouldn’t be up and about so soon

it’s the vampire, Tomas, and you weakly squirm in his arms to try and get away

he sighs at your weak form of protest and simply places you gently onto the bed and pulls the cover back over you, bowing his head slowly and apologizing

it catches you off-guard as he turns his head to the side and awkwardly coughs before continuing, saying that he shouldn’t have taken so much blood

that was what made him apologize, not the fact that he had taken your blood unwillingly, your voice is shrill and much more higher-pitched as you berate him

Tomas says that he’s been starving for years, that no man ever comes by the palace and that he could only drink the blood of the animals he raised in the farm

he was just so desperate for a taste and couldn’t control himself and that perhaps he had gotten a bit carried away with his actions and in words at the prospect of having fresh human blood

licking his lips for just a second, he pauses and says that he doesn’t have to feed for a week now at the very least but that you truly couldn’t leave the grounds anymore and for that, he was sorry

you narrow your eyes at him and ask him what he means by that, and he rubs the back of his neck as he stares at the ground, saying that first you needed to replenish your blood

and that second, he presses his lips together and points at his neck at his own bite marks, and your hand flies up to touch your own neck

there sits two puncture holes that you know his fangs would fit into perfectly, and your mouth gapes open

you would never be able to return, your village was superstitious enough and returning with puncture wounds would seal your death

picking up the closest item next to you, you weakly throw the pillow at him, and it gently poofs at his face before falling onto the floor at his feet

Tomas sighs and picks the pillow up, brushing nonexistent dust off of it and placing it back on the bed next to you, and he says that it really isn’t all that bad

he hadn’t turned you into one of his spawn, so you would still be able to traverse in the sunlight and take walks out in the warmth of the light, explaining as he sits on the edge of the bed

pressing his lips together, the vampire apologizes, saying that he had gotten a bit too excited when you had come up to his castle, willingly, and had been so…unassuming

it had been so long since he had fresh human blood to invigorate him, he shouldn’t have drinken from you, and now you were stuck with him until you died

the reminder of your position makes you hang your head low and tears well in your eyes as you hands grip on tighter to the sheets

he gives you a mournful look and stands up from the edge of the bed and says he’ll give you some time to process everything and when you’re ready to find him

as he leaves, he pauses by the door and says that if you need anything, just ring the bell by the door and he’ll get you whatever you desire

and with that, the door closes behind you, and you’re left alone with your thoughts and your tears

[talesofesther]

constellations

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You give Sam a bit of calmness amidst the storm.

Requested by anon

A/N: Sam deserves the world and I'd happily give it to her.

Masterlist

Prime suspect Samantha Carpenter.

That was the headline displayed on the TV as the reporter blamed Sam for the recent Ghostface attacks.

Lies. They were all lies, and because of those bullshit rumors. It made your blood boil. You know it was the same feeling for the rest of your friends; the living room was quiet as the reporter's voice echoed through. There was an instant heaviness to the air.

Sam picked up the remote and pressed the 'mute' button, before hurrying off to her bedroom.

No one seemed to know quite what to do. The silence was deafening and you felt the eyes of everyone slowly settling on you.

As much as you two might try to keep it on the low, it was no secret anymore that you and Sam had become rather close these past months. Labels were a bit of a stretch, none of you quite ready for it yet. Still, whenever Sam walked back into the dorm she hoped to find you there; she always chose the chair next to yours on the table; and sometimes you'd catch her staring at you, but then again, she also always caught you staring back.

You felt your cheeks burning, maybe the secret was never a secret after all. "I got it," you mumbled under your breath before following the path Sam set.

The door to her room was left ajar, almost as if wanting you to come after her. You held onto your breath when you slowly pushed it open further.

Sam had her back to you, she was looking out her window at the night sky. The cold wind from outside caught onto the wet tracks down her cheeks.

You closed the door behind you and walked up to her. You knew she knew it was you; because she didn't turn around, she didn't talk, she didn't move a muscle. Not until one of your hands touched her waist, nimble fingers barely grazing the fabric of her shirt were enough to send a shiver up and down her body and get her shoulders tensing slightly.

Part of you lived only for these moments. You brought both hands around Sam's waist, hugging her closer and pressing her back to your chest; she was always so warm, each curve of her body fitting with yours as if you were part of the same constellation, bound to always be linked; you felt how Sam found your hand with hers, messily intertwining your fingers at the same time your lips met the skin on her shoulder. Just you and her.

No words were needed for a few moments. You were content to exist in each other's presence.

Eventually, Sam turned around in your embrace, her eyes were downcast; as if shame tugged at her heartstrings for things she didn't do.

You tried to find her eyes and brought a hand up to rest against her cheek. The pad of your thumb found a teardrop there, and one more soon followed the same path. You brushed them away with all the tenderness you knew she deserved.

"None of it is true," you breathed, "we all know it."

With the ghost of a movement, Sam leaned forward. The plea was barely there but you've been getting good at reading her. You met her halfway for a chaste kiss, your lips soft against her slightly chapped ones.

She pulled away with a gulp, her tongue running over her bottom lip to try and capture the feeling of you. "Still, it sucks being this hated."

You'd never heard her voice quite this broken, this vulnerable. Her dark eyes were shining with the cheap light of her bedroom, a little red-rimmed yet still the most gentle you've ever seen.

How anyone could ever see her as a bad person was beyond you.

Her hair was silky between your fingers when you pushed it behind her ear. "Lay down with me?"

There was an adorable furrow to Sam's eyebrows and you wanted to trap this moment like a spider in a glass.

"We'll figure out the details later." You promised.

It was all that was needed, maybe all she'd been wanting all along, because Sam melted in your hold; her body mostly laying on top of yours as you snuggled in her bed. Her arms came around your waist in a hold so strong that almost constricted your breathing. But you didn't comment on it.

Sam's cheek was resting just above your heart, and the steady beating was sure to lull her to sleep in no time.

Your fingers buried themselves between her hair as you'd occasionally press a kiss to her forehead.

It was the calmness amidst the storm and there were three words stuck in Sam's throat. Because there you were, tangled up in all her broken pieces, and all you wanted to do was stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[abibliophobiaa]

For a little Eddie blurb, the word of choice is lake.

700 words of soft eddie comfort after a heartbreak coming right up. mention: you wear eddie’s shirt.

best friend (maybe more one day) eddie munson x fem!reader.

-

He found you at the lake. Hair only partially dried, one of his ratty old Hellfire tees draped over your ripped shorts, sandals tossed haphazardly beside your hip. Saw your feet where they dangled over the dock. Toes dipped into water up to the ankles.

Your shoulders were slouched, arms folded around yourself.

And his heart ached, the deep kind that burned in his gut, made him angry because he knew you were hurting. For weeks you’d talked about the guy you were seeing. Someone you met at a coffee shop, a nice guy, the kind you’d had these little hearts in your eyes for that would appear whenever you talked about them.

Until he wasn’t a nice guy. Until he stood you up. Left you by yourself at Enzo’s. A girl in a dress, with nothing but love to give to someone who never earned it to begin with. A girl who loved those around her and never expected anything back, but damn it, Eddie thought you deserved the world.

That guy hadn’t been worthy to know you, clearly. Because anyone who knew you would be able to see that a heart such as yours, with a love so deep it couldn’t be contained, should be celebrated. Appreciated. Tended to, coaxed out into the light, given the space to grow.

Eddie hated him without even knowing him. Wanted to kick his ass into another dimension, but pushed that longing aside to seek you out. To try and remind you that the things people often foolishly overlooked were the things that he loved most about you. Wanted to love you back into the light in the only way he knew how.

The only way he could.

“Knew I’d find you here,” he said, Reebok-covered feet kicking at a rock before he’d settled down beside you. “I always come here too when I need to get away.”

You said nothing, and that was fine. His fingers tapped along the wooden beams below. Tugged at the fraying hem of the shirt falling over your thigh. Still water-logged and see through from the drenched swimsuit beneath.

“Went for a swim?” He asked, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

Eyes squinted against those harsh summer rays. Warmth seeped into his black tee, but he’d endure the elements if it meant seeing even the barest hint of a smile across your lips.

“I needed to clear my head,” you murmured softly, voice thick and hoarse with unshed tears. He heard the sniffle that followed. The shaky exhale.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He turned his head to look at you. Watched in agony at the way your face crumpled. At the further hunch of your shoulders. His fingers curled around your kneecap. Shifted you just enough to draw your attention to his face. He tried the question again, and you shook your head. Brushed at your eyes as if he hadn’t seen the glimmer of tears on your sun-warmed cheeks.

“Do you want me to hold you?”

You nodded, and like he often did when you were sad, tired, or afraid, he hiked your thighs over his lap. Curled a hand around the bends of your knees and tugged you closer. Your body sagged against his chest, your side against his front, arms around his waist.

“He’s an asshole, you know?” He whispered against your hair. Felt your forehead dip further into the space beneath his jaw. “Anyone who knows you knows your heart. And anyone who would want to break that doesn’t deserve your time.”

You burrowed closer, arms winding tighter, knees curling into his abdomen.

“You know I love you, right? All of you. Even the parts you think people would hate. I see them all and I wouldn’t trade them for anything,” he explained, tucking your head closer to his chest. “You know why?”

You inhaled shakily. “Why?”

“Because they make you you,” he whispered, feeling you smile against his skin. “And I think you’re pretty fucking great.”

You remained silent for a while, and he’d allow it for however long you needed, for however long you wanted. He’d hold you forever if you asked him to. But you exhaled and fisted his shirt in your hand, tipped your head back a bit, and beamed.

And his heart splintered, because you were like literal sunshine to him.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

-

-