#ravenous reach goes on way too long

[mailperson]

DD2 gets really fun once you’ve upgraded the altar of hope enough times to regularly have standing chance and also pretend that most of the confession bosses or leviathan don’t exist

[uhohdad]

Just a little idea, loser Konig at the beach with reader who is torturing him in the best way (sun screen/ice cream), your work is so so good! Take all the rest/time you need, art/smut this good takes time!

(18+) Beach Day with Loser!König

☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ

Loser!König purposely misses when he swipes for the glob of sunscreen you pointed out on his cheek. He’ll play dumb until you take matters into your own hands, leaning forward to smear it in for him while he peers down your swimsuit. His eyes flutter shut as you touch him so intimately, touch him the way a lover would touch him, cupping his stubbled jaw with your thumb massaging circles into his cheek. When you pull away, he’s more than disappointed, having used this moment to play out a fantasy where you held his jaw steady to plant a kiss on his lips.

Loser!Konig is bright red, and while you assume he’s getting sunburnt, it’s actually because he is more than flustered by your swimsuit. He can’t help the way his eyes are lingering on all of the new skin covered only by dainty straps. The perfect, plush thighs he wants to rest his head on. Soft shoulders and pretty collarbones and cleavage on display for anyone to ogle. He’s memorizing your body to take home with him.

Loser!Konig who can’t keep his eyes off you as you work an ice cream cone, scarfing it down with a greedy tongue before the searing sun turns it to a puddle. He won’t so much as blink, imaging you’re using your flat tongue to lick stripes up his cock instead, sand sticking to your shins and knees as you pleasure him in front of the entire beach right here right now.

Loser!Konig who has to set a folded towel over his lap even though it’s an ungodly hot day, because he’s been straining against the net in his swimtrunks since you stripped down to your bathing suit.

Loser!König who has to bite back a needy whine when you grab a handful of ice from the cooler and rub it on your skin to cool off. His half-lidded, ravenous eyes glued to the melted droplets tracing your curves as they glide down your body. When you let out a breathy, relieved sigh, he swears you’re doing this to him on purpose.

Loser!Konig who chokes on his own spit when you ask him to lather sunscreen on your back after you gave up awkwardly contorting your arms to reach. His breaths are shallow and hands trembling as he watches you pull your hair out of the way. When you slip the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders, his mouth goes dry. From where he’s standing, you might as well be naked from the middle up.

Loser!König who’s pleading with his fingers to steady as he pops the cap to the sunscreen. He doesn’t even bother warming the lotion between his fingers because he’s too eager to get his hands on your glowing, sun-kissed skin. He sucks in a sharp breath as you shudder under his touch. He’s painfully hard and praying you won’t notice as he smooths the sunscreen over you. He goes slow, hoping to stretch a task that should only take a few seconds for as long as he could. Your shoulders are so smooth and soft under his coarse, hardened hands. When he slides down your sides, he pretends that he’s filling you up from behind, gripping on to your core to keep you steady as he pounds into your pretty cunt. He’s breathing so heavily, his heart slamming against his ribcage as he smooths circles over your skin. His cock is throbbing in his shorts, a shiny glint of arousal already forming at the tip.

Loser!Konig who has to sneak off to the filthy boardwalk bathrooms to relieve his aching cock, rutting into his hand and stifling his breathy moans and grunts by biting his lip so hard it nearly bleeds. The show you gave him had him practically on edge, and it takes less than a minute before he’s choking on your name as he coats his hands in his generous, pent-up finish.

☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ ☀︎ ･ ｡ﾟ

loser!könig

[the-fiction-witch]

Bracken Bunny P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Davos Blackwood Couple - Davos X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Bracken Rating - Smut (Non-Con) Word Count - 1900

Requested -

More please! Lowkey (highkey) into part 2! Would you consider it? I absolutely loved this Please part 2 Can we please get a part 2 of Bracken bunny?? I need to read what happens next 😫 MORE DAVOS PLEASE In desperate need of a part two for bracken bunny! So devious and wild

I contorted and writhed desperately trying to get myself out of his grasp. But Davos kept his hand locked around my upper arm leaving me with no choice but to walk with him. Often I tried to adjust myself slightly and to turn us around in circles but it never lasted long as he soon saw we were off-path and adjusted us back the way we needed to go. I screamed, swore and cursed his name a thousand times but it came out as nothing but muffled and mumbled grumbles from under the gag. If ever I tried to scream too loudly or draw attention to myself he would slap me hard on the ass to force my silence.

Finally, I saw it, Raventree Hall, The tall hall stood with ancient stone walls covered in climbing earthy moss, Large Square towers and a deep stone-lined moat.

I knew once I was inside it was too late, there would be little chance for my escape. And I hardly had hope of Davos letting me go, I used almost every last bit of my strength to try and get out of his grip but he forced me to the drawbridge, the only way across the deep moat.

“Who goes there?” A voice called out from the gate,

“It’s me you fuckwit!” Davos yelled,

“Ohh- Sorry- Who’s that with you?”

He chuckled, “Just a little bunny I found out hunting,” he purred, “Open the damn Gate!”

The thick wooden bridge slowly lowered revealing a well-kept courtyard, Davos dragged me inside with him walking me through the courtyard making sure no one saw my face.

The courtyard was busy with people. Many came and went from farming the various fertile lands House Blackwood owned, Blacksmiths working to make more and more weapons, and soldiers training and preparing. All ready for a battle at a moment’s notice, Likely a battle with my family.

He forced me inside the keep itself. The walls were tall and dark with a muddy smell to the air, and the timber rooms of the keep seemed cavernous and expansive with large dark oak beams high above it all. The walls were adorned with wollen tapestries, every piece of wood had intricate carvings, every door a detailed latticework, and each window had panes of diamond-shaped glass.

He forced me up through the Keep’s corridors until we reached a room, with stone walls lined with dark oak beams, a wooden floor, a stone fireplace in the corner, and a wooden bed lined with woven wool blankets with a window to the godswood above it.

I was thankful it wasn’t a prison cell, but fearful to be in his chambers.

He tossed my body onto the bed without care and locked the door behind him.

Davos came over to the bed leaving his weapons by the door, he pulled down the cloak and rested his finger in front of my nose. “You are not going to scream. You are not going to yell. I will remove the gag but you will not make a single sound. Do you understand me my little Bracken Bunny?”

I sighed knowing I didn’t have a choice, if I screamed the rest of his Blackwood family would come and I’d end up locked in a cell, or dead… or worse. So I nodded,

He smirked licking his bottom lip, “That’s a good girl,” He slowly untied the ribbon,

I quickly caught my breath staring into his dark brown eyes,

He grabbed my jaw hard, “I didn’t hear a thank you?”

“Thank you.” I spat,

“Humm that's a good little bracken bunny,” He smirked letting me go,

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked trying not to let my fear seep through,

He chuckled, “I am going to send a raven to your father, and we’re going to find out just how much Lord Bracken values his precious little daughter.” He growled, “You, my little bunny are going to stay here with me,” He crawled over me pinning my hips to his bed, “And we are going to have a lot of fun.” He stroked some hair from my face, “I am going to put a price on every little inch of you little bunny, your hair, your skin, your … maidenhead. All of it will have a price that your father is going to have to pay if he wants left intact.”

I tried to squirm out of his grip but he was far too strong, “My father would bring his army and burn Raventree Hall to the ground,”

“Oh, would he? Shall we find out how much he values you? Exactly how much he values? Down to the gold dragon?” he smirked forcing up my dress,

I squealed but he clamped a hand over my mouth,

“Quiet my little bracken bunny,” He growled licking my cheek,

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered,

“Don’t I?” He growled forcing me over onto my stomach pushing my head into the pillow and my feet on the floor so I’m bent over his bed. He forced my dress up to my waist exposing me completely to him,

I whined in humiliation at being so exposed, I kicked my feet trying to keep him away but he grabbed my ankles and forced my feet to the floor,

“Umm… such a cutie, “Humm… I best prep the raven now, I don’t know how long I can look at this cute little ass without ravishing it,” He growled his hands stroking my ass and digging his nails in as he forced my cheeks apart as far as they would go,

I squealed against the pillow in pain as he kept me like this for a solid minute making sure he got a good look at me, “If you do anything to me… It’ll start a war.”

“Will it?” he smirked, “Now that will be a war worthy of a song,” He growled slapping my ass hard,

“Ahh!” I complained,

“Ohh yeah do that again,” He growled slapping me again,

“Ahhh! Stop!” I pleaded,

He forced me up again by my hair and cut my hands loose with his knife,

I immediately went to hit him but he grabbed my hands and forced my wrists into chains that he attached to the bedpost of his bed, he chuckled slyly as he waved his knife around me and paced the half circle around me before he pressed the blade to my stomach,

“I think I have been very merciful, I could gut you, From cunt to cranium if I wanted to.” He growled, “But I have been very merciful, and I feel very reasonable. You are my prisoner, and you have my word that I will only harm what your family doesn’t pay to protect, So be a good little bunny and behave or your father gets a head arriving home to Stone Hedge,” He smirked cutting my dress and forcing it off me leaving me naked and utterly at his mercy, “Fuck… look at you,” He chuckled pacing around me once more, “I am gonna enjoy every last moment of this,” He growled in my ear, as his hands gripped me one on my hip and the other between my legs as he loomed behind me pressing his chest against my back,

“Ahh!” I squealed as he touched me so aggressively with no way of stopping him,

He chuckled lowly, “You are such a pretty little bunny,” he began to roughly hold my mound with his palm, his fingers slid over my lips,

“Let me go. Stop this! You gave me your word!”

“I gave you my word that I wouldn’t harm anything your family pays to protect. So… I won’t cut your hair if they pay for it, I won’t break your fingers if they pay for it, I won’t… deflower you if they pay for it.” He growled his finger circling my entrance, “But this,” He purred pushing two of his fingers inside me,

“Ahhhhh!” I screamed,

“This is fair game little bunny,” he purred,

“Stop! Please!” I begged,

“Ohh you sound so cute when you beg,” He chuckled moving his fingers fast and hard moving them in and out with no mercy for me at all, “Where’s that cute little thing threatening me in the field?”

“You gave me-”

“I said no harm, all I’m doing is having fun with you.” He smirked, “And we are going to have so very much fun the next few days… or weeks… or months. However long till your family pays up to get you back,” He smirked his hand moving off my hip and coming around to rub my clit mercilessly,

“Ahhhhhh Please stop!” I screamed my legs already shaking as he worked, standing behind me one hand thrusting his fingers at a merciless pace, the other hand rubbing my clit,

“I’m not stopping till you cum,” He growled nibbling my neck, “Ohh yeah I can feel you trembling, I can feel how wet you are, I know your gonna cum, and I’m gonna force it out of you whether you want to or not. So… Come on my little bracken bunny cum for me.”

I squealed and screamed trying not to hold back but he moved so fast and so hard I didn’t really have a choice, my body responding to the stimulation even if I didn’t want it to, I knew I was close and I tried everything to keep it back and stop it from happening not wanting to give him the satisfaction, of my satisfaction.

“You’re going to be good while you’re here, aren’t you? You’re going to behave, and be a good little bunny for me? Let me touch you and play with you?” He growled as he gave my neck a hickey,

“..Okay,” I whined, knowing I was close and there was nothing I could do to stop it,

“What was that?” he purred,

“Okay!” I yelped in frustration,

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll behave.”

“Say it,”

“What!”

“Say. It.”

“I will behave,” I said through gritted teeth my knees almost buckling as my hips and legs trembled,

“Properly bunny,”

“I promise I will behave,”

“Almost… little more,”

“Uhhhhh please stop!” I screamed clenching around his fingers trying not to drip down his hands even if it was already too late for that,

“Come on, you can do it,” He growled, “Say it. Properly.”

“I promise I will behave lord blackwood,” I screamed,

But before he could say anything I hit my orgasm, screaming out as my body was flooded with pleasure, my toes curling against the wooden floor.

He chuckled as he watched me, slowing his fingers and letting me ride it out until I was nothing but a gasping mess in his arms, “Good little Bracken Bunny,” He cooed kissing my cheek, “You did so good,” He purred his fingers slow but they hadn’t stopped,

“Please I-” I gasped as his nonstop rubbing and thrusting was sending my body into overstimulation,

“And as for war my little pet bunny,” He smirked thrusting his fingers hard and fast inside me faster than he ever had made me scream for mercy, “I would go to war for this cunt. A Thousand times over.” Before he pulled them out leaving me to gasp, “Get some rest, I’ll go send the raven.” He smirked licking his fingers clean,

“Yes my lord blackwood,” I gasped,

“Good girl,” He smiled giving my lips a kiss, “Such a good little bracken bunny,” He smirked before he left the room shutting and locking the door behind him. 

[ailawritesfics]

✎cw: 18+ minors dni, voyeurism(shigaraki watches), unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism(dabi leaves the door open), fem bodied reader

Thinking about Dabi fucking you in Shigaraki's room.

And he does it just to spite Shigaraki.

You've both just returned after a long day of finishing grueling tasks assigned by the man whose room you're about to ruin, pushing past the others and stepping into the closest bedroom. Dabi's lips are on yours, rough hands already on your body as he guides you inside, neglecting to shut the door in his haste to have you, to embrace you.

You could barely breathe in between his kisses, and in the corner of your eyes you see the chipped wooden door left ajar but you're too far in the room to reach it. You know Dabi left it open on purpose. You know he brought you to Shigaraki's room on purpose, too, but right now you were too fueled by your desire to care.

The back of your legs hit the mattress, and you cling to him when he lays you on the bed. Holding you close to him, bodies pressing against each other as his lips press on yours again and again, desperate for each other's touch. You rake your fingers over his scalp and wrap your other arm around his neck, pressing deeper into the kiss.

He groans at the feeling of your hands on his body, and in the way your lips moved in sync with his. The weight of his body keeps you in place, and as he pulls back, you stare at each other for a moment, panting heavily.

You can feel his breath on your face, and the way his eyes stare into your own, a telepathic way of expressing his desires, and it sends shivers down your spine. In the way he looks at you, drinking in your similarly flushed expression, he almost looks desperate.

Dabi leans down to press his lips on your jaw, lingering a few seconds too long, hips deliciously grinding against yours, eliciting a moan from you at the feeling of his bulge rubbing over your clothed cunt.

"This is Shigaraki's room," You breathe out while your fingers thread through his hair, tilting your head to the side, eyeing the haphazardly displayed figurines and alarming amount of knock-off merch perched on shelves and drawers and the two screen monitor by the corner.

Shigaraki's room was as familiar to you as your own by now, you've nearly memorized which standee goes where and who it stands next to and it's all because of how much Dabi loves to bring you to the boss' room and fuck you dumb on the unmade bed.

"He'll scold us if he finds us in here again.”

Dabi's response is a chuckle, not really caring about the consequences.

"Let him. I don't care," He plants a kiss on the corner of your lips, smirking while he drags his hand down to your hips. "Besides, when has his scolding ever stopped us?”

His lips are on yours once more, kissing you once, then twice, tasting the flavor of your favorite lip gloss. His hands tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, tossing the article of clothing to a corner of the room alongside his own shirt.

Soon the raven was fiddling with your lower garments, trying to tug it off you.

“Someone's in a rush.” You tease him, lifting your hips just enough to help him take off the rest of your clothes, leaving you in only your bra.

“You've been teasing me all day, doll. You're lucky I didn't drag you down an alley and fucked you there on a dumpster.” Dabi unbuckles his belt, tossing it aside. Cerulean eyes rake over your body, enjoying the view all while his hands slowly drag down your abdomen, moving lower and lower.

A moan slips past your lips when he pushes two fingers into you, and his thumb draws circles on your clit.

“Just fuck me already.”

Shigaraki immediately knew what was happening when he saw the door to his room left ajar. For the third time this week you and Dabi have once again found yourselves in his room to fuck and he's almost had it with the two of you. Approaching the door with heavy footsteps and a goal in mind to scold the two of you, his hand halts on the knob when he hears your moans accompanied by the rhythmic sound of skin slapping and the sound of his bed frame creaking and hitting the wall.

Peeking through the gap, he sucks in a breath seeing the sight before him. Your body laid on his bed while Dabi thrusts into you roughly, he had to wipe the drool on the corner of his lips, wishing he was the one in the burnt man’s place. He can feel himself straining in his pants, mentally scolding himself for how his body is reacting.

He had tried to keep the two of you busy and occupied with completing missions but you both still somehow find yourselves fucking in his room upon returning to the hideout.

With a shout of your names, he shoves the door open with a scowl. "You two have your own room. Stop fucking in mine.”

[ateezlibrary]

im going thru a major seonghwa brainrot and i just want a fic of him teasing her gf throughout a party and he takes her home mid function and edges her manhandles her leading to overstimulation ( he has a sir kink )

This is like my 2nd or 3rd time ever requesting an author so plz dont judge me i dont know how this works😭

coming undone. (seonghwa x reader)

summary: a silly little bet goes a little too far, causing a certain someone to go back on his bargain.

genre: pure smut (nsfw, mdni) (tw: sexual content, overstimulation)

word count: 2,714

the way that i just laughed at this request for the chaotic panicking lol as long as you don’t judge me for being a little rusty in my smut writing!

“Another round, my love?” you call over your shoulder as you stroll into the kitchen, peering into the fridge for the tonic water. Like clockwork, you reach for the handle of gin on the counter and mix yourself another drink. Yeosang rounds the corner to meet you, outstretching his hand with his solo cup prepared.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you laugh, measuring his mixture haphazardly before clinking your own cup against his. The familiar taste of ripe juniper berries meets your tongue, the alcohol warming your throat with its familiar burning sensation. From the living room, Hongjoong is fiddling with the playlist, save for when he circles the room to rearrange a pillow or put aside someone’s shoes.

“Is there a reason you’ve been staring at Hongjoong that I’m unaware of?” Yeosang teases, leaning against the wall beside the kitchen as he glances at you in amusement.

“I am not!” you retort, knocking back the rest of your drink before setting the cup down to mix another—only this time, it wasn’t for you. “He just looks like he needs a drink, is all.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Yeosang chuckles, rolling his eyes. He glances at the crowd exchanging lighters on the balcony with a nod in your direction. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

The playlist changes to its next track and the mood of the room shifts near instantly, settling into the smooth R&B beat that thrums against the walls. You sway as you walk, mouthing the lyrics as you snake through the crowd to the far end of the room where Hongjoong was perched beside the speakers.

“One gin and tonic,” you lilt, offering him the drink in your hands. He takes it with a soft chuckle under his breath, tilting his head back as the alcohol slid down his throat. You observe his neck hungrily, lips parted as you lean against the wall beside him.

“Think I’m doing the party justice?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear so you could hear him above the music. He gestures to the speakers, though you barely register anything beyond the shudder down your spine.

“Absolutely,” you reply, reaching for his drink and taking a swig yourself. You’re about to continue bantering with him when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something particularly interesting.

You watch as Seonghwa, clad in his all-black outfit you’d helped him pick out, stood beside a notably attractive guest of the night. Her long raven hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, her outfit a near twin to his. Her makeup compliments her features incredibly, smudges of dark eyeliner and a glossed lip. Seonghwa whispers something to her that causes her to throw her head back in a fit of laughter.

She rests a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head at whatever he could have possibly said. He gestures to her drink, seeming to offer her a refill before heading to the kitchen himself. You scoff at the sight, turning back to Hongjoong with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“You look fine as hell tonight,” Hongjoong comments, a lazy grin etched across his face as he takes another sip of his drink. You couldn’t tell if it was the jealousy nipping at your stomach, the warmth of the alcohol, or just sheer attraction to Hongjoong in the moment that was warming your face in response. “Trying to impress someone?”

“Hoping that it’s you?” you tease, your eyes trailing down his figure as you laugh.

“So what if I am?” He inches closer, turning his body so he’s hovering just above yours where you lean against the wall. Over Hongjoong’s shoulder, you meet Seonghwa’s eyes as he’s returning to the living room with drinks in hand for him and his plaything.

His gaze darkened as he pressed his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head as he returned to the girl waiting on her drink. Seonghwa drapes an arm around her waist, pulling her closer against his side as they resume their conversation. 

“Do I get something in return for looking ‘fine as hell tonight’?” you poke at Hongjoong, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His breath hitches, fingertips ghosting down your sides and coming to rest at your waist in a tight grip. You hum under your breath at his touch, shifting your gaze to Seonghwa’s eyes that were now deadlocked on every move Hongjoong made.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“What do you want, princess?” Hongjoong asks in a low voice, one that would have had you melting in his arms before Seonghwa sifts through the crowd and pulls you away from him by your arm. You gasp in surprise, not looking back as he drags you with him towards the bathroom.

Finding a seat on top of the counter, you watch as Seonghwa hurriedly locks the door before turning to you. He settles between your legs, shoving them apart forcefully and pulling you close so that you were flush against his chest.

“I don’t want to play that game anymore,” he growls, one of his hands snaking up to your hair and pulling it back roughly so that you were forced to look at him. A laugh slips past your lips, though it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the heat that crept towards your core at the way he was behaving.

“We haven’t even gotten into it yet,” you retort breathlessly with a greedy smile on your face. “And, this was your suggestion.”

A silly little wager. Seonghwa swore up and down before you’d left for the party tonight that he was not, nor would he ever be, the jealous type. You agreed, doubling down on your own belief that you weren’t the jealous type, either. Given how new your relationship was, you hadn’t had time to share the news with your friends—making tonight’s party the perfect scenario to test one another.

Though, it seems as though Seonghwa failed miserably.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he chuckles, his grip tightening on your hair as you let out an involuntary moan. “Playing with Hongjoong in front of me like that.”

“Oh, so we are the jealous type now?”

Seonghwa laughs again darkly, releasing his grip on your hair and sliding his hand down to wrap his fingers around your neck. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours as he whispers against them.

“So, you’d let Hongjoong fuck you tonight if I hadn’t stopped you?”

“No,” you answer, shuddering at the way he bites your bottom lip. You move to close your legs for some sort of friction to ease the nerves pricking at your core. Seonghwa notices what you’re doing, pressing your legs further apart with his in response.

“No, what?” he snarls, and you know what he’s expecting.

“No, sir.”

Seonghwa groans against your mouth before yanking you off of the counter and turning you to face the mirror in one swift motion. Neither of you had bothered to turn on the lights, your eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight filtered through the bathroom window. He held a hand to the nape of your neck, the other pressed into your waist so that you could feel every inch of him against your back.

“And you want me to fuck you tonight?” he asks, his voice a strained whisper against your ear. You say nothing in response, earning fingers pressed deeper into your waist. “Unravel you like the pretty little slut you are?”

“I—I,” you stutter between deep breaths, meeting his hungry gaze in the mirror with a moan.

“Use your words, babygirl.” He hikes up the satin fabric of your skirt, dancing a hand across your thigh dangerously close to your core.

“I need you to fuck me tonight,” you practically beg, feeling the way his length hardens against you at the way you whined for him. “Please.”

Without warning, he lets you go and moves to unlock the door.

“Let’s get going, then.”

* *

The two of you left the party in a flurry of hasty goodbyes, messy kisses in the elevator, and a car ride home with Seonghwa’s hand rested firmly on the inside of your thigh. You took not more than two steps into your shared apartment before he kicked the door shut behind him, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head against the entryway wall.

His lips meet yours hungrily, the two of you a tangled, moaning mess. You fight against his grip, desperate to run your hands through his raven hair. He only grabs your wrists tighter, trailing kisses down your neck before biting down on your collarbone. You moan wantonly, arching your back to beg for more of his touch when he pulls away with a haughty laugh.

“Fuck, you sound so delicious,” he groans, almost immediately slipping his hand up your skirt and pressing his fingers against the soaked fabric of your underwear. “And you already feel even better.”

“Please,” you whisper, and he begins to brush over your clit in slow, tantalizing circles.

“Will you be a good girl and get my fingers wet for me?” Seonghwa asks, his own voice low as he begins to tug at the edge of your underwear expectantly. His eyes are hooded with lust, hair disheveled, and yet, you’ve never found him more attractive.

“Yes, sir,” you manage to get out before he plunges a finger into you. He falls into a steady rhythm, trailing his tongue back along your neck and biting down on your earlobe with another groan beneath his breath. Your stomach is in knots as you rock your hips against his hand, gripping on his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs grow weak.

“Please, don’t stop,” you beg breathlessly, dropping your head back against the wall with another series of moans. Seonghwa quickens his pace, slipping another finger into you and curling them against your walls. You whine at the sensitive touch, bucking your hips in approval. Your chest heaves as your breath is caught in the back of your throat, your core tightening as you feel your orgasm creeping beneath your skin.

“I-I’m going to—”

And out are Seonghwa’s fingers.

“What the fuck?” you snap, eyes wide as you stare at him angrily. He scoffs, licking the taste of you off of his fingers with a sly grin. You were seeing red, and for no good reason. You were close. So, so close.

Without an answer, he lifts you from behind your thighs so that your legs wrapped around his waist and carried you to the dining table. Pulling your skirt and underwear off, he pries your legs apart and stares down at you with a newfound lust in his eyes.

“Touch yourself.”

The command is so simple and so intense all at once. Your cheeks flush as you meet his eyes, the way he devoured every inch of your body on that table without so much as touching you. On one hand, you were tempted to push his buttons and tease him enough that he’d take you then and there.

On the other, you really wanted to come as soon as possible.

Biting at your bottom lip, you slip a hand between your legs and begin to rub against your clit in the same slow circles he was doing not long before. You notice the way his jeans tighten at his bulge, his cock twitching at the sight of you. He settles into one of the dining chairs, a front-row seat to the show you put on for him.

“Such a little slut for attention,” he purrs, pupils dilated as you slip a finger between your folds. You moan at his comment, pumping your finger quicker than before. He pulls you by your thighs so that his mouth is right at your entrance, suddenly moving your hands so that he can slip his tongue into you instead. The sudden shift urges you to arch your back, a drawn-out sigh escaping you.

The wave begins to rise more quickly this time, a response to not being able to come just moments earlier. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, the pressure building in your stomach as you’re about to warn Seonghwa.

And, like clockwork, he pulls away again.

“Seriously?” you bark as you sit up in disbelief. He grabs your chin, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip as he arches a brow.

“I’m still not convinced you want me to fuck you,” he remarks coolly, though the shakiness in his voice proves to you that he’s not far from coming undone himself. You pant desperately, beyond frustrated that two chances to find release slipped right past you.

“Please? Please make me come, I’ll beg as much as you want.” You inch towards the edge of the table again, grabbing desperately at the fabric of his shirt. On a good day, begging this much to be fucked felt beneath you—but after coming so close only to have it ripped away, you felt willing to do anything. “I’ll be as loud as you want, just don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” Seonghwa growls again, unfastening his pants and hooking his arms behind your legs as he positions himself at your entrance. He shoves himself into you, falling into a steady rhythm as he rocks his hips against yours. Your toes curl at the pleasure gnawing at your core, the way he hits the right spot with every move.

Pulling your legs over his shoulders, he angles himself to thrust even deeper into you. The sensation causes you to moan even louder, throwing your head back as you writhed against his touch. You could hear the way he was struggling to contain himself, his breathing fast and shallow.

“Look at me when you come,” he commands breathlessly, fisting your hair in his hand and forcing you to crane your neck to meet his eyes. You could barely keep focus as you felt your orgasm rising at the pit of your stomach, gnawing at your walls and at every thrust he made into you. With one final gasp, you shudder as the orgasm rocked your body and forced you to come undone all over his cock.

Your chest heaved as you fought to catch your breath when you realized—Seonghwa wasn’t slowing down.

“I still haven’t come.” An intoxicated smirk dances across his lips as you watch the way he puts himself into every thrust into you. You clench around him tightly, panting at the added sensation that came from your nerves falling apart.

“Ah, fuck—!” You nearly scream at the sensation, the way he continued to bury himself deep within you even though you were far beyond your breaking point. “S-Seonghwa, I can’t—I—”

“You can take more, babygirl,” he pants, pushing you over the edge just as he did before. The second orgasm shatters every last nerve inside of you, your legs weak and your core nearly numb from the overdose of pleasure.

“Please—fuck!” You finally let out a guttural scream, shuddering as Seonghwa rubs tight circles against your clit. Swollen and throbbing from the release, yet still somehow so responsive. You jerk your hips erratically against his touch, feeling his pace grow unsteady as he finally succumbed to his release.

He slides your legs off of his shoulders, chest heaving as he helps you to sit up and steady yourself. You’re shaking and completely undone, yet somehow more satisfied than ever.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, scanning you for any signs of regret or that he’d done too much. You pull him in for a gentle kiss, the gentlest act either of you had engaged in all night.

Finally able to catch your breath, you pull away with a lopsided grin of your own and ask, “So, you are the jealous type, huh?”

[helpimhyperfixating]

Kinktober Day 13: Dry humping - Jotaro x Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

This one was chosen/voted on by anon, so I hope you likey! You can still go to the Masterlist and vote on what prompt you want on which day :3

I’m sorry that I’ve fallen behind. Rn, I’m just gonna catch up on whatever speed I can manage, given I’ve got an exam coming up. So if it goes into November, that is fine. Just know every single day is coming ;3

CW: gn!reader, drunk (tipsy) sex, dry humping - so not actual sex

Word Count: 1112

Gasping as Jotaro crowded you into his dorm, you stumbled together, a mess of tongue and teeth as his arms encircled your sides, holding you flush against his own body, his legs bumping into yours as you walked.

Squeaking as you nearly tripped, Jotaro cursed, barely able to catch himself and hold you up before he kicked the door shut and swung you around, pushing you up against the wall.

A little whimper left your throat as he immediately pushed his hips into yours, his bulge pressing against your crotch.

The both of you had just come from a frat party neither of you were very interested in, only going to show face and get free booze. It was alright, with the two of you getting a little tipsy and mostly keeping to yourself, people watching; yet the moment your boyfriend had grabbed your hand and signaled to go, you followed.

Both now being tipsy, the walk home hadn’t stayed quiet for very long, with Jotaro’s hands starting to slightly wander on your sides before it all came to a head in the elevator where he practically jumped you, now that you weren’t out in the open anymore. Both of you too horny to care at that point, Jotaro had began to drag you to his dorm while your lips remained locked, where you were now pinned to the wall while he ground down against you.

“Jotaro-“ You mewled breathily, bucking your own hips up into him.

Feeling you grind into his erection, the raven groaned into your mouth, leading his hands down to grip your thighs, pushing his pelvis against yours to pin you against the wall while he lifted your legs so that you could wrap them around his waist.

Gasping at the friction, pleasure shot up your spine as you kept bucking your hips, now using your legs around his waist for leverage.

“Fuck-“ Jotaro gasped, sloppily kissing down your neck where he buried his face, rolling his own hips into yours, needing to feel more while his hands slid to your ass, supporting you.

Desperate and maybe a little more than just tipsy, the two of you humped against each other in the entryway of the dorm room, Jotaro kissing and sucking at your neck while you buried your hand in his hair, lightly tugging which displaced his hat, setting it askew on his head.

Growling slightly as his head was forced back a bit, Jotaro slid his left arm all the way under your ass while his right reached up, grabbing his hat and throwing it to the ground before he lifted you off the wall, his free hand landing on your lower back, making sure you stayed pressed against him.

“Jot-“ You started and the man bit down on your neck, right on your sweet spot, making you whine out as you threw your head back, tightening your hand in his hair.

“Don’t talk.” Jotaro mumbled before walking you through the small space of his dorm, plopping you down on the bed where he immediately climbed on top of you, letting out the softest of moans as he pushed his bulge back down into you, your own breath hitching as the friction returned.

“Don’t stop.” You begged and Jotaro nodded, leaning his head up to crash his lips back into yours while he rolled his hips, your pants scraping against each other.

Even through his and your own pants, you could feel how big Jotaro was, his cock pressing just right against you.

The both of you were panting at this point, desperate and unable to stop.

“I need you, Jotaro, please-“ You whimpered, your hands reaching down to grasp his shirt, to which he obliged, taking it off and showing his toned and well-built torso. Immediately, your hands began to room and Jotaro grunted, his biceps contracting as he reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt, yanking it over your hide – all the while his hips continued to rock into yours.

At this point, your legs were splayed wide, receiving every single second of the friction, your hips wildly bucking up into his with every thrust.

“Y/N, shit-“ Jotaro gasped out, a sheen of sweat appearing on both of your flushed bodies, intensified from both your actions as well as the alcohol.

“Now, please, Jotaro!” You whined loudly, hooking your legs together around his waist, a moan leaving you as you felt an orgasm approach, as embarrassing as that was.

“Come on.” Jotaro whispered into your ear, his voice deep and slightly hoarse in the moment before he kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to roll it with yours, his hips speeding up as he felt his own climax approaching.

Moaning into his mouth, your stomach felt on fire as sweat gathered at your lower back while you bucked and ground up into Jotaro, your hands now clinging onto his belts, using them to pull him into you.

Groaning deeply against your lips, Jotaro’s eyes fluttered closed as his hips stuttered, shoving them into you hard as he came right there and then.

With his move, you were almost bent in half as your knees were forced to your chest, making Jotaro’s cock push against you in such a way that you couldn’t hold back yourself.

With an embarrassing moan, your climax washed over you with white hot intensity as your back arched.

Rocking into each other, the both of you rode the waves of your orgasm, Jotaro finally breaking the kiss to instead kiss down your neck and to your clavicle where he stopped, panting against your skin as he came down from his high, his eyes closing.

“Good grief, did we really just do that?” He breathed out, trying to catch his breath while you lay there, a small whimper leaving you as the last of your orgasm washed away.

“We’ve had better ideas��” You mumbled before letting out an embarrassed chuckle, covering your face with your hands.

“We should clean up, c’mon.” Jotaro spoke softly, tracing his lips along your skin before pressing a kiss to your cheek. With that, he took initiative and sat back from you, getting off the bed as he then held out a hand for you.

Lifting your hands, you looked at him and then sighed out, nodding with a little smile as you took his hand and let him help you up.

Shirtless and walking awkwardly because of your own cum in your pants, the two of you went to clean up and sober up. And if said process led to another – actual – round, then who was there to complain.

[caramelarchive]

🍪anon here! i had a little thought and it goes, L being jealous of misa having her hair brushed by reader and he acts as if it doesn't bother him but he hints at wanting his hair brushed (it was funnier in my head, my cats do this and I thought of L and Misa)

Little Kitten ╾ L, Misa

sigh. 🍪 anon you are my favourite. I have moved to my main @lawlietscaramels please follow there for new content!

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

"Y/N-chan!"

The high pitched voice is clearly Misa's. It's a nice voice, good for singing, but if you listened to it too long you'd go mad.

Misa stops in front of you, holding out a hairbrush with a smile. She tilts her head to the side. "Will you brush my hair for me?"

You hesitate for a moment then smile, picking the hairbrush out of her hands. "Sure." Misa squeals in delight and starts taking her hair out of its little ponytails, sitting down in a chair and turning her back to you. She swings her feet a little as you begin brushing through her hair.

It's quite pretty, blonde and shining gold in the light. Once you've gotten the few knots out, your free hand comes to stroke through her hair. Misa sighs.

"Thanks, pretty!" she declares, turning her head enough that one of her eyes can meet yours. "So, you know, Y/N, I was with Light yesterday and..." Misa blabbers on, her arms waving all around. You're sure she's annoying the Task Force, but nobody comments on it. So you just listen to the girl's triumphs and woes, continuing to gently brush through her hair.

About twenty minutes pass before you notice L sulking at his desk.

"Hold on, Misa," you instruct, pausing her part way through a tale about a grumpy waitress. She leans her head back, eyes catching the flourescent lights, and pouts a little. You give her a pat on the head and look back over at the head detective. "L, are we distracting you?"

"No," he says stiffly, glancing at you for only a moment before his dark gaze moves to the hairbrush, Misa, and back to his computer.

"..Alright, then."

The detective stuffs a chocolate in his mouth and seems to pout.

Misa laughs. "I think Ryuzaki wants his hair brushed, Y/N." There's a mumbled "do not" from L's direction. You shake your head and resume running your fingers and brush through Misa's hair.

"He'll have to come ask me."

Another 20 or so minutes pass. It's more peaceful this time, Misa only making the occasional comment as the sound of tapping at keyboards and rustling through files fills the room. Her hair is very soft, and your task quickly becomes more meditative than anything. You're getting really into it when there's a small nudge at your leg.

L's standing beside you, his shoulders hunched and head tilted down so he can stare right into your eyes, his hand outstretched to poke at your pants. As you watch, he slowly lowers himself into that 40% froggy sit of his, and looks up with big, bush baby eyes that ask "why don't you like me?" as he lets his head fall onto your leg.

Misa laughs again, and prudently prances off, going to annoy Light. L stays crouched at your feet.

He's too cute...

You sigh but don't protest. Couldn't if you wanted. "Alright then, Ryuzaki, on the chair."

His mouth doesn't bother quirking up into a smile, but his eyes seem to brighten as he straightens up and crouches back down, this time in the chair in front of you. L keeps turning his head to look at you, jumping when he sees you looking back, and turning his head away again. You put a hand on his shoulder and he's caught between freezing and falling out of the chair.

"Be still," you scold gently, and begin brushing his hair. It's much knottier than Misa's, and you're a little scared to guess when he last ran his own comb through it, but it seems clean enough.

Once you've tugged the knots out, it's quite nice, actually.

You start humming a little, your hand reaching up to stroke through the dark, raven-feather hair sticking up all over his head. L lets out a mix of a sigh and an "oh!" and his entire body shudders. You laugh.

He leans back slowly, bending his head so he can look up at you. You give him a little tap on the chin, then the forehead and smile. L's eyes close as your fingers massage into his scalp, the hairbrush neatening and smoothing out his hair.

His lips tilt into a smile too, eyes opening just a slit to stare sleepily into yours.

"Thank you, Y/N."

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

[ohimsummer]

BLOOD BANK

—vampire! suguru x reader, bloodsucking, predator/prey elements, light choking, kidnapping technically

wc 1.1k

there is a thrumming in the woods. a pair of hearts trying to out-beat each other, both for vastly different reasons.

the man—this dark-haired beast—savors his time in reaching you. his walk is a slow, menacing lumber, one he can afford to take when his prey is just some shivering little thing with their back literally to a wall. a lost lamb out in the woods, way out of their element and woefully easy to rip apart.

he looks amused. you imagine for someone like him, that you’re making quite the easy meal; fear cementing you to the spot, only part moving is the involuntary tremble in your limbs and those wide, frightful eyes looking for an escape route.

the tall, otherworldly man stops just several feet short of you. he waits, and when you make no sudden movements, he talks. “aren’t you going to run?”

it’s all a little…confusing. is he really giving you permission? he’s letting you go? or is this just another trick, granting you a sliver of hope before he promptly snatches you back into reality? there is only one way to find out.

you clamber up onto wobbly legs, using the large wall of rock behind you to help steady yourself. he only watches, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, fascinated, amethyst eyes detailing your every clumsy move. staggered steps. the frantic turns of your head before you obviously pick a random direction to run, not even knowing where it goes, if it doesn’t lead to a dead end.

barely ten steps in, and you’re hitting the ground with a thud. your head makes a sharp collision with the ground, leaving you both stunned and confused. did you trip over your own feet again—

the heavy weight on top of you says otherwise.

as your captor manhandles you onto your back, a heap of whimpers worm their way up and out your throat. the helpless bleats of a caught animal. he pins your wrists with one hand before you can even fight back, legs on either side of you to straddle your waist. he turns his head to the side, moonlight catching on the sharp edge of his jawline, and he laughs at the weak flailing of your legs behind him. you’re so puny and vulnerable. he’s been having fun with you since the start.

your desperate mewl of ‘please’ is cut off with a shush, soft and low as if to console you. “no begging, my darling, none of that.”

he looms over your helpless form, leaning down to bury his nose in your neck and all you can do is cringe and cower further into the dirt. the man hesitates over the skin of your neck, and then you hear him, feel him take in a deep whiff of your scent.

“i hadn’t planned on hunting, tonight, “, he murmurs along your skin, lips tracing over the expanse of your throat, “but, you smelled too delightful for me to pass up, and i am dying to know if you taste just the same.”

he pulls back to admire you again, and long, feathery, raven locks form a curtain around you, isolating your vision to just him. him and those bewitching eyes that keep you so mesmerized, afraid to look away.

his other hand traces up the length of your arms, where the man laces fingers with you. he gives your hand a light squeeze, then presses it down hard enough to keep your other hand secure to the ground. the opposite hand comes to a rest on your throat, squeezing lightly as if he feels the blood racing through you.

never breaking his gaze gives you a first-hand view through the windows of his eyes, straight into his thoughts and you watch in horror as the veil of hunger in those violet shades morphs into pure, predatory greed. he doesn’t look like he wants to just play with you anymore. like he wants to maybe sink his teeth into you here and there. no, this is a look that says he yearns to devour you whole.

your captor can see the realization cross your features, and the look of sheer terror on your face makes him want to just go ahead and eat you right up.

“n—no, i—,” you begin writhing beneath him again, thrashing and pleading and crying for an out, but he doesn’t even have to adjust his strength to keep you in place. “i don’t taste good, i promise, i swear!”

the man only chuckles, amusing himself with your pitiful escape attempts. “let me be the judge of that.” and then he flashes you a wide, toothy grin.

a glimpse of those fangs turns your blood to ice, and your body goes numb. he laughs again as you grow still in an instant, long, forked tongue running over his glistening canines. they’re abnormally long, sharp as glass with a pointed tip. perfect for puncturing skin.

it happens faster than you can anticipate. his eyes narrow, and then a split-second later, there’s a light pressure on your neck, swiftly followed by stabbing pinpricks of pain. an abrupt gasp followed by a stuttered choke leaves your lips. your chest heaves. and then the man is looking at you again. there is red on his immaculate teeth, coating his lips, running down his chin to stain his once-pristine white shirt.

the side of your neck feels sore. a constant, throbbing pain just below your jawline, only soothed when he leans down again to run a warm tongue over the spot, feeding from you and, despite his courteous persona, it’s clear that he’s a messy eater. you can feel the smear of blood on your neck, jaw, dripping down to the dirt below and seeping into the earth.

“didn’t take you for a liar.” he is speaking again, working his snake-like tongue over his lips to poorly clean away the blood. “ i’m not usually one for sweets, but i can make an exception. just for you.”

a wave of nausea threatens to drown you entirely; birds swim in a halo around your head, eyesight blurry and faded. there are arms under your back and the bend in your knees, and then you are weightless.

“where….where are we…..”, you mumble out the incomplete inquiry.

“we’re going home.”, he says.

your head lolls to the side before resting on his chest. it’s firm, with the muted tone of his slowed heartbeat inside. his hair feels ticklish against your cheek. it makes your face scrunch up, and now there is the low rumble of his laughter at your expression. between that and the nausea, the exhaustion, it takes no time for you to drift off to sleep. and the last words you hear from the man is him calling you his new little blood bank.

🩸: @teddybeartoji @staryukis @babytoshiii @reiluvr @kentophilia @ohsuguru @risuola @soraya-daydreams @starlightanyaaa @luvvmae @domainexpansionmypants @apatauaia @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @getouolgy @sataraxia @leilalilox @sugu-love @akumicchi @sugojosgf @k-cris @triviahct @venzlenes @bubblez-blop @lovesickliyue

[morgana-ren]

On the subject of cheating…. How do you think Astarion would react to a dark urges Tav who doesn’t show any disapproval towards him for infidelity but does try to brutally murder all of his other flings

I can’t reconcile if he would be upset about them having too much agency in this situation and stop it or just into Tav being possessive of him in the way he’s possessive of them

He wakes to the pleasant and unmistakable tang of blood.

It's not uncommon for Astarion to greet the morning steeped in the sweet, saccharine scent of blood. Not at all. In fact, it's most welcome upon first waking, ranking among a deep, rich brandy and defiled silk sheets for his favorites. A metallic bouquet of a lovely, robust breakfast just begging to be supped on, just for him. If you were to ask him, there's truly nothing finer in the world.

An indulgent inhale has him sitting up, slipping a lazy hand through his hair and tongue running over his fangs as his mouth waters. The pit of hunger gnawing at his gut isn't quite so terrible as it used to be when he was but a filthy spawn, but he wouldn't ever deny himself the decadence of breakfast served up to him in bed.

The source of the delectable scent lies flopped over on the opposite side of the mattress, and he glances over with sleepy, hazy eyes to admire the sight. Her long, silky hair splays raggedly over her face, one of her arms limply hanging off the edge in what cannot be a comfortable position. The sheet haphazardly wrapped around her only scantly covers her rear, and by proxy, the sloppy mess he'd made between her thighs a few hours prior.

Clearly, he'd worn her clean out.

He chuckles; he can't help it. He's almost proud of himself-- if it wasn't so commonplace, that is. It's so terribly difficult for these weak and paltry little things to keep up with his kingly stamina, and he cannot begrudge the delicate humans that end up beneath him for losing consciousness.

Still! It's time to wake up, as he's remarkably hungry and he will not go another second without sinking his fangs into her swan-like neck.

"Darling, you sucked me dry and left me ravenous," He reaches for her, tracing a teasing claw up the dotted curve of her spine. "It would be positively unacceptable to leave me in such a state before you go."

She doesn't respond to his sentiment, and so after several seconds of testing his patience, he prods at her upper arm, eventually resorting to jostling her lightly with his hand, pinching her flesh between his clawed fingers--

--and it's only then that he realizes that her skin is ice to the touch, and he cannot feel her chest move with her breath in his palm. While that is entirely normal for him, it's not normal for small human women.

The sharp aroma of blood is far too palpable, even for his palace.

His red eyes truly focus on the girl contorted in his sheets for the first time: Her skin far too pallid, her stench far more enticing than it had been hours ago. His hand goes to brush the hair from her face, and there's a slick, wet feeling between his fingers as he does.

He is hit with the subtle yet bitter scent of freshly dying blood. Something that is usually sequestered only to beings beginning a state of decay. Something that should not be in his bed.

Unsettling, he thinks, but mostly irritating. Dead, hmm? He's almost certain he didn't kill this one on accident. Fairly certain. He callously rolls the woman's dead weight onto her back, frowning as he's met with a scene that he's quite certain he couldn't have done accidentally.

What was her throat is now a gaping maw of blood and bone-shine, scraps of gore clearly ripped out from inside. Her mouth-- or what is barely left of it-- is twisted in an eternal wordless scream, her face eternally contorted in some unseen horror. Her lovely eyes are wide and frozen in terror, unblinking and milky. Upon further inspection of her body, there is a hole where he assumes her still-beating heart had once been, clawed savagely free from her ribs by some brutal, unrelenting force.

He scowls, needling his lower lip with his teeth. It's a shame, he thinks with an exasperated sigh. He's sure was a beauty before all of this.

Another vicious, deadly beauty clearly demands his attention now, and he pushes the dead whore off the bed with an annoyed huff, snatching his long silk robe from the bedpost before affixing it around his body.

"Such a pity," He fastens the tie around his narrow waist, stepping carefully around the bedframe to stand in front of the newly made corpse with a grimace. "You were so vivacious last night, dear girl. But you're making the wrong kind of mess of my sheets, and I cannot abide that."

With a careless tug, he rips the remains of the young woman off his mattress, her mutilated body landing on the floor with an uncomfortable, wet thud. He steps over her, striding towards the door, feeling decidedly irritated. He was planning to spend a lazy afternoon in bed, but it appears something more urgent demands his immediate attention.

"Good morning, my lord--" A servant greets him just outside of his door with a sweeping bow and an expertly balanced tray. Astarion doesn't bother to look at him, instead grabbing a morning glass of wine, taking several deep swigs before finally sneering unpleasantly down at the man.

"Where is my wife?"

Another scraping bow, but Astarion doesn't stay to witness it. Rather, he takes off down the hall in search of someone more important. Someone that, he imagines, was rather busy last night after he fucked-- Hells, what was her name? He doesn't remember. Did he ever know?

"In her garden, sire."

"Right," Astarion carelessly tosses the glass back onto the floor, where it shatters to pieces. "There's a rather putrid corpse on the floor in there. Have it taken care of. I want it spotless before I return."

"Yes, my lord."

He tries to recall as he makes his way through his palace and towards the garden, and ultimately decides he doesn't care.

He finds his lovely wife right where he expects to, taking a leisurely stroll in her strangely fruitful garden. The scent of damp, rich soil permeates the air, mingling with odd, exotic flowers he has brought her and lush, fertile plants that she has coaxed into life with her hands. Blossoming organic life from nothing is not something that he imagined was in the wheelhouse of a favored child of Bhaal-- quite the opposite, really-- and yet, she seems to have nurtured a niche talent for it of late.

It irks him that she's grown somehow cold to his affections. She no longer stares at him with owlish eyes and flushing cheeks and a rapidly beating heart; rather she seems to shrug off even his most endeavored attempts at seduction with an ease that, if he didn't know for a fact that he was the most powerful and attractive man in a country mile, might hurt his pride.

She seems entirely at peace and unbothered, gently cradling a small rose between her fingertips, admiring it as it slowly blooms into a lovely, blood-red bud. The placid expression of someone either entirely unacquainted with the art of murder, or a masterful artist with it, and he knows all too well which one. As he approaches, she doesn't acknowledge him with anything other than a brief turn of her head and flick of her eyes.

"Your garden is looking lovely as always," He saddles up behind her despite her aloof silence, gingerly sliding his arms around her waist and leaning to scent along the side of her neck. "As are you, my sweet girl."

She only hums her acknowledgement, her ever-present sly semi-smile unfaltering as he speaks, still clearly far more taken with her flowers rather than his company and flatteries.

A deadly mistake for everyone other than her.

"Been busy this morning, little love?"

"Oh, only as much as usual," She gives him nothing--no guilt, no anxiety, just the hints of a mischievous, murderous smile-- as she releases the flower from between her fingers, turning instead to continue sauntering through the row. "I try to keep busy."

A quick sniff reveals all he needs to know. He doesn't need to get any closer to the freshly filled hole to smell the rancid stench rising from it. Underneath the sopping wet dirt, mingling with fertilizer and fallen leaves is the unmistakable stench of dead flesh; A muscle steeped in still blood, to be specific. Buried beneath soil alongside the foreign seeds lies what is left of the mangled heart of the woman he'd taken to bed last night, now planted in his wife's garden in some macabre ritual to sustain yet another carnivorous horror she's gotten her hands on and is now coddling into growth.

"I can see that," He croons, eying a fresh mound in the dirt, clearly freshly dug. "Is this one new?"

"Just this morning, dear," She lulls softly, a barely discernible playful edge to her voice. "Newly planted."

Dozens more peculiar vines twist up from the ground in various states of growth in nice, even spaces carefully organized into rows. Under the lively essence of plants and sticky-sweet flowers is the painfully apparent stench of decay and rot; Months and months of the still-lingering scent of blood of all the lovers he'd taken, turning spoiled and foul in putrefaction in her grisly little garden. All of their lives ended preemptively by his wife with the same feral glee that a rabid mongrel must feel upon sinking its fangs into a terrified, defenseless creature.

All for daring to indulge in him.

What a senseless thing. Died so futilely and no doubt miserably at the hands of his wife, alone and panicked only feet from their powerful king, and for what? Finding their way into his bed? How absurd. Who could resist him? Who would dare? He almost pities the funeral procession of poor creatures whose hearts have become fodder for the dirt, no honoring of their lives save his consort's nursery, fed and weaned on their innards. Their final moments belong to his insatiable wife's ruthless bloodlust through no fault of their own, and yet--

--Something about her vicious possessiveness over him smolders in his core, igniting a twisted arousal that coils the length of his spine and constricts like a serpent until he simply cannot stop himself. Deadly, precise, perfect little wife of his, so vicious and yet so precious to him. He swears her bloodlust only serves to stoke the flame, and how he longs to devour her.

(How long has she denied him? How long has she teased and tested him, tantalizing him with memories of burying himself inside of her sweet, tight heat with merciless drive, supping from the delectable blood of her soft body, her voice crying his name like a chant to some dark God until she rips what is left of his soul clean from him to take it into herself. She would yield for no one, a primal and ferocious creature beneath the veneer of illustrious, undead beauty, and yet she would heel to only him, letting him lose himself in her warmth, her fire until he burned--)

He reaches around and whirls her to face him so that she cannot feign indifference under his scrutinizing gaze. She knows better than to fight his manhandling and allows him to spin her towards him, though she refuses to wilt under his sultry glower. Her expression remains entirely passive as his hand reaches up to take her chin between two fingers, squeezing hard enough to have her wincing.

"Another one, darling?"

"You dislike the roses?" She blinks big eyes at him, the perfect picture of innocence. She hasn't been innocent a day in her life, and today certainly isn't a start.

A part of him wishes he could remain angry-- or at least a little indignant-- about the fact that she believes she has some overarching and indisputable claim on him, but deep down, he knows that she's right; she does have a staked claim in his heart in a way no one else ever possibly could. Even as his eyes and body might stray from her, he is forced to admit time and time again that nothing compares to his wrathful little lover. The strays he shepherds into his bed don't fill the gaping hole she leaves within him in her absence, her wretched denial of him. It is only silently that he acknowledges his wayward lust is just his spiteful response to her cruel neglect.

"Don't play the fool for me, my dearest girl, you're a terrible actress. Another concubine. Another corpse in your grim little graveyard. Is calling it a well-tended monument to your jealousy perhaps too romantic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my love," She smiles gently, lifting a hand between their chests and up to her face, slipping a finger between her plush lips. He smells the lingering blood on it and yet he cannot take his eyes off her tongue as it curls sensually around the length of her knuckles and how immaculate it might feel on him. He cannot help himself but think just how graciously daddy Bhaal has blessed him with his beautiful daughter; How fiercely alluring it is to watch his undomesticated little monster clean up her homicidal mess.

It started as all things do: With a seed. A bladed joke bloomed into irritation and resentment. His endless libido and her cresting bloodlust come to blows over priorities. The only woman who dared to gainsay him, her lovely little hands covered in blood and the power of Bhaal coursing through her veins keeping her too wild to be truly tamed by his vampiric blessing. His appetite for domination was insatiable, as was hers.

A child of Bhaal would not be tamed-- even by him.

He craved obedience and reticence-- he craved raw reverence and worship. To be viewed with wide eyes and admiration and blind devotion from some poor, pitiful creature too weak and foolish to resist him; To be seen as a God before a miserable little mortal; For his subject to offer willingly for a chance to taste of his splendor.

It is the only thing his beloved would never give him: acknowledgement of his superiority; submitting before him, allowing him to enforce his will upon her willingly. She is a fanged and clawed creature, wild by nature, and she would not purr her praises chained at his feet. She commands respect-- even from him.

She could never play the fool for him, encouraging him to believe that she was helpless against him, or weak, or pitiful, or foolish. It would insult her pride and her lineage. She is a force of nature in her own right, and he could never truly own her without her consent-- consent she has withheld.

And so, he would tell you that he simply retaliated.

She never spared him a sour word when he teased the waters about bringing other people into their marital bed. She only smiled that damn smile of hers and told him that he can do as he wishes as the king. Hells, she hardly seemed to notice when he first took some pathetic creature into their sheets for some harmless fun. The reaction he yearned for from her, some measly sign of her devotion to him, she wickedly denied him, seemingly knowing full well the impact it had upon him.

It drove him to madness, a spiraling misery fueled by his pride. He refused to beg for her, and she would refuse to kneel before him. He came to believe that truly she did not crave him with the same veracity that he longed for her. He no longer sought her out, and she did not come seeking. Surely, if she loved him, she would show some sign, some indication of caring that his fingers caressed a pale pastiche of her rather than where they desperately longed to be: Tracing her lovely mouth, coaxing her clever tongue, circled around her neck, between her warm thighs--

--And then corpses began popping up like flowers, and his beloved suddenly took up gardening.

She grinds his patience to a fine powder, and something about that gets his fires burning hotter than it ought to. Her insouciant dismissal of him, the absurdly casual slaughter of insignificant sex partners and then having the audacity to seem almost bored of his presence. She clearly cares enough to rip the bleeding hearts out of his inconsequential conquests, and yet, here she stands, utterly unfazed by him, having the audacity to feign indifference.

"If you're jealous, my love, you only need say so," He hushes to her, batting her cheek softly as he forces her to look up at him. "You needn't kill everyone who finds their way into my bed. I would cease if you simply said the words."

"Jealous?" Her brow furrows, head cocking, her lips jutting into a little pout. "I don't know what you mean."

What he asks is simple, so dreadfully simple. So easy, so, so easy--

Acquiesce to me.

And yet, she dares to deny him even as there is blood on her hands from strangling and wringing his full attention from his lover's corpses.

The wall of the greenhouse he built for her isn't particularly comfortable, but he couldn't care less as he shoves her against it, bullying his body against hers with brutal force, slamming her head against the glass with a lightning-fast palm encircling her throat.

"Why do you insist on being such an obstinate little brat?"

She opens her mouth to reply, and he squeezes tighter in response, choking the air from her little neck and stoppering the words on her tongue. There is a flash of something in her eyes once they open again, but he isn't entirely certain which sin it's indicative of: wrath or lust, or some degenerate mix of both.

It had to be her.

"I don't know what you mean, my lord," She croaks as he allows it, her hand clasped on his wrist as he clenches the rounds of her neck. He swears he sees her lip twitch in the ghost of a smirk even as he suffocates her. He holds all the power over life and death over her, and yet she is insufferably calm.

"I warned you not to play stupid, darling. You know very well what I mean." He growls against her ear, frustration and arousal building to impossible levels. Of all the women in Toril, it had to be her-- it had to be--

"Admit it," He hisses, sharp fang nipping at her ear. "Just admit it, and ask-- beg me, and I'll stop."

He feels the chuckle bubble in her throat even as he cannot hear it through the pressure he applies to her windpipe. "Beg what, my lord?" Her eyes narrow, her amusement apparent even as she has a practiced expression of apathy, whispering back to him with a strained voice still somehow full of unmitigated audacity. "Do you think I suffer?"

His lip curls downwards, and he realizes that he has no leverage here other than her violent jealousy, which she will happily unleash upon his unfortunate bedfellows rather than swallow her pride and cling to him as she should. She has no qualms with murder, and he might as well hand-deliver her victims. It has become an inevitable truth that whoever finds themselves romping beneath the sheets with their king won't be leaving alive because the queen would rather die than admit she cares that he spends his affections elsewhere.

"You can't hold out forever," He knees her legs apart and wedges himself between them, grinding his lust into the clothed heat of her core. "You will beg for me. You will acquiesce. You know your place is at my side."

He pushes forward again, lips brushing against her cheek, his warm breath on her neck sending shivers spiraling down her spine. The way she rhythmically gyrates her hips deliberately against where he wants her most has his hands flexing, kneading deeper into her flesh. His nails dig into her deceptively soft skin, sliding one hand up her body to grope gratuitously at her curves before crawling up to thread his pale fingers through her hair. With the silky strands weaved between his knuckles, he yanks, exposing her throat to the mercy of his razor-sharp fangs like a wolf perched over carrion. He'd die before admitting the overwhelming, frantic need she inspires within him, but he swears if he doesn't have her now, he will perish.

She exhales ragged and husky, squirming against him in apparent need, but still manages to stand her ground. "I am at your side, my lord. Your front, to be more specific."

"On your knees, on your back, whatever I demand. Give in to me. Heed my command, my love," He releases his fingers from her neck, both his arms snaking behind her to scoop her ass in his palms and hike her up against his waist, bidding her wordlessly to lock her legs around him. She does it instinctively, throwing her arms around his neck, tugging playfully at his silver hair as she does. He keeps her up with easy purchase against the wall, keeping her prisoner between a wiry cage of eager limbs and foggy glass panes. "Submit to me of your own free will. Kneel to me, your husband and king, and submit to me fully."

His voice is low and husky as he exhales against the shell of her ear, doing his best to swallow down the desire to rip her pretty dress to shreds with his bare hands and ravage her on the filthy ground of her greenhouse.

"All you need do is say the words," He mutters, barely audible even to her, the scent of her driving him to the precipice of insanity. "Say you belong to me, body and soul. Submit to me, girl, and I'll never have need of another."

He feels the derisive chuckle in her throat reverberate against his own mouth and pulls away to observe. Her eyes are glassy and low as they meet his, moist lips parted in a little 'o', trying so hard not to do that hateful little smile of hers. His hand tightens in her hair, jerking his hips ruthlessly against her once again. So close now, he can feel it, he's going to destroy her, ruin her, tear her to pieces only to put her back together and do it again--

She dares to deny him, dares to have the raw audacity to mock him-- he's going to hurt her so badly, sink his fangs into her neck and drain her fucking dry, force himself inside of her until she has to beg him through hiccupping sobs to stop, unable to fend him off in his full power. He will show her who is the master--

"No."

She cranes her head forward just a little and gives him a mockingly gentle peck on the mouth. It's deceptively gentle and cruel in its intention, entirely meant to taunt him. In his shock at her gall, he is stalled, almost paralyzed and entirely unresponsive and numb to the tidal wave of rage and lust that collides in a nuclear cocktail deep in his gut. It's but a brief moment before he regains control over his senses, and when he does--

"Maybe," She flicks her tongue out, licking a small, red stripe up his cupid's bow. "But not yours-- and you can try, my love."

He releases his grip on her hair only to grab her cheeks, digging his fingers into her jaw so hard that he can feel her gums scrape against the ivory ridges of her fangs. Her wince of pain doesn't escape him, fueling the inferno inside of him as he snarls, baring teeth down on her as a predator might.

"You dare to play games with me? You are a miserable, stubborn little whore and I'd see you put back in your proper place!"

It's more animalistic growl than spoken sentence, and even as he squeezes her face, he can see the twitches of a smile on her crumpled mouth. He can smell the blood on her tongue, the utter defiance in her expression, and despite his frenzy of anger, he throbs between her thighs.

--and yet it's him on the cusp of inescapable frenzy, the taste of her now blasting away the dull, gray months and the now; this one fiery moment where she is wholly his, reminding him of the untamable bonfire of desire she stokes within. His beloved consort, his wife, until death take them both or not at all--

It should drive him into a blind, red rage, but it just makes him harder, pulsing against her insistently, his body demanding entrance to what is rightfully his--

"You will always belong to me."

He crushes his mouth to hers so hard it pains the both of them, more devouring gnashes and fierce, hungry greed for her than passionate kiss. His fangs break the skin of her lip, his tongue thrusting between her teeth, determined to taste every inch she offers up to him. She mewls weakly into his mouth, trying to break the kiss to breathe, but he won't allow it; she only breathes by his will and he'd see her reminded of that--

A battle he will win.

"Mine-- only mine--"

He pants it sloppily into her open mouth, still desperately trying to swallow her essence into himself. She manages to tug away from his unhinged fervor, though only briefly, just to heave and whoop air into her lungs, desperate to catch her breath before she speaks:

"Not if you're not only mine."

It's a fool's facade, this game they play. Around and around and around once more, each demanding prostration of the other only to burn themselves on their own encompassing greed for the other. A toxic whirlwind of emerald-green jealousy and blood-red rage, enveloped entirely by hazy, punch-drunk lust. Two titans locked in a battle for dominance, chasing the vulnerability of the other one.

He hard-swallows, using every ounce of strained willpower he has in his willowy body to retreat away from her, casting his savage need into an abyssal pit inside of him and sealing it before it swallows him. instead. Slowly, he manages to peel away, slowly setting her feet back on the ground, doing his best to compose himself despite the very blatantly obvious signs of arousal and his apparent state of both mental and physical dishevelment.

"I won't humor you forever, darling," He purrs, giving her one last squeeze before stepping back away from her, distancing himself from her control over his body that he loathes. "I always get what I want. You should know that."

She blinks up at him again, her lips puffy and skin smeared with swatches of blood that he has to bite his tongue to keep from tasting. "Not this time."

His lips quirk in a condescending grin at her adorable little show of defiance, resituating himself within his linen pants without shame. "We'll see, my dear."

With that, he abandons the 'conversation,' turning to walk out of the greenhouse, only sparing one last glance at her garden of flesh-- and then once back at her. It breaks his willpower in a way he is miserable to admit, but his need for her overwhelms his pride.

One last snarl in her direction, and he turns to stalk out, itching to backhand the smugness from her pretty face. If he does, he knows well enough that he will not be able to walk away from her. He will take her here and now in a maelstrom of blood, violence, and ruthless sex, and he will lose this little game of control, and he cannot have that.

Still, that doesn't mean she is allowed to believe she has any choice in the matter.

"It's been long enough. I am expecting you in my bed tonight. Do not make me come searching for you. You won't like what happens if I must seek you out."

She seems surprised and almost pleased with his minor acquiescence. It comes in the form of a demand, but she knows full well that it's the best she's going to get. She offers him a sweet smile, smoothing her skirts back down her legs from where he'd hiked them up around her still-quaking legs. He can still smell her, the wet between her thighs, the rich, royal blood flowing through her veins, her body that sings to him a siren song luring him to his fall. If he doesn't break something in soon, he is going to combust--

"We'll see."

He traipses back into the palace, body shuddering and shivering in its effort to control the raging hormones. He is ravenous, needing to drain someone dry and be drained dry-- and soon. Another well-trained servant greets in the halls, cautiously approaching upon seeing his dour expression, bowing from some distance away in case his master decides to lash out.

"My lord--"

"A concubine. Now. Sent directly to my chambers. We are not to be disturbed, no matter what you hear. Do not keep me waiting."

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Three - Loki's Bachelor Party

Warnings for this Chapter: alcohol, partying, Scott as a stripper – kind of? also fluff

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: I absolutely love the gif for this. Fight me. 😂

Once again goes the shoutout to @sagitternolunaspace for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! Thank you! And again a thank you goes out to everyone who helped me along with this chapter!

💍 Chapter Two °☆• Chapter Four 💍

You had been barely swept away from Loki by Natasha, Pepper, Jane and Wanda, when the god returned to the now empty apartment in the tower he shared with you. Once the door fell gently into its hinges behind him, he snapped his fingers; causing his Asgardian armour to melt away from his body - leaving him completely nude.

Loki ran a hand through his untamed raven curls, while he made his way to the bathroom. It was time for a shower. Time to get rid of all the stains which had left the mission on his skin.

The warm water massaged his muscles and helped him relax. It usually always did. The god loved a good, hot, relaxing shower after a mission - and if you'd join him, he loved it even more. If the girls wouldn't have stolen you away for your bachelorette party, Loki would've totally taken you with him, but well...

You had discussed this Midgardian pre-wedding tradition with him already a few weeks ago. It was something you were eager to have - and your friends didn't let this tell them twice, of course. They were more than happy to plan the party for you and surprise you.

As for Loki... The god wasn't sure about it. He understood the concept of this tradition. You had explained it, but he didn't know if he should like it or not. Alcohol, silly costumes - or well, T-Shirts and Strippers in the most cases? Tendencies to no. Hence, Loki didn't even know if his oaf of a brother would think so far to prepare something for him and he was convinced that the other male Avengers certainly wouldn't do it. Why should they?

Back when Thor married, he didn't have a bachelor party, but only because he did not know of such a tradition. When you gathered up Jane for her party, it was already too late - given the fact that you all were on Asgard at that moment in time. So, no Stark or Rogers who could saunter through the golden palace doors and pick up Thor for his turn.

Loki laughed to himself. As if Roger would ever do that... He would have to remove the stick up his ass first.

With a sigh, the god turned off the tab, reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower. Thick, hot steam had gathered inside the room; fogging up the mirror. Loki dried himself, went through his after shower routine and lastly put on fresh underwear. Then he cleaned everything up with his seidr and left the bathroom.

His next destination was the bedroom he shared with you, in order to get dressed - preferably casual. In the closet, the god found his favourite grey sweatpants (What a shame it was that you couldn't be here right now and admire the things this specific kind of trousers did to him.) and a loose black t-shirt - perfect for a lonely and lazy afternoon, evening and unfortunately night.

Loki then paid the little shelf in the living room a visit, which was stuffed to the brim with books. The chosen one was a old Norse romance - one of your favourites. Book in hand, the god made himself comfortable on the sofa; ready to get lost in a fictional world.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite get that far...

Barely ten minutes in, a loud knock sounded from the main door. Loki's eyes lifted. Another knock - followed by further knocks. "Oh for the Norns sake..." The god cursed; laid the novel aside and stood up. It knocked again. "I'm on my way!" He grumbled annoyed and at last opened the door for the impatient visitor - and once he did, his eyes almost popped out of his head; jaw slacking.

It was none other than his oaf of a brother, of course.

Thor had the brightest smile on his face which must be physical possible. Nothing very unusual. It was the dress up that shocked Loki... His brother wore black leather trousers and a emerald green t-shirt, on which stood in big golden letters: Loki's Bachelor Party. And the worst was the huge, very unfortunate taken picture of himself, which was printed on the t-shirt as well.

He couldn't be serious right now...

"Thor... What in Odin's name is that?" The blond god giggled and proudly displayed the t-shirt. "Do you like it, brother? I created it myself!" He boasted, but added seconds later in a whisper after Loki gave him a disbelieving glance: "Alright, alright... Jane helped me quite a bit, but... Shhhh. Don't tell the others." "Others?" The younger man asked; blinking.

Thor started to smirk again. "Of course, brother! We are not celebrating your bachelor party alone - if that is what you think." The black haired god looked once more incredulously at his older brother. "Bachelor party?"

Thor sighed and shook his head. "For somebody so utterly witty and clever, you are really stupid sometimes." The blond gestured towards his green t-shirt again, "You did see what it reads, brother, didn't you? 'Loki's Bachelor Party'!" before he reached inside his seemingly endless leather pocket and pulled out another emerald green t-shirt. "Now let's go, brother! Get changed! It's time to celebrate!" Thor threw the t-shirt at Loki, who caught it effortlessly.

"T-Shirt, black leather trousers and black boots. It's the, uh, dress code - like the Midgardians say. Five minutes, then you shall meet us outside. You will be awaited." Loki wanted to say something - anything, in order to protest, display his discomfort and especially ask his brother if he had lost his last remaining braincells, but before he could, Thor had already walked away.

Loki sighed as he closed the door shut; pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly didn't want to do this. He refused to do this. After all, who knew who his brother had invited to this ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition party? Nobody of the male Avengers liked him that much to spend a great amount of time with him on a party for him.

At least that was what Loki thought.

The god wanted to call his brother; tell him that he would not attend this... bachelor party. He had already picked up his phone; thumb hovering over the green button beside his brother's name.

But then he remembered a conversation he had with you not such a long time ago...

"A what?" The raven haired man asked; eyebrows slanting. You giggled beside him. "A bachelorette party, babe. It's a Midgardian pre-wedding 'tradition'. The female friends of the bride organise a day - or a weekend, where they take her somewhere in order to celebrate the fact she is going to marry. Commonly - I'd say, it is an evening, where they party, have alcohol and mostly book a stripper." "A stripper?!" Loki shouted out; almost horrified. You nodded. "Yeah, it's, uh, I don't know... It's somehow a thing for such partys. After all, they are celebrating the bride's last days or weeks as an unmarried woman..."

"Yes, darling, I think I understood the concept, but... A stripper?" Your fiancè shook his head. "I don't want this. I don't want another man stripping for you."

You kinda saw that coming. You knew Loki was very... territorial when it came to other men. He always had been and you couldn't deny that you loved this about him. You were the only one for him - the only woman he'd ever lay his eyes upon, and it should be the same for you.

"If the girls really do that, I will refuse, okay? I promise, I won't watch that man strip for me." Loki shot you a relieved, almost thankful smile. "I appreciate this a lot, my love."

There was silence for a few moments, as you walked side by side, until... "The same usually goes for the bachelor party as well..." Loki wasn't stupid, of course. He could connect the dots quickly. "Female stripper?" The god asked; swallowing. "Almost, babe... I'm sure you heard of clubs with a lot of stages and poles in it? Seats and sofas where men - and women can sit, have a few drinks and watch half naked - or naked, who knows... Women dancing at those poles?"

Loki knew what you were talking about. He had been quite a few years on Midgard now; having definitely heard of such... establishments. Before he met you, such a thought would've peaked his interest, without a doubt. Beautiful ladies dancing at poles and showing off their curves? Which man wouldn't be intrigued? By the Norns, he would've probably spent various nights there already, if he was still the same god he was years ago - but he wasn't. Meanwhile, the thought of such clubs was everything but a turn on. It disgusted him, because if he went there, he would disrespect you. Yes, Loki would probably go as far and say he would cheat on you - and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fiancè scrunched his nose. "Love, alone the mere thought of such an establishment disgusts me. I am yours - and only yours. I don't want to see other half naked women dancing for me. They don't deserve my attention. I swear to you, Y/N, I won't ever set one foot in such a club. Not under any circumstances. Never." You blinked; were quite a bit... shocked? Sure, you never discussed that topic, because there hadn't been a reason, but... All your ex-boyfriends would've salivated at the mere mention of such clubs...

"You seem surprised, my love?" You blinked again. "I-I, no, I... It's not that, babe. I'd rather say I'm shocked about the fact that all my ex-boyfriends wouldn't have said no to such a club night and you..." Loki raised an eyebrow at you; a look of disgust on his face. "Pft..." He scoffed. "Mortal men... They never fail to shock and disgust me. It's almost embarrassing that they still don't know how to cherish, worship and appreciate a woman and the love she gives them."

You couldn't help but smile; feeling pure love pumping through your veins for the raven haired god walking beside you. You reached for Loki's hand; slipped your fingers through his and gave them a squeeze. "Have I already told you today how much I love you?" Your fiancè chuckled. "Yes, darling. I believe about five times." You shook your head. "That's not enough... I love you, Loki, with all my heart."

The god stopped abruptly in his tracks and reeled you in, causing you to squeak up and crash against his muscular chest. A strong hand kept you from rebounding and pinned your body against his. "I love you even more, my darling," Loki whispered and caught your lips in a feverish kiss; not caring the slightest that you two were actually on a walk - in public.

"Let's say the unthinkable happens and Thor organises a bachelor party for me... What am I going to do? I don't think I'm the right person for such things - and not really best friends with the other... men in this compound." You smiled gently up at Loki; once again giving him a loving squeeze. "I know what you mean, babe, but... If the boys, or just Thor - whoever throws a bachelor party just for you, I'd say it's a huge gesture. Give them a chance, please? See how it goes and then decide."

Give them a chance, please? Your words echoed through the god's head on repeat. He swallowed hard; pondering what to do, but in the end he closed the contacts app on his mobile and placed the little device on the sofa. With long strides, he moved to the bedroom to change his clothes - again.

A look in the mirror told him, that the decision he made was probably already not a wise one. The t-shirt looked... interesting. He didn't really like it, but if he wanted to participate in that game, he had to play by the rules, right?

Running a hand through his raven locks and collecting a few things he'd probably need on this 'party', Loki then closed the main door of your shared apartment behind himself. Taking a deep breath, the god made his way down to the first floor.

The moment the metallic doors slid open, he could already hear voices. His brother, of course; Laing, Banner, Stark... He fought the urge to roll his eyes and stepped out of the elevator.

Tony was the first to notice him. "Reindeer Games! There you are!" All eyes were on Loki now. "Man, I honestly didn't think he'd come...," added Bruce in a whisper, whereas Thor and Scott smiled brightly. "But my brother did come!" Thor boomed and made his way over to him; slamming his meaty hand on his left shoulder blade; causing Loki to grimace in slight pain. "He truly is here!" The blond continued. "No illusions!" "And he's wearing the t-shirt! Suits you, bro!" Scott smiled like a little boy in the candy store.

"Well, yes," Loki answered and adjusted the t-shirt - which everybody else wore as well; trying to stay cool. "Admittedly, I pondered to just call my brother and tell him I rather prefer to read, but... I thought I give this-" He gestured around. "-a chance."

Thor patted his shoulder once more. "Wise decision, brother. Now let us go. A merry time is awaiting us!" "Poetically put, Point Break." Stark commented; passing the two Asgardians by. The other two men followed. Loki watched them leave the building through the main doors, where already an all black bus - yes, bus, waited.

The god grimaced. He could've relinquished the sight of Tony Stark in black leather trousers.

Loki found himself in a so-called 'party bus' again. Like the name already said, it wasn't a normal vehicle with seats. The interior looked more like a disco than a bus... Loud music, tons of alcohol and bright lights. The god didn't really like it at first; was still reluctant and kind of mistrustful. He still couldn't believe that this - whatever it was or going to be, was for him. For his bachelor party.

While the others were already in party mode and having fun, Loki sat in a corner with a drink in his hand; observing - until Thor made his way over to him.

"Brother!" The blond shouted through the music. "Do you like our surprise?" Loki hesitatingly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I-" He got interrupted by Tony, suddenly shouting at the two Asgardians through the music as well. "Point Break, Reindeer Games, c'mon! We arrived!" And with those words the music stopped abruptly, just like the bus.

Loki frowned. "Arrived? Where?" Thor just grinned at him; the conversation he just started already forgotten and gripped his arm; pulling the younger god to his feet. "Let yourself be surprised, brother, but I can assure that you will like it."

And Thor should be proven right...

The building before the group of men stood now, wasn't just a building... It was huge and filled with dozens of different parcours; built for a game called Lasertag. Tony didn't need to explain much, since the game itself was kind of self-explanatory.

"Let's go, dudes!" Scott chirped like a little school boy; was totally excited and already made his way to the entrance. The others followed.

About twenty minutes later, after they all got a instruction and their attire, the Avengers decided which parcour to play first. Loki looked around. "Can we just choose anyone we like? I mean, what about the other people here?" The group started to laugh; giving the fact that the usually so attentive god didn't notice it yet.

"There are no other people here, today, Loki..." Bruce started to explain. "Tony rented the whole thing for us."

The god blinked. "The... whole thing?" He asked; quoting Banner. They all nodded. "Yes, of course the whole thing. Unless it wouldn't be fun." Stark shrugged his shoulders; looking around.

Loki blinked again. He was confused - but probably in the best way possible. "Why? Why would you all agree to celebrate this Midgardian tradition with me? For me?" The four other men exchanged a few looks, before Tony took a step closer to the tall, dark god; awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Because you're one of us, Reindeer Games. You're an Avenger - even if we don't always get along and approve of this, but you are." Bruce nodded; agreed with the billionaire. "Tony's right. You earned your place. You proved us and the world wrong. You can be good - when you want." Scott nodded approvingly. "Yeah, man."

Loki swallowed hard. To hear such words had always seemed to be in far distance for him. He would've never... never anticipated or expected that the team would accept him one day. He thought they'd see forever the psychotic, maniacal killer they always had seen in him... Apparently not anymore...

"I..." Again swallowed Loki hard. "I don't know what to say, except... Thank you. Truly. I mean it."

The mood was on the verge of getting very emotional. But before that could happen, Tony eased the situation up. "Yeah, well, your soon-to-be wife played a huge roll in this all, but don't get too comfortable. You are still a pain in the ass."

Loki just smirked; gave the billionaire his best, mischievous smoulder. "Vice versa."

It was already pitch dark outside, when the small group of men emerged from the Lasertag 'arena' again; laughing and smiling. Loki would've never thought that he could have so much fun with Thor, Bruce, Scott and especially Tony in his 'free time'. Perhaps you could blame it on the small amount of alcohol running through their veins, but who knew?

"I did not know that this... Midgardian game was going to be so much fun!" Thor boomed; walking besides Loki and Tony. "I told you, Point Break, haven't I? Just like I said that your drama queen of a brother was going to like it." "Indeed, Stark." "You do know that I can hear you?" Loki threw in; causing them to snicker - almost like little school girls. The raven haired god just rolled his eyes in mock offence.

The group made their way towards the party bus again. Happy already waited in front of the big, black vehicle for them to return. Of course, Tony had hired him as a driver.

Only now did Loki realise, that Happy was dressed in the same clothes as the rest of the men; paired with black sunglasses.

"Happy! Are we ready to go?" The friendly bodyguard nodded; adjusting his glasses. "Sure, Mr. Stark. The bachelor party is ready to roll on." "What are waiting for then?! Let's go, Reindeer Games! Time to really celebrate the fact that someone is willing to marry you."

Loki wanted to give a snarky response, but a clap on his back from Thor caused all the air to escape his lungs and the words to die in his throat. "Come, brother! Stark is right!" Grumbling under his breath, the god followed the others inside the bus.

It took him a little while to get comfortable and especially to just let go and - he repeated your words in his head... Give this a chance.

And he did.

The music was loud; echoing through the whole bus. Alcohol was flowing and Scott had already reached the level where he was awkwardly dancing around a pole in the middle of the bus - much to everyone else's entertainment. One thing was sure, though... Loki had fun, was definitely a bit tipsy, but also the most sober one. He hadn't had a single break yet from the loud, deafening, colourful and amusing chaos around him. Well, he went outside for a moment to call you, since he saw that you tried to call him, but that was hours ago and didn't really count as a break, did it?

A look on his mobile told him that it was already way past midnight. Usually, at this time, the god laid curled up in bed with you, but you weren't here and the alcohol and adrenaline in his bloodstream kept him wide awake.

"Hey! Guys, guys, guys!" Tony suddenly turned down the music; causing all eyes to land on him. "I have 'n idea." He prompted; swaggering over to the others. "What 'bout we ask Happy to take us to a strip club, huh?" The other three men were way too drunk to think straight and so they all agreed - except Loki.

The god shook his head. "Stark, no." Tony raised an eyebrow; looking at the raven haired man in disbelief. "Sorry, princess, I think I misheard ya. Did you say no?" "Yes. I won't go to a strip club with you." Tony started to pout like a toddler. "But why not? Lots of pretty ladies, Reindeer Games! They're gonna be aaaall over you!" Loki swallowed the anger bubbling up inside him. "That may be true, yes, but I don't want that. Y/N is the only woman for me. I don't want or need others."

Tony groaned and theatrically steadied himself on Bruce's shoulder; almost causing the doctor to tip over. "You're such a party pooper..." The billionaire shook his head, before pressing a button on his watch. "Happy, escort us to the next bar. Not strip club - unfortunately." Then he turned to Scott. "I s'ppose your performance has to be enough. Show us what ya got, Thumbelina." Lang didn't let himself tell that twice and Thor turned up the music again.

The party went on till the first rays of sunshine kissed the summer sky and the amount of alcohol coursing through the men's veins catapulted them into a deep slumber.

Loki awoke late afternoon that day, with a thundering headache and Scott cuddled up against him. The god groaned and grimaced. It had been definitely a night to remember.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (continuing in the comments!)

[leighsartworks216]

The Mission

Sylus x gn!Reader

The ending feels a little meh BUT I'm gonna use it to lead into the next fic in the series. You'll see. Also there are kids screaming outside????? I'm so confused rn

This is a sequel primarily to Fallen Angel, but it also references things in Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You

Warnings: strip clubs, violence, blood, injury, stalking, forehead kisses, shapeshifting, MC and Sylus acting like siblings

Word Count: 2,625

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The mission is deceptively simple: Little Miss Hunter will pose as a waitress in one of Sylus’s clubs, working undercover to uncover the ex-boyfriend of one of the dancers. As soon as the club’s manager heard about the dancer’s ex stalking her, trying to get her alone, Sylus did, too. As scary and unapproachable as he comes across, he does care about the people who work for him.

You could have taken the role from her easily, or even gotten a job as a dancer to have a more advantageous position, but Sylus refused. It was only a couple months ago that you’d relived that hell. There was no way he would put you into a similar situation so soon.

It’s not that you aren’t capable, you know that. You’d only fully recovered a few weeks ago, the scars on your back mementos to the end of a nightmare. Still, the time it took to heal meant no working - not even to sit in Sylus’s lap as he goes over contracts. You were antsy, you were restless. And you were helping Little Miss Hunter get in her uniform.

You adjust the collar, a little rougher than necessary. Sylus catches it from where he stands leaning against the wall, but says nothing. Miss Hunter tries to swat you away. “You don’t need to be so intense!” You ignore her in favor of fixing her name tag and checking her earpiece. She was stiff under your fingers, uncomfortable with being so close to someone who clearly didn’t like her - even more in this moment, it seems, than usual.

“He’s in his mid-20s, short curly hair, blonde, with square glasses,” Sylus reminds her. “You’ll be serving drinks in the area around Tanya’s stage, where he’s most likely to be lurking.”

“Don’t you have bouncers for this sort of thing?” she huffs.

You step behind her. She tries to turn her head to see what you’re doing, but you push her chin to face forward again. Her hair is too long, presenting a clear hazard in the bustle of the crowds and the difficult job of waitressing. You gather it up and tie it into a secure bun at the back of her head.

He tilts his head, unimpressed. “Of course, sweetie. I run a legitimate operation here, despite what you may think of me.” He crosses his arms, finger tapping against his bicep. “His Evol allows him to change his appearance, meaning with a few easy steps, he can forge his ID to be anyone he wants and slip inside unnoticed. You’re good at reading people. I’m sure you’ll find him in no time.”

You carefully insert a hairpin into the bun. She reaches back to feel it, the design on the decorative tip indecipherable to her fingers alone.

“If he figures you out or you get cornered, use that,” Sylus says seriously, nodding to the pin. “In the right hands, it can do some damage. Even if you can only manage to scratch your attacker, it’s coated in a fast-acting toxin.” Before she can protest, he adds, “Just enough to make them sleepy, sweetie. You won’t be killing anyone tonight.”

With the finishing touches of her outfit complete, you step back toward Sylus. Little Miss Hunter can’t help feeling intimidated by the Onychinus boss and his guard dog, allies or no.

“Ready?”

She nods with steadfast determination. “Ready.”

-

Sylus studies the shifting crowds through the surveillance cameras hidden around the club. Luke and Kieran watch the monitors, as well. From here, he can keep an eye on Miss Hunter’s movements. Deciphering faces in the crowd is another issue; he can make out some features here and there as the lights pass over them, but anything specific is impossible to make out.

You lounge on a sofa overlooking the entire club. It’s a private area, closed off from the general public, and shrouded in plenty of shadow to obscure your presence from anyone who isn’t looking for you. You idly swirl a martini glass of water, decorated with an olive, to give the impression of someone drinking. You act as an eye in the sky, watching for anything suspicious from a distance that isn’t caught on camera.

Miss Hunter picks up a tray of drinks from the bartender and begins making rounds to long couches and small tables to drop them off with a smile. They’re further from the stage, but she has to pass by the crowd every time she returns to the bar. It’s the perfect place to be to spot someone acting oddly.

The lights focus as Tanya comes on stage. She’s objectively beautiful, it can’t be argued otherwise. The skimpy costume draws attention to her curves and the plush of her stomach. She smiles seductively as she dances for the guests, tan skin glowing under the lights like she’s meant to be there.

You know she’s being treated like a queen here - Sylus would never settle for less - yet you’re reminded of the other girls you knew once, who were starved and worked to the bone for money they wouldn’t see a dime of. You still remember the feeling of cold metal from the pole against your palms.

The Second Circle doesn’t exist anymore. After that night, after everything the police uncovered, it was stripped out and sits empty, waiting to be bought by some upstart business. All that remains is the imprint of the logo on the wall. You still see those neon lights in your nightmares.

“Raven, I’ve lost sight of the Dove. Do you see her?”

Fuck. You got so caught up in your head-

You scan the crowd by the stage, the couches, the tables. There’s no sign of a waitress anywhere in that section, and especially not Little Miss Hunter. You get up from the private couch and slip into the shadows of the exit, already calculating everywhere she could have gone off to.

-

The woman she kept seeing wasn’t ordering drinks the entire time she was there, which wasn’t unusual in of itself, except that all she did was stare at the stage, waiting for something to happen. Once Tanya finally went on, she seemed to become antsy and entranced. Miss Hunter was just going to slip into the employee backroom to let Sylus know what she saw. She didn’t realize the woman had followed her.

The thumping music in the main room covers up her shout as hands grab her and shove her into the wall. There’s no one else in the room. 

She punches at the woman, falling back on her Hunter training and the sparring she did with Sylus. Her hand connects with a square jaw. The woman that followed her in was now a man, fitting the description of the suspect to a T. A fist in return crashes against her cheek. Before she can call for help, a hand covers her mouth, shoving her head back into the hard wall. He grabs her hair, dislodging the hairpin and loosening the tight bun. She claws at his arms. She tries to reach for his face. The hand in her hair pulls her off the wall and to the ground. She stares up at her assaulter, trying to figure a way out of this mess when the door is behind him and she’s being backed into a corner.

She doesn’t have to think for long.

You grab the man by his hair and kick in the back of his knee. He falls like dead weight, and you direct that momentum into slamming him against the wall she’d just been pressed up against. His face impacts with a harsh crack. His glasses are skewed on his face, and blood drips freely from his nose.

You turn sharply toward Miss Hunter. You approach so fast, she’s scared you’re going to attack her next. She holds up her arms in defense on pure instinct. You just huff and grab her arms, hauling her back up to her feet. Her back is against the wall again, but as a support this time. You push her arms down from her face.

She gasps when you grab her chin, tilting her head this way and that, studying her. You frown at the early bruises beginning to form around her mouth and the cut along her cheekbone. The distinct shape of fingertips slowly start to darken where the man had silenced her. You let her go in favor of checking the rest of her over, searching for any more injuries. Thankfully, you find none. You finally meet her eyes.

She has no idea what to make of you anymore. You’ve hated her guts ever since she was dragged into the N109 Zone. You tease and taunt her through your actions, glare at her when she talks with Sylus. You even climbed into his lap once when she was connected to him by that red energy, curling up to him like a damn cat. And now here you are, checking her for injuries when you could be worried about securing the target.

You reach past her head and pull out the hairpin. You hold it pointedly in front of her face and raise a brow at her, silently questioning why she didn’t use it. She sheepishly takes it from your fingers, flushing with embarrassment.

“I forgot,” she mutters.

You step away. Sylus’s voice comes in over the earpiece. “I’m glad you two are finally getting along,” he teases. You catch the truth in his words, honing in on the nearby security camera to glare at him. He chuckles richly. “I’m on my way.”

A quiet click alerts you before anything else. You slam your shoulder against the wall beside Miss Hunter, covering her with your body just as a loud bang and a sharp burn skids across your neck. The door slams open. She peers around you to watch Sylus’s Evol disintegrate the gun in the target’s hand. It’s small, easily concealable. Sylus lifts the man up by his scruff and shoves him at the twins.

“Deal with him,” he orders gruffly. It’s a far cry from how he sounded just seconds ago, but the blood at your neck hadn’t escaped his notice. Just a little to the side and you would be dead. The thought alone terrified him.

Miss Hunter watches him quickly cross the distance, turning you to fully face him so he can assess the damage. It’s not too bad, thankfully. Deep enough to bleed for a bit, but shallow enough it didn’t hit anything major. He grabs a few napkins from the table at the center of the room and presses them down on the wound. You replace his hands to keep the pressure yourself, nodding your head toward her. She feels just as under scrutiny under his stare as she did under yours. He sighs.

“I’ll have the medic look you over when we get back. You might want to hide those bruises from your boss for a few days, sweetie. People will start to wonder just what you get up to in your spare time.”

She flushes with the implications and hits his arm. He doesn’t so much as flinch. “I’m not the one who lost me on the cameras.”

He scoffs. “Blame the twins, sweetie. It’s their oversight that led to this.” He gestures to the hairpin still clutched in her hands. “You had the means to defend yourself. Use them next time.”

Before their bickering can go on, you step between them to grab more napkins from the table. The old ones stick to your bloody skin when you pull them away. You quickly replace them. Seeing your injury was enough to shut them both up, no matter how minor it really was. You turn to leave.

“Thank you,” Little Miss says quickly, trying to get it out before you step out the door. You look at her, expression neutral if not a bit exasperated. She offers a smile. It looks jarring against the purpling bruises, but you nod anyway. You glance at Sylus, then exit the backroom to go wait in the car.

“They must like you,” Sylus comments with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes and smacks him again on her way out. “Shut up or I’ll stab you with the hairpin.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

-

You sit still, eyes closed and head tilted to the side, as Sylus tends to the bullet-made cut on your neck. He has you up on the bathroom counter, standing between your legs as he gently disinfects and bandages the area. Once it is securely protected from outside elements, he brushes a kiss over it.

“Thank you for protecting her,” he whispers. You open your eyes and tilt your head back up to look at him. His expression is so open, genuine. He really means it; not that you needed to see it to know that. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

You give him a wry smile. You look away from his face to seek out his hand, resting on the counter beside you. He offers no resistance as you pick it up, your palm to the back of his hand as you intertwine your fingers together and draw him up to your lips. You close your eyes as you press a kiss to his palm, before nuzzling into it. “I know you’re mine,” you whisper back. You look back up at him, resting your cheek in his hand. “And… Mephisto is starting to like her.”

He chuckles softly. “Oh? Is that all?” He smiles at your little nod. Mischief flickers in your eyes before you shut them to press your face into his hand some more. It’s endearing. You’ve let yourself relax around him, allowed yourself to indulge in his touch like this. Which reminds him…

He brushes his thumb against your cheek, trailing his hand to your jaw to guide your attention back to him. There’s a slight furrow in his brow and something heavy in his eyes. “What happened on your end?”

Ah. Caught red handed. You avoid his eyes in favor of following the line of his nose, the dip of his cupid’s bow.

He leans forward to nudge his nose against yours, drawing you back into his gaze once more. “Tell me.”

“The dancer…” You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “I got distracted.”

He knows exactly what you mean. He cradles your face with purpose, fingers pressing lightly to the back of your neck, keeping you close as he rests his forehead against yours. “No more clubs for a while,” he promises. “Someone else can deal with them.”

You can’t disagree, not when you got someone else on the mission hurt because of the environment getting to you. For all your pouting about being relegated to watch, you know he always had good intentions for keeping you off the ground.

He pulls away, but not without leaving a kiss on your forehead. He flips the hold you have on his hand to be holding yours so he can help you off the counter. “The chef is making your favorite. It should be finished by now.”

He swears he falls a little more in love with the way your eyes light up in excitement. The little bounce in your step as you drag him down to the kitchen mirrors the skip of his heart. And when you see Miss Hunter there, thanking you again for saving her, you even offer her a slight smile.

Sitting at the dining table, the Twins bickering with Little Miss and you sneaking his robotic crow bits of food that he doesn’t need, he’s never felt more at home.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[starryficsfinishwen]

꒰ . ⋮ # 1 Aftertaste.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ — Kinktober 2024

with a taste of your lips, I'm on ride

syn. week 1 of Kinktober 2024, featuring Wuthering Waves and Punishing: Gray Raven men! (A to E)

kinktober masterlist

other works | playlist

a.n. rlly late but at least we got a month to go :D

pairings. [ pgr ] m!shikikan, noctis, lee, chrome, [ wuwa ] yuanwu x f!reader (separate)

CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW WARNING. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. age play, biting, seggs, a lil' cnc (consensual nonconsent), daddy kink, dirty talking, cardiophilia (attraction to heartbeats), enkuophilia (breeding kink), hints of use of aphrodisiacs (yuanwu), semi-public sex (chrome) dividers by @/cafekitsune!

˚ʚ A for Age play ɞ˚

A Little Death ⟡ Shikikan

In a world where everything is very overwhelming and too much, wouldn’t it be nice if you could actually get someone to do everything for you?

Lucky for you, there was someone else keeping you satisfied.

“Oh, darling,” Your lover purrs in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “do you not like my gift for you?”

A frilly skirt brushes your soft thighs as you shift in your seat. In the comforts of home, you excitedly wore the Commandant’s pretty gift to you— a pink, frilly short dress that halts by your thighs, paired with a matching pair of tights. The silk around your body hugs you perfectly, but you, in your simple mind, somehow want more.  The numbing vibration down there echoes throughout your whole body, yet never quite enough. You reach out to the Commandant, the golden bracelets shimmering under the fluorescent light of your shared home.

“Daddy,” you whine, desperate enough to rub your cheek on your lover’s hand, “Daddy, I missed you.”

Having the revered Commandant of the Gray Raven is both heaven and hell—heaven in a way that your love is pure and unadulterated, enough that keeps you both sane in this busy battlefield; hell, in a way that prevents you both from seeing each other for a long time. Like now, after many months of him being away, you’re finally back in each other’s arms. Like now—

A gentle hand carefully tilts your chin upward, making you look up to the Commandant.

“Now, now, darling, I want you to use your big girl words.” He tuts, “Do you not like my gift?”

“I-I do!” You cry out, jerking your hips as you try to rub your legs together, “It’s just…I…”

“You want what, dear?”

The Commandant finally kneels to your height. You bite your lips as you feel the vibrator shift a little deeper inside of you. “I…um, I jus’ really m-missed you…”

“Such a little darling for me, mm?” He hums, “Look at you, my darling little princess.”

The praise goes straight to your core, your hole throbbing around the vibrator. With a lithe moan of the Commandant’s name, you paw at his chest.

“D-Daddy,” With small tears in your eyes, you speak, “A-am I doing good?”

The Commandant’s pretty hands caresses your cheeks, to which you lean for his warmth. Such a simple, loving act brings immense joy to your daddy, that he chuckles.

“Ah, you’re doing a very great job, my darling.” Honey drips in his tongue, you shamelessly moan out loud from his voice. With his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, he mutters, “You’re been a very attentive girl these past few months, and you deserve such a great gift, don’t you think?”

His thumb easily slips inside your lips, and you open your mouth. You bob your head in agreement as you suck his thumb, your irises somehow shaped like hearts in your Commandant’s vision. “Yes, yes, yes, I’ve been a good little girl for you, daddy.”

“Well then, spread your legs for daddy.”

Without another word, you obeyed his commands. Opening your legs as wide as you can, you feel a plethora of your essence pool under you. The sight alone makes your lover salivate. After all, a treat like this after long months of absence would definitely satiate his hunger for you. Carefully, he plucks the vibrator out of your poor pussy, with more essence dripping out of you. You moan his name out loud.

“How do you want your gift, darling?” 

Sinful fingers trace your puffy pussy lips, before thumbing your little pearl, causing you to jerk in your seat. You breathe a shaky whine, to which the Commandant tuts.

“I want your big girl words, dear.”

“I-Inside, daddy.” You moan when his long fingers slipped inside, effortlessly finding your sensitive spots, “I-I want your dick inside of me, please!”

“That’s a good girl,” The Commandant praises you, thrusting his fingers upward to make you cry out, “I knew you would listen to your daddy.”

You whine a cry of disappointment when he temporarily withdraws his hands. In one swift motion, the Commandant takes off his pants, revealing his erect cock. Sitting on the bed, he pulls you to his lap. With a small kiss to your jaw, he whispers in your ear.

“Come and get your gift, dear.”

˚ʚ B for Biting ɞ˚

Candy ⟡ Noctis: Indomitus

It’s no surprise that Noctis is territorial. The man hoards everything—glass, toys, anything—causing him trouble with all of the things he keeps, not only to you, but even in Cerberus.

What you never knew though, was that his possessiveness extends to more than just material things.

“Ugh, f-fuck,” Noctis groans at the tightness of your cunt around his dick, “God, you’re so tight, you’re killing me.”

With a sharp thrust of his hips, you squeal as you hold onto the headboard with all your might. “N-Noctis! I-I thought we promised Vera we’ll be quiet…!”

Your meathead of a boyfriend could only moan your name as a response, big hands holding your hips. Noise complaints were already issued as soon as you and Noctis were together, that you’d be too embarrassed whenever you’d meet with Cerberus. But alas, your lover is too hard-headed to ever listen.

“S-Sorry, but I—hngh, so good—this pussy is just too good…!”

Twin moans spill from both of your lips as Noctis fucks you deeper, his hands sliding to the curve of your legs, pushing them to your ears. The new position causes you to cry louder, his long dick somehow feeling like he’s reaching your womb.

“No-Noctis!” 

“Fuck that.”

Noctis rises to see you better under him—with your pretty, fucked out face as uncontrollable moans leave your mouth, tiny hands now gripping his broad shoulders. Was it the blur, or the steam, or the love-lust that somehow clouds his mind as he notices your bare neck. And he gets it—the urge to mark you. No, not just inside of you, but every part of you. In the heat of the moment, Noctis latches onto your chest. With a firm bite! of his teeth in your chest, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, with a loud cry of Noctis’ name. 

“Noctis—! We talked a-abo—haah-!”

Of course, hickies were fine, but you always drew a line for too much. But was it really too much? To him, it still isn’t enough. Noctis is still relentless, fucking you through your orgasm, as he continues to litter your chest with bites. Moving upward, he rests your legs over his shoulder now, the urge to mark you causing him to fuck you harder.

“No-no-noctis—”

“I need to mark you,” He grunts in your neck, the last of his work as his impending orgasm starts to crash onto him, “One more.”

With the last of his precious mark on your now-littered neck, you squeeze his arms as Noctis’ orgasm comes unexpectedly. You cry out with your eyes rolling back as Noctis unconsciously bites your shoulder, triggering you to squirt all over his cock, as well as him filling you up.

Noctis is territorial, you know of that. But seeing the way he had marked you, inside and out, you are sure now that his possessiveness is more than anything simple.

“[Y/N],” Noctis moans, watching his bites and hickies all over your neck and chest, as well as your little pussy struggling to keep all of his cum inside, “...you’d give me one more, mm?”

˚ʚ C for Cardiophilia* ɞ˚

Casually Closer ⟡ Lee: Hyperreal

A construct’s heart is different from a human’s. 

Thump, thump, thump. Apart from its irregular beat, its structure alone runs a different substance. For a construct like Lee, whose heart he had long given up to his beloved brother, he once believed he could no longer love like a human. 

That is, until you came along.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your heart peacefully throbs in your chest as you sleep. Lee watches you diligently, watching your sleeping figure bathe in the moonlight. He has long been accustomed to hearing the thrum of your heartbeat in the midst of the night. As he finishes the last of your paperwork (ones that he forced you to give to him so you could sleep), his eyes find themselves trailing back to you.

Thump. Thump. Your heart is in perfect condition. The rise and fall of your chest. The subtle curl of your lips, as if you are having a nice dream. Were you having a nice dream? Lee is jealous; he wishes he could see it.

But alas, his eyes drift downwards, to your body. The blankets fall off of your body, exposing your skin, in your shorts. Slightly looking away, Lee’s cheeks dusting pink as he approaches you. The bed dips as he sits beside you, taking in your beauty in the moonlight.

“Commandant,” he sighs, pulling the blankets back to your body, “...sleep tight.”

Thump. Thump. His robotic fingers land on the apex of your chest, where your heart was. Thump…Thump. A skip. His eyebrows raise— did your heart just skip a beat.

“...mmn, Lee…” You mutter his name, in your sleep.

“Commandant?”

“...mm, more,” you mutter once more, your face contorting, “more…please.”

Thump, th-thump. Your heart rate jumps. Something is new in your dreams, then. You shift in your sleep, tired hands holding onto Lee’s, as the blanket on your body fails to cover you. His palm falls flat on your chest, the throbbing of your heart increasing.

Were you having a wet dream of Lee, perhaps?

The thought hits harder to the construct, the blush on his cheeks shading to the color of your exposed panties. 

“Commandant…” He whispers, “Please—”

The subtle way your body leans to him, your thighs barely touching Lee’s body. Yet, the action alone somehow makes his pants tight. This is a problem he faces whenever you are around— Lee both hates and adores the way his body reacts to you so easily.

“—Lee,” you softly moan his name, and his cock throbs, “‘m so needy…”

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Your heartbeat clamors loudly in your chest, and Lee couldn’t help but groan. He wants to touch you. He needs to touch you. But despite the throb of his cock, he could never find the heart to defile you.

“Commandant, you’re making this hard for me…” Lee tries to escape from your grasp, but the grip on his hand somehow tightens.

“...and I know you’re awake, Commandant.”

Your face scrunches up. Slowly opening your eyes, Lee isn’t surprised to see your lust-blown irises staring back at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Lee.” You pout, holding his hand to pull it all over your chest, “But you already know that you can touch me, you know.”

“I can’t bring myself to do that to you, Commandant.” He looks away, his “cooling system” failing to hide the reddening blush across his face, “You already know that.”

“Mm, yeah, but I really do need you, Lee.” You whispered, “Can’t you feel it?”

His hand squeezes your breast, before feeling your heartbeat again. Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.

Your heartbeat is beautiful. You are beautiful. You’re too much— but Lee would kill to be in between you right now.

Without a second thought, Lee leans down to capture your lips with his. In the frenzy haze of lust under the moonlight, he kisses you like there’s no tomorrow. Fuck, it’s too delicious to even think straight, that he effortlessly carries you to his lap. Aimless hands touching skin everywhere, knowing no bounds as you descend into madness.

Thump.Thump.Thump. 

Your heartbeat falls into the same throbbing pattern as his own mechanical heart. You moan into the kiss when you feel Lee’s hands rip through your poor excuse of a pajama, his thumb teasing your now-soaked folds.

“Lee, Lee,” You cry out when his fingers slip inside of your aching hole, despite your underwear, “Stop teasing…!”

“Says the woman who’s been doing that all night.” Lee moans when your pussy flutters around his fingers, “God, so needy.”

“I need you, Lee,” You whine, hips grinding to the way he fingers you, “I need you inside of me, Lee.”

Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump—

Your heartbeat draws Lee wild. With a little assistance from you, he opens his pants to free his erection. An erotic moan draws out of you, as he slowly lowers you to his hard cock, your warm walls contracting around him. A careless grunt escapes his lips, as your cunt flutters as the intrusion.

“Are you oka—”

“—fuck,” You cry out, feeling his cock finally bottoming inside of you, “Lee-!”

The tip teases your sensitive spot, with little tears forming around your eyes. Trying to ease the pain from his size, you helplessly cling onto Lee’s shoulders, catching your breath. But Lee—God knows how far gone he is.

Thump.Thump.Thump. 

Your heartbeat, the way your pussy flutters around his cock— Lee knows he’s in heaven. One sharp thrust, and he has you moaning already. 

“W-wait, Lee—?!” “—You feel so divine, [Y/N],” Lee mutters, the pussydrunk feeling already settling deep in his system, “Let me make you feel so good, please.”

˚ʚ D for Dirty talking ɞ˚

Daddy Issues ⟡ Yuanwu

You are attracted to the owner of the famous boxing gym in Jinzhou: Yuanwu. It’s so wrong, yet it somehow feels so right.

“You seem a bit stiff again today, [Y/N],” You hear Yuanwu say behind you, your roaring heart echoing throughout your whole body.

It’s another workout day. Your arms looped around the bar above you, as you try to accommodate your stretches. Yet, hearing the object of your affections, somehow nearly made you lose your balance. Fortunately—

“Careful, there, little girl,” Yuanwu’s husky voice sends tingles to your ear, “I’d rather not let you fall so quickly.”

Before you could hit the ground, Yuanwu held you by the hips. With a squeal, you quickly brush yourself off of him.

“A-ah, Mr. Yuanwu!” You look away to hide from his knowing gaze, “I’m fine! Sorry, I got distracted…”

He’s silent again. Glancing back at him, you notice gray eyes glazed with worry. Without a thought, you reach out to squeeze his arm.

“I–um, Mr. Yuanwu, I’m perfectly fine, I promise.” You mutter with a sigh, “Can I have a sip of your tea instead? I feel a little light-headed right now.”

Lucky for you, he already had the table set. Sitting across you, drinking his usual brewed Trine tea. The lime-colored tea smells so rejuvenating and refreshing, that you want to drown in its smell alone.

“Say, [Y/N],” Yuanwu opens the conversation for a while, “How are you liking the gym so far?”

You take a sip. The tea oddly tastes sweet today. “Oh…I am enjoying it so far, Mr. Yuanwu. I didn’t even know that I’d be really enjoying the stretches…”

“I’m glad,” He flashes a sweet smile, the laugh lines around his eyes a little more noticeable, “To be honest, when I saw your physique, I always thought you’d be more suitable for stretches.”

Your throat feels scratchy, the more you listen to Yuanwu. Taking another sip, your attention seems to be limited— oddly fixated on the tacet mark on his neck, watching the rise and fall of his broad chest, somehow noticing the way his prominent Adam’s apple bob as he speaks— you snap out of your trance when he snaps his fingers.

“Ms. [Y/N]?” Hell, even Yuanwu’s voice somehow made your core throb, “Are you listening?”

“Hah,” Noticing the intense stare of your master, the blush on your face draws a darker shade. “Yes, Mr. Yuanwu!”

“Okay, so as I was saying…”

His mouth was moving, but the words died down in your ears. Eagerly watching how he took off his gloves, revealing long, calloused hands. They opened and closed in front of you, before reaching for his cup. Tracing the outline of the cup, your thoughts turned naughty—  Wondering how his hands would trace your legs, the inside of your thighs, your wet cunt. Wondering how they’d pry your legs open, how his deft fingers would actually play with your throbbing clit—

“...seeing as your flexibility knows no bounds, I do wonder how far you’d be willing to open your legs for me, darling?”

The words cme hurling at you at a surprising speed. You look up to find Yuanwu’s sweet smile, but this time, laced with something far too lewd.

“I guess you already have imagined that, haven’t you, little [Y/N]?”

Yuanwu stands up, slowly approaching you. His gloveless hands found themselves cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your lips.

“How long have you fantasized about me, [Y/N]?”

“I…Mr. Yuanwu…”

“Tell me, my dear. I long noticed the way you look at me. It’s unlike any other simple one.” His voice drops an octave lower, looking down on you as he touches your leg. “Do you know the properties of Trine tea is being honest, right? It’ll break my poor heart if you don’t tell me, my [Y/N].”

“A while,” You whisper, noticing the close proximity between the both of you, “I-I have been…”

“Really? That’s so sweet of you. Tell me; what do you usually fantasize about?”

That’s definitely private information. But the way Yuanwu has been looking at you, only made your cunt clench around nothing. “I-I’m too shy…!”

“I’ll help you, then.” He flashes his teeth, akin to little fangs, “Perhaps I need to teach you more about being honest.”

“My dear [Y/N], do you fantasize me holding you like this, then?”

He gently holds your arms above your head, graciously with one hand. In a swift moment, he has you pinned on the table.

“Do you imagine me holding your hands up like this, while I’m in between you?”

He slips himself in between your legs, your legs locking him around his waist, making him hiss.

“M-Mr. Yuanwu-!”

“Do you imagine me holding you by your neck, while I try to kiss you?”

His other hand holds you by the base of your neck, lightly putting pressure. You gasp at the sensation, your hips involuntarily grinding on his hips. He graciously returns the motion, his poking erection on your clothed core.

“Do you imagine me touching you in places that are too precious?”

One hand leaves your neck, trailing from your chest, down to your quivering thighs. Holding you there with a light squeeze, one thrust to your cunt. You moan quietly.

“Or do you imagine me taking you here, on this very table, telling you how much of a good girl you are as I fuck you like an animal?”

You moan loudly when Yuanwu ruts himself on you. You squirm from his grip, but he only urges you further— your back arching, aching for more.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry out, squirming in his grip, “I said fuck me, please, sir!”

“‘Atta girl,” Yuanwu grins, slowly peeling off your shorts, “Let’s make your dreams come true, hm?”

˚ʚ E for Enkuopophilia** ɞ˚

Earned it ⟡ Chrome: Glory

Chrome is a family man, you’ve noted.

Despite living in a house devoid of any familial love, despite only having robots around him. As Langston Smith, his world revolved around “glory”. When he was baptized as Chrome, a new kind of world came— a different kind of glory. Chrome has long learned love through his members, through Strike Hawk. Sure, living as a construct may be hard and different, but it’s a beautiful one. Especially when love exists in his team.

Especially with you in it.

“Your baby is so cute~!” You gush, excitingly holding the small, fragile baby in your arms, “She’s so beautiful…”

On a rest day, Chrome accompanied you to visit an old friend. Long did you both know that your friend had a surprise waiting for you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant!” You playfully teased your blushing friend, “I could have prepared a baby shower for you!”

“We didn’t know either,” She giggles, looking at her husband, “I eventually found out by accident. She really is a surprise for us.”

Chrome could see the love in your friend’s eyes as she gazed at her husband. The latter looks back at her the same way, a soft squeeze on her hand. Looking back at you, who has been captured by the baby’s charms, an unadulterated emotion knocks on Chrome’s chest.

What was it?

“You and Chrome would have a lovely family, if you ever decide to have one.” Your friend comments.

Your eyes meet Chrome’s pensive ones. With a lovely smile, you nodded. “I sure hope so.”

Ah, Chrome knows it’s impossible. How can a construct and a human ever have a family? But somehow, seeing your relaxed appearance as you held the baby— and somehow Chrome sees something else: you, with a swollen belly, looking at him. And something shifts inside of him. And something is different.

“C-Chrome-!” Moans of your lover’s name fill your mouth as you feel yourself fall flat on the wall, “S-slow down!”

Soon after your little affair at your friend’s place, Chrome had you pinned on the wall at Smith’s home. Your panties were thrown somewhere on the floor, alongside Chrome’s jacket. Your body surrenders as Chrome drills deep into you, the surge of pleasure nearly blurring your vision. The whirr of the robots seem absent, but the looming fear that the patriarch would stumble in, would see the lewd and disheveled look on your faces—

“Don’t think of anyone else right now, hah, [Y/N],” Chrome growls, “Focus on me.”

His grip on your hips is ruthless as he fucks you deeper, the tip of his cock precisely hitting your sweetest spots in one go. Your cries only spur his drive— in the face of your lover, you submit to his desires.

“I-I just—hngh, I do-don’t understand w-what got you so w-haah, worked up-!”

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes so gently, in contrast to his thrusts, “You…you were just so beautiful ho-holding a baby…”

Chrome moans your name with a sharp thrust, knocking the air out of you for a moment. Holding a baby? Ah, Chrome saw it. He saw how lovely you were, as you held the baby.

“I want to fuck a baby in you,” Chrome pleads, “I want you to carry our child, [Y/N].”

A cry rips out of your mouth when your orgasm comes crashing without a warning. The idea of having a family with Chrome was something you’ve long wanted. But Chrome— fuck the laws. Like him, the idea of having a family with Chrome is a need. 

“Did you come for me already, [Y/N]?” He chuckles in your ear, fingers rubbing your neglected nub, “So pretty f’me.”

His actions cause you to squirm in his hold. With a cry of his name, your pussy clenches around his length, causing Chrome to hold his breath.

“Do you like the idea of having a baby with me?” Chrome asks so softly, you nearly forget the rough pace he set on your poor pussy, “Do you want to start a family with me, [Y/N]?”

“F-Fuck!” You moan shamelessly, holding onto Chrome’s hand, “Breed me, Chrome, please.”

Chrome looks down to find a frothy white rim around his hard length. Watching how addicting you were to him, your abused pussy taking all of him, his impending orgasm roars loudly in his body— the urge to breed, breed, breed–!

“I’ll put a baby in you, [Y/N],” Chrome pulls you even closer, and all emotions come crashing in— “So take it all.”

“Chrome–!”

As your eyes roll back to your skull, your second orgasm forces Chrome to cum with you, spurts of his hot cum seeping so so deep in you, that some overflowed out of you. It takes a while before you both manage to catch your breath. You try to move your muscles, albeit aching, but Chrome stops you.

“A-ah,” Chrome tuts, “Not yet. I’m not done with you, yet.”

The telltale of Chrome’s still-hard cock still buried inside of you, with some of his cum plugged deep inside of you brings you to reality. It’s only until Chrome carries you, makes you whine.

“I’m not leaving until we’re successful, [Y/N].”

© starryficsfinishwen ᯓ★

please don't steal or own my works!!

*cardiophilia - attraction to heartbeats **enkuopophilia - breeding kink

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Nine - The little things

☆☆☆

You're sitting on the steps of Dream's throne while he reads about a girl named Rose Walker.

Morpheus coaxed you into using your human form a little more often. As a gift, he gave you a wardrobe full of outfits. You were wearing a pair of shiny black boots. You had been practising how to tie the laces. Matthew would undo them with his beak so you could tie them again.

This was all part of you trying human things, no matter how mundane they seemed.

"What have you tried so far?" Jessamy asks, flying in.

"Um, let's see, I tried an apple when we were with Death the other day. Hob bought me a coffee, that was nice. Lucienne has been teaching me how to dance."

"Dance?" Morpheus asks, looking up from the book.

"Yes. She suggested I might try and find a hobby for myself, so we went through some stuff and settled on dancing. She's very good, you know."

"Is she?" Dream sounds amused.

You nod.

Morpheus puts the book down and stands up. He walks down the steps until he reaches you and holds out his hand. You look up at him with slight confusion.

"Dance with me."

You feel your heart skip a beat. You stare at his hand for a few long moments before you remember he's waiting. You reach out slowly and place your hand in his.

Morpheus smiles softly.

He guides you off the steps and then gently pulls you in close, but not too close.

"We don't have any music."

"We don't need music." He says.

He leads. You follow. You don't even look down at your feet as you dance with him. His eyes stay locked on yours.

You're not entirely sure you understand what's happening. How has it come to this? Once upon a time, you never would have dared think of Dream in this way. He was always just your king, your creator, your Dream Lord.

This was something out of a fairytale.

Matthew and Jessamy sit on the steps and watch you both. They can see this connection that has been building between you both. It's clear as day.

"Are they-?" Matthew starts to ask, but Jessamy hits him with her wing and shuts him up.

The dance continues right up until Lucienne returns. She has been out taking note of everyone who had returned to the Dreaming, and who was still missing.

You take a step away from Morpheus. He doesn't even look at Lucienne as she comes over. His eyes linger on you and how shy you have become.

As a raven, you would have no issue talking back at him. As a human you seem so sheepish around him.

He wonders if you feel it too.

"My Lord." Lucienne looks between you both. She realises she jas walked in on something, but she must speak to Morpheus.

"I, uh... I'm going to try out more stuff..."

You smile softly at Lucienne as you rush past her. Jessamy flies after you.

He does not look away until you've completely disappeared from sight. He turns his attention back to Lucienne who is looking right at him with her brows raised.

"Go on."

"I have completed the census you have requested, Lord Morpheus."

"Good, and?"

"I have accounted for 11,062 of them."

"Wow, someone's been busy," Matthew chimes in.

"There are a handful of new entites." Lucienne says.

"That is to be expected." Morpheus goes through the census.

"But... three of the Major Arcana are gone."

Morpheus looks up at her. "Name them."

"The first is Gault."

The first window changes to reflect the missing Nightmare.

"A Nightmare who. I must say, I never trusted."

"She is a shape-changer. It is not in her nature to be trustworthy. Who else?"

"The Corianthian."

That was a given. Morpheus had failed long ago to bring him back.

The second window changes to reflect him.

"I assumed as much. Still feeding on the dreamers he was meant to serve."

"Yes."

"The last?"

"The last is Fiddler's Green."

Now that was unexpected.

"Fiddler's Green?"

The last window depicts the lush greenery of which was once Fiddler's Green.

"That is passing strange. He is, after all, vavasor of his own dominion and always so reliable."

"I know."

"This is my fault.vhad I been here, fulfilling my function-"

"It was not your fault, my lord."

"No? Then whose?"

"I am afraid there is yet more news." Lucienne says. "Gossip, really, but..."

"Go on."

"There are rumours among the dream folk... of a vortex. Perhaps you might wish to investigate."

The rumours are quite true. There is a vortex." He confirms. "A true annulet. The first of this era."

"Then you must hunt for it, sir. It must be controlled."

"The vortex is a she, Lucienne."

Morpheus shows her Rose Walker. As of at the moment, she is not a danger. He intends to use Rose to gather his missing Dreams.

Lucienne is unsure of all of this.

Matthew offers to go keep an eye on Rose. Morpheus agrees. There was a time he would send you, but he would quite like to keep you in the Dreaming for now. He wants you to explore your human side some more.

☆☆☆

"Is it nice?" Jessamy asks, watching you brush your hair in the mirror.

"It feels nice through my hair." You say.

"Not the brush, silly."

You look at her reflection. "What then?"

"Falling in love."

You stop brushing and turn in your chair to look at her, shock and confusion written all over your face. "What do you mean?"

She chuckles softly. "You and Lord Morpheus."

"What about me and Lord Morpheus?"

Jessamy flies over to the dressing table you are sitting at and looks up at you through the mirror. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"

"What? No! Don't be silly." You can't believe she would ever say anything like that.

"What? You're trying to me you don't feel anything toward him?" She cocks her head to the side.

"That would be ludicrous!" You gasp.

"Why?"

"Why? Our lord has not had a partner romantically in so long. His relationships end terribly. Which is a shame. He is such a good man. At least in my eyes. Yeah, he's a little emotionally constipated, but I am certain when he loves he loves with his whole being, and I am not about to hurt him."

"Why would you hurt him?" Jessamy asks.

"I don't think the Endless are meant to love."

"They must do. If not people, then some other aspect. Did you not say Death loves her job because she is there for the people when their time is up? That's a type of love."

"It's not the same..."

You sink down in your chair slightly. "I refuse to fall in love with him."

"I think it's too late." Jessamy flies up and pecks you softly. You wave her off you and watch her fly away again.

"You're wrong..." You whisper. No one hears you.

☆☆☆

"What are you doing?"

You turn to find Morpheus watching you. His lips are curled into a tiny smile. You hadn't heard him enter your room.

"Um, trying on some outfits. Lucienne said you made me even more clothes."

"I assumed you would like a selection." He looks at the outfits he had created for you.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to spend some time together? You could perhaps try more human things. Lucienne mentioned you hadn't really experienced much in your human form."

"Oh, I don't want be any trouble."

"You are no trouble. Matthew is keeping an eye on Rose Walker for me, and the Dreaming is doing rather well. I would very much like to spend some time with you again." He speaks softly.

You gaze at him. You hadn't expected him to say anything of the sort. "Okay."

"Come with me. We shall explore the dreams of others unnoticed and try out anything you wish. Say the word, and I shall find us a dream."

You follow him.

You've never actually done this before, travelled dreams. That was his thing. He could enter dreams unnoticed if he wanted to, and the people dreaming would be none the wiser.

"What would you like to do?" He asks.

"I... hm." You're not entirely sure. You try to think of something the humans enjoy doing. "What about... ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" He asks, a tone of amusement laced in his voice. You nod. "Very well then."

Morpheus takes your hand in his and guides you through the Dreaming. He finds exactly what he's looking for. A young girl in Italy is having a dream of the ice cream parlour her father takes her too. Morpheus hides from her view as he takes an ice cream and gives it to you.

You look at it. It's cold in your hand. It feels real for a dream, but you supposed, in a sense, dreams were real.

"Go on," he urges softly.

You watch the way the girl eats hers and copy her. It's cold on your tongue. You can taste the flavours. You go in for some more. It's sweet, but not too sweet. You like it.

Suddenly, after a few good bites, you're struck with a pain in your head. Your hiss as you massage your scap gently.

Morpheus chuckles. "Ah, the experience of what they call brain-freeze."

"Oh. What do they enjoy this so much if this happens?" You pout.

"Perhaps a sweet treat is worth a little punishment." He teases.

Still, you eat the rest of the ice cream.

"What now?" He asks.

"Um, maybe I could try riding a bicycle?"

Morpheus is once again left amused by your request. He finds a dream of a man who, in his younger years, used to race on a bike. He helps you climb on. "Start small."

"Right..."

You take note of the people in the dream. You try to copy their movements. It is not so easy to balance with two wheels. Morpheus does not let you give up though.

Soon enough, you are peddling. You manage to cover a little distance. You smile as you start getting the hang of it. There was so much for you to experience.

Though you do miss soaring through the skies as a raven. However, Morpheus was keen for you to stay human today. You would humour him.

Next you want to see a beach. Morpheus can find those in abundance. He selects one he particularly like the look of.

You remove your shoes and feel the warm sand under your feet. You smile. Sand is Dream's thing, so it feels comforting. The sea is gentle against the shore.

"This is nice."

"It has dawned on me how little you have experienced, even as a raven."

"I suppose... but it's alright. I adore serving you." You tell him softly.

"Still, as things are now, you are permitted to enjoy life a little more."

"That's... very kind of you. However, please do not let me stray from my duties. I am still your loyal raven."

He chuckles. "Yes."

As you both walk along the shore, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. You look at him, but he simply smiles. You say nothing. The pair of you walk along the beach.

It's funny seeing him in such a warm, sunny place dressed the way he is. But it's just a dream. He's not really affected.

The sun starts to set. You stop and turn to look at it.

"How was it being human?"

You smile softly. "It was nice. I miss my wings, but this is exciting. Thank you for this."

"You're most welcome. I feel a lot is about to happen, so I wanted you to enjoy this." He says softly.

"What do you mean?"

"The vortex. She will bring my missing creations to her, and I shall bring them all home."

"Oh, right. Yes. Just say the word, and I'll help."

He smiles at you. "I know."

You both stay on the beach a little while longer. Once the sun has gone, Morpheus takes you back to the palace. You walk beside him through the halls.

"I must go speak to Lucienne. I shall call on you again soon." He says, looking at you. Nodding, you watch him go. His coat flows behind him as he disappears down the hall.

You stand there with a small smile on your face. All of things you've done today, your favourite part was spending it with Morpheus.

It almost felt like a date.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess - @mystic-mara -

[allforjeanmoreau]

So we all know that Riko is King and Kevin is Queen (in my interpretation he‘s a pawn that was transformed into a Queen, to be exact).

But now the question is, which chess piece represents Jean best?

Here‘s my idea: Jean is the dark-squared bishop. Why? Because if we assume the Ravens are the black chess pieces (which makes sense considering their color scheme), then the dark-squared bishop is the one that’s right next to the king. And as long as the pawns are blocking his way, the bishop can’t move. He’s trapped right next to his violent king.

Another thing about bishops is that they can never change the color they’re walking on. A dark-squared bishop will always have black tiles beneath it. No matter how far it goes, the ground that it’s standing on will still be black. And Jean, too, has a hard time letting go of the raven‘s darkness. It haunts him wherever he goes. Then Cat takes him to the beach, and for once Jean doesn’t look down at that black foundation that his life is built upon. He looks to the horizon and he looks at the endless sky and he realizes the world is bigger than the Ravens’ stifling nest.

And what if that pawn that is standing right in front of the king is Kevin? The e7 pawn is one of the pawns that are blocking the bishop’s way, and doesn’t Kevin’s escape, in a way, also lead to Jean being rescued by Renee? Would Renee have reached out to him and eventually dragged him to Palmetto, if she hadn’t known Kevin, if she hadn’t known anything about what Riko and the Ravens are like?

But Jean didn’t leave of his own free will. He was captured. Which means that the moment he left Evermore, he actually stopped being that dark-squared bishop. However, he can’t let go of that role easily. Being a Raven, being number 3, was torturous but it was all he had. He had a clear task to fulfill and no room to even think about who he wants to be and now the Trojans are suddenly giving him so much freedom, so much that it’s disorienting.

So I think I need to correct myself. Jean is not the dark-squared bishop anymore. He was. Now he needs to find out what his true calling is.

[sabotsen]

Afterglow

Pairing: Noan x (gn!) Commandant / Reader

Notes: Set shortly after Noan’s affection story 6; word count 1.3k

Warnings: Subtle possessiveness

A fluke. 

Fate disguised as a coincidence. 

Isn’t that how it always goes in hero stories? 

A chance encounter that alters the alignment of stars and rewrites destiny for the better, with hope woven into every word and touch. 

But this is not a hero’s story, and fate has never been kind to him. 

It is not a moment of joy, with warm smiles and gentle laughter in the company of friends. It is not a moment of anticipation, spirits soaring high before the oncoming fight. This moment — quiet and peaceful — has been won only after the blood of comrades has stained your hands beyond recognition and their corpses paved the way to the top of this hill upon which you weather every storm. 

But even so…

Despite it all, he is grateful. 

How could he not be, with your head on his shoulder? 

Your breathing is slow and steady, his cloak a poor cushion against the hard, unyielding metal of his frame. Yet now and then, you drowsily nuzzle against his shoulder and almost seem to burrow into the worn folds of the fabric before settling once more against him. It’s enough to trigger an itch in his wires, a slow rolling brushfire that sweeps across him — quiet, without flare or noise. More than once he has brushed the hair from your eyes, his fingers curling as they trace a path from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw. 

Still you do not wake. 

Not when he calls your name or when his touch drifts across your cheek like butterfly wings, a ghost of a touch too delicate to truly be missed. Just how much have you been pushing yourself lately? It hasn’t even been three days since you returned from a month long mission down on the surface and already the shadows beneath your eyes are just as concerningly dark as the first night he kidnapped you to this blind spot in Zone Z. Do you always throw yourself so recklessly into the fray, heedless of your health? 

How does Gray Raven stand it, watching you tear yourself apart like this piece by piece? How does Simon hold his tongue every time your paths cross, despite the endless worries that flow over like rain behind the closed doors of Dark Ares? 

You nuzzle against his shoulder again, a faint furrow in your brow as the blanket draped around your shoulders slides away. Noan cannot help the small smile that pulls at his lips as he adjusts the blanket and dutifully ensures you are properly bundled. His hands hover near your cheek, an itch in his fingertips to brush against your brow and coax that furrow away. 

You trust him — foolishly, kindly — and he still cannot wrap his head around why. It’s such a heavy thing — your trust — and he has long since known cold, metallic hands cannot grasp delicate things forever. 

Would that wake you? 

Would it cross a line somewhere, somehow? 

He settles for lightly brushing the hair from your face, touch far too light and mindful, before his hand drifts down to your hands resting in your lap. Slowly, with all the careful movements of a child reaching for something forbidden in the middle of the night, he cradles your hand in his. Immediately, your warmth sinks into him, gradual and welcoming. 

Your head on his shoulder, your hand cradled in his — a fragile peace lay nestled against him. 

It feels like Spring.

It feels like home.

Delicate, like a folded paper crane. Even the slightest moment could tear and rend everything asunder. The smallest bit of rain could eat away the body. Carefully, so carefully must he act — every word and action mindful and calculating. He can’t lose this — this friend, this trust, this warmth. 

Slowly, he laces your fingers in his, marveling at the softness of your skin against the hard edges of him. You stir in your sleep, fingers curling around his hand and weakly returning his grip. 

“Commandant.” 

Your title is a whisper upon his lips, gentle like flower petals. 

“You’re scowling again.” 

His free hand brushes against your cheek, thumb tenderly swiping just under your eyes as if to wipe away tears. Beneath his light touches, you seem to relax, the faint traces of tension fading from your expression. He feels the subtle shift of your weight as you lean upon him further, like a bird burrowing into a corner of the nest. 

Warmth seeps into him, sinking beneath cold metal and bleeding beyond colored wires. Down, down, down it travels — to a vast white expanse within him, where only snow thrives. It seeps in, like springtime rain, and melts the unending snow. Noan gently tilts his head, lips brushing against the top of yours as he soaks up every bit of your warmth like a sunflower desperate for the sun. 

The empty bridge framed by the black expanse of the stars are the only witness to this moment of weakness. He knows when the timer runs out, this will all be over. He will return you to your Gray Ravens, likely carrying you upon his back much like he did before. He will return to the cafe and slip that shackle back on his wrist once more. 

“Shall we run away again?” You had asked just hours prior, the playful smile on your lips marred only by the exhaustion you could not hide. 

He didn’t tell you the response he suppressed — suffocated, really — that you need only say when and he would answer your call without fail. He did not tell you how he hid a blanket in the library on the impossible chance he could sneak you away to Zone Z again. He did not speak of the joy that flared in his chest, bright and blooming, to hear your request. 

He had merely held out his shackled wrist to you, a small smile on his lips as he had replied, “You really shouldn’t make a habit of getting kidnapped by an infamous bad guy unless you want to be lectured for hours.”

Your laughter as you disarmed his tracker still rings in his ears. A precious sound — what would it take to make you laugh more often? How often do you laugh around your Ravens? 

Noan closes his eyes as his thumb brushes over the back of your hand in his as he curls himself around you. If only there were still softer parts to him left, maybe he could be of more comfort. You’re still sleeping so soundly, but it can’t be comfortable to use him as a pillow like this. The blanket he brought couldn’t be enough — it’s not, not to him. He has to do more, be more. 

Next time, then. 

The thought freezes Noan, barely suppressing the flinch that would have squeezed your hand — he could have hurt you. Next time? Will there be a next time? Would it be alright to hope for that? To trust in that? 

Noan calls your name softly, devoid of any titles. Caution laces his tone but it is no less gentle. 

Still you do not wake. 

Soon, this peace will end and his time will run out. You will return to the frontlines and he will return to his shackles, worn weary by painful tests and experiments under watchful eyes that neither trust nor care for him. 

“It would be nice,” he murmurs into your hair, “if you called upon me like this again.” 

Silence settles and the stars in the instance still frame the otherwise dark and empty room. Noan quietly tugs the blanket tighter around you and curls himself that much closer to you, every bit a child clutching a jar of fireflies for comfort. 

The feeling of you cradled in his arms — a paper crane, a firefly — 

This is enough for now…. 

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 2 Summary: Lucien and Rhysand argue over Reader's imprisonment, only one cell is traded for another. Lucien reaches out to an unlikely alley for support in getting Reader free.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of injuries, mentions of self harm, mentions of body issues/insecurities.

A/N: I was too excited to wait the full month so here is part two a bit early! I apologize that this gets a bit dialogue heavy at the end. I may fix it later. This is going to be a long slow burn fic with a lot of angst. This will also have crossover with some of the Crescent City characters. It also probably goes without saying, but this will not follow canon past the events in HOSAB. Comment on this post if you want to be included on the tag list.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 1

Seven days. Seven days he’d been arguing and advocating for her release with Rhysand. For seven days he listened to the same rehearsed list of excuses as to why Rhys wouldn’t budge in his decision.

“You and I both know that the gate to Velaris was sealed with blood magic. Only those whose blood is linked to the seal can pass through, which she shouldn’t have been able to do. On top of that we don’t know what world she came from. I’m not risking the lives of my family-my court, which includes you- on what equates to no more than a hunch.”  

While the High Lord’s statements were reasonable and valid points, his insistence she remained confined in that dark and dank cell was not. Lucien hastily made his way down the main steps that lead into the catacombs, thoughts of his last spat with Rhysand swirling in his mind.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to this woman?” Rhys had questioned. Lucien had asked himself the same thing; but how could he say that it was less about her and more about what she represented? That when he saw her cowering form in the corner of that cell, images of Feyre, Elain, and Jesminda flashed through his mind. He had failed the two sisters. He had failed his first love. He would sooner have the Cauldron blast him from existence should he fail to protect another innocent female. He’d kept his composure standing in Rhysand’s office at the River House long enough. A simmering rage permeated the space as the raven-haired male stared him down. A silent challenge in the already tense atmosphere.

“How can you stand your own hypocrisy?” He seethed, “You sit there thinking of yourself so high and mighty, yet a simple human frightens you? You allowed Feyre into Velaris the second week she spent with you. You allowed Bryce into your home within minutes of her crashing into our world. Yet this human…this woman scares you so much you have her imprisoned in one of the most dangerous areas of your court?”

“ENOUGH!” Rhysand bellowed, his own violet orbs simmered with rage. Lucien felt his flames rise up and encircle his palms. Rhysand’s High Lord command held no sway so he continued.

“Are you that much of a coward that you could not have just asked her a few simple questions? You couldn’t have just looked into her-”

“I could not enter her mind!” Rhys’ breaths were ragged. “Something is protecting that mortal, and it is strong enough to keep me out. So long as those shields of hers remain impenetrable I cannot trust her. I must keep my mate and child safe.” Lucien scoffed, his fire dwindled. “Which is not something I can say I see you doing for your own.”  

Lucien could still feel the cracking of bone and cartilage of Rhys’ nose as it connected with his fist. The argument surly would have resulted in them demolishing the entirety of the business wing had Azriel’s arrival not stopped the two males in their tracks. The Shadowsinger’s haggard appearance set them both on edge, but his words allowed Lucien to breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m done with this Rhys. I cannot keep hur- I cannot do this… she knows nothing.” The High Lord merely looked between the Emissary and the Spymaster. Expression relaxed and revealing nothing, even as blood dripped over his lips.

“Bring her up to the Moonstone Palace,” the commanded was towards his brother, “Since Lucien is so smitten with the woman he shall remain with her there for the time being.”

Lucien soon found himself outside of her cell. Only darkness and cold emanated from beyond the door. He paused his own breathing, wondering if she was even still alive. The last time he saw her, she hadn’t hesitated to slice open her own skin. Azriel wasn’t far behind and pushed past Lucien to enter the room. Lucien’s breath remained caught in his throat as he took in the mangled sight of her.

You had no idea how long you’d been in the darkness of your cell. Hours had turned into days, but just how many days you weren’t sure. You had gone silent on what you assumed was the third day. You knew nothing of how you got there, and you had no idea where to begin when Azriel-who’s name you gathered early on-asked you about the world you came from. Its not like he would believe you if you said your world had no magic, at least not in the same way it was here. Then again, that was clearly an incorrect assumption on your part. And after everything that has transpired you determined that this was no dream. It was a nightmare come to life. You weren’t sure how much more your psyche could tolerate. Surely death would be better than the horrors that would plague your mind for years to come if you were allowed to live. You prayed silently to whatever deity would listen to let you die. You started as the metal hinges of the door screamed into the darkness. 

“Mother above,” The horrified yet soft baritone drifted to your ears and you strained to open your eyes. You recognized the voice and Lucien’s warm body was immediately next to yours as you dangled from the ceiling. The male made quick work of the metal shackles holding your wrists high above your head, a bright light flooding the small space making you hiss. His large hand encircled your wrist and you could feel the skin repair itself. Lucien slowly lowered your arms down.

“Her name is (Y/N),” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was ashamed of the space his normal speaking voice would take up in the small cell. As if what he said would break you further. Lucien held you up, warm hands around your rib cage holding you steady. 

“(Y/N),” His testing of your name tentative, “(Y/N), my name is Lucien…I’m going to take you out of here.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could have sworn you felt your skin get warmer, the cold melting away like ice. His grip never lessened, which you were grateful for as you weren’t sure your legs could fully support your weight.

“Do you feel safe enough to come with me?”  You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move your head in agreement. Couldn’t specify that you felt safe with him. You could only muster enough strength to cling to the front of his shirt, hoping it conveyed your trust towards him and him alone. Your eyes burned with tears. He shushed you as one of his hands rubbed up and down your spine. A footstep echoed in the chamber, and then you felt Azriel’s shadows attempt to wend their way over your bare feet. Your flinch was followed by a low warning growl, one that you felt more than heard.

“Follow me,” Azriel’s swallow was audible.

“Can you walk?” Lucien’s hand lowered to your waist, pushing you back far enough so he could meet your eyes. They felt swollen and your vision was unfocused and hazy, but you tried to keep them open so he could see that you would try your best. You shifted your weight back onto your heels and slowly slid your right foot in front of you. A lightning like bolt of pain traveled up your leg. Air harshly sucked into your lungs.

“I’ve got you,” his voice was reassuring as he continued to support most of your weigh in his arms. You took another step forward. Then another and another. His hands never faltered from their place on your torso as he moved himself to walk behind you. Ready and poised to keep you balanced and catch you should you fall. “Good girl,” he praised, “Let’s get you cleaned up so I can heal you yeah?”

The walk up from the catacombs to the palace proper was brutal. Your legs burned from the muscle strain and you were regretting not accepting help from Lucien while you bathed. However, the last thing you wanted was to have anyone see you naked. Lucien had helped enough with getting the large sunken in bathtub filled. The scent of vanilla and lavender contrasted with the grime and dirt that filled your lungs for the last week. You had specifically asked for the water to be scalding, wanting it to burn away the memory of everything that had been done to you in the dark. The deep cold that laced your bones was finally seeping out in the hot water. A soft knock rapped on the stone archway leading into the bathing chamber. Unable to move your neck freely you covered your chest and turned to face the male. He walked over to the bench set near the tub, a bundle of cream-colored fabric in his arms. Unless it was a bedsheet you doubted that any clothing he found would fit you. Then again, magic existed so its possible that the fabric could be altered instantly. He sat on the bench and set the garment next to the towel that awaited you.

“Are you certain that I can’t be of assistance?” He looked beyond you towards the open windows that overlooked the absolutely stunning expanse of wilderness below the palace. A darkened city jutting out from the base of the mountains the only thing that disrupted the sight. You were thankful for Lucien’s offer. Truly you were, and despite the feeling-knowing- that you could trust the male, your self-conscious nature surrounding your body was too strong.

“I-” You cleared your throat of the gravel you were certain had lodged itself inside from screaming against the rocky surface of your cell, “I’m good.” The vibration of your vocal chords felt like sandpaper as they rubbed together. He looked at you then and reflexively you squeezed your arms tighter around yourself; gripping your elbows as you dipped down into the water until everything below your neck was submerged. You were grateful for the tub size making you look small. It could easily fit two full grown adults and deep enough to reach your waist when you stood to full height. It almost reminded you more of a jacuzzi rather than a bathtub.

“Then I’ll leave you to bathe in peace,” He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, “I’ll be in the room just beyond these arches. Just call our if you need anything. I’m here to ensure that you’re taken care of.” You nodded your understanding and turned towards the side of the tub lined with soaps and lotions, his foot steps retreating against the stone tiles. While you had difficulty with your range of motion, you managed to rid yourself of the dirt, grime, and dried blood from your skin. Your hair felt silky, soft, and light compared to the heavy oily mats from not washing it for a week. You had also found a razor nearby and took the opportunity to shave, savoring the feeling that you were becoming a person again. Drying off was easier with the relaxed muscles. The vanilla scented lotion felt like heaven as it penetrated your dry skin. You surmised that the bath had really only removed one layer of nightmares as you scanned your form in the mirror on the opposite wall. Your eyes first saw the plethora of cuts in every size cover the expanse of both your arms, shoulders, and collar bone from the dagger-Truth Teller-that Azriel had used during your interrogation. Next you took in the dark red and purple bruise on the left side of your jaw. The discoloration spanning from the joint below your ear to your chin. It was a miracle that he hadn’t knocked any of your teeth out or broken your jaw from the force he hit you with. Eyes trailing further down you saw a second healing bruise, its blue-green hue spanning the length of your ribs on the right side of your body. Laying down on your side was going to prove difficult still. Finally, your eyes landed on the only injury that you yourself were responsible for. The shadows had played too many tricks on your mind, too many whispers promising to break you. The psychological and emotional pain was worse than the physical injuries and honestly became too much for your soul. Something in you broke. You still couldn’t figure out exactly how you managed to grab Truth Teller from him, too focused on plunging the black blade into your left inner thigh and dragging it along the flesh. You couldn’t reach your throat, so you had been aiming for the next major artery you knew of in the hopes that you’d bleed out fast, but Azriel was quick. His attempt to get the blade back from you pushed it away from where it would do the most damage. That was the last day that Azriel brought any form of weapon with him, and the last day he put his hands on you. Rhysand had only managed to stop the bleeding, but a large and deep jagged slice remained. Had you paid more attention you may not have doubted the guilt that lined his features as he worked to heal you. You didn’t want this to be real. You still held out hope that if you somehow managed to end your life you’d wake up on the cold concrete of the path leading up to your front door. You didn’t belong here.

You shook the memories from your mind and picked up the fabric on the bench. You expected the intrusive thoughts and nightmares, but you didn’t think that they would be plaguing you so immediately. You slipped on the airy cotton tank top and loose-fitting matching shorts. You were indeed surprised they fit as well as they did, let alone fit at all. Your bare feet padded along the cool stone floor and entered the massive bedchamber. The room encapsulated a warmth with its cream and ivory base colors. Splashes of blues, teals, and turquoise giving it a calming effect.  The dark cherry wood of the four-poster bedframe provided an interesting accent color adding to the space. Lucien sat on an ivory colored couch that faced a white marbled fireplace. Sadly, the flames did nothing to help illuminate the space and only seemed to cast heavier shadows. You glanced around the room again and noticed that the bedsheets had been turned down for you, for whenever you were ready to sleep. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to get any real rest with your injuries being what they were. Rhysand had only stopped the bleeding in your thigh. He did nothing for the other injuries. So, Lucien stated he would heal those for you. Carefully walking over, you sat your self on the couch, keeping enough space for another person to sit between you and the crimson haired male. He turned towards you with a slight smile that quickly faltered as he took in your appearance. He moved closer towards you and examined every inch of your skin. His one real eye held no warmth even as a flame seemed to ignite the iris. He took your chin in his hand to get a better look at the bruise on your jaw. His touch was gentle, but even you could tell that the male was furious with what he saw.

“I had hoped some of this had been dirt,” He turned your head to the side, a finger tracing down along the side of your neck. A metallic scent permeated the air as the hand cupped the left side of your face, covering nearly the entire bruise. His gaze slowly traveled down to your shoulders and the cuts that littered and marred the skin of your arms and shoulders. The skin warmed and tingled under his gentle caress. His eyes paused at your torso, no words needed to understand that he wanted to see the injury to your ribs. You carefully gathered the material and lifted as high as your stiff shoulder and neck muscles would allow. His fingers traced the outline of the mark, and you cringed at the touch of his hands moving your fat rolls out of the way so his palms could lay flat against the skin. Embarrassment colored your cheeks. Lucien continued his healing wordlessly. He motioned for you to stand, grasping your calf and propping your leg on the cushion of the couch. Your inner thigh completely exposed to him allowing the full extent of your wound to be seen. You watched as skin healed almost instantly. His gaze then shifted to the healed scars on your upper thigh, near the junction where it met your hip. “Um…y-you can leave those,” you brought your leg back down to stand before the male, “Thank you Lucien.”

“You’re most welcome,” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. You started to pick at your already blunt nails, a nervous habit you used to ground yourself. You glanced around the room for the third time, almost not believing that you were no longer in the cold and dark. The white walls and bedding opened up the space.

“Is…is that for me?” You pointed over towards the massive bed covered in decorative pillows. Lucien’s red hair swayed with the movement of his head as he followed your gesture.

“The bed is for you,” He stood and walked over to the small bedside table to the left of the headboard, “As is this sleeping draft.” He picked up a deep cobalt vial, giving it a slight shake before setting it back down. You hummed and nodded, but didn’t move from your spot in front of the couch. It went without saying that the potion would be needed after what you experienced over the past week. And you would only feel guilty if you woke him in the middle of the night.

“There’s water for you as well,” His voice softened as he noticed your hesitation. You chewed on your lower lip. The sun was still up, but you didn’t know how its position revealed the time of day. Depending on the time of year and how far north, or south, on the planet you were, you estimated it could be anywhere from 3pm to 9pm. You supposed it didn’t really matter as sleep was sleep and you’d likely remain unconscious for several hours, Gods willing at least.

“I will be in the room next to yours,” He pointed over to a door opposite from the entrance to the bathing chamber, “If you need anything, anything at all you come to me. We’ll get you some food in the morning.” You nodded again as your eyes started to water. You didn’t want to be left alone, but you also didn’t want to take up his time more than you already were. So, wordlessly you forced your feet to move and made your way over to the bed. You crawled in under the blankets that had been moved aside. You grabbed the vial from the bedside table and uncorked the stopper. The scent of chamomile, lavender, and something unknown wafted to you. Before you gave yourself time to reconsider you downed half the contents and set it back down. Lucien was patiently waiting at the door and smiled his first genuine smile towards you.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Lucien.”

Lucien had answered all your questions, to the best of his ability, during your first day in the Moonstone Palace. He filled you in on the basics of the Night Court and Prythian. For each bit of information he provided about the land or himself, you matched it. He also informed you that while here, Rhysand insisted that you work on finding any potential information of your world and how to get back to it in the texts that he sent. A new stack of books was brought into the small library within the palace every morning. So far, your hours of reading yielded no results. Then again, you could only read a fraction of the texts given to you. Most were in languages that you couldn’t even begin to understand. Still you scanned the tombs for any words that even looked remotely similar to names of places within your universe. Sadly, all you could find was information related to a Midgard, which was frustratingly NOT the same as the mortal realm described in Norse mythology. Lucien then explained that they had already received visitors from this Midgard that were set to return to Prythian soon. You had gathered that one of them was Bryce, but you’d not been given names for anyone else.

In addition to the books you had also been gifted a small wardrobe filled with clothing in your size. It had been awkward when the half wraiths appeared to measure you. But you were provided with some simple dresses, pants, shirts, and under clothes. Nothing fancy, which you were grateful for. Lucien explained the clothes were an apology gift from Rhysand. You told Lucien that if the High Lord was truly sorry he could at least express as much to your face. You couldn’t complain in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand wasn’t obligated to house, feed, or clothe you. He could have easily dumped you in the Mortal Lands, leaving you to fend for yourself. Although, Lucien stated that he knew of two people that would have taken you into their care. Regardless, you did as Rhysand bid, reading for hours day after day and never asked for anything in particular.

Another two weeks went by and you and Lucien developed a little routine. Breakfast followed by hours of research. Then lunch and various exercises and tests to determine if you held any sort of latent magic. Lucien explained that his initial assessment of you that first day showed nothing, but that didn’t mean you were completely without power. Truth be told you felt he was keeping something from you. Then came dinner, after which you were free to spend your time however you wished. Mostly you spent time on the veranda studying the night sky, letting the wind caress your face and hair. There was one night you swore you heard voices held within the breeze. A song encouraging you that you would find peace again. In your world the night time hours used to provide a comfort, but here there was nothing familiar about the constellations that dotted the dark sky above. Instead, the lack of familiarity just made you feel all the more alone. It wasn’t that Lucien wasn’t good company, you just felt bad that he was stuck with you. He tried really hard to get you to relax and fall into the playful banter he likely needed to survive his own punishment. While he never said as much, you had gathered that his babysitting duty was linked to your release and apology from the High Lord. Lucien made your days easy, filled with witty remarks and a warmth that felt natural. An easy friendship had definitely taken root.

However, the nights were hard. You already suffered from extreme insomnia without the added fear of night terrors. So, your sleep cycle was suffering greatly. The first two nights were dream less thanks to whatever Lucien had given you. But the third night resulted in his bursting through the doors of your bedroom at the sound of your screams. As much as you hated yourself for feeling weak, you begged him to stay in the room. He obliged, of course, and slept on the couch. His presence helped slightly. It didn’t chase away the nightmares, but it did make the darkness that permeated the night more tolerable. You had never been fearful of the night before, having even preferred it to the hustle and bustle of the day. You had always the quite of the night to bring you a comforting serenity. But since your time in the cell…you insisted on a fire in the hearth and the faelights to remain lit, believing the light would chase away the shadows that plagued your dreams.

You felt bad forcing Lucien to sleep on the couch. But you also didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you offered to share your bed with him. He told you about his mate, Elain, and you felt even worse that your arrival took him away from her. Even if he explained that their relationship wasn’t what would be expected between mates after nearly 4 years of being in each other’s lives. So, you kept the offer to yourself.

Today started out like any other. Lucien and you sat down to a breakfast of eggs, toast and jam with orange juice. You never really cared for tea and coffee appeared to not be available in Prythian if your companion’s confusion was anything to go by. The only difference today were the two additional place settings.

“Are we expecting visitors?” You asked. You immediately wanted to kick yourself for asking what was an obvious question.

“Yes,” Lucien answered, pouring a cup of tea for himself, “I’ve asked some people to come and meet you. As much as I enjoy our time together, it seems that the High Lord still needs convincing that you should not be kept in a cell.”

“I’m not in a cell,” You countered. However, you didn’t miss the fact that his glare told you that your new cell was just a lavish one.

“Our guests may be able to help me make a stronger case for you to be able to move freely about the court, if not Prythian as a whole.” You pondered who he would have contacted. To your understanding, not many members of the High Lord’s “Inner Circle” particularly cared for the emissary. There was also no way that members from another court would be able to hold any sway over the inner workings of the Night Court.

“So, what do they need to know about me?” You asked, spiking the yoke of your egg. In the time spent with Lucien you were able to be yourself for the most part. You held back on your swearing, meme related jokes, and slang, but tested out your sarcasm and dry humor. One of the main things you were worried about was how to speak with others. While you had manners, you had no formal etiquette training. Something that Lucien found utterly hilarious when you asked for clarification on how to address him.

“Relax, its an informal introduction,” His gentle smile reassured you, “Just be the sweet girl that I’ve come to know.” His smile widened. You gave him a doubtful look, tucking your lips into a thin line to suppress a laugh. He batted his irritatingly long eyelashes and the two of you broke out into a fit of laughter. While you weren’t cold or bitchy by any means, you also weren’t a sweet and demure woman either. No, Lucien quickly pointed out that you had a fire within you…at least on your good days. The laughter was cut short by the sound of a thud in front of you on the stone patio. Your eyes immediately tracked the large bat like wings and you stood from your seat. Metal and glass clanged against the stone as your thighs hit the lip of the table. Your chair knocked to the ground, causing you to nearly trip as you backed towards the metal railing. Blood rushed in your ears and your vision started to tunnel. Lucien was next to you in an instant.

“Hey. Hey," He gripped your right shoulder to keep you steady, “Shh, it’s okay. It's not him. You’re safe.” Your gaze remained fixed on the unknown winged male that looked on with worry etching his features.

“See what you did,” the voice of the female he’d been carrying was distant in your ears. Lucien’s other hand cupped your face, forcing you to turn towards him.

“Eyes on me (Y/N),” He encouraged, “Breathe. There you go.” Your eyes focused on his features; the jagged scar-raised and tight, the deep reds sprinkled amongst the warm honey brown iris. Your breath evened out, and you covered the hand on your cheek with one of your own to let the red head know you were okay. You took another breath and released Lucien. However, his hand remained on your shoulder. You turned back to the couple that stood on the opposite side of the space. At first glance, the winged male held features that you noted were similar to Azriel in regards to skin, hair, and eye color. Although, Azriel’s held more flecks of green than the honey gold of the male before you. The unnamed male was taller and broader, his shoulder-length hair softly jostled in the breeze. Your eyes wandered over to the female that was with him. Her striking blue-grey eyes would have reminded you of steel had it not been for the soft sadness that shown in them at your display. You hadn’t expected to react in the manner you did. Your heart still hammered in your chest. You cleared your throat and smoothed down the front of the simple sage green dress you wore.

“I-I must apologize,” You started, “I guess I…sorry.” You wrung your hands together and looked at your feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the female spoke up, "It’s this idiot’s fault. We should have given you a warning.” You nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Lucien’s hand trailed down your arm to your hand. He gave it a quick and gentle squeeze before he bent down to pick up the chair you’d knocked over in your haste to get away.

“(Y/N),” He motioned for you to sit back down, “This is Cassian, the General of the Night Court’s Illyrian army, and Nesta Archeron, Valkyrie, sister to the High Lady and fellow emissary.” Lucien gestured to each as they took their own seats across from yours.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You reached across the table, your hand extended to shake theirs. When neither returned to gesture you pulled back. “Sorry, I’m used to hand shakes as a form of greeting in my world.”

“So, you are from another world?” Cassian asked, scooping some eggs onto a plate and handing it to Nesta.

“Yes, we call it Earth,” you searched the table for a spare fork, yours having fallen to the ground. When you couldn’t find one, Lucien handed you his. You raised your eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged and began to spread a blackberry jam on his toast. “And before you ask, there is no magic, at least not the same as what you’re familiar with. Also, creatures such as fairies-the Fae- shapeshifters, vampires, mermaids, nymphs, and so on - are all non-existent. Just stories that have been reduced to myths.” The two regarded you closely, listening to your spiel. When they didn’t say anything you continued, too nervous to allow silence.

“I’m not sure how I got here. There are stories of humans traveling through portals into the realm of the Fae or other worlds, but they are simply stories. Ones made to keep children out of trouble or explain natural occurrences. All prior to finding scientific explanation, of course. Like the changing of the seasons,” You realized you were now rambling, “or fairy rings-rings of flowers or more often mushrooms…” The three non-humans stared at you.

“Don’t Lu,” you warned as the corner of the male’s full lips ticked up, “Yes, I talk when I’m nervous. Yes, I’m nervous because I really don’t know how I got here. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t understand why…I just…want to go home.” Lucien took your hand in his again, his grip reassuring and comforting.

“That’s what we’re all working on,” He assured, “There is a library that, should we manage to convince Rhys-”

“Wait, she can’t leave here?” Nesta interrupted, her eyes blazed. Cassian tensed in his seat and gave Nesta a warning glance. It was clear that not everyone knew of your predicament.

“She’s restricted to the East Wing of the palace,” Lucien clarified, “There are barriers up that she can’t pass through. Just like what Tamlin did with your sister.” If Nesta had been upset before, she looked down right lethal now. Of course, Lucien had filled in you in on what transpired with Feyre and his former home in the Spring Court. Cassian cleared his throat, his gaze falling to the other male.

“What is it you need from us exactly?” He looked to you, seemingly trying to figure out why you posed such a threat that you required to be locked away.

“I need your voice in your High Lord’s ear. I have no magic, and we’ve tried various ways to test that out.”

“Which you’re welcome to see,” Lucien interrupted.

“Yes. I don’t really know how to use a weapon, nor do I have much interest in doing so. And, as I already mentioned, up until a month ago I firmly believed that yo-the Fae were not real.”

“What did my brother say his reasoning was for holding her here?” The question was directed towards the other male.

“He can’t enter her mind.” Cassian’s surprise was not well hidden, “He believes that something or someone is guarding her-” It was your turn to interrupt your friend.

“If I was being guarded or protected, then whatever was responsible has already failed me,” Your voice was soft. A silence fell across the table, and most of the food had grown cold. You didn’t know what else to do or say to convince the General and the Valkyrie of your innocence. All they had to go on was your and Lucien’s word. Even if you were to demonstrate the exercise that Lucien put you through each afternoon with no results, how would they believe that you weren’t just pretending. A ruse to fool them. You desperately tried to quell the pinpricks of tears behind your eyes. You feared that if Lucien’s efforts failed you’d be sent back to the catacombs or worse left to rot on that-

“(Y/N),” Nesta’s clear and calm voice cut through your thoughts, “I’d like to hear more about where you’re from.” You nodded.

“What would you like to know specifically?”

“Let’s start with you. Your family, your up brining.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed comfortably in her lap. You swallowed and nodded again.

“I can do that.” You spent the next few hours pouring every detail of your life to the trio. Most information Lucien already knew, some he didn’t. You talked about your family and your friends. You briefly talked about your work and academic studies in music. This caught the oldest Archeron’s attention, which launched a discussion regarding your dissertation topic. The two males excused themselves as you continued to talk with Nesta. The topic changed to books and Nesta promising to bring you some of the spicier romance novels that she found to enjoy the most on her next visit; to which you were grateful as you desperately needed a reprieve from only reading books provided by Rhysand. Cassian and Lucien eventually returned as you made a raunchy joke that had you and the female High Fae laughing loudly.

“It’s time to go Nes,” Cassian set his hand on her shoulder. He looked to you and smiled. The expression was genuine. After spending the few hours you did with the male, you had concluded that he was much less frightening than the other Illyrian. At least for the time being, that is. Nesta rose from her seat and joined her mate.

“I will speak with my sister,” She told you, her features hard with determination, “It’s not right that you’re kept any where against your will when you’ve done nothing to justify imprisonment.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, “I hope to see you both again soon. I’m certain this fool is getting tired of having to entertain me.” You gave the male a wicked teasing grin. Cassian let out a booming laugh as ‘your fool’ placed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“And here I thought you loved my company,” He stated. You laughed as you stood to join him at the patio entrance.

“Yeah, yeah,” You brushed him off, the smile still plastered to your face. The two of you said your goodbyes and watched as the guests flew off in the distance.

“I think that went rather well,” you looked to Lucien, “Don’t you?”

“Yes, it did,” He held his arm out for you to take, “Cassian agreed to speak to Rhys. He said that he and Nesta would allow you to stay in their home or at least help you get in and out of the library.” You hummed in response as you slipped your arm around his. Your mind wandered, and you felt lighter than you had since you’d been here. He walked you to your room and began prepping the couch to be his makeshift bed for the evening. The sun was quickly setting, and you hadn’t noticed that you spent the entire day talking. You paused near the entrance to the bathing chamber.

“Lu?” he hummed, looking up at you while shaking out the quilt. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course, sweet girl,” You rolled your eyes at the term of endearment.

“That’s sticking now isn’t it?” His russet eye brightened with mischief.

“Now that I know it irks you, yes.” You leveled a glare at his to which he just laughed. You huffed a breath.

“If you’re just going to be mean, you can leave,” You stuck your tongue out at him as you made your way into the bathing room. He continued to laugh as he excused himself to his own rooms. When he returned, you were already snuggled in your bed, breathing deep and steady.

Next: Part 3

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower