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hcneymooners · 1 month ago

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⋆ you used to be alive, now you're almost mythic.

warlord!ambessa x dragon rider!f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: despite being arranged to marry your brother, ambessa chooses you as the next reigning consort of house medarda. in the wake of her assassination, you begin to unravel.

cw: dark content. please tread carefully. heavy angst, heavily inspired by house of the dragon but still understandable if you haven't watched it, warlord!ambessa, dragon rider!reader, consort!reader, arranged marriage, wife!ambessa, age difference, older woman/younger woman, non-graphic suicide, mental illness, grief, very morally grey characters including reader. notes: i'm in my luteal phase and began to rewatch hotd and this happened. you must suffer with me. i'm returning to my roots (grief and insane family/romantic dynamics). i wanted to explore the effects of ambessa's death on reader and what it means to love someone who is sometimes well-intentioned but almost always corrupted.

୨୧ you meet on a clouded day, you in your house's emerald silks that catch like seafoam in the bitter wind. ambessa towers over everyone else, battle-scarred and beautiful in ways that make your chest ache. she is supposed to wed your brother and you are meant to be afraid—this is the woman who burnt three kingdoms to ash, who feeds her enemies to her dragon.

୨୧ instead, you find yourself fascinated by her hands, how carefully they hold the marriage contract as she chooses you instead.

୨୧ the rumors spread quickly: the gentle noble daughter and the warlord, what a terrible match. they whisper that she must be cruel to you behind closed doors.

୨୧ they don't see how she braids your hair each morning, how she teaches you to wield a knife ("don't be stupid, [name]. you know who you've married. you are an easy target. you must not abide."), how she watches you with such careful control when you’re naked before her for the first time.

୨୧ her wedding gift to you is perfect. you and ithoa the dark are evenly matched—the dragon is massive and obsidian-scaled but gentle-hearted, prone to curling around you protectively during storms. ambessa jokes that you've made her soft.

୨୧ you remember your first flight together, how the wind tore the breath from your lungs and ambessa's hands steadied you, warm against your waist.

୨୧ the first time you saw her truly fight, it was like watching a dance. she moved like water, like shadow, like death itself. afterward, when her enemies lay bleeding into the earth, she looked at you with such fear in her eyes—fear that you would finally see the monster everyone claimed her to be. and she was one, you weren’t blind, but she’s yours.

୨୧ in some ways you are worse than she is.

୨୧ you help clean her of blood and kiss each of her knuckles. you learn fealty tastes of copper and salt.

୨୧ you wake sometimes to find her watching you in the dark, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin like she's memorizing you. "what are you thinking?" you ask, and she says, "that i never thought i could love something so much. it terrifies me."

୨୧ you understand—love like this is dangerous; it sent half your bloodline mad.

୨୧ there are nights when the nightmares come, when she thrashes and calls out names of the dead. you learn to weather these storms, to hold her until she remembers where she is. you whisper against her temple, “bessa, come back to me." and she does, she always does.

୨୧ "my advisors say i've grown weak," ambessa confesses one night, her head in your lap as you card fingers through her silver-streaked hair. "perhaps they are right."

୨୧ you think of how she still trains daily, how her enemies still fear her name, how she commands armies with an iron fist. but is she is weaker. she's learned to love too, to show mercy when warranted. you lie.

୨୧ you tell her, "you've only grown wise," and she kisses your palm like a benediction.

୨୧ the politics grow more heated. you notice how mel watches her mother with increasing worry, how the peace treaties remain unsigned. you find ambessa in her war room late at night, maps spread before her, and you know what's coming. you love her enough to pretend you don't.

୨୧ you know something is wrong when ithoa screams. it's a sound you've never heard before, something ancient and terrible that makes your bones vibrate. you're running before you can think, your feet carrying you through corridors that seem to stretch endlessly.

୨୧ you find her in the war room. there's a cup rolled beneath the table, a dark stain spreading across the maps she was studying. she looks peaceful, almost, except for the way her fingers are curled like claws against the floor. someone has closed her eyes. someone has touched her. someone has taken her from you.

୨୧ your knees crack against the stone as you fall. there's a sound coming from your throat that doesn't sound human, a keening wail that matches ithoa's grief. you gather her into your arms—she's still warm, still soft, still smells like herself.

୨୧ there is a constant ringing in your head.

୨୧ for one terrible moment, you look at mel standing in the doorway and your mouth forms around the word "dracarys." you feel the heat building in your chest, taste ash on your tongue. ithoa's answering roar shakes the castle foundations. it would be so easy—one word and everything burns.

୨୧ but your father taught you mercy, didn't he? or maybe your mother did. taught you when to hold and when to release.

୨୧ your mouth fills with blood from where you've bitten your tongue holding back that deadly word. mel's face is wet with tears as she falls to her knees beside you, reaching for her mother's other hand.

୨୧ "i'm sorry," she sobs, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry." you want to tell her that sorry isn't enough, that you want to murder her with your own hands—no poison. instead, you keep screaming, high and shrill until your voice breaks, until guards have to pry you away, until they force dreamwine down your throat to quiet you.

୨୧ the funeral is a blur of red and black, but you wear green still—your final act of defiance, of remaining true to yourself as she always wanted. ithoa's keening echoes across the kingdom, a sound of such profound grief that even the oldest dragons respond. she hasn't eaten since ambessa fell.

୨୧ when mel approaches, you see the cost written in the shadows under her eyes. she loved ambessa too, in her way, even as she plotted her death. "i understand," you tell her, voice hollow. "it had to be done. she wouldn’t see reason. she was ruining us.”

୨୧ you see how she flinches at your words, how desperately she wants absolution you cannot give.

୨୧ "you are still my daughter," you add softly, and watch her composure crack. she reaches for you but you step back, the space between you as vast as the void in your chest. “but my blood does not forgive.”

୨୧ you turn back to her before leaving. you say, "learn from your mother. do not apologize for the kill. if they see weakness they will eat you alive. stand on her bones. build on them."

୨୧ you start to forget to eat, to sleep. your ladies whisper concerns about your wandering the castle at night, how you speak to shadows in ambessa's voice. ithoa grows more restless, wilder—they say grief-maddened dragons are dangerous, but you understand her rage. you are two halves of the same coin.

୨୧ sometimes you wake thinking she's still there, reach for her warmth only to find cold sheets. you wear her old shirts to bed, press your face to the fabric searching for traces of her scent. sometimes you go back to the war room, press your face into the cold spot where her body had rotted, and try to find her.

୨୧ you only reach her in your dreams.

୨୧ you sleep in her chambers still, surrounded by her things. sometimes you wake to phantom touches—her hand in your hair, her lips against your shoulder. you find yourself talking to her, telling her about your day as if she's just stepped out for a moment. "you would have laughed," you say to the empty room, "you would have loved this."

୨୧ ithoa refuses to leave the castle grounds, her massive form curled around the tower where you sleep. her grief manifests in physical changes—her scales losing their luster, her eyes clouding over. her handlers whisper that she's dying of heartbreak. you understand—you're dying too, just more slowly.

୨୧ you find yourself holding her things to your chest—her favorite knife, still sharp enough to draw blood when you clutch it too tightly; her riding gloves, worn soft with use; her journal, filled with battle plans and, in the margins, little notes about you.

୨୧ “[name] wore green again today," she wrote once, “she is my only redeeming quality.”

୨୧ sometimes, in your last days, you remember that morning in the garden. how the sun caught in her hair, how she looked younger when she smiled. "if i die," she had said, practical even then, "don't follow me too quickly."

୨୧ you had kissed her quiet, tasting sunshine. "you can't ask that of me," you'd whispered against her mouth. "you've never asked impossible things of me before—don't start now."

୨୧ she had laughed, then grown serious. "you're the best of me," she said, touching your face with those deadly hands that were only ever gentle with you. "the only good thing i've ever done." you had wanted to argue—she was more than her reputation, more than her wars.

୨୧ but she kissed you again and you let it go.

୨୧ now, you think she would understand. after all, she never could deny you anything you truly wanted. and this—a reunion, a reclaiming, an ending that is really a beginning—this is all you want.

୨୧ "fresh air might do you good," your lady's maid suggests, and you smile distantly toward the misty bridge.

୨୧ "yes," you agree, fingering the vial in your sleeve. "i think i shall walk tomorrow, at dawn."

୨୧ you don't tell her you've already sent your letters—one to mel (forgiveness, finally, because you know now how duty weighs), one to your house (explanation, though they never understood), one to the maesters (instructions for ithoa's care, though you suspect she'll follow you as dragons sometimes do).

୨୧ dawn breaks cold and clear. you wear blue, the color of loss in your house, and ambessa's favorite ring. it is heavy and should keep you under the waves. ithoa waits by the bridge, her dark scales catching the first light.

୨୧ the bridge stretches out before you like a body. ithoa's eyes follow your every movement, understanding in her ancient gaze.

୨୧ you uncork the vial with steady hands. you pray. the poison doesn't taste of anything at all. you think that's funny, somehow—that death should be so subtle when life with her was so vivid.

୨୧ as your vision starts to blur, you swear you see her standing at the other end of the bridge. she's wearing her armor, but her hair is up the way you always loved it. "little dove," she calls, holding out her hand, “you’re late, and i’ve missed you."

୨୧ they say a dragon's cry can be heard for leagues. they say ithoa's mourning shook the mountains themselves.

୨୧ they say that when they found you floating in the water, you were smiling and still beautiful, one hand stretched out as if reaching for someone just beyond sight. it almost looked as if you fell, that you’d leaned too far, if not for the vial. they place flowers in your mouth, in the bloated pockets of your waterlogged skin.

୨୧ mel won’t let them burn you. you sink into the earth, and your flesh becomes land. she puts your bones in her mother’s grave but keeps a tooth. it’s diamond, a replacement for one lost to illness, and it sits in the center of her diadem.

୨୧ your last thought, as the world grows soft around the edges, is of ambessa’s hands, how the scars hurt her the most there. the pain was chronic, aggravated by any extensive movement. still, she bent them to hold yours because you were always scared in the beginning.

୨୧ through the water, the sky seems so wide. you aren’t scared now. you're going home. you're going home. you're going home.

୨୧ maybe it is not a good place, where you’ll arrive, but it will not matter.

୨୧ the afterlife is white and quiet. it presses against you. you’re slick, weeping, and bare. there’s a birdsong in your head.

୨୧ you turn, crouched low like a dog, and she’s there.

⚚ special taglist: @sugrcookiiee @icespiceluva @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3 @fruitfulfashion @ambessaswifey

#ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #ambessa x y/n #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa league of legends #ambessa the chosen of the wolf #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #fe #female!reader #fem!reader #angst #mine ; 🐎.

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blackynsupremacy · 6 days ago

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BEING JEREMIAH

FISHER’S SUMMER LOVE

HEADCANONS

pairing: jeremiah fisher x black!fem!reader

summary: you and jeremiah fisher find happiness and romance with each other in cousins beach.

contains: fluff, kissing, swearing, flirting, teasing, susannah is alive, jelly is on good platonic terms, cuteness, couple things, l bomb, jeremiah being a green flag.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @v3n1ce-bxtch @iamsebastiansstan @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

a/n: hey shawties! ik it’s not a nicholas fic, but it’s coming and i love jeremiah downnn. i’ve read all three books, binged the show and i’ve went to the beach where the show has been filmed last summer (i live in nc!) and i was just reminiscing. even if you don’t watch tsitp (i recommend it) i hope ya’ll still fwi. life has been hard lately and i just wanted something cute, so i appreciate your love and support! kisses to you all. 🥹🩷

• being in a summer romance with jeremiah fisher would be such a dream.

• he’s 100% a lover boy with lots of huge golden retriever energy, but he doesn’t play about you at all.

• he loves you from the inside out and always wants to see the best in you despite your flaws.

• he adores your natural features from your skin glowing perfectly in the sun to your hair.

• jeremiah’s love languages are definitely physical touch and acts of service.

• he’d protectively wrap his arm around your shoulder or waist while out just let these dudes know what’s up.

• he abides by the sidewalk rule.

• walking hand in hand everywhere you go is a must.

• especially on the beach.

• and if you get tired, he’d happily carry you on his back for miles if he has to.

• if you’re in the car with him, best believe one hand is on the wheel and the other is on your thigh.

• he rewards the skin with some comforting squeezes every once in a while.

• “hold on tight for me, okay? i got you.”

• he’d ask if he can touch your hair. if you say yes, he’d marvel at it with such fascination and handle it with such a delicate touch.

• jeremiah would definitely help with your hair if you’d ask! you just gotta talk him through it.

• he loves to have your legs on his lap or just have you on his lap period. the man wants you close.

• he’s so cheeky. he’s definitely the type to offer to rub sunscreen all over you, so he could feel every inch of your smooth, brown skin.

• “god, you’re fucking beautiful. it’s like you’re literally a piece of art.” he’d blatantly state in awe as he massaged the sunscreen into your lower back and legs.

• you’d giggle, smiling so hard that it made your face hurt.

• “thanks, jere!”

• “your pleasure is all mine.”

• and his kisses?

• he’s so intimate, hungry, and passionate.

• he kisses you as if he’d leave the earth within the next minute.

• he holds you close by your waist while caressing your face into his large hand.

• if you’re shorter than him, you don’t have to go on your toes, he’ll dive down to get his sugar if he has to.

• your favorite make out spots would include his car, under the pier, the swimming pool at the summer house, and his room.

• don’t tell susannah and laurel that though. he had to sneak you in.

• if you’re at a party or bonfire, he’s holding you hella close if you’re dancing together whether it’s be bumping and grinding or a slow dance.

• either way, you and jeremiah know how to get down on the dance floor.

• you both eat down in some karaoke duets.

• showtunes and 90s r&b are your go to.

• if you want to get lit, he’s cool being the dd. your safety is a top priority to him.

• if you’re shy in a party setting, that’s fine!

• jeremiah will sit and talk with you while still socializing with others.

• he will instantly recognize if your social battery runs out and will take you home.

• “hey, you wanna go back to watch a movie? i’ll let you pick this time.”

• you trust him to make and watch your drink.

• cuddling with him is so comforting.

• he entraps you in such a warm embrace you could fall asleep to his heartbeat.

• he can alternate between being the little and big spoon.

• his eyes linger just as much as his hands.

• if you’re not looking at him, his eyes are stuck on you.

• you’d get a bit embarrassed because his eye contact was so intense, you’d melt.

• “is she even real?” he would think to himself as you would be rambling to belly and laughing with her about whatever.

• your smile alone has him set for life.

• he wasn’t paying attention to the topic conversation, he was absolutely hypnotized by you.

• conrad would have to be the one to bring him back to earth.

• “you’re staring again, jere.” he’d tease with a smirk, a knowing look painted on his face as he crossed his arms. he’s elated that his little brother was truly happy with someone and he could tell that you wouldn’t be just a fling.

• belly loves you both so much and hypes you up entirely.

• taylor adores you as well. she’s so supportive.

• “damn, i’d say you guys are cuter than team jellyfish!”

• “taylor!” belly would playfully chide her best friend, hitting her on the shoulder.

• jeremiah’s happiness would always bring her piece, that’s her best friend at the end of the day all bullshit drama aside.

• jeremiah would be so bashful at first, but it would dissipate into confidence and peace knowing that you were all his and vice versa.

• when he’s working as a lifeguard at the country club, he’d get you in if you want to come by and swim in the pool. all the girls would try to throw game at him, but he’s ignoring them as he watches you enjoy the water.

• he’s doing his job, getting paid, and spending time with you— a win is a win.

• if you can’t swim, that’s cool! he’s gonna watch you like a hawk while you stand and relax in that 3-4ft corner or while you float in a tube he got you.

• “if you ever want swimming lessons, you know that you have an excellent teacher nearby.” he’d remark with that cute lopsided smile of his.

• “who would that be? steven?” you’d tease causing him to playfully deadpan, you’d laugh and give him a kiss.

• “you’re such a big softie, jere. i know you’d have my back. i’ll think about it!”

• he could notice your apprehension about it, but he’s going to support your decision.

• gigi is jealous as fuck. just throw in the towel, girl.

• jeremiah would definitely be the type of guy to do spontaneous interactive dates.

• he’d take off guard pictures of you during the whole time.

• he’s obsessed.

• he’d take you to the drive-in where you’d sit on the hood of his jeep and cuddle closely while eating junk food.

• the beach would always be a go-to. you surprised him with matching bathing suits to wear.

• if you’re up for it in the morning, he’d give you one of his surfboards and teach you a lesson on the waves.

• or he’d bring you to the boardwalk, where you would go on rides like the ferris wheel or the tower of terror (don’t worry he’ll hold your hand).

• you’d both compete and play carnival games. you’d fuck him up in ski-ball and table hockey while he’d beat you in basketball and balloon darts.

• all competitions aside, he’d win you the cutest prizes that you’d cherish always.

• food runs were your favorite type of dates because you’d put each other on to some good shit.

• jeremiah would be the only person you’d share your food with. ever.

• he’ll feed you like you’re an empress.

• ain’t shit 50/50, he’ll spoil you! don’t try to offer either. he got a job, so he’s got you.

• you comfort and reassure each other during the bad days.

• you’re both not afraid to cry or feel vulnerable, you wipe each other’s tears.

• if you happen to be in a disagreement, you might take time to have space from jeremiah, but each second away from you tears him apart, so he does everything in his power to make it right.

• susannah loves you to bits. she’s so kind and nurturing towards you. she can see why her sunshine boy is sun-shinier than usual. it’s all because of you.

• “my god, you are just a vision. now, i see why jere has been so happy. you both just make each other glow. would you mind if i painted you?” jeremiah watched as his mother inquired for you as she was holding your hands in her delicate one’s.

• “easy, beck. you just met the girl, but you’re right— you and jere are made for each other. i can tell.” laurel would chime in, a look of pride towards the boy she’d seen as her own son spread on her face.

• “even if you can’t tell, i’ll always know that we’re meant to be because—i love her.”

• with those three little words, you both knew that you and jeremiah would stick together through all four seasons.

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niiwa-angel · 15 days ago

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"Optimus doesn't take time off because he's too self sacrificing"

Wrong!

Optimus can't take time off because he knows the second he isn't white knuckling the riens, Elita-One, Ironhide, Jazz, and Prowl are going scorched Earth on the Decepticons. It will end the war but it may also classify as a total annihilation.

Optimus, sleeping slightly deeper than he usually would: 😴

Prowl: Optimus is out of commission, I am now in charge. Elita, break out those plans we told him we didn't make, Ironhide, ready the acid bombs, Jazz, grab us a jet. We're ending this war tonight.

Elita "the ends can justify the means" One: You know, I don't think we've properly considered the elegance of germ warfare. We wouldn't even have to get our hands dirty.

Ironhide "I'm just showing him my cannons" the Weapons expert: That'll take too long. Nukes, that's the best way to go.

Jazz "I lead the most lethal fighters on this team" the Spy: We've got one shot, I can sneak in and stash some explosives in their barracks, they'll never catch me. Blow their whole base sky high.

Optimus, waking up in just the nick of time: I am begging you to stand down!

Ironhide: Told you we should have slipped a sedative in his high grade.

~~~~

Optimus, literally fighting to get out of the Medbay: You don't understand! They're plotting!

Ratchet: You have a broken leg and a head injury, sit your ass down!!

First Aid, who's been secretly trying to help the four of them end this thing: I'll grab a sedative. He may need a week of bedrest.

Meanwhile

Elita-one: Now, I did some research and did you know that half of our war crimes aren't considered war crimes on this planet?

Jazz: Fascinating. What a creative group.

Prowl: Indeed. And Optimus does want us abiding by the laws of this planet.

Ironhide, nodding along: He does.

Prowl: Whelp! Gotta follow orders obey the laws of this planet. It's not a war crime here, Jazz, get the rust bombs.

#transformers #transformers headcanons #tf Optimus Prime #tf Prowl #tf Ratchet #tf elita one #tf Jazz #tf ironhide #tf first aid #optimus prime protection squad #or alternatively #Megatron Hate Squad #Optimus cant blonk for too long or these guys are ready to go Russian Agent on the Decepticons

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aarontveit · 1 month ago

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AARON TVEIT as CHARLIE EARTH ABIDES (2024) EP05: The Return

#earth abides #earth abides 2024 #earthabidesedit #aaron tveit #aarontveitedit #televisionedit #tvedit #dailytvsource #usermaya #edit: mine #edit: gif #type: gif #show: earth abides #p: aaron tveit #smoking cw #eye strain cw #he makes messy a Look.

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aarontveitisonfire · 2 months ago

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Aaron Tveit's response to "You will forever be our Enjolras." x

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

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mmorgan317 · 7 months ago

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Whump him

Whump him!

AARON TVEIT IN A NEW TV SHOW LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!!

whump him, whump him, whump him!

(source)

#aaron tveit #earth abides #new show #whump Charlie!

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slttygeto · 10 months ago

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༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 04: lonely star

preview: ". . .He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first."

content warning: cursing, hanma owns a strip club, oral s.ex, unprotected s.ex, choking, hair pulling, no aftercare.

word count: 7k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Tokyo was a bustling city. People escape from the mundane using any source of entertainment allowed. From going shopping to partying, the city provides numerous remedies for any challenging moment a person might experience. There, in the depths and labyrinth streets of Tokyo and its lively nightlife, exists a world that only unravels to those who dare seek it. Hidden between tall buildings and colorful signs, paradise on earth stands proudly.

A black car pulls up in the alleyway, parking right outside the back entrance of a disheveled looking building. The door opens and cigarette hits the dirty floor. A foot crashes the bud, adorned in squeaky clean shoes that do not fit the vibe of the creepy alleyway. Golden Glow reads in bright neon light right above the back door. The man’s slender fingers push the wooden door open, stepping into a vibrating world of sensuality and allure where reality and fantasy blur for hours on end at night.

The air is thick with perfume and anticipation, a line of rich men of all backgrounds sitting on the deep red plush seating facing the focal point of the strip club. Murmurs of who will be performing next fill the room and the tall man makes his way towards the VIP table.

“You’re late.” Kisaki doesn’t pull his eyes away from the curtains waiting to unravel tonight’s star, more or less used to this kind of behavior from his right hand.

“I had to take care of something.” Announces Hanma as he pulls his seat back and grabs a cigarette. The relationship he had with smoking was more of a toxic affair—a continuous tag of war between depending on the small bud and desiring a whiff of the substance when things get a bit too hectic. With each inhale, he feels a momentary release from existing. He’s never enjoyed it, not fully at least. Existing meant he had to abide by rules, which he never did. Breakups were nasty, women lashing out insults towards the man they called a God only a few nights prior—they should’ve known better, is what he tells them every time. He never claimed to be a good person, just a good—no, an amazing fuck.

Hanma’s dick serves as a distraction from his violent nature, he momentarily hypnotizes those women with each sharp and angled thrust from his hips. Deliciously dragging out moans, whines and profanities, proclaims of how godly he feels and how they’ve never had better. He is good at using and not giving much in return, he shows it through prioritizing his orgasm, only speaking when the dirty talk tips him over the edge. Shuji doesn’t budge as a pillow is thrown his way, ‘asshole!’ sounds from behind the door he’s just closed and he swears he could feels his fingers twitch. He’ll spare the cleaning staff of the hotel a blood bath tonight.

“You took too long,” Nahoya adds his two cents as usual, and the tall man wonders what the orange haired even provides for him to remain alive and attending special nights like these.

“It’s your club, you’re supposed to get here first.” Kisaki presses and the lights dim as the curtains open, revealing tonight’s a woman clad in a gorgeous set of deep red lingerie. She commands attention with the way her body carries her across the stage, each step is like a soft whisper, beckoning more people to look at her—admire her. She embraces the power she holds over the spectators, feeling a surge of dopamine push her to do better.

“You’re not my fucking dad. I’ll get here when I want to.” His fingers tremble as he drags the cigarette away from his lips, resting his wrist on the table as his whole hand shakes. You would think that years of smoking would get the man used to the motion, familiarized with the aftermath of each whiff—somehow, it doesn’t. Through furrowed eyebrows and behind framed glasses, Kisaki notes the unusual behavior from the man. He is far too moody, perhaps more than usual. Hanma took pleasure into killing, coming back from missions was almost as euphoric as an orgasm after being denied for so long. As far as his report went, the mission was done and Toman’s men were able to discard of the dead body rather easily. So what was wrong?

The younger man doesn’t say anything, he waits until the show wraps up and for people’s attention to drift elsewhere to speak to the taller man. As Hanma, not so quietly, slips away from the table and onto one of the VIP rooms upstairs, Kisaki soon joins him.

“So, wanna talk about what’s up your ass lately?”

“What do you mean?” Hanma’s voice is devoid of any emotion, but he still looks unimpressed as he casts half a glare towards Kisaki.

“You know what I mean. Something’s up your ass, you need to fucking pull it out and do your job. I don’t need a moody bitch as my first in command.”

Hanma’s heard worse over the years, he knows what it meant to be involved with someone as nasty and as disgusting as Kisaki. However, he was having a bad week and Kisaki came to him at the wrong moment.

“This moody bitch will blow holes into your brain and make it seem like it was a pathetic attempt to kill yourself. Don’t fuck with me.” The tension rises between the two men, silence engulfs the room that’s hidden to the rest of the audience. They’ve had to fight before, the scars littering Hanma’s arms a reminder of Kisaki’s knife slashing the man’s skin. The shorter man’s own scarred hands a grim testament to what Shuji was capable of doing. The two of them don’t speak another word.

Kisaki sits on one of the soft chairs facing Hanma, placing his gun on the tiny glass table. The other man does the same, and it feels like a silent agreement that neither of them was going to harm the other.

“I went to her place.” There’s no question about who he is referring to. Kisaki knows all too well who you are. He’s seen you from afar when you were all young, unknowingly grasping the heart of a delinquent who’s never known what the feelings he had for you even meant. His face twitches as he remembers the conversation he had with the man a couple of weeks ago.

“You found her?”

“She’s back in Shinjuku.” Kisaki doesn’t miss the way Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. Like domino pieces lined up, the tattooed man blows on them and watches them tumble just for fun. He was after you just for fun, Chifuyu fears.

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki’s busy rummaging through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

Sensing his silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes became storm clouds, hiding their usual golden color and crackling with the threat of lightning. Hanma’s never cast him a look similar to this before, usually blessed with an emotionless face.

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Kisaki leans back against his seat. He’s seen Hanma get riled up over things like missions going wrong, people pissing him off, testing his patience—this was a different kind of negative emotion he was displaying. Dare Kisaki say that it was fun to witness? Perhaps even unexpected from the tall man? But he doesn’t say a thing, only gives a curt nod and proceeds to finish the task at hand.

“Why is that?” he asks, curious to know what lead the man to end up in your place.

He glances towards his fingers which had long ago healed, he could still feel your fingertips against his skin, warm breath fanning over his wrist as you tended to his wounds with so much care, as though you were stitching a tiny tear in a delicate fabric.

“She cleaned me up.” Kisaki has to blink a couple of times, but he notices how Shuji keeps his gaze fixated on his fingers. He chews on his bottom lip out of habit. The band aid wrapped around them is unfamiliar, the man’s never taken care of himself this way—oddly enough, Kisaki feels that Hanma had a strange attachment to the adhesive strip keeping his healed cuts safe. It has been days since that incident, he most definitely did not need to cover his hands that way.

“Cleaned you up?” Kisaki pours himself and the other man a glass of whisky, pushing one of the glasses towards Hanma.

“Saw my hands and thought that I was in pain.” The taller man mumbles as he brings the glass of whisky up to his swollen lips. Downing the liquid like rapid fire, he slams the glass on the table and leans in his chair, head thrown back as he grunts.

“I think I fucked up.” Hanma admits, his hand covering his eyes. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you or your touch since that night. So soft, offering him what he has deprived himself of for years—you were so gentle with his hands, treating him as though he was made of glass. Your beautiful eyes witnessed the harm he is capable of causing to others, yet your soul set that aside to make sure he was okay.

Only for him to mess it up.

He knows a part of him is right, what he said wasn’t wrong. Perhaps, he could’ve said it in a different way—whenever he remembers the dejected expression across your features, the attempt at covering up the hurt behind your eyes by pulling away from him as though he was fire—his heart sits heavy.

And then the two of you didn’t talk again. He didn’t bother to try to text you, and you would never text him first.

He was growing impatient with each passing second. He wasn’t an expert at solving this kind of problems, let alone when it involved him in the equation. However, one thing was for certain; his insatiable need to feel you again made every moment apart from you feel like he’s been cursed with damnation.

October comes to an end, you start to accept the atmosphere of loneliness that settles like a heavy cloak over the landscape. The days grow shorter and the nights longer, there are Halloween decorations displayed along the entrance of every apartment door. It’s adorable. Pumpkins, bats, and your most favorite—cats are all over the fronts of every store. You look up and find paper lanterns with spooky designs, themed displays in shopping malls, and themed merchandise in stores. You find yourself yearning for the celebration to linger a bit longer.

As the days turn into weeks, Hanma’s absence becomes palpable. You cannot ignore that the lack of his pestering feels strange and foreign, when you had only started speaking to the man again for a couple of days only. Like a shadow retreating to darkness, it feels like he never existed in your life. You’re back to living life the same way that you did before he suddenly reappeared in your life—you don’t know why you’re disappointed. After witnessing murder with your two eyes, you thought that Shuji would scare you. He should. Such an unpredictable man with a history of violence that remains unknown to you should instill a deep fear in you. Then why do you find yourself craving the presence of a man whose ruthlessness carves a path of destruction? A man whose words made it feel like walking through a field of thorns?

You pay your feelings no mind as you drown yourself in chores, making sure there was no speck of dust left on each furniture of your apartment. A shower soothes your nerves afterwards, the motion of scrubbing the dirt off of your skin a subliminal attempt at getting Hanma’s aura off of you. You make yourself a cup of hot chocolate, top it off with some marshmallows as you settle on the comfortable couch with a soft yet heavy blanket draped over your shoulders. The movie you picked for the night is nowhere near comforting, but you brush it off for the sake of Halloween vibes.

However, those feelings melt away as soon as ears pick up on the sound of footsteps near your door. It was pretty late for anyone to be visiting you, let alone on Halloween night. You set your hot chocolate down and walk towards the door in quiet footsteps, praying that you don’t make a noise by accidentally breathing too hard.

Behind the door, Hanma stands looking almost apologetic. His head hangs low not out of shame, but because he sees your shadow from under the door. He holds back a chuckle.

“It’s me.”

When he hears no reply, he pushes himself off of the wall and walks away from the door. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at his chest, but he refuses to acknowledge any of it as his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He lets one dangle between his lips as he reaches for the lighter. Until he hears the creaking sound echoing in the hallway.

Glancing back, he sees that your door was no longer closed, but he couldn’t see you either. His feet slowly drag him towards your doorstep once again and the moment he attempts to peek inside, your face pops from behind the door. The both of you pull away at the same time, you almost close the door in his face but his foot stops it before you could close it shut.

“I had to hide my cat. He likes to escape when I open the door.” You announce with a tone that appears to be protective, very used to your fur companion’s habits. Hanma nods, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. It wasn’t until you break eye contact that he realizes he’s been staring at you without uttering a single word.

“Are you alone?” He can see inside your apartment, he towers over you with so much ease. You shift your weight from one foot to another, eyes avoiding his as you stare back at the TV screen and the obviously empty living room.

“Yeah,” you pause, glancing back towards him. “Why?”

“I was thinking you could—“ he wiggles his fingers. “See if they’re okay.” You stare down at the band aids wrapped sloppily around the skin and have to fight back the urge to smile. “I tried to do it myself but I don’t think I did as much of a good job as you did,” which was true and very apparent.

You take a moment to consider your options, chewing on your bottom lip as you fixate your stare on his hands. It was relatively late at night, you were wearing a light sleep dress—this could either go right or horribly wrong. For now, you don’t mind taking the risk.

Pushing the door wide, you see the way his eyes glimmer as they scan your entire body from head to toe. He doesn’t hide that he is checking you out, even as he steps inside your place, he chooses to stare at you instead of scanning his surroundings like last time. You refuse to crumble under his gaze nor change what you were wearing, you close the door and make your way to the kitchen without uttering a single word.

Hanma suddenly thinks of something and he bites back the urge to smirk as he makes his way towards the kitchen as well. This is the farthest he’s been in your place, your kitchen is rather small compared to the one he has in his apartment, but he appreciates how full it is. From the fruit sitting on the counter, the coffee machine, the magazines, the small board where you have what looks like a to-do list written there—it feels homey. It feels like you.

You glance behind you, noticing the pair of shoes in your kitchen and don’t bother to look back, but you feel a tad bit annoyed.

“No shoes in my house,” no response. Surely, he wasn’t going to ignore you when you were about to take care of him.

“I said—“ your stomach flutters and your breath catches when you feel something land on your shoulder, hot breath fanning the tiny bit of skin exposed from your sleep dress falling to the side. You hold your breath for what feels like an eternity, body frozen in place.

“No shoes in the house?” his deep voice sends chills down your spine, his hands resting against the fridge instead of gripping your hips.

His fingers twitch when the smell of sweet vanilla and coconut hits his nostrils, your scent is intoxicating and he struggles with himself. Every instinct urges him to break free and surrender to the intoxicating allure, yet the tether of restraint holds Hanma firmly and keeps his impulse in check. He doesn’t want to upset you again, but he thoroughly enjoys seeing you like this. So flustered.

As he pulls away from you, you turn to face him and use the first aid kit to put space between the two of you, like a shield. If you were trying to appear intimidating with the scowl on your face, Hanma’s smirk tells you that you were failing miserably.

“What the hell is your problem?” you don’t even sound mad, just completely and utterly embarrassed. You were fighting a war between your brain and your needs—the warmth of his body lingered on your skin for far too long, and although his breath reeked of cigarette and something minty, it made you feel dizzy.

“You’re red in the face, doll.” He purrs, making his way towards the couch. This time, you were certainly not going to get down to your knees and treat his cuts. Not after the stunt he pulled.

“Shut up.” You groan, sitting on the couch.

“You’re like, totally vermillion in the face—“

“I will kill you!”

He snorts and comfortably settles on the couch right beside you. One glance at his hands and you can tell that it really isn’t that serious. You bring his hands close to your face, inspecting them as soon as you take off the adhesive strips. There are a few faint scars, but they’re all healed and he only needs to apply ointment to them for extra measure. You put them back in his lap for a few seconds, leaning forward to grab the ointment you placed on the small coffee table in front of the both of you. You don’t realize that you had both gone awfully quiet after that moment, for a few seconds you almost forget what his touch felt like until you feel a pair of eyes burning holes in your face.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you blurt out, never meeting his eyes. You want to appear unbothered by all of this, by his intense way of giving you attention. But god knows how loudly your heart was thumping in your chest.

“Would you let me do it?” oh my god.

You don’t respond, you want to focus on the task at hand and step away from him as quickly as you can. The longer you felt him near you, the harder it was to contain yourself from matching his energy, his flirtatious comments. You were supposed to be mad at him, why did you cave into his request of having his minor cuts treated once again when the man ruined your mood the other night?

“No, I wouldn’t.” You say firmly, although your touch against his skin is very soft. Hanma can tell that you’re fighting an inner battle, you’re not good at hiding it. Your furrowed eyebrows make his own skin burn, his thumb craves to smoothen the skin of your forehead, get you to relax that jaw and melt against him the same way he does when the tip of your finger grazes his skin. He snaps out of his thoughts when he sees that you were already putting everything back in the white box, golden eyes staring between your hands and face.

“We’re done?”

“Yeah, you should be fine now.” You get up and head back to the kitchen, leaving Hanma alone with his thoughts once again. He notices that the movie you were watching was paused only 20 minutes in and the hot chocolate sitting on your coffee table was starting to go cold. It seems as though your night was just getting started and him showing up put it on hold.

However, Hanma doesn’t want to leave just yet. He can’t put his finger on why he feels the need to stay, perhaps the idea of going back into his car, driving to his empty place made him feel a little bit sick to his stomach. It was an unspoken rule for Hanma to never visit his place unless he really needed something. Clothes, money—he always packed those in a bag and left it in his car. His place—located in the heart of the city's shadows, is nestled within a towering skyscraper, its imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows over the streets below. Whenever Shuji inserts the key card, he is greeted by an atmosphere steeped in mystery and menace. Dark, rich tones dominate the décor. Nothing about the 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms apartment made it feel homey. So Hanma avoided it like the plague.

He thinks he can find an excuse to stay a little longer with you. Should he take you out? He can’t. You were far too comfortable in your sleep dress to change into something else. The movie seemed interesting, perhaps a few sweet words would convince you to let him stay a little longer before he has to depart—

“Have you had dinner yet?” You break his chain of thoughts so easily, Hanma is a little taken aback at first. Glancing back towards you, he sees you holding two white ceramic plates in one hand. The pot, which he assumed had warm, homemade food in it, is sitting on the stove with a ladle inside. Were you offering him a meal?

“Not yet,”

“I figured you skip meals,” you say with a frown. You forget the grudge you’re supposed to hold against him, it nestles itself somewhere in the back of your head the moment you see Hanma lost in his thoughts. You glance at his face—not as full as it was when the two of you were kids. He’s never had chubby cheeks, but you could tell when the man had a good meal and when he hadn’t eaten properly in a while. You naturally find yourself reheating the food you made for yourself, grateful you decided to cook more than a singular portion.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” he clarifies, as though he needs you to understand where he is coming from but then his lips are sealed shut. He’s never had to explain himself to anyone, it’s a little foreign for him to be doing it with you.

“You forget?” you guess, your back facing him as you serve him a good portion of the katsu curry you’ve made. You make sure to give him a bigger portion than yours, assuming that the man has probably skipped lunch as well.

“Mhm.” With the way he engulfed you in his arms previously, you shouldn’t trust him so blindly and have your back facing him again. But you don’t seem to care as much, maybe even wishing he does it again. Instead, you hear a chair creak from behind you and see that the man has made himself comfortable in your kitchen. You hand him his food before sitting across from him, then the two of you dig into the food.

Hanma hasn’t tasted something this good in—14 years. Ever since his mother stopped cooking him a decent meal. You made a dish that’s such a delightful harmony of textures and flavors, engulfing him with a warm velvety blanket he would never throw over his own shoulders. He glances towards you and you’re focused on your food—at least, you look like you’re trying to focus. He sees that some habits never really left you. You ate fast, way too fast, never truly savored your food. You still had a habit of bringing the food close to your nose and inhaling the scent (he never understood why you did it). He can remember the last time you tried to smell something he was about to eat—a sandwich he had bought that had a weird mixture of ingredients, you leaned down to inhale its scent and Shuji swears he hasn’t laughed as hard ever since. The face you made was of pure disgust, pushing the bread back into his hands and away from you. You’ve always had such an expressive face—either that, or Shuji stares at you a bit too much.

The present situation mirrors your date at the ramen shop in sad ways. It is obvious that the two of you have grown apart, no longer needing to be so close to one another at any given moment. The person who sits across of Shuji Hanma is someone he recognizes but doesn’t fully know—he recognizes certain habits that even time couldn’t tear away from you. But your touch, your body and soul feel different. On them lingers this love and care you still held for the man along the years, but never to a full extent. It seemed as though even whilst with him, you were thinking of something else—somebody else. He could be mistaken and you’re just trying to push him away, but Hanma’s gut feeling never betrayed him.

His stomach twists in knots when he sees you reach for the jewelry adorning your neck—a necklace with a golden heart pendent. You hold onto it with so much care, cautious not to break the fragile accessory.

He is reading too much into it.

He pulls his eyes away from you once he’s done with his curry, polite enough to put his plate in the sink and wash it off for you. You stare at his large back in silence, contemplating your next words.

“Tonight’s Halloween.”

Hanma turns to look at you, his raised eyebrow an indication that he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Yeah? You got a costume you want to show me?” he teases, bracing himself against your kitchen counter. You have to pull your eyes away from his hands and arms, ignoring the way your pussy throbs at how large he looks in your tiny kitchen. You realize what he says and make an offended face, standing up with your own plate and utensils and walking towards the sink.

“Over my dead body.” You nudge his side with your elbow, he moves away from the sink but still stands next to you.

“Okay then?” he questions as you turn on the water.

“You could stay and watch the movie.” You offer without looking at him. You were scared that your face would betray you, you almost slipped and said ‘with me’ and that would give him the upper hand, another thing to tease you about.

“Like a date night?” you halt your movements, quickly turning off the faucet and turning to stare at him. Your breath hitches when you see his face so close to yours. He isn’t trying to intimidate you, the playful glint in his eyes give away his true intentions. However, you can’t deny that having him so close to you was starting to be challenging for your self-control.

“I… I don’t know.” your voice is barely above a whisper. You try to build a wall between the two of you, put some distance, but it’s useless. Hanma stares at you with golden orbs that mimic lanterns lit up in the night, evoking a sense of nostalgia that felt so strange to you—

Up until now, Hanma was a mere teenage crush you had parted ways with on less-than-great terms. There wasn’t a single time during those twelve years where your heart yearned for the man, remembered the way he would make your stomach leap and be like a light at the end of the tunnel—why let such silly feelings resurface so unexpectedly? You could blame it on your celibacy, not having been out on a proper date for a couple of months now—but even as you look at it, you haven’t been this interested in anyone for a while.

What was Hanma Shuji doing to you? What was so different about him? Could it be that the man’s touch messed you up?

He steps closer to you, tall figure looming over your smaller frame in an attempt at caging you between him and the sink. He’s got a million things to say and yet, his lips remain frozen. Yearning to feel the warmth of your own softer, plushier ones. As you confess shakily, although your hands far too comfortable holding onto his shirt for it to sound convincing, he chuckles and you smell his minty breath.

Everything about him looks…inviting. You cannot look away from his neck, or his jaw or his lips. You’re lost in a trance, on this terrifying journey where you wish to be able to hear something other than your own heartbeat. Deafening, muting the world around you for a split second as Hanma leans down and captures your lips in a fiery kiss.

It’s different than the one shared at the ramen shop—there was no waiting, no longing for your touch for twelve long years. You were at hand reach, so close to him like a dream. Hanma needed you like the moon needs the stars, promised himself to tattoo the feeling of your lips against his for years to come—they fit perfectly against his, like a mold made specifically for his body. It’s surreal. The initial kiss is short, gently easing you into the sea of his passionate and intense loving, because when his lips reattach to yours, you’re being pinned to the wall.

His hands grab your face, they hold you in place like he’s been craving to breathe again for an eternity. You can smell him, feel him on you everywhere even with layers of clothes stuck to your skin, set ablaze like a furnace. His electrifying touch leave goosebumps in their wake, trailing from your cheek down to the back of your neck. There, his hand grips your nape before his fingers dig into your scalp.

When you gasp at his touch, Hanma’s heart leaps. Like a ticking bomb, it was only a matter of time before he unleashed a side of him he wasn’t sure he wanted to offer so early on. You’re such a tease, he thinks. Why were you giving him those eyes as he pulls away from the kiss? Why are you biting your already swollen lips if you didn’t want him to bury himself so deep inside you?

“Ask me to leave.” He says, voice firm as he tries to catch his breath.

“Shuji—“ you go for his face but he grabs your wrist mid-air.

“Ask me to leave, doll.”

“No.”

“This is your chance,” he leans down, close to your face and brushes his lips against yours. “—won’t stop if I start.”

“If I touch this,” his hand gropes your boob over your dress. “If I kiss this,” he yanks your head back, brushing his lips against your throat. “I promise you. I won’t be able to stop.”

At this point, you’re more than fed up with his teasing and crash your lips against his. You push yourself off the wall as get on your tiptoes to reach for his lips, and he decides to end your struggle and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You kiss him harder, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he marches towards your room.

“Didn’t take you for a biter,” his words are muffled against the skin of your neck as he kisses there. You throw your head back, allowing him more room to work with and you feel your back hitting the familiar soft mattress. The bed was made, but the blankets are quickly discarded to the floor as Hanma’s mess of limbs loom over your figure and plant hungry kisses on the skin that’s showing.

Thanks to your choice in outfit, Hanma finds it easy to strip you naked. Skilled fingers undo your bra to reveal your breasts in full display, but his hands are busy groping at your mound. You gasp at how rough he is handling your body, but the wet patch forming in your underwear indicated just how much you’ve been craving this kind of attention. His lips attach to your hardened nipple, whilst his left hand twists and fiddles with the other one. It feels like he is attempting to nurse on you with how hard he sucks, golden eyes staring deeply at your fucked out face. Messy hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, and your eyes barely able to stay open as he gives your erogenous zones the right amount of attention.

“Mmm you’re so soft,” he teases the nipple with his teeth and chuckles when he feels you try to squeeze your thighs together from under him.

“Shuji,” you breathe out, as soft as a silken thread.

Pulling away from your breasts, he admires the hickeys he’s painted across your skin—branding you as his on your very first night together. Sure, he’s done this before but never this passionately. He wants those bruises to never go away, glued to your skin like a tattoo and a constant reminder that this is what being his meant. He attaches his lips to your skin again, this time on your torso—he travels down to your stomach, passes your belly button before kissing right above your panties. He notices how drenched they are and hisses.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping.” He says as he moves them to the side and his mouth falls open, drool threatening to spill. “All for me, doll?” his thumb teases at your engorged clit and you whimper.

“Don’t tease, fuck—!”

You react almost immediately as he attaches his lips to your clit. Your legs try to close around his head but he is having none of it as he grips your thighs and forces them open, continuing his assault on your pussy.

“Shit, shit!” you gasp as he lays his tongue flat against the bud before moving his head from side to side while watching intently as you writhed and twitched under his touch. There was no way you could escape his mouth, tongue moving down to lap at your folds while his fingers pinched your clit. Hanma craves to exist between your thighs for the rest of eternity, a place so warm and so wet, offering him the best of both worlds.

He pushes two fingers past your folds, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the way your body tenses up. Curling them upwards, the combination of his rough finger fucking and his mouth’s continuous assault on your clit makes you cum hard. You’re writhing, crying desperately for the man’s head to leave your thighs. Soft “I can’t—I can’t!” resonate through the room, but soon die down when he spares your pussy and instead, litters soft kisses over the inner of your thighs.

“You did so well, took me like a champ,” it seems as though the only time Hanma shows any emotion beside boredom, is when he has you under his mercy like this. It’s when he makes you blush, flustered, angry or in this case, cum so hard that you have to take a moment to remember your name—that’s when he feels alive, as though life is worth living again.

Your heart thumps loudly when you hear him fumble with his belt. A sound that makes your ears perk up, eager with anticipation. You push yourself up with your elbows, licking your lips when you see the obvious bulge in his pants. It makes your mouth water, and your hand reaches down to palm him through his pants. A rough hand grabs your wrist, you look up at the man hovering over you with lustful eyes. You stare at him through your lashes, neither of you uttering a single word—he is telling you not to touch, not right now, and you are craving his body like earth needs the sun.

You squeeze the bulge, lips parting when he closes his eyes and leans down towards you. You hear a soft groan emitting from the back of his throat, and it’s your sign to do it again and even go further. Hanma puts a halt to your attempt with a rough kiss against your lips, pushing you back against the soft mattress until you are whining against his lips.

“Oh what is it?” he says, almost mocking your sounds. “Do you need something?”

“Shuji—“ you are way too embarrassed by how he is speaking to you, staring to the side. But he doesn’t seem to mind your bashfulness, rather indulging it by kissing your cheek and then your pulse. The kiss on the cheek is a stark contrast to how roughly he finger fucked you, and when he finally releases his cock and you see the way it jumps—your stomach twists in knots.

That thing will reach spots your own fingers haven’t been able to.

You panic when he starts to tease your folds, hands pushing at his shoulders to remind him to use protection. You did not want to have a kid running around anytime soon.

“I’m clean,” he says and a part of you can’t help but not fully trust him. He sees the expression on your face and chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck as you melt back on the mattress.

“I get tested frequently.”

“I’m not on the pill—“

“Don’t worry, I can’t get you pregnant.”

You don’t have time to question what that could possibly mean, lips forming an ‘O’. You are forced to lay back and take it as Hanma’s cock keeps going deeper and deeper—you feel full of him. A sob erupts from your chest as you feel him pull his hips back and then—thrust.

He repeats the motion a few times, piercing eyes scanning your face like a hawk. He wants to memorize your body like the back of his hand, wants to tattoo the feeling of your warm and soft cunt at the forefront of his mind—you are so soft and pliable, making sweet noises that he easily swallows by kissing you deeply.

“Fuck you’re so sweet,”

You moan into his mouth when he angles his hips a certain way, Hanma grins victoriously against your lips and uses his hands to grab the back of your knees. Pushing them to your chest, he enjoys the sight of you taking his cock like a sweet girl. You’re so cock hungry, practically begging him to fuck you silly with those glossy eyes staring deeply into his.

“Yeah? You like that?” he purrs, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He removes one of his hands from the back of your knee and wraps it around your neck in a possessive grip, watching as the early signs of your orgasm start to creep in on you like a shadow in the dusk.

“Such a nasty fucking girl—“ filth continues to spew out of his mouth at the same rate as your loud whines. Your eyes can barely stay open as he quickens his pace, jaw going slack when his thumb brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. He shamelessly leans back to stare at your pussy as he continues to fuck it, watching as his cock slides in and out of you. The room is filled with wet noises, the sound of skin slapping against each other reaching Hanma’s ears as he takes in the sight before him.

You were so pliant beneath him, no longer putting up walls in his presence. He loved it. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock keeps nudging at that one spot that makes you dizzy. Your hand wraps around his wrist as he continues to pin you to the mattress by the neck, you stare up at him with glossy eyes, thighs twitching and your back arching off as you finally cum.

Hanma swears he has never seen something as magical. You feel like a magnetic force, pulling him closer with an irresistible allure that ignites a fire in his stomach and sets his senses ablaze. It tips him over the edge, he empties himself inside you with a loud groan as he lets go of your neck and holds onto your boobs as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Now what? It’s not like he’s never had sex before, he was in fact very good at it—but usually, he gets up and leaves the moment he empties his balls inside. Now, he worries that you would get the wrong idea, that you’d think he’s using you—does he want to use you?

Isn’t this what he wanted all along? To fuck you senseless the moment he saw you run towards the metro station in your tight skirt. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities of what could be underneath the fabric—perhaps a matching set, or if you wanted to be a tease, nothing.

He starts to wonder what his intentions were with you—he wanted to be your friend without getting too close to you. He couldn’t afford having you near him at all times, that came with a cost he wasn’t sure you could afford. In your arms, he didn’t feel as though he needed to prove anything to you—not his existence, nor his power. And for a man who lives his life in pure chaos, a house that didn’t have a mess isn’t one where he belongs.

His hands pull away from your body, his eyes scanning your face only to find that you were fast asleep. He could wake you up and tell you to go pee, but like a puppet, his own fears pulled on the strings as they desired—his feet carry him towards your door in speed record. Glancing one last time at the pot you left outside, he closes the door.

Even as he drives back to his place, Hanma can’t brush off the burning sensation sitting heavy on his chest.

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

#moon's works #tokyo revengers #hanma x reader #hanma shuji #hanma smut #hanma x reader smut #hanma shuji x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #fem! reader

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

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stop, in the name of love |cop!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: based off my birth week writing challenge lol. I was just going to leave it for other authors, but I'm feeling self indulgent for now :)

requested: #20!!! With cop!eddie he’s trying to stop teens from hooking up but reader comes to the woods just for that reason!! please make him feel like a teen again 😭❤️❤️

thank you @ali-r3n for rbing my works so i could find this lol. you are an angel on this earth i love you <3

contains: 18+ MINORS DNI. cop!eddie, p in v sex, voyeurism, hopper catches them lol. fluff and good times with cop!eddie and his lil trouble maker.

Eddie huffed, arms crossed in the uncomfortable uniform, radar gun in his clenched fist. Hopper had stuck him out here- a punishment, no doubt, for the flop that was the D.A.R.E program he conducted at the middle school- leaving Eddie in the backwoods near Lover's Lake. After an influx of complaint calls about teenagers speeding through the area, and hooking up or drinking down by the waters or in the woods, Hopper decided to stick his best guy on the situation.

Eddie was furious.

Not only was it a slap in the face to be put on patrol of that area, usually only given to rookies, it was so fucking boring. He couldn't leave the area, contained to that spot for most of his shift, unless backup called. He couldn't drive around the city, taking all the nuisance calls, or even stopping by to see his friends and chat- stop by to see you. Oh no, here, he was quarantined to this small space.

The crunch of the gravel beside him had his ears perking, lifting the gun and sitting up in his seat, ready to bust a frisky teen. Instead, he saw the familiar, powder blue car pull up beside him- your car.

"Hi, there, Officer." You grinned, shutting the door to your car.

"Evenin' there, little lady." Eddie gave you a toothy grin, tone adapting to Wayne's southern-esqu drawl that always left you a little weak in the knees. He liked playing up the stereotypical cop, like Rosco in Dukes of Hazard, teasing and fun.

"Are you out here all alone tonight?" You asked tilting your head to the side. Eddie snorted, watching you push your upper body through his open window, upper half dangling inside the car. "No backup?"

"Not tonight." Eddie shook his head, giving you an exaggerated pout. "Just me out here by myself."

"Oh?" You quipped brow raising in surprise. "So no one out here to do this," You lunged at his utility belt, reaching for his baton, while Eddie's scrambled to halt your movements. Damn, you were quick.

"Easy, easy!" Eddie snapped, prying your hand off his baton. "What did I tell you about messing with my things, baby? Hopper's gonna kill me if he has to replace something else we've broken."

You giggled, folding your arms over the window. "'M just kidding." You hummed, batting your eyes up at him. "Just worried about you. Missed you."

"Missed you too, honey." Eddie's smile had you melting, an ooey-gooey feeling of warmth that was thick in your veins, leaving your head spinning. "I get off at eight."

"Yeah, but I got off at six." You pouted. "And that's so long to wait for you."

Eddie snorted, grinning and shaking his head. The curly tendrils, slipping out from his bun, sprung free, hitting his cheeks. Eddie reached for his aviators, revealing his brown eyes to you. "What're you up to, trouble?"

"Trouble?" You feigned hurt, an exaggerated gasp leaving your lungs. "I would never, Officer, I'm a well behaved, law abiding citizen."

Eddie laughed, loudly, making you smile. "Yeah, right." He scoffed at you. "What'd you come here for? To show your appreciation for all my hard work?"

Your lips twisted in thought. "Yeah, kinda." You nodded. "Came here to fuck you."

Eddie snorted, shaking his head at your bluntness. "I'm on the clock, baby."

"That's never stopped you, baby." You mocked him with a slight glare. "Please? You've been working the second shift all week. I barely get to see you."

Eddie pressed his lips together in thought, eyes flickering from the road back to you. You pressed your bottom lip out further. "Please? Just quick, I promise."

Eddie huffed, moving to pull the keys from the patrol car, that was the last thing he needed stolen. "Fine, but just really quick, alright." He pointed a finger at you. "I don't have long. Go around back."

You practically skipped to the back of the cop car, hidden behind the tall lights and the trees, nestled away from the road.

"Place your hands on the hood of the car." Eddie boomed, loud and authoritative, a tone he only used when arresting someone. You knew he was teasing, but fuck, did it make you throb.

You laid your hands flat over the trunk of the car, pressing your upper half forward. Eddie drooled, eyes trained on the little sundress you had on, catching in your cheeks as you moved. God, how he wanted to drop to his knees and devour you. He missed your taste so much, but not now wasn't the time. No, he'd contain himself for now and indulge later tonight.

Eddie bunched the material of your dress in his hands, shimmying it up your frame. He grinned wolfishly down at you, white knuckled grip on the material. "No panties?" He asked, tone lilting in teasing surprise.

"No, sir." You hummed, craning your neck so you could look over your shoulder at him. "I knew you'd want them off anyways." Your eyes batted at him.

"Bad girl." Eddie smirked, tongue rolling across his bottom lip. "Very, bad." He rasped to himself, eyes glued on your puffy lips, slick and peeking out from between your thighs.

Eddie gripped your cheeks, lifting them so he could reveal your pussy to him, the wet click! sound that your lips made when he pulled them apart made his abs clench, knees shaking.

"Spread 'em, baby." Eddie barked, a little raspier than he would someone he was really arresting, but he settled his black boots between your feet, pushing them so they slid open wider.

You whined, shuffling your feet apart with his, pressing yourself further into the hood of the car. Your ass was out, presented to him, drooling pussy and bare skin all for his taking. Eddie swallowed hard.

"You gotta be quiet, alright?" Eddie smirked, unzipping himself. He'd have to make this work, needed to be able to respond quickly if need be. "Can't get me caught when I'm supposed to be catching teenagers hooking up out here. How bad would that be?" Eddie chuckled, freeing his cock and pulling it through his zipper.

You giggled, airy and light, eyes already glossed with lust. Your hips wiggled in anticipation. "'M ready, Mr. Officer." You purred, feeling the tip of his fat head rub through your folds.

Eddie pushed into you, tight from the lack of foreplay. Normally, he'd work you open with his fingers, get you relaxed with a couple of orgasms before trying to fit himself in.

You groaned at the stretch, burning but your velvety walls clamped down on him, nonetheless. You groaned, low in your chest, vibrations rattling through you and onto the cop car. Eddie let out a straggled breath, hips flush to your ass, grinding into the fatty flesh there the way you liked.

Eddie pulled back, thrusting into you, deep and filling, leaving your eyes rolling back. "Oh!" You cried out, a straggled gasp leaving your lips.

Eddie started to move, long and slow thrusts that had you crying out. He pulled you up, hand cupping your jaw and moving you so your back was to his chest, his big hand covering your mouth. "Shh, baby, gotta-fuck- be quiet." Eddie hissed in your ear.

Your eyes rolled back, his head jabbing a spot deep inside of you at the new angle, a spot that was making you drench with every stroke, knees shaking. You moaned and whimpered against his hand, feeling his hot breath ghosting over your jaw and cheek, tiny grunts and huffs in your ear. You loved it when he'd moan so you could hear. You'd record it and play it on a loop if you could, hearing his tiny whines when he was close, breath hitching and catching, and his pitch rising.

"Fuck, baby, I-I'm close." Eddie grunted, jaw clenched as he tried to control himself. He was a little embarrassed to admit how easily he was coming undone, but fuck, it had been a while. And your pussy was enticing, felt like heaven with every clench of your wet walls strangling his cock.

You moaned against his hands, Eddie feeling you get a little heavier against him, slipping down him. He knew you were close. Using his free hand, Eddie slid his hand down your hip, snaking down between your legs, using two fingers to rub at your clit.

You cried out, still loud even with his hand muffling the sound, knees wobbling and locking a little, before you came, hard and unforgiving over Eddie's cock. You felt yourself fall against the truck of the car, the cool metal exterior pressing to your cheek, while Eddie jackhammered into you from behind chasing out his own high.

Eddie was so close, he could taste it. Abs clenched, toes curling, eyes rolling back, his cock punching your womb deeply, cock twitching deep inside you; so close.

The wail of a siren had him stopping, eyes snapping open and blurred vision clearing. He looked around seeing the familiar lights shine red and blue, jarring and unmistakable, while Hopper's car slowly crunched over the gravel.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." Eddie was out of you in a second, scrambling to shove his cock back in his pants, turning away so he could try and pull himself together, with fumbling shaking hands.

You had pulled down your dress, hand smoothing over the mussed back of your head, while you stood rigidly to face Hopper.

"Well," Hopper sighed heavily, slamming the door to his car. "Guess I know why there's still a problem out here." He frowned at Eddie.

Eddie swallowed hard, brown eyes wide and alert, a deer caught in headlights. "Turns out my officer I sent to patrol is the horny bastard who keeps hooking up out here."

"Hop, I-"

"Save it, Munson." Hopper held up his hand, shaking his head. "I got a call about a disturbance down by Skull Rock, dispatch tried to get you and no response. Thought something had happened, so I came to check it out, and..." Hopper's eyes flashed from you to Eddie, before frowning deeply in disapproval. "I see now that you were busy."

You cringed, looking at Hopper with a round eyed, pleading look. "It really was my fault. I-I came here and-"

"I really don't need the details of that, thank you." Hopper said sarcastically, cutting you off with an eye roll.

"Munson, finish out your shift, then tomorrow, my office. First thing." Hopper barked, glaring at him.

"Alright, Hopper." Eddie grumbled, shoulders deflating at the threat.

Hopper scoffed, pulling his door open. "And you two stop fucking outdoors, alright? That's still against the law, and you should know better." He pointed at Eddie, thick brows furrowed and mean.

You watched Hopper drive away, nervously turning to Eddie. "Well, this is fucking great." Eddie scoffed. "I'm going to get written up and have to do fuckin' cross walk duty for a week, and I have blue balls still." He growled, hands motioning down towards his crotch.

You bit back a giggle, tucking your chin to hide your smile. Eddie's eyes flashed at your dangerously, dark and playful. "You think this is funny, huh? This is your fault, you little minx." He growled, teeth barring at you.

"I'm sorry, really." You smirked at him. "I was just trying to help you out."

"Yeah? Well, just you wait baby." Eddie pointed a finger at you, stepping closer to close in the space between the two of you. His eyes were dark, still lust blown from earlier, a little meaning when they peered at you down the slop of his nose. "You're in for it when I get home."

You giggled with excitement, his arms wrapping around you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a playful bite that had you squealing. A car whizzed by, blaring loud music and heading towards the lake. The teenagers from the complaint, no doubt.

Eddie sighed, resting his forehead against yours for a moment. "Duty calls, Officer." You grinned cheekily.

"Yeah, can't wait." Eddie huffed, heavy boots stomping towards the car. "See you when I get home?"

You nodded. "I'll be waiting on you." You batted your eyes up at him.

Eddie grinned. "Good. Get ready for me. Wear that little lacy thing I like, alright?" He winked at you, ducking back into the patrol car. "Stay outta trouble until then, you hear?" He threw out at you playfully.

You laughed, opening your own car door. "I'll try. No promises." You jested, shrugging with a wide grin.

Eddie smirked, flicking on his lights and peeling out towards the lake. You watched him drive away, legs still a little shaky from before, pressing together at the thought of what awaited when he got home.

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penny00dreadful · 1 year ago

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STWG Prompt: star

Steve blinked, the cogs finally sliding into place.

"You're the star! You're the star?"

"Yes! Obviously." The star rolled his eyes.

He was all idiosyncrasies. Gorgeous but downright snippy. A shock of long dark hair and dark eyes to go with his pale skin. Black tattoos up and down his arms and a heavy silvery cloak shrouding his lithe body.

Steve frowned. "You don't look like a star."

The star scoffed. “Heard that one before.” He muttered before scowling back at Steve. “Well why don’t you tell me then, in your infinite human wisdom, what stars are supposed to look like?”

“I don’t know! Like,” he waved his hand up towards the sky, “like a big clump of burning rock or something. I’m not a fucking astronomer. Why do you look so… human?”

“Why do you look so celestial?” The star raised his wrist to his mouth, trying to chew through the tether Steve had managed to secure him with while he was still getting his bearings, feeling that strange pull, telling him that this human shaped lump at the bottom of this crater was what he was looking for. "Can you take this fucking thing off me?"

"Uh… sorry, no. I can't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because… well because I promised Nancy I'd bring her back the star as a show of… love?" He sounded more unsure the more he spoke. Back when the star was just a meteor or some dust, this was all so simple but now…

"Some girl has demanded you go out and bring back a fucking captive as a show of love?"

"No, that's- she didn't ask me to do anything!"

Actually thinking about it, Nancy had looked almost resigned when he'd suggested it. And a little sad. Like that wasn't really where she had wanted the conversation to go.

Fuck.

Had she been trying to break up with him?

“So you just decided to go into slavery on your own?”

“No! I- I have a way to send you home after… when I show Nancy what I’ve done for her. When I prove it to her. She won’t want to keep you after… she doesn’t abide by slavery.”

The star huffed, crossing his arms and pulling Steve forward a little with the restraint. He didn’t even seem to notice. “And what if I don’t want to go home?”

“Why wouldn’t you-” Steve stopped. He supposed it wasn’t really his place to ask. “Then I’ll free you, you can do whatever the hell it is you came down here to do.”

The star looked at him, thinking, turning it over in his head with a little side to side motion. "Okay, how about this? We help each other out. You let me go and I promise to come with you back to Nancy and then you help me find what I came down here to find.”

Steve frowned again. He wasn’t sure. The star could be lying to him but Robin always told him he was a great judge of character. And it didn’t seem like this star was going to run away. He wanted something down here, on earth.

“What are you trying to find?”

The star’s face went a little pink at that.

Interesting.

“I… I’ve been watching humans for hundreds of years, your wars, your hate for each other, your petty differences, the natural disasters that devastate your people. But through all that there always seems to be a thread of love. Even if it’s just one person plucking her sister out of the floodwaters or two lovers on opposite sides of the fight meeting in secret… love is always there and I… I want… that.”

“You came down here to find love?”

The star turned his back on him, embarrassment radiating off of his body in waves. “Yeah. So what if I did?”

How could Steve ever say no to that?

He pulled at the lash around the star’s wrist, allowing it to slip free and dragged it back towards himself.

“Okay.”

The star turned around, his big brown eyes wide in shock. “Okay? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just like that.” He held his hand out. “I’m Steve. Do you have a name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before now.”

The star looked down at his hand as he took three steps closer, looking back up at Steve’s face then down again, extending his own hand, slim fingers and all.

“Eddie.”

Nancy had wanted to break up with him as it turned out and hadn’t known how to do it after Steve had adamantly told her he'd travel outside of Hawkins to find her the star.

When he came back to her to tell her he’d found his own love in Eddie on his travels she beamed at him, placing a kiss against his cheek.

“I’m glad." She said. "You deserve it.”

Eddie, who had never come across a ring or necklace at a market stall that he didn’t like, always drawn to the shine. Eddie who had shed the bright almost white silvery cloak for blackened leathers and heavy boots, as dark as the night sky. Eddie, who had gifted Steve a single lock of hair to bring back to Nancy, promising to meet up with him in a few hours, once he’d finished spending all of Steve’s money at the closest bookshop beyond the Gate that separated Faeria from Steve’s world.

Eddie’s lock of hair that Steve now handed over to Nancy who looked into the handkerchief with confusion.

“Steve?”

He looked down.

Eddie’s hair had turned to stardust.

“He can’t cross the Gate.” Steve whispered to himself, horrified before turning and running with everything he had back the way he came, Nancy’s shouts fading out behind him.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to run through the old cobbled streets, out into the field but just as the Gate came into sight, he saw Eddie on the opposite side round the corner and start walking towards it.

He could do it, he could make it, he could-

“Eddie!” He shouted, stopping Eddie dead in his tracks before his boot could cross the border.

“Ste-?”

His words were cut off as Steve bodily slammed into him, throwing them both into the grass and away from the Gate.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “That excited to see me?”

“You.” Steve panted, clinging on as tight as he could. “Can’t cross. Gate. Hair. Turned. To. Lump of rock.”

“Oh shit, really?” Eddie ran a hand up and down his back, settling into the grass. “That would have been awkward. And you came to save me?” Eddie sighed, fluttering his eyelashes. Steve could feel it against his cheek. “My hero.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking at Eddie spread out below him, dark curls fanning out around his head and a cheeky grin on his face. He lowered himself down for a kiss, muttering into his mouth “You’re damn right I came to save you. Can’t have anything taking my star away.”

Continued

#Nancy and Jonathan arrive on horseback a few minutes later with a shout of #Is he okay??#Eddie and Steve have to right themselves quickly #they forgot they were in the middle of a field #they got carried away #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble #stardust au

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

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hello! i’m not sure if ur taking requests but maybe an astarion x bard! tav who is neutral good? ik in game he hates it when we’re nice, so i’m wondering how you think he’d handle a tav who is not only kind but also not really interested in sex

Oooh, I like this! Time to bring out the bitchy cat energy. Because he is a bitch. Lot of Act 1 in game references here btw. Sfw, but y'know, Astarion sad boy backstory is always looming. Also conveniently ignoring the canon fact that Astarion doesn't know how to swim because I can~~~

Astarion supposed he could have come across a worse rag-tag crew of undesirables to associate with. It was made clear, disturbingly quickly, that he wouldn't have made it out here on his own. Not with the goblins and cultists lurking around every corner. And a damn vampire hunter for gods' sake.

Astarion could have done much worse than this merry-band of weirdos. Like laying dead in a ditch for instance. That said, it didn't change the fact that he was quickly growing tired of their leader's antics.

You were just so annoying. So selfless, in one of the stupidest ways he had ever seen. For one thing, why one earth would you ever trust a gith or Shar priestess? Or a vampire spawn for that matter. How no one had stabbed you in the back yet was beyond him, considering how you gave them every opportunity to do so.

Not that Astarion would, or at least not yet. But he could. Easily, considering all the misguided trust you had put in him.

But despite your flaws, he had to admit that you were capable, that much was clear. You were strong, quick, witty, and not above deception to keep the peace. He.... liked that about you, in a way. The extent to how far you would go to save others. It was courageous, as well as incredibly stupid, but he could respect it.

Slightly.

it helped that you were a cute little thing, even with the aggravating sunshine personality. Cute enough for Astarion to start thinking of... certain options. You would be easy to manipulate, he was sure of that. Enough so where his life could become one of your top priorities. You already seemed to like him, without him turning on the charm. It would be so easy to get you wrapped around his finger, with nothing but a few shiny words and some pleasant bed-warming. Nothing that he hadn't done before. And if anything, your absurd levels of kindness could.... make everything a little more pleasant than what he was used to. Gods willing.

And tonight seemed as good a time as any, considering everyone was still on a high from being the tiefling's heroes. You were excitedly talking at him, adorable in a frankly infuriating way. Or maybe the wine was working on him more than he had anticipated, he wasn't quite sure. But... your smile seemed extra enchanting tonight.

Enough so for him to get to the point after you asked how he was feeling, "I'm just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun."

You cocked your head at him, innocently confused as he continued, "You know, we could always make our own entertainment darling. Get a little closer, so to speak."

"Sure!" You said, jumping on the opportunity faster than even Astarion had expected, "Can we do it now?"

Astarion blinked, pleased if not a bit surprised. He's not wholly against giving the camp a show, though the children still lurking about definitely put a damper on things. But maybe if you went far enough away...

"And can I choose what we do?" You asked, a wide smile on your face.

Astarion laughed, delighted at just how easy this was going to be, "Depends on how adventurous you're planning on being."

He hadn't expected you to grab his hand, easily intertwining your fingers with a smile, "I can show you."

Astarion hadn't been prepared for the quick escalation of events, but he was happy to abide by it. He nodded his head, giving your hand a small squeeze before saying, "Then lead the way."

And lead the way you did, right to the Waypoint of the swamp. Not exactly the most romantic place to be having sex, but Astarion had done worse. That was until you conjured the dancing lights, the dreary darkness suddenly transforming what should have been a putrid bog into a dreamy landscape, filled with flowers and freshwater.

Astarion looked to you, eyes wide, "How...?"

"We purified it!" You announced with a massive grin, "We did it this morning, before the party. Halsin and the other druids came down, I amped up their magic with a fantastic song, and bam! No more stench of the hag. Isn't it pretty?"

That... sounded exactly like something you would do, sweet thing that you were. Astarion nodded as he looked around, a little touched that you brought him here at all.

But as nice as the gesture was, he wasn't here for strictly fun. He had a plan, one that you were doing a wonderful job of putting into motion. Considering how you were in the middle of pulling your shirt over your head.

You looked at him expectantly, laughing a little when he rushed to join you. But before he could get his underclothes off, you were stepping away from him and... jumping into the water?

Astarion stared as you sputtered up to the surface, wiping your face with a loud laugh, "My gods, it's cold!"

"What on earth are you doing?" He called out to you, cautiously walking towards the water, "Are you trying to freeze to death?"

"Oh, hush!" You said, waving your hand in the air with a splash, "If we can kill an entire goblin camp than we can handle some cold water. Now get in already!"

Had he mentioned that you were aggravating yet?

But he hadn't made it this far to back out now. Besides, this was far from being on the list of the worst seduction tactics that he had to endure. Though it may have been the oddest one. Astarion couldn't remember a single time that jumping into a purified water pool led to lovemaking. But there was a first for everything. Though it didn't help that the water was indeed freezing.

"For fuck's sake," Astarion cursed when he came up for air, "This is your definition of fun?"

You giggled as you swam towards him, stopping to wrap your arms around his neck with a smile. Another unexpected move from you, a factor that he hadn't expected, but found oddly endearing.

You were playing with a lock of his wet hair, twisting it between your fingers as he wrapped his arms around you, "Well the fun part hasn't started yet."

Astarion laughed softly, his eyes zeroing in on your lips, "Is it about to start now?"

"I think it is," You whispered back, "You ready for it?"

"More than you know," Astarion murmured, leaning in to finally connect your mouth.

But before he could press his lips against yours you were dodging him, giggling as you whispered in his ear, "Good. Let's race."

And then you were pulling away from him entirely, diving under the water just to show back up a few feet away, a manic grin on your face, "Whoever gets to the opposite bank first wins!"

And then you were off, swimming away. You little cheater. Astarion didn't even think as he want after you, a childish competitiveness taking over. You still won, of course you did with that large of a head start, but he managed to beat you on the second and third try.

By his fourth win you were officially pouting, which only devolved into a splashing fight from there. One that he gracefully let you win.

It was all so stupid. Completely juvenile and beneath him. But then why was he having so much fun?

Eventually, you both got out of the water, opting to sit on the bank as you talked. Just... talking. Nothing more, and about the silliest things:

"If Halsin can turn into a bear, do you think I could learn how to grow an extra finger or two? It would make the lute playing so much easier."

"If you don't mind looking like a freak than sure. Are you thinking of literally growing them or having them attached?"

"If, and just hypothetically, Lae'zel and Shadowheart fought to the death, who would win?"

"Darling in all honesty, I think it would just devolve into lesbian sex."

"If you could go anywhere in the world, right now, where would it be?"

"...I think it would be here."

It was a startlingly fun conversation, one that had Astarion being sincere in ways that made him uncomfortable. But that didn't stop him from participating. The two of you talked about anything and everything until the sky started to lighten, both of you leaning into each other as you watched the sunrise.

That was something Astarion would never tire of, how beautiful the light and sky looked at the start of the day. Part of him still couldn't believe that he was able to see it at all, after two centuries of darkness. But now here he was, sitting on a peaceful riverbank after talking the night away, almost like... like he was a person. A real person who mattered. With someone who somehow thought the same.

You sighed, your head resting on Astarion's shoulder as you watched the pink sky, "We should head back soon. Before anyone starts to worry."

Astarion nodded, his heart clenching the slightest bit when you pulled away to stand. He... didn't want this to end. Not yet. Not when he-actually now that he thought about it, he hadn't done anything in the past eight hours that he had planned. The two of you hadn't even kissed, despite the fact that you had spent the vast majority of the night wet and in your undergarments.

How in the hells did that happen?

Astarion was still trying to figure that out as you tossed his shirt and pants his way. He stood, hastily putting it on while he struggled to figure out what to say next. He was completely off his usual script, at a complete loss as you re-opened the magical waypoint.

You turned back to look at him, that same sweet smile on your face that you had been wearing the whole night, "You ready to go?"

Astarion wasn't the type to stutter, but that's where he found himself when he blurted out, "I- wait- I mean, is that it?"

You cocked your head at him with a tiny frown, one that Astarion wanted off of your face immediately, "Did you not have fun?"

"I didn't say that, but it wasn't exactly the fun that I was referring to," Astarion said as he closed the distance between you, regaining a fraction of his usual forced confidence. Why were you so good at making him feel off-kilter?

He took your hand in his, reverting back to the seduction tactics he knew as he used his other hand to tilt your chin up, "I was thinking something a little more... intimate."

"I know what you meant," You said with a little laugh, giving his hand a small squeeze, "But my way seemed just as enjoyable, don't you think?"

"Darling, that's not exactly the point I was trying to make."

"Oh, I'm aware, but it was mine," You said easily, standing on your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek, "Thank you Astarion. It was fun, and I hope we can spend more time together like that in the future."

And just like that you were pulling away again, letting go off his hand to step into the portal, the feeling of your lips against his skin still lingering as you disappeared. Despite himself, Astarion brought his fingers up to where you kissed him, standing there like an imbecile as new feelings started to course through him. Emotions that he had no names for.

Maybe... this was going to be a lot harder than he thought it would.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #cutsey #pre-relationship basically #our boy is trying lol #silly things

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