#the master at the pupils party

[invisibleicewands]

Michael Sheen singing Sweet Transvestite (The Rocky Horror Picture Show) at his partner's (early) 30th birthday party at The Lucky Voice - 17/08/2024

[dirty-jammies]

Late Night Desires 🌙❤️

Astarion x Fem!Chubby!Reader x Halsin

(Reader is AFAB and is referred to with she/her pronouns and terms like "good girl". )

AN: Pure self-indulgent smut because I have Feelings about Halsin's fingers. You ONOW these two would just adore spoiling a cute plus-size princess~ Enjoy!! (Psst! There's a surprise at the end!!)

-~-

Your other party members have long-since fallen asleep, but in a secluded part of the surrounding woods, atop soft grass, you were giving your lover a midnight snack…

You hummed as Astarion’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to the column of your throat, the elf’s tongue darting out to catch the last few dribbles of your blood from the dainty puncture wounds on your neck. You sighed, the usual lightheadedness settling in and your lover pulled you to rest against his chest.

“Decadent as always, darling,” Astarion murmured softly, his arms cradling you close, “you're far too good to me.”

You hummed blissfully and let out a breathless laugh as those dexterous hands of his moved up the soft curves of your body, fondling your plush waist all the way up to your bosom, “Need anything else, my love?” You teased.

Astarion laughed in reply, “How did you guess?” Those hands set about undoing your shirt, flying flawlessly over the buttons and clasps, you watched him work with a smile. Lockpicking or lovemaking, Astarion was certainly masterful with his hands.

Your pale paramour must have noticed your gaze, as he smirked down at you as your shirt fell open.

“You want my fingers tonight, my lovely,” it was less of a question and more of him stating the obvious. Either way, you bit your lip and nodded, legs spreading almost subconsciously; your bloodlessness had rendered you docile and dumb - just the way Astarion liked it. Astarion grinned, bloodied fangs glinting in the moonlight that bathed the small grassy clearing you were in, “Such a good girl for me, already spreading your juicy thighs… lift your hips for me.” he commanded and you obeyed, him watching lecherously as he rolled your leggings down over the plump swell of your thighs.

Now fully bare to both the elements and your lover’s hungry gaze, you swallowed, excitement swirling in your heart and your loins. With your legs spread as they were, your arousal was on full display.

Astarion did away with his shirt as well, leaving his pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight. You saw his nostrils flare and his pupils dilated, “Oh, darling, do you know you smell absolutely divine when you’re like this, wet and desperate for me?” He spoke lowly, roughly, “I normally find your scent delectable, but like this?” He leaned down and kissed you, nearly growling against your lips, “I just want to devour you.”

You gasped as his fingers finally made contact with your core, easily sliding through your slick folds. You moaned and whimpered as Astarion played around your opening, circling your clit for a brief, bright moment before going back down to smear your slick around more. You opened your mouth, wanting to beg him to put those maddening fingers in you already, when a noise alerted you. You nearly missed it, quiet as it was, but both you and Astarion were perceptive enough to pick it up: a groan. Instantly, your heads turned to face the tree line, expecting an undead or a bandit.

What you didn't expect to see was a shirtless, seven-foot tall druid with his cock in one hand, the other clasped over his mouth, mortified.

You reflexively went to reach for your clothing to cover up, but you were stopped as Astarion finally plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your pussy. You keened loudly and your head tipped back, feeling embarrassment war with your arousal at the needy sound you let out. You heard Halsin give another groan, muffled by his hand but still apparent, and you watched Astarion’s mouth widen into a grin. You moaned as he fluttered his fingers inside you, pressing upwards into the soft, spongy spot that made you whimper his name.

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion scolded you playfully and leaned back, putting your body on display for Halsin, “don't hold your voice back. Let our guest hear your pretty little screams.” he kept massaging that spot inside you and you gasped, writhing in the grass below your lover. You craned your neck over to look at Halsin, and you felt a jolt of arousal burn through your body at the sight of the normally calm druid bracing himself against a tree, mouth open and letting out ragged pants as he fisted his cock. His hazel eyes were darkened with lust and were focussed intently on where Astarion’s fingers were buried in your wet heat before they flicked up to lock with yours. Your lover kept up his pace, swirling his fingers inside you and prodding your sweet spot. He clicked his tongue, “This is fun enough, darling, but… what would you say to letting Halsin have a go at you?”

You couldn't answer, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to ecstasy. Astarion huffed and yanked his fingers out of you, making you whine.

“Please! Please…” you begged mindlessly.

Astarion lightly pinched your clit, “‘Please let Halsin come over here and fuck me with his massive fingers’?” He supplied for your sweet, speechless self, “I thought you'd never ask, darling.” You could barely hold back an excited smile.

Astarion curled one of his fingers towards Halsin, who put himself away (causing his leggings to strain over his bulge) and sheepishly approached the two of you.

“Forgive me for intruding,” Halsin spoke lowly, “I heard noise out here and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Astarion hummed and ran his hands over your spread thighs and soft stomach lovingly, “And once you deduced the source of the noise, you figured you would enjoy a free show?”

“It has… been a while,” Halsin admitted, kneeling next to Astarion and raking his eyes over your supple body, “May I touch you?”

You nodded and reached out to him, taking one of his large hands in your own, “Yes, I can’t lie, I’ve been wanting this for a while,” You guided Halsin’s hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart. You looked back at Astarion, who was watching Halsin’s hand slide down your chest with a filthy smile, “Both of you, touching me.”

Astarion laughed lightly and trailed his nails, sharp and ticklish, over your soft thighs, “Such a naughty girl we have, don't we, Halsin?”

“Quite,” Halsin rumbled, his large hands finding your breasts and he smiled at your moan, “What a wonderful body, so soft and sweet…”

“Isn’t she just?” Astarion cooed and helped maneuver you into a new position, leaning you back against his chest. His lithe arms wrapped around your body, “Her breasts, her stomach, these delicious thighs and her arse…” he listed, humming as he pressed a warm kiss to the nape of your neck. You could feel the hardness in his tight pants pressing against your cushiony rear, “they’re all exquisite. She makes me simply ravenous.”

At the praise and the two sets of hands exploring your body, you felt your arousal start to grow again. Halsin’s hands were huge, caressing your breasts gently and thumbing your nipples like a string instrument; you could tell he was holding back.

“You don’t have to be too gentle, Halsin,” you spoke, voice trembling as Astarion’s hands sank into your plush waist, holding you steady as he ground his covered cock against your ass, “You can touch anything you want, h-however you want.” Your breath was getting heavier, anticipation making you wet. Halsin seemed to sense it, his nostrils flaring as he took in your heavenly scent.

“So generous,” Astarion purred from behind you before nipping a fresh mark into your neck, a quick spot of cold amidst the warmth of their caresses, “Go ahead, Halsin, I want to see you ruin her.” The vampire’s voice was low and heated and you shivered in anticipation as Halsin's hands left your breasts to travel down your supple form.

“Your body is magnificent,” Halsin rumbled lowly, as if to himself as his hands felt up the soft swell of your belly, “like a Goddess of bounty and fertility…” he locked eyes with yours and you let out a soft moan at the sheer intensity behind his gaze.

Astarion purred and licked up the new blood he drew, “You want to breed her? I don't blame you, her body is practically begging for it,” his soft hands reached down and you felt heat rush to your face as he spread you open, parting the soft folds of slickened skin to show off your hard little clit and needy pussy to Halsin, “Open her up, she’s dripping for you.”

Halsin groaned at the sight of you and he bowed his head, almost in reverence. You could see a smile bloom on his face as his fingers played around your impossibly soft, pillow-like mound, fluffy with hair. It was ticklish and infuriating, it wasn’t enough.

“Please, Halsin,” you whimpered, squirming in Astarion’s hold before he bit you for your disobedience, “Ah! Halsin, your fingers…” you bit your lip and stilled yourself, hoping he would fill you up where you needed most.

“Start with two,” Astarion commanded and you could hear his smile, “she can handle it.”

Halsin nodded and you gasped in surprise as he leaned in to kiss you, full, slightly-chapped lips caressing your own tenderly. Your gasp turned into a loud moan as two of Halsin’s thick fingers slid into you. Astarion opened you up with two of his earlier, but Halsin’s were far thicker, they stretched your walls, eased by your natural lubrication, and you clenched around them needily. You whined into Halsin’s mouth as he gently started fucking his fingers in and out, slow and steady, making your hips grind down onto his hand. Halsin groaned and sucked on your tongue, spreading his fingers inside of you and making you moan.

“Silvanus preserve me, you’re hotter than a brushfire,” the druid panted, “and so tight and wet…”

“Isn’t she positively intoxicating?” Astarion shifted you so you were straddling Halsin’s lap. You instinctively wrapped your arms around Halsin and nuzzled into his neck. You heard the quick snaps of buttons being undone and you could tell Astarion was touching himself, watching his lover be pleased by another. The vampire groaned, “Give her another.”

Your eyes widened slightly, about to object as you were still getting used to two of those thick digits inside you, but all thoughts of stopping immediately left your mind as Halsin’s ring finger pushed into you and pressed firmly against your sweet spot.

“Oh, Gods!” You cried, voice high. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you were stretched further than you have been before. You could feel your pussy pulse around Halsin’s fingers and drool even more slick around them. It burned, but it was so good, “They’re so big…” you panted and put a hand on Halsin’s broad, hair-dusted chest.

“Is it too much?” Halsin asked, rubbing your back with his free hand soothingly. His fingers were still.

You shook your head, “No, it's good,” you looked up to him, all hazy eyes and warm cheeks, “Please, go on?”

Halsin smiled and took a deep, steadying breath, “As you wish.” He slowly withdrew his fingers until only the tips remained, and you whined at the loss before they slid back into you, making you moan again.

Slowly, he continued this steady rhythm, getting you ready, getting you wetter. You relaxed in his hold, taking in his scents of musk and cedarwood.

“Does that feel good, darling?” You heard Astarion purr from the side, “Oh, he’s treating you so well~”

At the praise, you felt the Druid's breathing hitch, and, gone as you were due to blood loss and lust, you picked up on Halsin’s apparent praise kink pretty quickly, “Yes~ Halsin, you feel so, so good!”

“You two will be the end of me,” Halsin chuckled and pushed you back to lay on the grass. His fingers curled upwards and pressed into your soft spot, making you cry out, “There we go, now we can both see you.” Halsin pressed one hand on your belly, appreciating the softness as he once again started moving his fingers.

This time there was no restraint, Halsin plunged his three thick digits in and out of you fast and deep, and you couldn't contain your noises. Sweet moans and whines as Halsin fucked you, stretching your cushy walls and using his palm to rub your clit on every inward thrust. Your head thrashed around, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. In and out, in and out, in and out…

“Fuck yes,” you heard Astarion moan, “Fucking give it to her, make her cum!”

Halsin was panting at this point, his other hand mindlessly groping every soft swell in your body; your jiggling tummy, your bouncing tits, your pillowy mound, everywhere. His arm was like a piston, filling you up and hammering you until, finally-

You screamed, back arching, body shuddering, clenching and squirting around Halsin’s fingers. Your hands fisted in the grass under you, toes curling. Your mind went blank as pleasure overtook you, feeling nothing but Halsin’s warm arms holding you steady.

“Shit!” You heard Astarion grunt, and you knew he had come as well. You could see him out of your peripheral vision wipe his hand clean on the grass next to him.

“There you go,” Halsin groaned, thrusts slowing the tiniest amount, fucking you through your orgasm, “there you go, good girl…” he took your face in his other hand, caressing your cheek gently, “Beautiful girl…” he pulled his fingers from you with a wet squelch, and you and Astarion moaned as he licked up your flavours from his hand.

You could do nothing but catch your breath with a smile, feeling lighter than air as you bathed in your afterglow. You looked up at Halsin, then over his shoulder as Astarion sidled up beside you two.

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” Astarion purred and wrapped his arms around Halsin’s broad chest.

“Yes.” Both you and Halsin sighed at the same time, making Astarion laugh, light and playful.

“Good to hear,” the vampire hummed and dragged his lecherous gaze up and down your plush, pliant body, “mmh… Halsin certainly did a number on you, didn't he, love? But we shouldn't make our guest go without,” he pouted, “that would be terribly rude.”

You sat up, letting out a little moan as you put pressure on your oversensitive, well-fucked pussy, “You’re right. Halsin,” you looked up at the druid, all doe eyes and soft cheeks, “what else can we do for you?”

Halsin let out a gruff laugh, “You’ve already been so generous, but,” he rubbed a large hand on your thigh fondly and turned to look at Astarion with simmering heat in his eyes, “I would enjoy just about anything you two have in mind.”

You and Astarion shared a dirty look. You had something in mind, alright...

AN 2: Polls??? In MY smut!? Lol I was a little stumped on just how to get Halsin off, so I figured why not get some reader interaction going and let y'all vote? Don't worry if I don't do your fav pick, I'm planning on writing loads more of these guys -w-

I hope you enjoyed! And don't forget that your comments mean a lot to me! 😚💕

[alice-angel12x]

What if the twisted wonderland react the MC/Reader have a magical paintbrush just like epic mickey games?

Also this is yuu's paintbrush looks like btw

Yuu! Epic Mickey Twisted Wonderland

Here's a fun art peice I did cause the image was so fun.

Overblot boys (Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Jamil) React to Epic Mickey!Yuu

I remember when I first created Forgotten Wasteland, and how my apprentice made a mess of it all. While I am glad he repaired all the damage he has done, I couldn't trust him to not let his mischievous curiosity get the better of him. So I took up my magical brush and created a helper or a protector. They would keep watch and protect the toons of wasteland. They were an excellent student, they quickly mastered the magic of the brush. If only my other student was this obedient. (Geez Yen Sid, biased much).

Master Yen Sid watched Yuu gently and with a calculated stroke of the bush on the wasteland. The old wise wizard nodded with approval.

"You have done well," Yen Sid said as he gave a pat on Yuu's head.

Yuu smiled softly when they noticed their master holding his hand out, asking for his paintbrush back. They handed the wizards the brush, and suddenly began to dip it into the paint. Where he began to wave the brush in the air, creating something. Something big.

With a final stroke, there before him was a beautiful paintbrush. It was almost Yuu's height, as the wizard handed them the gift.

"Be very careful with this magic. With great strength, comes even greater responsibility. This is not something to play with willy-nilly," Yen Sid said sternly.

"Yes, Master Yen Sid. I promise to use this power for good," Yuu said, trying to contain their excitement.

"I know you will. I can see great things from you," Yen Sid said with a small smile. "Take good care of Wasteland."

If only Yen Sid knew, that his favorite pupil would vanish from under his nose. They would somehow end up in a place called Twisted Wonderland.

------------------------------------------

💗Riddle RoseHeart 💗

Before the blot:

When he first meets Yuu, he doesn't really take them seriously. Since the mirror says they are not a magic user.

He thinks the large paintbrush Yuu carries around is really inconvenient. And Does not look forward to all the potential mess it could bring.

After/during Blot:

Overblot Riddle struggled in the battle with Yuu. The most annoying thing they did was paint his rose bushes Blue, turning them against him.

Turns out Yuu and their magic paintbrush weren't as useless as Riddle assumed.

Yuu's finishing blow was a good whack to the head, dousing Riddle and the ink phantom with a powerful stream of thinner, erasing the blotted ink instantly.

Leaving an unblotted Riddle behind. Though Yuu gave Riddle one last splash of thinner for safe measure.

Leaving a crying drenched mess.

After fixing that, they left all of Heartslybuyal in awe as they watched the thinner in the brush turn to blue paint. And with many strokes of the brush, the unbirthday party was restored.

After that Riddle had a lot more respect for Yuu, and was a lot more curious of what else Yuu could do with their brush.

____________________________________

🦁Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Before Blot:

He could have cared less about this person. He thought they looked ridiculous with their giant brush. On top of that, they were magicless.

However, he did note that this new student smelt strange. Yet he paid them no mind.

After/during Blot:

Leona had a bit of an easier time against Yuu, cause of the howling sandstorm. Making it difficult for Yuu to toss the Thinner on the phantom and the inkblot.

So with the help of the first-year squad, moved upwind and with this. Yuu blasted Leona with a wave of magic Thinner.

The phantom quickly resolved, and Leona could only stare in shock as the Thinner swept him away.

Of course, they made sure to drench Leona in thinner to be sure all the inkblot was gone.

After the whole event, he was strangely enough. interested in going against the Ramshackle team. Even if it wasn't an official match.

He would smirk in interest as Yuu used their magic brush to create a flying broom for themselves. And some Toon as extra players for the team.

____________________________________

Azul Ashengrotto

Before Blot:

He was amused at most, like why would any person carry such a cumbersome thing around.

And they were magicless on top of that. What an odd individual. But for the most part, also didn't pay much attention.

Till the idea of obtaining the Ramshackle dorm. At first the ain't brush was interesting, but he simply assumed that it was some weird decoration.

Yet he did notice Yuu's strange hesitance of water. Specifically the idea of being in water. Azul would happily take advantage of Yuu's fears.

After/during Blot:

This was a frustrating battle for both fighters. Since Azul can keep spewing ink, just as much as Yuu can remove it.

But with the help of allies and friends, Yuu was able to wash away all the ink with their brush and thinner. With a good whack, to bring Azul back to his senses.

Even after the battle, Yuu seemed to refuse to go near the water. A phobia maybe, Azul thought to himself.

Azul is indeed interested in Yuu's power but finds them confusing too. Yuu wants to see the world under the waves, yet refuses to go anywhere near the water.

He tries to ask Jade and Floyd what they know about this student. But not even they could dig anything up about them.

____________________________________

Jamil Viper

Before Blot:

He honestly could care less about them in the start.

He sees them as a perfect pawn to overthrow Kalim. Jamil also notices Yuu's strange fear of water, even if it is in rain form.

But whatever it took to knock Kalim down, he did not care much. Though he did learn some interesting things about them. After using Snake whisper on them.

After/during Blot:

Yuu surprised attacked him, doused him in Thinner, and quickly took him down. Much to Jamil's emmerassement.

Last time he underestimates a person with a giant brush.

During the party in the desert, he saw Yuu sitting in the shade of the trees away from the oasis.

So he sat next to them. "So... Is it true you're made out of paint?"

Part 2, or a focus on one character at a time to have a mini story. (cause I have basically a fan fic Idea in my empty brain)

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

[ellecdc]

♧ here for the drinks: Regulus x Fem!Reader with "he fell in love first and harder" trope?? And congratulations!!

hmmm ok ok ok!! I see it!

so I feel like Regulus is the master of shoving down his feelings, so if he did recognize the first signs of affection for you, he'd immediately stomp them down ->avoidance, distractions, whatever he needs to do to not acknowledge the warmth blooming in his chest

his friends absolutely take the piss for it - Barty: "I haven't seen your missus around lately" - Regulus: "sod off...I don't even know who you're talking about." - Evan: "*snorts* suuurree you don't."

this turns into him admiring you from afar, which is way creepier -> writing poetry, maybe sketching portraits of you, "mooning over you" as Barty would say (only to be hexed for it) etc. I don't think Regulus would be aware of this at first

and then suddenly, there's a party happening in Ravenclaw tower and he finds out you're going with someone else!? and Evan has to point out that he's not actually spoken to you in weeks now? and aren't you allowed to talk to other people?

and that's all well and good but what the fuck??

and now he's officially spiralling

he approaches you in the halls one day - "are you going to a party with McLaggen?" - "well hello to you too, Regulus..." - "yes, hi. Are you going to a party with McLaggen?" - "yes...why?" - "Well...."

you roll your eyes and turn to him "well when you figure it out, let me know, yeah?" and you walk away.

"wow, way to fumble little brother." Sirius taunts as he sidles up beside him. "sod off, Sirius." - "I'd like nothing more, my dear pupil, but that was actually painful to watch and I would be doing the world a disservice by allowing you to lose the girl of your dreams in such an embarrassing manner" - "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sirius' face actually falls a little bit as he looks at his brother with some pity - Regulus hated it. "awe....you're worse off than I thought."

Regulus stalked away

Regulus isn't a party guy, he doesn't like parties, he doesn't do parties....but he was standing there in Ravenclaw tower where the music was so loud he could feel it in his throat because....

because dammit - and before he knows what he's doing, he's pushing his way through the crowd and shoving McLaggen away from you - thanking every deity for the animal that is Barty Crouch Jr because he quickly pulled McLaggen further into the party before disappearing entirely from your view

"what is Merlin's name are you doing!?" You scold, eyes trying to track the movements of your date though you quickly looked over when you felt Regulus' hand in yours

"I'm sorry" he let out breathlessly - "sorry?" - "terribly sorry." - "for what?..."

Regulus steals himself before he steps closer to you. "for being a coward, for avoiding you, for...for avoiding my own feelings-" - "feelings?" - "feelings, Y/N, feelings. for not recognizing those feelings for what they are." - "what are they?"

He looks up from where his eyes were trained on your joint hands to your eyes to see a cautious quirk of your lips - you were messing with him. "Salazar, you're really going to make me spell it out, aren't you?"

"You're a smart wizard...I'm sure you can manage it."

"You minx...." he sighs before closing the distance - pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that quickly turns hungry. "I fancy you, Y/N."

You let out a hum of acknowledgement and smile at him. "I know."

"you what?" - "I know." - "How?" - "You're an idiot." You mutter with a fond roll of your eyes.

You're probably not wrong, but he can't wait to hear you tell him all the ways in which he is, indeed an idiot. You're idiot.

[bunnys-kisses]

teacher's pet - halsin silverbough

pairing: halsin silverbough x fem!reader rating: 18+ tags: pwp, apprentice!reader, master/pupil relationship, smut, 2.3k words, multiple positions, a small fic a/n: partially inspired by this post by @chiwhorei

  To join with Halsin was not something you expected to happen. You were quite content with being his apprentice in the Grove. But, when he decided to join the party to find out more about the tadpoles, you were taken away on the adventure too.

At first it was hard to be away from home, you often missed it quite dearly. But Halsin was there to comfort you during the early period of your journey.

  ”We will return before you know it.“ He said as he placed you in his lap and rubbed your head with his large hand. He wiped away the stray tears and even joked that you'd become a hero. That made you smile a little.

You, a hero? It was almost comical. You bloomed under his attention and care, he still made sure that you were kept up to date with your studies. When he returned to camp, he often asked you questions about what you had been reading that day.

  ”You have to keep your mind sharp, you know.“ He said, ”Now, why don't you try again with that question?”

But with time, his touches lingered longer. His gaze held yours more often. He often found himself touching parts of you while at camp. He especially loved placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you around. After all, you were meant to learn everything from him.

He told you that he could never imagine leaving you behind at Emerald Grove. You were meant to be his side, after all that was why he picked you to be his apprentice. Even though he had many throughout his life, there was none like you.

  “So curious.” He once said, “So kind.” He wanted to reach out for you, but stopped himself. He had to maintain a hard line between apprentice and pupil.

But in all fairness, it didn't take long for the line to become blurred. Those back at the Grove wouldn't know if he touched your back or got a good smell of your hair as you walked by. They wouldn't know that he had one more than on occasion pleasured himself to thoughts of you.

He wondered if you had any lovers, if a man had ever touched you. Not that he was the most possessive man, but he was curious if he had to teach you more than just healing.

He wondered how you tasted, how you sounded when you reached climax. How hot your body would run if he pleasured you in just the right way. There were many questions that all made him wonder if he'd ever get an answer or would they be simple ideas that wracked his brain when he was alone.

He stood close to six feet and five inches. He made you feel so small, even with the encouraging smiles. He knew that, he knew that you'd always be so much smaller than him. But that was alright, he was your teacher after all. Which meant that he was assigned to protect you when the wilderness outside the Grove became too powerful for you.

And of course, you'd be there to bandage his wounds. One time you were applying bandages and he got a good look at your cleavage. He wondered if such a smaller woman could become as powerful as him. He held a need to protect you, even from himself.

But he was often lost in thought about you. You were the same way. And like a strong magnet, you came together in a night of heated passion. Then another one soon after that, then another one after that. Soon it became a frequent occurrence.

  “I'm doing this to train you further, you should be able to perform under pressure.” But in reality he loved how you squirmed on his cock and he loved dumping his seed deep into you.

  “Of course, master.” You blushed, “I want to learn everything you know!”

He smiled and patted your head, “ Of course, little one. Now come here before the others come back.” Then patted his lap.

-

It was another long day, night had crossed the sky. Most of the party was asleep except for you and Halsin. You had waited in the dark until Halsin moved from his bed roll and went into the forest. You followed soon after him like a puppy dog.

He heard you following him and turned around to look at you. You picked up the pace and got closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. Your face was up against his side as he led you further into the woods.

You felt excitement to your core as eventually you two found a familiar clearing to have your nightly activities. You felt a heat pool in your gut as you exited the thickness of the woods.

He let go of you and you walked closer to the nearby river. His gaze caught the sight of your ass as you swayed your hips from side to side. He chuckled to himself, “Teasing me, aren't you?”

You looked at him, “No, sir.” And yelped when he closed the gap between you two and grabbed you by the ass. He squeezed the cheek and leaned down to kiss you to silence you.

Your legs became like jelly as you melted into his kiss. He knew exactly how to make you weak. You had trained so hard to have zero weakness! Yet, your master was the one who left you so weak and vulnerable.

When he pulled away,  he took you by the hand and led you up on the boulders that lined the river. He began to undress you slowly, it was like opening a present. He had seen you naked before, but this was something else. To see you up so close.

He kept you in his large lap as he pulled your clothes off of you. His callused hands grabbed your breasts. He pulled at your nipples gently over your thin bra before he took that off too. Your naked body was exposed to the warm air of the night.

  “You look divine, my apprentice. I wish I could have done this sooner. To taste you, to have you.” He dipped his head to kiss at your neck. You reached behind you to grab onto his hair.

He continued to play with your breasts, he listened closely to the sounds that you made. His covered erection rubbed against your back.

  “Do you want me, little one? Do you want to feel me inside of you.” He pulled at your nipples once more, “Because I want to feel every inch of you.” His voice was low and hot, it made heat curl in your stomach.

  “Please, sir. Take me.” You whined in response. You did everything you could to keep your voice low. You didn't want your passionate cries to be heard from camp.

He chuckled, “Of course, anything for my little apprentice.” Then picked you up with ease and placed you down beside him. He slowly began to take off his clothes, careful not to toss them into the river by accident.

You blushed at the sight of fuzz on his body and the strength of his muscles. You often joked that he looked like the bear he turned into, and he said that you'd make a cuter cub. Which only made your ears grow hotter.

Once he was naked,  he man-handled you like you weighed nothing and got you settled back into his lap. He pushed hair away from your face and buried his face in your neck as he moved you so you could be seated on his cock.

You held onto your knees as you felt the stretch of your pussy around his cock. You held your breath and reminded yourself to breathe as you sank on his length. When you were fully seated on it, it felt like it was in your throat.

He was big, but it only made sense considering his proportions. He was a large man with a cock big enough to make anyone feel small.  You slowly rolled your hips to get more adjusted to his size. You puffed out your cheeks for a moment as you tried to move up and down his length.

He groaned into your heated skin as he held you in his arms. You could feel the hair on his chest against your heated back. You panted and moaned but tried your best to keep your noises down to a minimum. When you became used to his size inside of you, you felt the wash of pleasure over your heated body.

  “Halsin, ah!” You whined as you began to move faster.

He chuckled and kissed at your neck, “That's it. Such a good apprentice. You're an amazing learner. But you still have a lot to learn.”

  “Ah, sir!” You squeaked as you felt his cock bully your cervix. Of course you'd end up with the man with the largest cock at camp. Not only was he your teacher, but also your lover.

  “I feel like I should be quizzing you now.” He laughed, “There's a lot you can learn while being intimate with a man.” He kissed your neck and held you close to him.

You felt your brain practically leak out of your ear. You let him take control of rutting up into you. You reached behind yourself and held onto him as you rode him. Your heart hammered in your chest as the sounds of your fucking filled the nighttime air.

His hands were back on your breasts as he played with your hard nipples. His breath was hot against your already heated skin.

  “Please, Halsin.” You whimpered as you felt his cock hit more of your sweet spot. You felt your toes curl as you tried to relax against your lover.

  “I know, I know. You feel so good. I can't get enough of you. Since the moment I saw you, I knew you were destined to be mine. Now I have you all to myself. To love, to be with.” He said as he thrusted up into you.

You moaned and arched your back away from your teacher. He held onto your hips to guide you up and down his length. Every hard thrust felt like a blow to the gut. It left you breathless. With his heated pants against your shoulder you felt like you were in a state of euphoria.

You kicked out your legs as you felt a sting of pleasure run up your spine and the heat bloom in your chest. Your head started to feel hazy from the intense feeling. You cling to your lover as he thrusted up into you. His large frame behind you made you feel so tiny and vulnerable.

  “My sweet apprentice. You always know how to repay me for my teachings.” He remarked with a slight joke to his voice, “You know how to drive me wild.” He said as if he didn't try to have sex with you weeks earlier while in his bear form.

Your body bounced against his thrusts and you held onto him harder for some stability. Everything felt loose on your body and your brain felt gooey and soft like honey. He had a way with you that you couldn't define into words.

  “Please, Halsin.” You whimpered, “Please, sir.”

  “Of course, little one.” He then positioned you on your hands and knees, facing the river before you as he thrusted into you at a different angle. You were so easy to move, he could put you into whatever position he needed you in.

Now with a deeper angle, you felt like your womb was in your throat from how hard he was thrusting up into you. He groaned as he continued to move his hips. He pushed you further into the rock under you. Your hips were tilted at an angle that he got to the deepest parts of you. If he was hitting against your cervix prior, he was for sure doing so now.

Your eyes rolled back and the orgasm took you by surprise. You gripped onto him as you arched your back once more. You felt sweaty but at the peak of your pleasure as you climaxed around his heavy cock.

  “Good girl.” He said with affection in his tone. He continued to thrust into you. He gave it his all as he held onto your hips, he watched your ass move with each one of his hard strokes.

He licked his lips and leaned in to give your back a nice string of hickies. You were just too perfect in that state, with your nose pressed against the cool rock. To fuck out in the wild was a blessing, to share the sight of your pleasure with nature.

You were divine, his little student. He was going to make sure that you learned everything he could offer. Then maybe, if you agreed too, he'd make you his wife. But until then a little pleasure went a long way.

It wasn't the most conventional,  but he didn't mind.  You'd make a great woman for the rest of his days. With a few more thrusts of his hips, he finished inside of you with a loud groan.

You two slowed down as the slowness of post orgasmic bliss took over. He pulled out of you and pulled you into his arms. He kissed your face before you turned in his arms. The sight of you aroused him once more.

You giggled a bit before you ran a finger across his slick cock. You whispered, “Let me help you, sir. I see you still have a bit of a problem.”

The chuckle came from deep in his chest, “Of course. Help your teacher, please.” He knew he'd be falling asleep with his cock nestled in your sweet sex.

Such a teacher's pet.

[chiwhorei]

I want to be Halsins pussy pet, waiting for him in his tent for him to use when he gets into his ruts. He dosen't mean to be rough but he's so big and needy he can't help it that the intense stretch makes me cry every time. It's completely over whelming but I would do anything for the grove, anything for him.

Stop it right now… I need to post this as is but just know there is something so primal in my soul that has made its way to a doc. Reader isn’t Tav in this, also be warned for an inappropriate master/pupil relationship.

Coming along with the party and staying at camp to flit through books and work on your studies. When Halsin gets back to camp at night, he will quiz you on your current subject matter, wildlife, flora, fungi— whatever he’s deemed important for you to focus on. Daddy’s a wonderful teacher, and so kind. Willing to take you on the adventure of a lifetime, he tells you he needs an assistant-Druid to help with his research, in reality he couldn’t imagine leaving you behind at the Grove.

Daddy sneaking you out to somewhere quiet and scenic when the rest of camp is asleep. Rawing your poor little cunt until the sun comes up. Halsin definitely likes having you warm his cock through the night, sleeping on his broad chest with him nestled into your guts. It also ensures he can get one last fuck in when morning comes before he sets out for the day.

Daddy would share you if someone asked, why keep you all to himself? Halsin loves watching you while you’re getting fucked, seeing his little pet from every angle and position whilst stroking himself. WOOF.

He especially likes seeing your eyes screw up in pleasure and then fall onto him. You watch him with tears in your eyes as his companions (Astarion probably, or Shadowheart) bring you to orgasm. You fall apart so beautifully— whether it be on a cock, a devilish tongue, or a dexterous set of fingers.

[loviatarsluv-old]

Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now. 

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him. 

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances. 

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone. 

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise. 

Though, he could hardly blame him. 

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her? 

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her. 

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain. 

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night. 

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically). 

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her. 

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed. 

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t. 

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his. 

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him. 

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp. 

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return. 

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being. 

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock. 

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.  

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction. 

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh. 

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?” 

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche. 

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s. 

Firebolt. No, no. 

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.” 

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.” 

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” 

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow. 

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted. 

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her. 

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed. 

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her. 

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised. 

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation. 

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight. 

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips. 

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.” 

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench. 

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches. 

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment. 

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?” 

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center. 

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars. 

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now. 

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it. 

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle. 

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing. 

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression. 

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him. 

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent. 

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face. 

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.” 

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll. 

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details. 

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak. 

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed. 

“What the hells is wrong with y—” 

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes. 

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him. 

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault. 

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones. 

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space. 

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure. 

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands. 

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.” 

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate. 

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.” 

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body. 

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time. 

Gale as a lover was no different. 

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head. 

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly. 

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her. 

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a  plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them. 

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more. 

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby. 

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him. 

I need to suck your cock. Please. 

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection. 

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet. 

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness. 

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy. 

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do. 

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls. 

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his. 

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. 

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic. 

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger. 

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” 

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.” 

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can. 

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate. 

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.” 

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat. 

Home. This felt like home. 

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this. 

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare. 

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning. 

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest. 

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice. 

“Gale, I’m gonna—” 

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.” 

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating. 

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had. 

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further. 

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight. 

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed. 

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly. 

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.” 

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.” 

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?” 

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest. 

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.” 

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship. 

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy. 

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.” 

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber. 

[jolenes-doppelganger]

hiii!! i just read your works about ilsa and rose. could you possibly write about lady jessica x fem! corrino reader? where they meet at the final scene of the movie…

xx

[Hi Anon! Thank you for the request. I had some fun ideas with this one, enjoy. :3]

Phantom Frequency

Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Corrino Reader

Summary: Following the overthrow of House Corrino’s monarchy, few things are certain. The Bene Gesserit’s power over the throne, political stability and spice production seem to be uncertain, but on a more personal level, the Corrino household can only fear for their lives. But not all is lost for the two eldest daughters of the former Emperor Shaddam. With Irulan married to Paul and the Reader secured as her primary advisor, a third party strikes a bargain to maintain her security.

Warnings: Drugging, abduction, dub-con ‘arrangement’, dub-con medical examination, Jessica being Jessica

A/N: I know I said this might have been spicy… So I hope you’re hungry! For nothing.

Word Count: 2.8k

You’d heard the whispers before you stepped foot off of the ship onto Arrakis. You were the middle Corrino princess. Your sister, Irulan, deciphered truth, your younger sister wielded the Voice, and you had mastered complete control over your body. Each of you played a key role in the Corrino household. Irulan and your younger sister Addsham played direct roles in controlling the affairs of the household. You held a different purpose. While the two of them occupied the Bene Gesserit with their development and tasks, you lay in the shadows, collecting information and rumors out of the mouths of those around you with uncanny accuracy. But the whispers hadn’t helped you to prepare for the direct interest of the Reverend Mother Atreides.

“Abomination!” the sisters of the Bene Gesserit cried, all momentarily caught up in hysterics as Paul Atreides commanded Reverend Mohiam to silence.

The Fremen warriors stood clustered around the Muad’Dib, the Lisan al Gaib of their fables. But from your perspective, they were really clustered around her. Of all the people she could have fixed her eyes upon, she’d chosen you. Not your frightened sister Irulan, not the pale face of your father, Emperor Shaddam, but you. Small, unassuming, clustered and partially veiled amidst the throng of Bene Gesserit sisters. Quiet, resolutely collected and observant. Jessica Atreides had picked you to focus on. Why?

“... All these years, and I have the pleasure of finally meeting Lady Anirul’s successor.” a voice squirmed through your head. “You don’t carry her name, or her features like your older sister, but you do have her eyes, and her bearing.”

Jessica’s blue eyes bore into yours as the voice drew uncomfortable waves through your ears. You weren’t really hearing her voice. Her lips were barely moving… This was the Voice. Jessica was using some ventriloquy variant of the Voice to talk to you, and you alone.

“How?” you whispered, your brief murmur coming out like a soft gasp, indiscernible from the rest of the Bene Gesserit gasps.

“When you’re my pupil, I’ll teach you.” Jessica eerily stared, eyes sliding off of you and back onto whoever her next victim would be.

<——————->

Paul Atreides had won. The way Irulan clutched your arm as you exited into the safety of the Emperor’s ship made that clear. You’d watched your father kiss the ring of the boy warrior in a haze of disbelief and fear, your emotions scrambled alongside that of the women surrounding you. Walking into Irulan’s private chambers aboard the ship was like walking behind a stage curtain. She broke down, clutching at your shoulders, burying her face in your neck and sobbing.

“No, I can’t do it.” Irulan cried, chest heaving and voice cracking. “I can’t do it (Reader), I can’t face him again. Or his mother.”

You were numb. The kind of numb that slid into your bones whenever trouble struck. It left you with a clarity that was always sort of peculiar; an emotionless outlook on the problems you faced, the ability to tackle dilemmas with the unfeeling scalpel of logical next steps rather than the blunt phalanges of emotional wallowing. You cupped your sister’s head, resting your foreheads together.

“Who said you have to face him right now? No, you have time. You get three days to sob and sit in your self-pity, behind closed doors naturally, but then you will not cry any longer.” you found yourself instructing.

“I hate him.” Irulan whispered. “I fucking hate him.”

The very concept of Irulan swearing was a bit funny. She didn’t use these words. You’d doubted if she ever had them in her vocabulary.

“I believe it was you who held me against the bathroom wall and scrubbed my tongue with soap when I used those words.” you joked.

Irulan let out a tearful laugh, wiping her eyes and nodding.

“Sorry. You were twelve. And someone could have heard you.”

You nodded. It was a funny memory in hindsight. It had caused no lasting harm, quite unlike the predicament Irulan faced. All of the potential marital arrangements she’d been discerning for years, all of the suitors with varying levels of financial and diplomatic aptitude stripped from her in one fell swoop. She’d been damned to a sandpit with the worms and the Fremen. No respite from the Bene Gesserit would be given. No safety net should things go awry.

“I’m staying with you.”

“No.” Irulan shook her head. “What about Daddy?”

“Daddy has Addsham. You have no one. You need my skills, you need my council. You need someone to bear the burden with you.” you said, clutching your sister’s hands. “I’m not asking. I will stay. And you will not be alone.”

Irulan’s eyes filled with tears all over again, and so did your eyes. But you didn’t let them fall. You’d never cried since the night your mother had died. Now would not be the day the six year dam broke. An attendant broke you away from your sister, urgently vibrating in the way most servants did when they carried important news.

“The Reverend Mother Jessica Atreides requests your presence in meeting room six.”

No time was given. It was a direct order. Veiling yourself once more, you walked towards the specified meeting room.

<——————->

The room was empty. To your eyes, at least. A cup of tea, a Gom Jabbar needle. A test of some sort, or perhaps a warning. You kept your distance from the objects, breathing in the smell of stale incense. A large tapestry hung from the wall, a beloved favorite of yours. Lady Anirul seated alongside a younger Emperor Shaddam. Three little girls that bore varying ratios of similarity to the two parents. You smiled, observing your family. Something was off, however. You knew something about it was off. It wasn’t Emperor Shaddam, or any of the three little princesses, it was your mother, Lady Anirul. Was it her hands? No. The neck… Not that either. Her face was odd. Maybe it was seeing her countenance in the format of the tapestry. Maybe it was just seeing her again. But the more you looked, the more you realized that it was her face. All blended together, all seamlessly woven, except for the life-like eyes. The blue, glistening, life-like eyes of someone that was not your mother, that had never been your-

Hands sprung out from the tapestry, encircling your neck and pushing you backward into the table. The slits of the tapestry, the slits in your mother’s eyes went blank, and the face that replaced your mother’s sent chills up your spine.

“Let this be your first lesson.” Mother Jessica whispered, grip tight over your windpipe. “When the gut screams that something is wrong, you listen.”

She released your neck, and the fright combined with the released pressure on your airpipe made you dizzy. You slid to the floor, head spinning in shock and fear. Tears collected in your eyes, and your hands shook. All of these reactions were without your consent, and you couldn’t gather the necessary strength needed to reverse these processes, to engage the parasympathetic nervous system to undo the shock of the deceitfully devised strangulation attempt.

“Oh, child.” Jessica scoffed. “You grow too comfortable in your house.”

“You cut out my mother’s eyes!” you found yourself whimpering, like a scared child.

Jessica laughed at this, a cruel sound mixed with a certain degree of disdain.

“You have thirty seconds to collect yourself.” she ordered.

You found yourself rising, turning away from her to collect yourself. You stopped breathing like a hysterical adolescent, instead forcing slow breaths in through your nose. You gripped the edge of the table, righting the dam against your conflicting emotions. Then you turned, making eye-contact with the woman behind them all.

“I am not a traditional mentor. Your mother never was, hence why she was never allowed to mentor another following me.” Jessica coldly recounted. “But she taught me more in six months than the rest of them did in sixteen years. Still, she teaches me. From beyond the grave she sends me lessons, ones that hurt to learn. And now, she’s sent me you. The middle child, the forgotten one, the little rebel that bides her time in the shadows. You.”

Jessica adjusted her loose veil, grabbing the Gom Jabbar needle.

“What would this be used for?”

“The Gom Jabbar test. I passed it at fourteen.”

Jessica nodded, setting the needle down. But then she fixed her piercing gaze on you once more.

“But that’s not the only way you know it.”

Anger flashed through your veins. How dare she!

“My mother was a strong woman, she was sick. And no one helped her, so don’t you dare throw her death in my face-”

“Silence.”

Your teeth clacked shut, clipping your tongue in the process. The taste of iron filled your mouth

“Did your mother kill herself with the Gom Jabbar or not?”

You reached behind you, gripping the table with ferocious intensity, channeling the rising tide of emotions into another action other than crying.

“She did.” you croaked out, breathing in through your nose so fast the air whistled.

Jessica nodded, picking up the cup of tea. It was still hot, you noticed. A product of the heat conducting coil at the base of the cup.

“Do you know what this tea is?” Jessica asked, a rhetorical question. “It was the only thing found in your mother’s system following the autopsy. And you’re going to drink it.”

You screwed your eyes shut, silently praying to any higher power that would dare listen to make this nightmare stop. But then you opened them, not allowing yourself to succumb to despair.

“Take it. Before I make you.”

The cup was hot in your hands. The liquid a murky brown. It was a derivative of spice, notes of chamomile and citrus laced in with the pungent scent of spice. You swallowed down the beverage, doing so with mechanical detachment.

“Close your eyes.” Jessica murmured, taking the cup from you.

Her fingers grazed your with startling gentleness. It was a tad bit sensual, but perhaps you were making that bit up.

“Feel.”

The pregnant bump of Jessica brushed against your stomach, her hands resting on your lower face. Her nose brushed yours, a brief motion. Then her lips rested on your left ear, her breath tickling the hollow cavern of your ear canal.

“Your mother drank a spice cocktail, a depressant based blend to promote bliss and a sense of euphoria. She died happy.”

It was too much for you to bear, and in between the soft caresses of her hands, in between the stress of the last twelve hours, in between all of the emotional heartache you’d experienced, a sad, neglected child sat crouched in a corner, wondering where her mother went. You broke down, hands fisted in the Reverend Mother’s robes as she collected every stray tear you cried with her lips, collecting the water of your body and storing it in hers.

<—————->

Distant voices blurred together the longer you were in that room. You called it ‘that room’ because you were unsure of where it was. Your routine was set. When you came out of the drug coma, you were fed and given water, and then the bitter drink was administered. As you came out of the coma again, more voices were clear.

“Leave me with her.” a raspy voice.

“But Reverend Mother, you gave birth only three days ago-”

“Leave me.”

The voice. Quick footsteps, silence. Hands encircled your face, sweet smelling breath ghosting over your nose.

“I’ve had you inspected.” she murmured. “You are in perfect health, fertile and strong. A strong vessel, this is important.”

You opened your eyes, meeting the tired, slightly bloodshot eyes of the Reverend Mother.

“I cannot teach someone weak. I will not teach someone weak. But you are not weak, daughter of Anirul. No, you are good stock.”

Her hands crept over you, exposing your skin, pulling off your robe.

“Still… I do not necessarily trust the Imperial physicians I had brought to you. I need to see for myself.”

Jessica started at your lymph nodes in your neck, checking pulse, fingers prodding the skin. She pressed over your belly button, your appendix, watching your face for signs of discomfort. Her touch slid down to your feet, your ankles. She carefully checked all the joints of your arms and legs, paying special attention to your hips.

“Strong body, good heart, your lungs sound clear and full. But are you suitable for breeding?” Jessica asked herself.

Both of her hands encircled your breasts, probing and caressing, checking for any potential defects.

“Not as vessel filled as they should be. You need more blood flow to the glands. Daily massages should help with that.”

It was humiliating, being touched so callously. It was medical, sure. And the Reverend Mother was a sister of the Bene Gesserit, but this was hardly protocol.

“The womb…”

Her hands slid down to your pubic area, probing and prodding just above the pubic bone. She did this for sometime, more carefully examining this area than anywhere else.

“It’s safe to say that you are fertile. Not as fertile as you should be, however. Estrogen rich foods, daily boric acid suppositories to help with pH balance… Yes, most certainly.”

Jessica gripped your thighs without warning, pulling them apart, exposing your vulva to her view. It was a quick look, she merely skimmed over you with her gaze.

“Aesthetically pleasing. Hmm.”

The Reverend Mother dropped her grip, tying the robe over you once more. To say that you were shocked was an understatement. Humiliation, confusion and flattery all brewed together in a jumbled mix, and you found that every possible response you had to the examination dried up in your throat.

“What?” Jessica smirked bemusedly. “You are very aesthetically pleasing, not just there, but everywhere.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows felt like the only correct de-escalatory measure. Tightening the robe over you felt necessary, covering yourself from her gaze. Jessica eyed you carefully, her hands cupping your cheeks and jaw.

“Let me make one thing clear. I do not explain my methods. I will not explain my methods. Once the desired outcome is made, there will be no room for discussion over my methods. I am the teacher, you are the pupil. Criticism will not be tolerated, neither will disobedience.”

A thousand questions raced through your head. Who had given her this authority over you? Why had she drugged you? How long had you stayed in a timeless state of unconscious bliss while the world worked around you? What if Irulan had needed your help while you were gone? What if your father had left with the rest of the Bene Gesserit, and you’d never gotten to say goodbye?

“I have questions.” you rasped, voice crackly and hoarse from not speaking for several days.

“I don’t have the patience to answer them. The only thing you need to know at this point is that you are not permitted to leave my side without my consent. That means you eat with me, you attend all meetings alongside me, you tend to my affairs when instruction is given and you sit quietly when I have nothing for you.” Jessica listed, getting closer, cupping your face more forcefully. “You sleep alongside me, you dress alongside me, and you most certainly do not hide yourself from me.”

Jessica slid a hand down your back, her other hand gripping the back of your head. Her lips pressed right against her ear, wet, hot air tickling at the sensitive flesh.

“And what we do when it is just us, what we do in those quiet hours once I am healed from labor, that you will never speak of.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide and troubled. Was she… Propositioning you for sex? Was this even a proposition or just a straight up demand. You wanted to open your mouth to protest, but Jessica was faster.

“Get up.” Jessica said, exerting control over you using the Voice.

Your body obeyed unwillingly, standing before her.

“Kneel.”

Your knees buckled, and her hands were quick to jerk your face up, glaring at you with intent.

“Never, ever attempt to speak without being spoken to again. Especially to tell me what I can and cannot do. Arrakis is under Emperor Paul’s jurisdiction now. What I do to ensure House Corrino remains subjected will be none of his concern.”

The fire in her eyes died down, replaced by a soft amusement.

“It won’t be bad, dear. None of it will be bad. You won’t ever worry about being forced into a diplomatic marriage without good warning. And if you do well, if you are a good student, I will have very little incentive to send you away.”

Jessica finished her lecture, amusing herself with the soft baby hairs that clung to your forehead.

“And from now on,” she continued, voice soft, “You call me Jessica.”

[sserpente]

Blood on a Silver Platter

Synopsis: You are a human slave forced to serve your master the night he hosts a dinner party for some special guests. Only when you meet Astarion, you realise that the reason you were bought was not for your services... but for your blood.

A/N: Whoops. Oh dear, what is this sassy vampire doing on my blog? Seriously, I started playing Baldur's Gate 3 two nights ago but I've been obsessed with Astarion even before that. If you follow me on that fancy picture app, you'll know I've met Neil before and I can't emphasise enough how much of a sweetheart he is. He truly has a hand for these sassy characters, haha! Have fun reading!

Words: 1749 Warnings: blood, feeding, slave!Reader

Astrid didn’t like new girls. They were shy, terrified, angry, and stubborn and they knew nothing about how this place was run, where the dishes, the cutlery, and the crystal wine glasses were. But how would you? You had a right to be terrified. You had a right to be angry. How else would you feel, sold and enslaved like cattle or a piece of furniture?

Ezekiel, your new master, had made it very clear to you from the very beginning that you were easily replaceable if you did not obey. Human slaves did not sell for much in these parts, for they lacked strength, agility… and longevity compared to other species. You could not argue with that—and that made you even more furious.

He was hosting a dinner party tonight, a group of travellers if you’d heard correctly. Of course, none of you were supposed to ask questions. You were merely there to serve and make them comfortable. You sighed. You had been on your feet all day, preparing the feast and preparing the table.

By the time Ezekiel received his guests, Astrid was screaming the place down in the kitchens. She was not a slave—your master paid for her services and left her in charge of the girls he bought to do the dirty work for them. You hated them both.

Right after the main course was served and the guests began to eat, Astrid handed you a jug of red elven wine. Her ice-cold eyes bore into yours. “Ezekiel asked for you specifically to serve the wine before the main course. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to. Refill the wine, keep your head down, and leave, is that understood?”

“Yes.” You gnashed your teeth, biting back a snarky remark when she pushed you through the doorway and you almost spilled the expensive alcohol on the stone tiles to your feet.

It was the first time you got to lay your eyes on Ezekiel’s mysterious guests. None of them were human, not at first glance.

There was one with green skin, another with red skin and horns protruding from their forehead… a tiefling… one of them, however, stood out to you the most; he was sitting at the head of the table. His short blonde hair was wild, complimenting those sharp ears, the pale skin, and his eyes… red pupils.

You quickly looked down when you realised your master noticed your rude staring, refilling their wine glasses as instructed by Astrid. The blonde man’s gaze bore into you the closer you got to him, intrigue apparent on his face.

“Well then, my honoured guests. Dinner is served. Enjoy your meal. That goes for you too, Astarion. I hope she is to your satisfaction. I got her from the slave market only three days ago.” Ezekiel leaned over to another slave girl. “Take that jug from her.”

Astarion. You did not fail to notice that his plate was the only one that was still empty. But you realised a moment too late what exactly your master’s words entailed. The slave girl you handed the jug to was only slightly older than you but you didn’t even know her name. All you knew was that the both of you dreaded what Ezekiel had in store for you, for as soon as your hands were empty, Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him.

“Why, hello, darling.”

Losing your balance, you stumbled, landing on his lap. He was quick to snake his arm around your waist to keep you from escaping. He buried his free hand in your hair and tugged on it hard enough to force you to reveal your neck to him.

Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of his fangs right before he sank them deep into your throat, breaking the skin. You flinched, the burning sensation quickly turning into a pulling pain that had you shaking on his lap, and then… the panic kicked in and dug its claws deep into your guts.

Pushing your palms flat against his chest, you attempted to push yourself off of him, your survival instinct getting the better of you. You winced when the pain intensified and Astarion pressed you even closer against him as he drank from you. His lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine and the more you fought, the more he seemed to be enjoying himself.

It felt like an eternity and as your body grew weaker, your determination to drive a stake through his heart grew with each passing second.

Finally, Astarion released you. He licked his lips, red with your blood, an almost lascivious noise escaping him. When he let go, you slid off of him with the last of your remaining strength, almost toppling to the floor in the process.

“Hmm… thank you, darling,” you heard him say. “You taste absolutely delightful.”

You did not turn around to see the smug expression that would match his tone on his face. Instead, you hurried back to the kitchens with trembling limbs, processing what had just happened. Your mind was near empty. As if along with your blood, he’d sucked every other thought from you as well. You swallowed thickly.

He bit you. He drank your blood. He almost killed you. He used you like a living blood bag. Was this why Ezekiel had bought you?

“Where is the new girl? I asked her to do one simple job, for the love of the gods!”

“Astrid, I’m not sure she…” It was the girl who had taken the wine jug from you who spoke up. She knew that something bad would happen, she must have. You had seen it in her eyes when your gazes had crossed.

“I’m here now,” you croaked out. Your throat was dry. You didn’t want to go back out there. Didn’t want to help serve dessert, didn’t want to face him again after what he’d just done to you with everyone watching as if it didn’t concern them, eating their fucking stag steak for dinner.

“A-Astrid… would… w-would you mind s-serving dessert, p-please?” you chirped.

“And what do you dream of at night?” She came barging in from the pantry, arms akimbo and practically fuming. You swallowed thickly, clenching your fists in a weak attempt to control your shaking. It was with great satisfaction that you noticed her face fall when you turned around, revealing the small trickles of blood running down the fresh bite mark on your neck.

Her eyes widened. You were quite certain you had never seen her stutter before.

“Go… you can… g-go wash up. I’ll take care of the desserts.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, rushing past the other slave girls, all of them staring at you with widened eyes, and barged into the small washing room adjacent to the kitchens. A dirty kitchen towel would have to do to wash the blood off of you.

With trembling fingers, you rubbed at your sensitive skin until almost all evidence of his assault was gone before leaning over to wash your face. You used the cleanest-looking part of the kitchen towel to pat yourself dry before you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again—facing Astarion in the mirror right behind you. The gasp that escaped your lips echoed through the almost empty room. Instinctively, you stepped back, only to realise a fraction of a second too late that you would bump straight into his chest.

The vampire grabbed your arms and flipped you around fast so you’d face him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hello there,” he purred. “No need to be so frightened, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. It was the amusement in his voice that had you seethe, anger pushing your fear out of the way for just a moment. “Of course not. Why would I be? You only just bit me and drank my blood like I’m some sort of snack.”

“Oh but are a snack,” he retorted, chuckling. “And you were quite a delicious one too.”

You stared at him. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come see me tonight.”

Frowning, you processed his words. He couldn’t possibly mean…

Astarion laughed. “You are looking so frightened again. I promise I will make it worth your while.”

“And if I don’t want to?” you whispered. You were a slave—your question was entirely redundant. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Ezekiel had practically delivered you to Astarion on a silver platter.

“Well, Ezekiel expects me to kill you tonight.”

You felt your heart plummet.

“I understand it he only bought a human slave for the occasion. To satiate my hunger and for my… entertainment tonight. Surely, he is aware how feeble mortal lives are, it is almost a waste to invest in human slaves.” You gnashed your teeth. “But there is an alternative,” he continued.

“What alternative?” you snapped.

“I could use a travelling companion. A… loyal blood slave, so to speak, and I must say I did not expect human blood to taste so delightful.”

Your frown deepened. A blood slave… to a vampire, following him like an obedient and lost puppy… you would rather die than give up your body like that. But was it truly worse than serving your current master knowing he had killed former slaves for dropping plates before? Knowing that the sole reason he had purchased you was to please one of his guests?

One thing was certain—you did not want to die and at least… he was quite handsome, was he not?

“What do you say, dearest?” Astarion’s brushed his knuckles against your cheek. He took a step forward, pressing you against the doorframe and trapping you between the solid wood and his strong body.

You sucked in a deep breath when he bent your head to the side, revealing the bite mark he had left on you. You prepared for another rush of sharp pain tearing through your neck, squeezing your eyes shut in response.

Instead, you felt his tongue dart out to taste you with a start, licking over the wound.

“There… all healed. For now,” he added with a sly smirk. You frowned, your hand flying up to feel your neck. He was right. The two little holes where his fangs had punctuated your skin were gone. And yet… his sly smirk was a silent promise that this was only the beginning of your time together.

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

[billk4ulitzsecretlvr]

☆ |` There's A First

For Everything... `| ☆

By billk4ulitzsecretlvr

☆THIS FIC CONTAINS : 2012!Tom x 2008!Bill . Fluff / slight smut .not realy . ,mainly fluff .

AUTHORS NOTE ☆; Hi :] I have not written in so long but ,I am back now . I wanted to write this as a cute fluff to write ,after I spoke with a anonymous about favorite eras ,and I just think this is cute idea . Also !I am using Bills viva comet 2008 look for this:)

Enjoy ,! Or don't ;) .

Bill and Tom had just gotten back from dinner, a nice restaurant. It was a Friday, nothing out of the ordinary for the brothers.

It was a quiet night, calm and collect.. which Bill was always a fan of. Sure, he liked parties and high energy, but with Tom, he liked the quiet and sensual feelings of their presences together.

Tom was driving, fitting evenly in the Cadillac. One hand was on the steering wheel whereas the other was on the arm rest. He flicked his tongue over his lip ring, the man's long dreads fell over his shoulders. Toms body was adorned in baggy jeans of course, and a V-neck shirt that seemed especially tight around his chest.

It didn't go without notice by Bill, but after all.. nothing really seemed to. Bill loved Tom, he'd give the man the moon if he could. It was only natural that Bill spent all the time he could with Tom to just ogle him and admire his older brother.

Speaking of Bill, he sat small in the Cadillac seat. His knees were to his chest as he averted his eyes out the window, the bright city lights of Berlin reflected saturatedly in his pupils.

He was small, Tom had a lot of muscle mass.. whereas Bill was thin, boney, Tom loved touch him. He was so easy to squeeze, to coddle.. he was so much smaller than Tom. It made him feel in charge, to know his physique was enough to intimidate Bill.

Bill had a decent length of black hair, it framed his face nicely and softly. His clothes didn't sit uncomfortable tight on his body, but it definitely showed off his form. He leaned against the car door.

Once Bill and Tom pulled into the drive way, each of them slugged themselves out of the car and into the house.

Bill had moved in with Tom just a few months back, living with their parents had become a little too much for him and Tom had offered anyhow.

Bill greeted their dog, Scotty. He crouched down and pet the dog, smiling softly yet tiredly.

Tom smirked, petting Bill's hair in a teasing way as Bill stood up. The man kissed Bill's soft lips, a long and appreciating kiss.. which Bill reciprocated. He felt Tom touch his lower back and pat it a couple times to let him know to let go, and once Bill did.. he grabbed Bill's hand and took the boy upstairs.

When they were upstairs, in the master bedroom doorway, they began to kiss again.. a bit more passionately.

Their tongues touched repetitively, Tom's tongue grazing Bill's tongue ring as they both fought for some sort of control. Tom's hands ran down Bill's dainty waist.. touching the back of his thighs as the boy tripped back over the bed.

Tom smirked again, pushing Bill back and kneeling between the youngers legs. One knee on the bed, the other foot keeping him planted on the ground.

Toms long locks fell over his shoulders and dangled between their chests, tickling Bills neck enough to make him recoil a bit and smile.

He touched Tom's muscular arms, feeling his warm skin where the T-shirt sleeves ended. He sighed softly, feeling Tom break the kiss to tickle his neck with his tongue.

"Tom," he giggled quietly.

Tom snickered, trailing his kisses up to Bill's ear and nibbling on his earlobe.

Bill bit his lower lip softly, looking up at Tom, who was still cornering him against the bed. Tom had eventually pushed Bill up on the bed, enough so that he could crawl between bills knees and smother the boy in affection.

The boy kept his hand on Tom's head, keeping his mouth against his neck.. Bill felt the soft stubble of toms facial hair, which he was always strangely fond about?

He felt Tom press his body into his own a little bit, causing the boy to tighten his knees on toms waist.

Tom grabbed Bills legs and pulled him tighter around his own waist, pressing their groins together as the boys focused on making out.

Bill felt slight pressure in his groin region, frightening him just a bit before he realized it was Tom pressing on him. He bit toms lower lip and looked down at their bodies after pulling away, feeling himself grind slightly against Tom.

"So pretty," Tom muttered, "So small." He said softly.

Bill looked down at his thin body in comparison to Tom's more muscular one, finding he enjoyed the physique difference quite a bit.

"I could break you like a stick," he joked, pinching Bill's tummy.

Bill giggled, swatting toms hand away. Tom soon replaced that hand near Bills face, pushing his bangs out of his face. Tom kissed Bill's cheek, but eventually bent down to push Bill's shirt off to kiss his stomach, Bill cupping his face. He quietly gasped when Tom kissed his stomach, arching his back slightly.

Tom held his arms around Bill's waist tightly, keeping him in place.

He licked Bill's star tattoo, sucking on the skin and leaving a small hickey. The man brought his face down to Bills jeans, licking up the tight fabric which put Bills head in a haze.

Bill closed his eyes; he felt butterflies in his stomach as Tom did so.. since Tom's face had never been so close to Bills lower region before. Bill caressed Tom's hair as the man worked.. but he wasn't sure if he was completely fine with this.

He zoned out until he felt the cool air on his lap, Tom had pulled his pants down enough to show his briefs.. the thin, stretchy fabric leaving his lower body just slightly colder than the rest due to the decrease of coverage.

Bill pushed Tom's hands away, his eyes a bit wide.

"Tom-" he paused. The man stopped in his tracks, looking up at Bill.

They had never quite gotten this far.. as weird as that seems, they'd been living together for all their lives.. but since they moved into Tom's flat, you would have thought that the boys would have gotten up to things.. but it seemed like the recency of their relationship was being taken slow.

Theyd made out plenty, kissed plenty.. but other than simply getting quite comfortable with each other's torsos.. nothing really took place.

"Yeah? Are you alright?" Tom asked, his expression tender as he looked down at Bill.

Bill nodded, "I'm just.. not sure if I want to take things far like that yet." He clarified.

Tom smiled softly, "We don't have to," he mumbled.

Bill nodded, looking up at Tom. He stayed quiet against the bed, watching Tom move up to kiss his tummy again.. the familiar sensation was one of Bill's favorites and he knew that.

"Why don't we just lay down?" Tom asked quietly, Bill's sleepy eyes agreed. He nodded again.

Tom moved from between Bill's knees, propping himself up to lay next to the boy. Bill couldn't be bothered to rebutton his pants.. so he just kicked them off along with his shoes, laying on his side as he faced Tom.

Tom reached his hand out to play with Bill's hair, which the younger always enjoyed.. Tom had inevitably pulled the boy close, pressing their bodies together as he littered Bill's neck with kisses.

"You're so cute," he whispered, combing a hand through the boys hair.

Bill smiled, biting his lip as he put a hand on Tom's hair, rubbing his locks.

Bill had ended up on his back again, Tom laying between his legs as the man sucked dark spots onto his neck.. he held toms head close as they just relaxed.. letting the night soothe their stress as the brothers calmly enjoyed each other's presence.

[dualcastimpact]

Just went through the confrontation with Nabriales and Moenbryda's sacrifice (again) and out of all the major deaths that the story keeps coming back to, Moenbryda and Papalymo's feel the least organic, at least in terms of building up that emotional rapport with the Warrior of Light and/or player enough for the Warrior of Light and/or player to be impacted by their passing. Haurchefant interacts prominently with the Warrior of Light and is a reoccurring character all the way from ARR and halfway into Heavensward. We get a whole expansion with Ysayle. We get a whole expansion with Ardbert. Emet-Selch gets TWO expansions, and even Venat and Hythlodaeus get two whole dedicated levels for us to hang out with. You can't argue the same for Moenbryda and Papalymo, who barely interact with the Warrior of Light and in fact never seem to have any significant one-to-one moments with them.

You could argue that Moenbryda's and Papalymo's deaths don't in fact affect the Warrior of Light all too badly like the others' deaths do—and you'd be right! Moenbryda's death is Urianger's grief. Papalymo's death is Lyse's grief. The Warrior of Light doesn't grieve them the way they grieve Haurchefant or Ysayle, or Ardbert, or the Ancients they meet in Elpis, and that's not the issue. The issue is that the game, especially with Moenbryda, tries to make the player feel something for their deaths when they've not allowed the player to engage with the characters enough for us to feel anything for their passing. I'd argue I feel worse about Wilred dying than I did for Moenbryda and Papalymo, and that's because we see so much more of him with the Little Ala Mhigo sequence and his interactions with us while he was in the Crystal Braves; we see him grow as a character, however brief and unrelated to us it was, and we don't get that with Moenbryda and Papalymo.

To make matters worse, Moenbryda's and Papalymo's deaths were driven by their connection to Louisoix: Moenbryda in wishing to understand his motivations for leaving her behind and sacrificing himself for the sake of some no-name place called Eorzea, and Papalymo in wishing to prove himself Louisoix's finest pupil, following his master's footsteps in sacrificing himself to temporarily seal the dread primal Shinryu. Again, that's not the issue—the issue is that ARR only gives us crumbs about Louisoix and the Circle of Knowing, crumbs that are nowhere near enough to make us care about him! Oh, Moenbryda and Papalymo are both paying homage to Louisoix through their sacrifice? Oh well, nothing to do with me! I don't know anything about Louisoix to warrant my caring!

It wouldn't be such an aggravation if the story doesn't insist on making the player care. You have a sequence with Moenbryda's parents comforting Urianger in Endwalker, and there's a sidequest involving Papalymo's father as well—their deaths are not forgotten! They're hearkened back to! They're even included in this image of the fallen made floating in the aetherial sea!

Clearly their sacrifice is considered as major as Minfilia's and Haurchefant's and Ysayle's, which would make sense if the game bothered to put in the effort to make us care about Moenbryda and Papalymo in the first place!

Okay. Rant over. I initially wanted to write about how Raginmar very likely called Kirika to help heal Moenbryda before he went after Nabriales and Minfilia—in-game it makes sense for the Warrior of Light to not be able to call anyone, but by post-ARR Raginmar's adventuring party is pretty established; they're all connected by linkpearls and can contact each other in an emergency, and Moenbryda getting blasted in the stomach by a column of dark aether very much counts as an emergency. There's one issue with that scenario, however:

Papalymo: "She was counting on the theory that a soul's aether burns brightest at the moment of its passing. A scholar until the very end..."

Moenbryda was dying when she gave up her life to temper the aetherial blade. That was the theory she was counting on: that her soul's aether, near its end, would burn brightest at the second of her death and be enough to augment the aetherial blade.

Thancred: "She gave her life to temper the blade of Light? I...I have no words."

If Raginmar was able to get Kirika to come and try to heal Moenbryda, that makes this plot point implausible. She wouldn't have been near death if a healer was at hand. A solution to that problem would be Kirika actually failing to heal Moenbryda and managing to only staunch the wound instead of healing it, but that's additional trauma for Kirika that I have to think about and work on, and I do not have the time for that— oh no— I can feel the brainworms coming—

[luniidae]

Let me tell you a little more about Luvia's nature. As a reminder, this absolutely does not follow DnD lore (Sorry in advance for the long post. It's not very interesting but I wanted to add some Luvia lore 🖤)

Luvia is therefore a Dracanist. We don't know if this word designates a species, a rank or even a magical specialization, but the fact remains that this term was used to define an entire people. A very ancient and long extinct people.

Dracanists were described as horned humanoids with pointed ears, red eyes, and predominantly pale complexions. Sometimes confused with Tieflings, one could however note the absence of tail or angular and pointed physical features specific to the race. As far as we know, the Dracanists were not related to the inhabitants of the infernal planes, although easily influenced people might have believed it. Their appearance, however, was linked to other creatures that we will see later.

They were not known to be particularly vindictive, preferring to work apart from other civilizations, but they were not a peaceful people either. If they were challenged or disrespected, they were able to retaliate in a fairly dissuasive manner.

Indeed, the latters were the only ones capable of mastering blood magic, a powerful, dangerous and above all unstable power if used in any way. (In fact, some believe that their fall was precipitated by a few individuals corrupted by their own magic)

But it doesn't stop there, because they also possessed the ability to transform into a blood dragon. Terrible scarlet and winged creatures whose breath gnawed away the flesh and left only bones. However, although all Dracanists possessed this potential, not all were necessarily able to transform. Some managed to achieve this feat more easily than others who could very well never transform.

In any case, it is unknown whether the Dracanists were related to blood dragons, like the Dragonborns and their draconic parents, or if it was simply an animal form that they could take, a bit like a druid who transforms into a bear for example.

Another little subtlety specific to the species: the horns. The Dracanists possessed regenerative powers. This did not prevent them from sometimes being seriously injured, but it allowed them to recover more quickly than ordinary mortals.

And this famous power came from their horns. Why? How? No one knows, and the main parties involved have never revealed anything on the subject.

Still, these bony appendages could represent an object of desire for anyone crazy enough to try to obtain one, since it was enough to carry a Dracanist horn on oneself to benefit from its effects.

Today, there is no longer any trace of these creatures. Some believe that they have definitely disappeared, talking about them as legendary creatures from some fairytales. But others are convinced that a handful of individuals may have survived, living recluse and hidden from the rest of the world (their life expectancy was estimated at nearly 1000 years).

A few "fun" facts about Luvia:

Although Luvia uses coconut and vanilla scents to perfume herself, Raphael and Haarlep find that she smells like "honey and blood"

Her regenerative abilities mean that she never manages to keep a tattoo, the ink keeps coming out after a while.

Luvia's eyes glow when she uses her magic, making her pupils disappear. But it also happens when she feels a strong emotion like anger or love.

Luvia gives off a certain aura that can appear threatening or uncomfortable to some people. But the young woman can't do anything about it.

Luvia's potential and uniqueness were the reasons why the Devil took interest in her in the first place.

[natsuyuki-w]

Fiery

Fandom delicious in dangeon Kabru of Utaya x gn!reader

Synopsis Kabru's gut feeling screams for him to run from the mysterious fire caster, but he can't pinpoint the exact reason.

899 words

In that horrific moment, where traumas of his childhood resurfaced, another truth shook Kabru to the core.

The enormous harpy that Falin had transformed into was decimating his companions, and now it was his turn.

As its sharp claws closed in, the air suddenly turned scorching hot, and a wall of searing flames erupted between him and the creature.

Tears welled from the heat’s sting, and the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose, making him recoil in disgust.

- Wow! You have eyes scarier than mine. -

Slit pupils gazed far too closely into his. Kabru fought to maintain his composure, but the intensity of this stare almost made him falter.

The owner of the sharp gaze shifted their attention to the samurai leading the group. - Sir, I understand you're infatuated with this girl, but please don't get "blinded by love".-

Perched casually on the samurai's shoulder was a figure Kabru had only noticed earlier for their fire spells. Now, he truly saw them. Tall, elegant, their posture and attire somehow still refined despite the chaos of battle.

Something unsettling felt about their presence but he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just their height—though they stood taller than the "tall men" at present—it was something more primal that crawled beneath his skin.

- I’ll take any help I can get. - the samurai grumbled, clearly agitated. - They claim to know something about Falin. -

- I don't doubt your judgment, Master, but we should be wary. - stepped forward the woman in white and threw a sharp glance at the stranger who just intimidated the souldier.

Kabru’s lips curved into a practiced smile, a charming mask that rarely failed him. - My apologies if I came across as intense, - he said, chuckling lightly to ease the tension - I only wish to repay your kindness. Please, allow me to be of use in finding the Touden sister. - and pressing a fist to his chest, he bowed slightly, the curls on his head bouncing as he lowered his head.

Other then the red cheeks of the rest of the party, when he raised his eyes, he found himself facing that unnerving gaze once more. Their expression calm, almost bored, yet his instincts screamed danger. Every muscle in his body tensed, fight or flight hammering in his veins.

- Terrific...- They whispered, their voice dark and unsettling enough to make even the samurai beside them shiver. - Unlucky day for you, handsome. Takes a liar to know one.- A lazy grin stretched across their lips, and the air around them grew stifling with heat, like the flames they commanded.

- Master Shuro, we only need to keep moving deeper into the dungeon. No guide is necessary. - their gaze narrowed with barely contained irritation. - What was your name captain? -

The boy swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. - K-Kabru. -

- Well, Kabru - they leaned closer, their breath hot against his skin. - If you care about your companions at all, you'll leave this place. Mermen and sea serpents are nothing compared to what lies below—dragons don’t care how many times your cleric resurrects you. Either your body or their magic will run dry first.- Their eyes bored into him with a fierceness that twisted his stomach into knots.

Before he could respond, the woman with dark hair tugged the stranger back by the ear, like a mother scolding a mischievous child. - Could’ve gotten your point across with kinder words, don’t you think?-

Kabru stood frozen, still gripped by a sense of dread he couldn’t shake. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the cold fear he felt with the strange attraction pulling at him, like two opposing forces battling within. He clenched his fists, desperate to keep his thoughts in check, but his body betrayed him unable to choke out more words.

A string of cries from the firm tag broke the tension and once freed the stranger gave a disinterested shrug. - Do whatever. Just stay out of my way, or I might roast you with the enemy. - The shift was disarming. Their voice was suddenly calm again, as if they hadn’t just threatened his life.

But at least he had secured what he wanted.

The memory of the encounter burned in his mind as flames flickered across his skin, bringing him back to the present. The dust from the current battle was settling, and shapes began to form in the clearing smoke.

He had been saved, yet the scene before him was anything but reassuring.

Instinctively, he threw himself backward, his gaze darting between the figures ahead. The puzzle he had tried to solve for days now seemed painfully clear. His eyes, sharp and observant, had missed none of their moves. He had suspected something, but now the truth was unmistakable.

They had fooled him with their disguise.

A melodic whistle of a flute broke through the chaos, and new features sprouted from their body. Fox-like ears, a tail, a monster. Kabru's chest filled with dread and hatred, a deep urge to destroy them rising with his every heartbeat. But before he could act, the giant harpy lunged toward him, claws slicing through the air, forcing him to the ground.

What a joke, dying like this. Blood filled his vision as the Inari, their face twisted in sorrow, sent another burst of fire at the creature crushing him. He watched helplessly and the pain in his body finally overtook him.

Agonizingly, everything went black once again.

To be continued...

file cabinet | bookshelf originals

[dullgecko]

omfg you can't stop there with the neck-touching story, i'm so invested. the aftermath, i beg of you. did riz isolate himself/hide from his friends in shame after the fact? how did fabian react? did he blame riz? blame himself? were the bad kids able to coax riz back into the party after his self-imposed isolation?

Fabian had been completely blindsided by the sudden attack. Not literally, thank Cas, Rizs hands were small enough that he'd only torn up the half elfs cheek with his claws before stopping. As it was Fabian had felt him hit bone and had flinched away to cradle the sudden ragged hole in his cheek while the rogue hissed and put distance between them.

He felt Kristen's magic cut through the white hot pain after only a second. Flesh knitting back together in an instant and leaving no trace of the attack save for the heat on his skin and the blood in his mouth. He spat what was remaining onto the ground to join the pool of blood that had spilled there, turning his head when Kristen touched his face to let her check she hadn't missed anything.

"What the fuck The Ball. Claws are taking it a little far don't you think?" The half elf pushed himself to sit upright rather than remaining in his hunched position. His brief spike of anger at the attack fading when he noticed their rogue was gone.

"The Ball? Did anyone see where he went?"

There had been a quick search, each of them splitting up to go check his usual hiding spots in the house before reconvening in the living room. Adaine crouching to clean the blood off the carpet while Fig pulled out her crystal to see if they could find any clues.

She'd been recording while Fabian and Riz tousled on the floor, her cystal propped up on a side table as the teifling cheering Riz on. Whooping when he 'pinned' Fabian to the ground and settled into a cross legged position on his chest in victory. He had clearly been having fun, ears high and alert and tail flicking in a way they knew meant 'happy' as he mock clawed at Fabians face. He had his fingers curled in such a way that he was only batting their fighter in the face with his knuckles though so Fig was confused as to how Riz had clawed the half elf.

It had all happened so quickly that she'd assumed that Riz clawed him first THEN Fabian pinned him to the floor. The video showed otherwise though. Their rogue laughing even as their positions were flipped RIGHT up until the point Fabians completed the pin with his hand around the goblins throat.

The flip from smiling to terror had been almost instant, the video clear enough that they could see his pupils contract to slits even as he full force raked his claws across Fabians face. The goblin scrambling out of the cameras field of view when he was released. Thankfully they had still been recording even as everyone lept to check on Fabian where he was groaning on the floor. They could very audibly hear the front door slamming shut while Kristen was healing Fabian in the footage.

"Fuck dude did you kneel on his tail or something? I think you really hurt him."

Fabian shook his head, eye going wide as he watched the footage over Figs shoulder. A yawning pit of guilt opening in his stomach as she rewound it a few time to watch again and try and work out why Riz had flipped out. If he was hurt they needed to help him but he tended to hide injuries up until the point he couldn't function and they forced help on him.

"We need to go find him."

---------

Riz was in such a panic that he didn't have a plan beyond 'put distance between me and everyone else as fast as possible'. The door slammed shut behind him and he briefly contemplated booking it down the driveway but The Hangman was chasing pigeons about halfway down and Riz had just attacked its master.

He went right instead, rounding the side of the house to cut through the cemetery and find somewhere to hide. He'd never done something like this before and he was terrified. Both of himself because he couldn't remember the attack AND of the consequences.

Sure he'd nipped and scratched his friends before but he very rarely drew blood, and even then it was only usually a pinprick. He obviously hadn't held back this time, the evidence drying on his claws and face from where it had dripped on him before he scrambled free.

What would they think of him now? That he was as dangerous and violent as what people always said goblins were? Would they deal with him the same way they usually dealt with people that attacked them? He'd fled the house completely unarmed and he didnt even grab his briefcase before leaving. Hell, without his sword he didn't even have an advantage when hiding right now.

Riz stopped in the middle of the cemetery, crouching behind a large headstone just off the path so he could hide and collect his thoughts. The goblin whining as he tried to wipe the blood off his hand onto the grass but found that the vast majority of it had dried and wasn't coming free.

He realised he hadn't picked the best hiding spot but he couldn't muster the energy to care. Riz curling into a smaller ball and pressing his face against his knees, arms and tail alike looping around his ankles as he tried very hard to pretend he didn't exist anymore. So what if they found him, maybe he deserved whatever punishment they saw fit.

---------------

Riz wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting outside whe he heard the first footsteps approaching. He'd let himself retreat fully into his own mind as he tried to work out what exactly had happened and kept coming up empty. The rogue didn't even move when his crystal started ringing in his pocket, Fabian obviously trying to call him since he was the only person not set to mute.

Riz shifted to cover his head with his arms when the footsteps rapidly got closer, hoping to at least protect what he could if they were mad even if he didn't make an effort to run. The last time he clawed someone like this was in middle school and he'd spent weeks hiding the broken ribs from his mom after the kids friends had gotten their shots in.

"I've found him." He heard Fabian shout, though the sound was muffled with his arms shielding his head. The goblin whining and trying to curl up more when he felt hands gently try to pry his arms away.

"Riz? Fuck. Are you okay? I'm sorry. Hey..."

Riz relaxed slightly when the expected blows didn't come, letting the fighter untangle his arms and gently inspect his hand because it was still covered in dry blood. He did yank his tail away from his hand when he tried to inspect it as well though, tucking it up behind himself out of grabbing range and hissing into his own knees.

"Can you look at me? Are you hurt?"

Fabian still had a grip on both of his hands, thumbs pressing into his palms as he kneaded at the soft tissue there. Riz let him continue for a few more seconds before withdrawing his hands from his grip and wrapping them around his chest. Lifting his head to peek at the fighters concerned face which he was relieved was all in one piece.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." Riz said quietly, dipping his ears back in show of contrition.

"What happened was you clawed the shit out of me." Fabian scoffed, reaching forwards to coax Riz to sit up further so he could see his face properly, the half-elf licking his thumb to try and get some of the dried blood off the goblins cheek. The act making Riz screw his face up in a way that made Fabian laugh. "I think it was my fault though. I apologise."

"What? No I attacked you I'm-" He froze, claws digging into his vest as the half elfs hand hovered close to his throat. Fabian making a face as if he'd just made a point before withdrawing carefully.

"No I'm quite sure it was my fault." Fabian shifted to sit next to the rogue instead, bringing a knee up to rest his arm on as he looked out over the cemetary. "Fig was filming and I can tell when someone gets triggered. My father used to get the same way sometimes... Do you think you're up to coming back inside?"

Riz shook his head, leaning forwards to hide his face against his knees again and sighing loudly. Leaning against Fabians side when his friend draped his arm over him and pulled him in to sit a little closer.

"Alright. I'll stay out here with you for a while then."

[johaerys-writes]

Chapter 4: and i'm still so blue

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

“...Three, two, one… Happy New Year!”

The cheers and applause from the party reach Patroclus distantly. His senses are dull and muddled, as if he’s in a dream or underwater. A firework goes off somewhere; then another, and another. Achilles sighs, tongue licking inside Patroclus’ mouth to kiss him deeper.

“Achilles,” Patroclus gasps, almost completely out of breath. His lips ache; they’ve been kissing for so long he’s lost track of time. “We need to go back. People will be looking for us.”

“I don’t care.” Achilles doesn’t pause in kissing him even for a second as he hooks his leg over Patroclus’ waist, pressing himself flush between Patroclus’ body and the bathroom door. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Patroclus groans a muffled protest, but it’s half hearted. He's dizzy from the alcohol and the lack of air, but still the thought of pulling away from Achilles is unbearable. His fingers slither beneath the hem of Achilles’ shirt, as if on their own, and the feel of bare skin is enough to make his head spin. Achilles moans loudly, urging him on, uncaring of who might be walking past the other side of the door.

“Be quiet, someone might hear us,” Patroclus begs him, though he knows he’s only fooling himself. Even if no one hears them now, plenty of people must have seen them kissing back at the party. One moment, Patroclus was talking with Briseis, Iphis and a couple of their friends; the next, Achilles was advancing across the crowded room towards him still in his winter jacket, snowflakes melting on his hair and his eyelashes, before all but throwing himself at Patroclus without so much as a ‘hello’. He had just stepped foot in the party yet he already smelled like smoke and his lips tasted of strong alcohol, and God knows what else.

Patroclus knows that what they’re doing is wrong. They’re both drunk—Achilles surely more than that, judging by how dilated his pupils are—and they’ve barely seen each other in months, besides. In the time Achilles has spent abroad for his masters degree, their communication has been sporadic, marked primarily by their many arguments. They should ease back, take it slow, talk about all this. It would be the right and sensible thing to do.

“Fuck me,” Achilles rasps against his lips, and virtually all of Patroclus’ sense flies out the window. “Fuck me right fucking now.”

“What— now ? Here?”

“Yes, here and now.” He reaches down to take his own shirt off. Patroclus only barely manages to grab his wrists when his shirt is already halfway off him, leaving his stomach and chest bare.

“Achilles, no,” Patroclus says, mouth dry and throat tight.

“Come oooon, Pat,” Achilles insists petulantly, “I know you want this too, don’t fucking tease me.”

“Not here,” Patroclus says, desperately grabbing Achilles’ hands again when they try to evade him. His resolve is hanging by a thread as it is; with Achilles naked, there’ll be no saving it. “Let’s go to my place first, at least. Please.”

Achilles rolls his eyes. He leans forward to kiss him again, but Patroclus edges back. At the sight of his disappointed frown, Patroclus’ heart flops and rolls over like a good boy. He can’t bear to see him frown at him like that, not for any reason.

So he does what he knows from experience will make that frown go away: he threads his fingers through Achilles’ luscious hair and gathers it in his fist; Achilles gasps in pleasure when Patroclus tugs his head back to kiss a path along his jaw. “I can’t do the things I want to do to you in this bathroom,” he whispers in his ear. “You know that as well as I do.”

Achilles trembles all over, a choked moan catching in his throat. “Okay, shit, let’s go,” he breathes out shakily, then finally lets them peel off each other and opens the door. “My car or yours?”

“I’m driving,” Patroclus says. He’s not sober, but at least he’s more sober than Achilles.

Achilles nods and agrees without bringing up any resistance, for which Patroclus is grateful. He gives Achilles his keys and tells him to wait for him in the car while he goes to pick up their jackets from the clothes room.

The party is still going strong when he makes it across Idomeneus’ expansive villa to the main room. The bass from the large speakers vibrates through the walls and the floor, and each smaller room and corner is taken up by people talking, dancing, making out, getting high. At least twice he opens the wrong door to find people sniffing neat white lines or popping back pills, and each time he’s offered some, which he graciously declines. It’s a relief when he finally finds the closet and grabs his and Achilles’ jackets, then hurriedly makes his way towards the exit.

He’s halfway down the stairs when he bumps into Briseis.

“Where were you?” she demands hotly. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Oh—sorry, I was just—” Patroclus stumbles over his own words. His face is hot, and he realises he actually never even bothered to come up with a believable excuse should he walk into someone he knows. “I’m tired,” he says finally. “I’m heading home.”

“Really.” Briseis quirks her brow, unconvinced. “And where is Achilles?”

“He’s…” Patroclus swallows thickly. “He—I don’t know, still at the party, probably.”

“You don’t know.” Briseis shakes her head and crosses her arms before her chest. She glances down at his hand where he's holding the two jackets. “You’re leaving with him, aren’t you?”