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on-leatheredwings · 7 months ago

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Second Chances 18+

Yandere! Older! Damian Wayne / AFAB Reader

> romantic, 18+ > tw/cw: dub-con, manipulation into sex, gaslighting(?) > request: Can we get damian gaslighting and manipulating a fem reader into sex when she tries to leave him please :? Like the typical "we've never talked about (insert issue) you know I wouldn't keep doing it if I knew it was upsetting you" and "let me make it up to you" > a/n: this reader is captain fix-a-hoe i can't > word count: 2187 > damian wayne is 21

You crane your neck away, but he takes it as an invitation.

“Damian, I…” you struggle.

His hands slide forward underneath your arms, kneading your chest. It does feel good, you regret to admit.

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, trying to inch away but his hands drag you back once more. Not by force, just by suggestion. By pulling the invisible strings that play your body like a fiddle, and it seems this morning Damian wants it to play his favorite song. You shrugged on your flimsiest robe on your way out of bed this morning, and nothing else. So here you were, paying the consequences.

“Mm, maybe later, Damian. I have–” you gasp at a wandering digit “–to run errands today.”

You hear a huff, feel an exhale hit the shell of your ear.

“Errands? Where? With who?”

The questions, absolutely dripping with disdain and suspicion, make something in you snap.

“Oh, that’s it– I want to break up!” you cry out, throwing your hands up. You bound out of his hold, whirling around.

Damian flinches backward as if struck. He had snuck up behind you in the kitchen, peppering kisses along the column of your neck. A sweet gesture, but too little, too late. Fuck waiting until you were better prepared – better scripted – to break up with Damian. You just can’t take it anymore.

Damian stares at you in disbelief.

“You... What?”

You sigh, annoyed at the squeeze of your heart at his dismayed expression. Life as Damian’s girlfriend had been great at first. Like, really great.

Despite his surly exterior and sharp tongue, Damian proved to be nothing less than devoted, adoring, and awfully caring. He was giving and generous. During dates and every minute besides, he was a perfect gentleman. None of your exes had ever opened doors for you. Or pulled your chairs out. Or guided you gently through a crowd of paparazzi with a protective hand on the small of your back.

Maybe it was his unique rich kid training that made him the perfect lover for you: the presence of a British butler in his developmental years paired with the strict assassin upbringing. Or maybe, as your friends claimed, you simply had standards below sea level and were lucky enough to fall for a man who could throw money around without blinking.

You didn’t listen to them, didn’t question your good fortune. You had been glad Damian was in your life. You had been.

“I want to break up,” you say, nearly a whimper. You look away from his shell shocked face. He must have seen this coming, right? How could he not see this coming? You two seemed to barely be getting along these days.

You recall green eyes narrowing after a glance over your outfit. “... I never liked her,” from a sneered lip, when you mention you’re going to your friend’s birthday party. The guilt tripping that occurred once you got home. The unsaid accusations of entirely untrue infidelity. You recall many more instances identical to that. How draining it all was. How you rarely seemed to go anywhere without hesitation, a niggling feeling bidding you to see how Damian felt about it first.

Without missing a beat, Damian’s jaw hardens. He folds his arms.

“You want to break up,” he responds in a clipped voice. “Why.”

‘Why,’ he asks. Though it was hardly a question. He was demanding you answer for yourself. Answer for your crime of daring to maintain agency in your life. How dare you dump him? You narrow your eyes.

“You… you isolate me,” you say, folding your arms and mirroring his stance. You wish you could get angrier. Damian could really bitch out in an argument when he wanted to. Fights felt more balanced if you decided to get angry too. If you didn’t let him kick you around. But any lingering fury has simmered into hurt at this point. Decayed into you prematurely grieving a good thing gone bad.

“You accuse me of things. You don’t trust me! Or worse, you do trust me, and still want to monopolize me because I’m something you own. I… That’s not good,” you blurt.

Damian isn’t moved. He taps his foot, and your eye twitches. “Is that all?” he says.

Perhaps you did have enough anger, after all. Before you can curse him out, Damian takes a step forward, like a piece on a chess board.

“If I had known I would have stopped. Immediately,” Damian presses, not looking very apologetic or thoughtful. He instead looks determined. He seems entirely like his old self, at the very beginning of your then-tenuous friendship. That was three years ago, and you liked to believe he had grown a lot since.

You roll your eyes. “Okay. Good to know,” you return flatly, unsure what he expects you to do with that information.

Another step, and he grasps your arm. Had it been anyone besides him, you would’ve felt fear. But Damian – for all his faults – could never hurt you. Even if he already has, you think drily.

His grip trails down to your hand, and brings it to his chest, above his heart. Your own heart skips a beat at the gesture. “I would have. You’re everything to me.” His heart beats under your palm. It beats for you, he always liked to say.

You cringe. Not at his words, but because of how they’re said. Damian wields them like a weapon. And they’re effective. You already feel guilt begin to fester.

You swat your hand away, scoffing and shaking your head. “It feels like half of the time, you say that to make me feel like shit. It’s… it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? So every time I’ve said I… care for you, you felt manipulated?” He looks at you, in a pitiful expression crossed between crestfallen and offended. You sigh, exhausted. That’s not what I meant, you want to interject, but he continues. “I feel… very deeply. For you.”

Even now, sharing his feelings was hard for him. You feel proud that he’s trying. You feel angry that he’s trying. You feel angry that you’re the bad guy. The croak in his voice makes you want to reach for him, but...

“Feelings… feelings aren’t enough,” you say mournfully. You hug yourself, because you need one. And giving one wasn’t his place anymore.

You two stand in silence in his kitchen, which you’ve shared together for a year now. You glance around. You spy your colorful cooking sets, the couple's aprons that hang beside the pantry, the photos of you two at Wayne family holiday parties stuck to the fridge, and other paraphernalia.

You haven’t even left yet, but already you can see the ghost of you that will haunt this house. The hollow chill of guilt sweeps through your body, but you ignore it. You instead tread to one of the kitchen barstools under Damian’s watchful eye and settle on the seat.

“I’ll… I’ll stay at a friend’s,” you say, fighting admirably to keep your voice from cracking. “And I’ll have all my stuff packed within a week.” And you can keep the cat, you want to jest, but you luckily were born blessed with the skill of reading the room. Damian blanches, as if realizing, finally, what you were saying.

“You’re leaving.” God, his utter shock was not making things easier on you.

“We fight all the time now, Damian,” you reason, almost pleading with him. Why was he making this so hard? The entire situation seems so … undignified. ‘Unlike him,’ is what most people would say. But no, this is entirely like Damian. Always deceptively more delicate than what meets the eye. Always trusting you to hold his heart gently. Not rend it to pieces. Guilt swirls once more, while Damian’s shock yields to insistence.

“We fight because we’re in love,” he asserts, confessing. You are in awe of his cheeks flushing - what a pure display to be had during a break up. “People fight when they’re in love. Sometimes.” You frown, knowing he’s referring to his father’s failed relationships. What great role models, you scoff inwardly. You had zero desire to emulate that dysfunction.

“... Don’t you?” he says, a desperate lilt in his voice. You bristle. “... Love me?” And the way he says it breaks something in you.

You respond, the words like ash on your tongue, “Of course I... I do love you, Damian. But–”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. “... so please, don’t leave.” You start to get up from your seat, unable to withstand anymore of this, when Damian falls to his knees in front of you.

You fill with mortification that Damian may start begging. And you don’t know if you can withstand that. He’s Damian Wayne. He who does not beg.

“... Please,” he begins, as if the word was physically taxing. For him, it probably was. Damian bows his head, dots kisses on the expanse of your thighs. Each kiss is loosening your resolve. Each a balm over bitter wounds.

“You haven’t given me a fair chance to correct myself. That… that’s not fair. That’s cruelty,” he whispers, along with other such mutterings that drive knives into your heart.

How heartless you were being. Were you going to give up on him so easily? Had he not shown he could change? The guilt swarms into an evil, dark monster. One you know you cannot defeat. You throw back your head, trembling from his butterfly kisses.

“Let me… let me make it up to you,” he says after he finds you writhing under his lips. You don’t know what to say, mesmerized by the need in his eyes and the promise in his words. “I can be better. I will be better.”

No, your mind begs you to say.

Yet looking into those green eyes, lost in its dark forest, you can’t deny him.

“... Okay,” you condone. Your okay is barely audible, weak and helpless like pollen in the wind. But it’s enough for him. It’s going to be enough for you, too. It’s okay. He’s going to change. He knows if he doesn’t, you’ll leave. You’ll leave.

You sate yourself with these thoughts, numb to Damian’s continued affection. You finally do realize he’s still licking at you, when a pair of hands gently separate your knees.

“Damian!” you exclaim, snapping your knees shut. Your robe flutters with the action as you look at him with disbelief. “D-Damian,” you say. His eyes flutter open at the calling of his name. You sharply inhale at the lustful glaze over his pretty eyes.

“Let me show you how deeply I feel for you,” he requests.

But you know this is … strange. Maybe even wrong, if the uncertainty in your gut meant anything. You had just agreed to mend your relationship. You didn’t need the throes of an orgasm to complicate and muddle your feelings.

“... Please.” His voice mutters into your thigh. You’re so close you feel the vibration of the sound, and your skin prickles over with goosebumps. That’s the third ‘please’ he’s said within the hour. It's usually three a day. “Unless," Damian says, brows pinched, "you do not want me anymore.” The look on his face makes you feel sick.

You don’t know how you can ever leave him in good conscience. Damian’s grown, yes, but he’s still that confused, frustrated boy from when you met. Still searching for acceptance and belonging.

“Yes,” you blurt. “I want you, but–”

“Then, ‘but’ nothing. You are mine.” You fill with heat, from irritation as well as arousal. It’s not as though you’d stopped being attracted to him, after all.

“I–” am not yours, you begin to combat, when Damian licks a hot stripe up your cunt that makes your mind blue screen.

“And of course, it goes back the same way. I am yours.”

Damian lowers his head, wasting no time in suckling on your clitoris. He knows exactly how you like it, after all. Your hands leave your side and find his hair. You pull on short raven locks, enough that it’s probably painful, but Damian doesn’t protest.

Damian hikes your legs onto his shoulders, and he’s off to work as if you hadn’t been about to break up with him just ten minutes ago. You feel whiplash. It’s all back to normal. You’re together. He’s between your legs. And despite his administrations feeling great, amazing – it also somehow feels like punishment.

He may need you, but you need him as well. Only he can make you feel like this. Only he has ever made you feel like this. The heavy tongue that’s probing into you, the hands whose thumbs draw circles on your skin – they’re his. The pressure building in your body, the pleasure being wrought from you – he causes it. The devotion, safety, security and love you have in your life – it’s due to him.

When you eventually finish in his mouth, you come with a whimper, eagerly being lapped up by the boy before you. He's right. You do belong to him.

And a growing part of your mind is having a hard time finding that so wrong.

#yandere batfam #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere fic #tw dubcon #mine

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palioom · 1 year ago

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a bond formed of love

summary: ecstatic about finally being married to the love of your life, Oberyn Martell, dread consumes you at the thought of consummating your marriage. will the horrible tales of first nights told to you become reality? or will they turn out to be elaborate lies?

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 11.1k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; first times; wedding night; oral (m & f receiving); unprotected p in v; multiple orgasms; body worship; oberyn being the most devoted husband ever

author's notes: this one goes out to @aurasjournal who not only inspired a huge part of this but also kept pushing me to make this as long as it is. thank you so much <3

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

Happiness. It was all that she could feel, consuming her entirely, filling every last inch of her. Almost euphoric in nature, laughing and smiling as she moved beside him - her love, her husband.

Husband.

The sole reason why she was so happy today, unable to tear her eyes away from him, no one around her mattering in this moment. Looking even more handsome than usual, as if that was even a possibility, his dark eyes crinkling at the corner when he laughed.

Oberyn Martell, her husband.

Finally she could call him that. The love of her life had finally become her husband, making her the happiest woman, the happiest wife, in the world.

Not that she hadn’t been happy before, back when he was simply courting her, when he had asked her to marry him. She had always been happy with him at her side - he made her laugh, he entertained her, he took her out for rides into the most beautiful corners around Sunspear.

Down to the shores, into the deserts.

But she had longed to be his by title, to wear a ring which showed she was his and he was hers.

All hers.

Just dancing with him here, moving with one another, as if they were connected somehow. As if the Gods had bound a string around them so long ago, pulling it tighter and tighter as they moved towards each other on the wide floor, empty save for them. Tighter still, until they met, his hands finding her hips with a laugh, her hands resting on his broad chest, on the beautiful robe he wore for the occasion, a pale yellow, adorned with golden suns and many intricate details stitched with golden thread.

Their lips found another, pulling them even closer together, the string so tight around them that it expelled the air from her lungs, breathless from kissing and laughing and dancing all day.

The exhaustion creeped in slowly but surely, replacing the rushed emotions of excitement and euphoria she had been feeling.

“We should retire soon, my sweet dove.” Oberyn said when he parted from her lips, wishing he could just keep kissing her as they spun around. Eyes bright, sparkling with something she had seen often before but could not always place.

Mischief, perhaps. Desire.

“I wish to be with you, alone.”

She understood what he meant, a sudden nervosity replacing some of the happiness inside of her, albeit not all of it. Nothing could take this wonderful feeling from her, slowing down in their movements, slowly circling one another.

But she did feel nervous, and had felt so for a long time.

Because just as excited as she was about finally being alone with him, to be as close to him as was humanly possible, she was just as tense about it.

She knew about his past, about how often and liberally he had taken partners. The Dornish way, all while she had waited for her future husband, had waited even when she had fallen for Oberyn. When she knew she would never love anyone else but him.

Knowing deep down in her heart and deeper still, that this wasn’t just love but that he was the partner promised to her by the Gods.

Oberyn noticed the sudden change in her, saw the emotions on her face, one hand raising to cup her cheek. She could feel the cold of the ring on his thumb as it brushed over her cheekbone. His gaze intense but gentle, their movements coming to a halt.

“What has befallen you, my dove?” He asked, feeling the need to implore what seemed to cloud her mind, unable to stand the thought of her feeling bad on their wedding day. They had both waited far too long for this. “What bothers my beautiful wife?”

His wife.

Warmth spread through her at the words, smiling up at him and shaking her head. She did not want him to worry about her.

“I am just getting tired, my love.” She replied, voice as quiet as his. “Tired but thrilled. Let us go, I wish to have you to myself.”

Leaving the festivities was more difficult than she had imagined, nervousness still sitting deep inside of her as they made their rounds, saying their goodbyes to everyone who had come. Squeezing his warm hand tightly as they went, now walking along the corridors to their new chambers.

Their shared chambers.

It only filled her chest with more tension, knowing these chambers would be where she was to reside with him for the rest of their lives.

What an odd thought, to leave her childhood rooms behind to find her life with Oberyn.

They did not speak as they walked, his touch doing all the talking through squeezing her hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. His head turned to look at her with a smile so soft and loving that she could cry from joy, reciprocating it as they walked.

His smile always managed to ease her nerves, and she wished he could smile at her forever somehow. To capture it in a way that she could carry it with her, able to look at it when she was in a foul mood.

Perhaps she could ask the woman who had done their wedding portrait today if she could paint them again, and make a small copy of him for her to carry inside a locket of some sort.

So she could open it and look at his beautiful smile at all times.

She was so in thought, she didn’t notice that they had reached the huge double door, opening them while still holding her hand tightly in his, only reluctantly letting go of it once the doors had closed behind them.

Oberyn watched her take in the large room, their room.

The big, four poster bed draped in the finest dark red and orange silks and linens, curtains hanging off of it which would shroud them in a sense of privacy.

The doors leading to a spacious balcony, letting them look out into the sky from their bed. The cushions and chairs in one corner by the bookshelves and strewn throughout the room which was lit with various candles, a vanity at the other side, near the door that led to their private bath.

Walls decorated with tapestry and rugs. It all felt intimate and warm and welcoming.

She would be happy to live here with him.

“I hope everything is to your liking, my love.” Oberyn said behind her, making her jump a little as she hadn’t heard him walking up to her. Silent like a viper. “I am sure you will give it your touch in due time.”

Her eyes found the telescope standing by the door to the balcony, the books in the shelves including thick volumes about topics she loved.

All attentively picked by him.

The sweetest gift, his love apparent just by how he had asked the room to be decorated.

His fingers touched her waist when she nodded, her view suddenly blocked by his wide chest as he came to stand in front of her.

“I love it, Oberyn.” She said with a smile. Voice small, so unlike herself.

He smiled back, the gentlest, most loving smile, his hands wandering up her side, slowly and carefully, as if she could break if he was just any faster in his movements. Seeing her slight tremble, hearing it in her voice as she spoke, suddenly so quiet.

She wasn’t quiet and timid usually, not afraid to give him a piece of her mind, so this worried him, cupping her cheek with one hand, her nervous eyes finding his.

His eyes became questioning in turn, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone.

“What is ailing you, my dove?” Oberyn asked, so gently that it made her heart burst, making her feel bad suddenly. “Tell me, my sweet.”

The sigh that left her was heavy, loaded with a burden which hurt him to hear. She didn’t deserve to be burdened, no matter what it was, and he did not wish to see her upset, see her nervous and quiet.

Deserving to be carefree and loud and happy. With him to carry her burdens for her.

“I- I am scared, my Viper.” She admitted, her hands coming to rest on his chest, her gaze casting down as she couldn’t bear looking at him, afraid of what emotion his face would display. “You know I have never… I am simply nervous.”

A compassionate smile curved his lips upward, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back.

The hand on her cheek came up to the crown in her hair, carefully untangling it before he placed it on a table next to them. It shimmered in the lights of the candles, the gold and the jewels embedded in it, all for her.

“You do not have to be scared, my sweet dove.” He said, his knuckles running over her cheek. Still gentle and careful, his new wife being the most precious thing in his life at this moment, besides the daughters he already had. “I will show you nothing but tenderness, there will not be anything done that you do not explicitly wish to happen.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to slow her heart, thrumming away in her chest. A tempest of emotions settled within her.

How had she gotten so lucky with him?

“I know, Oberyn. I know, but-” She took a deep breath, trembling. “I am still so scared. I have been told it hurts, it is uncomfortable and… I apologize, my love.”

His brows furrowed, two of his fingers moving under her chin, tilting it upwards. Making her look at him, he saw the fear etched into her features, his heart breaking at the sight.

No one had prepared her properly. She had been told nightmares and nothing more than that. It hurt him, seeing the love of his life so scared. Scared of him, of what he could do to her.

Things which were supposed to be joyous only but had been tainted and marred by the tales told to her.

“There is a possibility of it hurting, my dove. That is, if we rush things.” He said, his voice quiet, soothing. Like a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her safe. “Yet, I do not wish to rush things. We do not have to consummate our marriage tonight, not in the traditional sense.”

Now her brows furrowed in confusion, her fingers running over the embroidery of his robe, feeling the golden thread. She wasn’t sure if his words unnerved her more or soothed her.

What other way was there? He was to take her, to validate their marriage.

Just like everyone had told her a husband would on their first night together.

“What other way? Won’t our marriage be invalid if we do not-” She paused, swallowing hard as tears welled up in her eyes. The pressure of it, their marriage and being good for him, when he has had many partners before, it was terrifying. “If you do not take me?”

He smiled, loving and encouraging as always when he looked at her. Melting under her gaze, her tears tearing at him and his heart.

It was a special sort of pain, to see one's wife with tears in her eyes. A pain unlike any physical one he had ever endured.

“There are many ways to pleasure, and I will not take you if you are scared. This is as much about you as it is about me, my love.” Oberyn said, bowing his head to kiss away the few tears which were rolling down her cheeks, the saltiness of them a displeasure for him tonight. “I will wait until you are ready, and if it takes all eternity to do so.”

She took another shuddering breath. How was he so calm about this? Talking about waiting until all eternity while the guilt of being too scared to give herself to him weighed heavily on her.

Not even his lips on her wet cheeks could help soothe her in this moment.

“But, Oberyn- Isn’t it your right? Isn’t it a husband’s right?” She asked, her voice thick with tears. “To take his new wife, to consummate their marriage, willing or not?”

The smile faded from his face, his expression turning stern suddenly. Only terrifying her more, thinking she had misstepped, had angered him somehow.

She had never wanted to anger the Viper.

“My dove.” He spoke, his voice firm but not cruel, conveying an importance to what he was saying. “Fuck whatever you assume to be my right. I did not marry you to fuck you, my sweet dove. I married you because I love you and my only command as your husband is to banish these thoughts of old customs from your mind.”

Raising his brow, he looked at her, so scared and small in front of him, her bottom lip quivering.

“I am not a brute. If you are too scared tonight, then I will not force you. Nor any night hereafter.”

Her hand reached out to touch his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against her palm. So handsome, so sweet. Such a stark contrast to his reputation in the Seven Kingdoms, the Red Viper. Cruel, cunning.

“But- My Viper-”

Oberyn shushed her, gentle and quiet but not lacking in firmness.

“No, my dove.” His lips found her forehead again, hoping to convey his love and his understanding through the caress of his lips. Soft and tender. “If you allow me to, I wish to show you something different. To ease you into pleasure, to ease you into me.”

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip again, feeling his calming presence soothe her nerves. As he always did, so expertly taking away her worries as if they were nothing.

“What do you wish to show me?” Her voice was as quiet as his, still shaking as she spoke.

Oberyn smiled against her skin, finding the faintest sliver of amusement in her innocence. What a wonderful thing she was, his wife. So willing and devoted and in love with him, but entirely unknowing.

Any man of less honour than him would have taken advantage of her sweetness.

But not him.

His hand went from her chin to her waist, pulling her just a little bit closer to him while his lips stayed connected to her forehead.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded, the reaction so fast as if it was innate, like there was no doubt about her answer. And she did, she trusted him with everything.

“With my life, Oberyn.”

His lips curved upward against her skin, his fingers curling into her side.

What a lucky man he was, to have married a woman like her.

“Sit down on the bed for me, please.” He said, feeling her hesitation at his gentle words.

Taking a moment to steel herself, she took another deep breath before walking away from him, just a little unsure in her footing.

Still, she made it over, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed just like he requested, the silks smooth under her hands. She watched how he followed her, slow, deliberate steps, feeling a tenseness in her abdomen at the sight of him. His gorgeous smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle, coming to stop right in front of her.

Instinctively she reached for his hand, just lightly holding onto it, needing reassurance, encouragement. The motion only made him smile more, squeezing her fingers as he slowly kneeled down in front of her.

He couldn’t hold back the chuckle which left him when he looked at her surprised face, shaking her head.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t-” She stammered out, confused by his actions. What husband kneeled before his wife? On their wedding night no less. “Shouldn’t I be the one-”

Oberyn slowly shook his head, raising her hand to his lips, giving each knuckle a kiss, dark eyes fixed only on her. His unoccupied hand touched her clothed thigh, making her jump just a little, her eyes never leaving his.

Like they were bound to him in some way.

“If I wish to kneel before my wife to show my devotion to her, then I shall do so.” He said, his voice calming her nerves, just like his lips did, turning her hand in his, kissing the tip of each finger. Each kiss lingering, an extension of his love for her.

Moving to her palm, eyes staying fixed on hers as his lips pressed against it, his beard tickling her.

She enjoyed it, watching in awe how attentive he was, feeling warm at his touch.

Then, he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own and she could feel the desire sleeping within him, holding back for her sake. She allowed herself to close her eyes and simply feel him, aware of his hand on her clothed thigh, the other intertwining their fingers, an anchor for her.

Carefully his lips wandered away from her mouth, kissing the corner of it, then peppering her jaw with fleeting touches, finally reaching her neck.

The gasp that tumbled from the depths of her chest as he made contact with the sensitive flesh excited him, the sound something he wished to preserve forever.

“Oberyn.” She whimpered, shifting in her place when his tongue darted out to taste her, breathing in the scent of oranges which always lingered with her.

A smile graced his lips, enjoying that she was easing into his ministrations, perhaps even enjoying herself as he caressed her skin.

“Do I have permission to undress you?” Oberyn asked after several more moments, pulling back to look at her face, finding it flushed and her eyes still closed.

The nervousness which had faded a little under his touch came back suddenly, turning her stomach into knots.

Undress her.

Seeing her naked, completely exposed. When he had been with so many others before her, would he even like what he saw?

She wasn’t self-conscious by any means, but in comparison to his life before her, she could not help but think about the possibilities. Being inexperienced in pleasure already weighed heavily on her shoulders, she didn’t wish to disappoint him in just about everything tonight.

He could see the emotions cross her face, her eyes spoke of all the uncertainty and fear that whirled inside of her at this moment when she opened them.

And it broke his heart.

His beautiful, stunning wife, chained up by the expectations which had been placed upon her shoulders by everyone but him.

There was nothing he expected from her, already knowing she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his dark eyes upon, the most kind and loving wife. All he would ask of her was to stay loyal to him and to love him like he loved her, with all her heart and mind and soul. Like they were bound by fate.

Bound by an invisible string which had led them to one another.

She softly squeezed his hand, taking a deep breath before nodding. Forcing the smallest smile onto her lips, small compared to the one he gifted her in return.

The hand on her thigh moved up to her shoulder, brushing back the hair which had fallen over it, then letting his fingertips wander over the material of her gown. Soft silks, embroidered and beaded with hundreds of thousands of small stones.

Making her shimmer in the candlelight, like a million stars were strewn across her body.

Never losing her eyes when he brushed one strap off of her shoulder, watching for a reaction that she didn’t want this. There was no joy in this if she wasn’t willing.

He let it glide down her arm, not yet exposing her breasts to him, simply letting the swell of one appear in the periphery of his view. Soft skin, the whisper of a sigh leaving her when he leaned forward to kiss her exposed collarbone, to press his nose against the dip above it.

Still holding onto her hand, her fingers nervously flexing against his own as he moved on to the other side, slower this time.

The beat of her heart was visible, shaking the pretty material over where it sat, hoping he would be able to make it beat as wildly for another reason soon.

And as he carefully slid the material off her other shoulder too, she took a shuddering breath looking up at the ceiling. The cool air meeting her heated flesh, nipples perked.

Oberyn repeated his earlier motion, kissing the other side but this time moving down to press his lips against the valley in between her breasts. A low hum vibrated in her chest and he could feel the noise, kissing her again and again.

“You are so beautiful, my dove.” He said, looking up at her but seeing her gaze turned away. Unable to tell if it were simply her nerves or shame. “May I touch you?”

Silence befell them for a moment as she tried to calm herself. His words were encouraging, her heart soaring and the gentleness with which he treated her made her want to cry.

She could feel his lips on her still, like she had been branded by him, hot and searing. A good feeling, a welcome one.

Longing for his touch but still too afraid to speak, her skin yearning for his lips, for his fingers. Yearning for every inch of him, still wondering just what exactly he had in mind for tonight.

“Yes.” She breathed out, shaky and barely audible even in the dead silence.

Then his hands were on her, softly cupping her breasts, feeling the velvety skin of them. Admiring them, his thumbs brushing over the peaks, making her moan quietly. She tilted her head down, taking in the way he looked at her.

With a desire she had never seen in anyone before, mesmerized and needing, but not making her feel like an object for his desires.

He made her feel like art. Like a beautiful painting.

A slight pressure built in her abdomen as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples again and again, an unfamiliar feeling she blamed on his touch. It was pleasant, watching in awe as he bowed his head to take one stiff peak into his mouth. Hot and wet on her skin, her free hand twisting into his hair, a shaky gasp leaving her.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, concentrating on his tongue repeating the motion of his thumb, a deep groan of his vibrating against her. “It feels good, fantastic. You feel fantastic.”

He looked up at her, not stopping his ministrations but a twinkle appeared in his dark eyes. She rubbed her thighs together, a motion which didn’t go unnoticed by Oberyn, finally releasing her breast with a soft pop. Surging upwards to capture her lips in another kiss, fiery this time but reigning himself in as he felt himself move too fast.

“You’re feeling it, are you not?” He asked, parting from her and staring deep into her eyes. “Pleasure, my dove?”

“I’m not sure, Oberyn.” She replied, his kiss having left her a little breathless, her head reeling. “There is a pressure…”

A soft chuckle fell from his lips, a smile stretching his mustache wide over his lips, revealing his teeth.

“Right here?” He touched her abdomen, right where the feeling appeared and she nodded. No one had ever thought to teach her a damn thing about herself. “Yes, my dove. Pleasure. Do I have permission to undress you further? I wish to give you more of this feeling.”

Her nod was eager this time, easing into his touch. It filled him with joy, pressing another kiss to her lips which made her giggle.

Oh, how he loved that sound.

“Lay down for me, my sweet.”

She did, their hands finally letting go of each other as she laid back, immediately finding his lips to be back on her sternum, kissing a path further down between her breasts, onto her stomach. Revealing more of her skin as he went.

Peeling the garment off of her like he would with a fruit, revealing the sweet flesh, tasting it, feeling it beneath his fingers.

Feeling her shaky breaths as he lingered over her stomach, her muscles twitching under the caress of his lips.

He lifted her hips, pulling the dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Exposing her entirely to him, his lips pressing against that spot on her lower belly where she felt the pressure building.

Her heart beat in her throat, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands, knowing he would just move them away. His own hands smoothed along her naked thighs, watching her face as she looked at the ceiling, lips slightly parted.

“You were made in the Gods’ image, my love.” He whispered, letting his lips trail back up her body, feeling himself become drunk on her body, on her beauty. To think she had feared this, feared showing herself to him when she truly was the most beautiful being he had ever laid his eyes on. “No beauty compares to that of yours.”

She smiled, a sound the cross of a sob and a huff tumbling over her lips, overwhelmed by his love for her. Melting into his lips as they found hers yet again, like he couldn’t get enough of her, of the taste of wine and fruit on her tongue.

Suddenly she thought about him, still fully dressed. Shouldn’t she make him feel as good as this, too? Cover his body in kisses, worship him like he worshipped her?

She was curious to see him, wondered if he bore scars. How big they were, how deep. She wanted to see him, longed for it.

Her hands wandered to the hem of his robe, attempting to undress him but he stopped her. Gently taking her wrists in his large hands, he moved them away, shaking his head.

“My Viper-” She began in an attempt to explain before he shushed her again.

“Tonight is about you, my Princess.” Oberyn said, kissing the corner of her mouth. A small whimper escaped her, her lips chasing after his when he moved back again. “You and your pleasure only. I told you, I can wait until all eternity.”

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, hoping to get her to understand just through his eyes that his words weren’t empty promises. As he breathed with her, one calming breath after the next, he hoped she understood that he would wait a lifetime and beyond for her to be fully ready. Her pleasure alone would be enough to sustain him until the sun had shared its last rays with the world, until the world grew cold and dark.

“I wish to touch more of you, my love.” Oberyn whispered into the silence, his hands moving to her hips. “Will you allow me to?”

She nodded, more firm than at the beginning, feeling a throbbing between her thighs, an unfamiliar wetness.

“Yes, my Viper.” A whisper just as quiet as his, her eyes full of desire, even if he could still see remnants of fear in them.

Oberyn brushed the bridge of his nose along hers, an intimate gesture which made her heart burst with love and joy. Hands coming up to cup his cheeks just for a moment before he slipped away again, down her body.

Calloused hands rested on her knees, his eyes on her face as she sat up slightly, leaning onto her elbows to watch him. She bit her bottom lip, his hands slowly opening her legs, gentle and sweet in his movements.

He kissed the inside of one knee when she was fully spread for him, once again resisting the urge to close them. His beard scratched along the sensitive skin, moving to the other knee as well.

It felt good, the way he kissed her skin, the way his beard felt on the sensitive flesh. How his hands smoothed over her thighs as he inched higher, lifting his head again.

One of his hands moved upwards, ghosting over her mound and feeling the coarse curls covering it, feeling the shiver that went up her spine at the featherlight touch. He watched as he gently spread her lips apart for him, glistening from the wetness that had gathered.

His thumb just hovered over her clit, like he was unsure. All while she watched, holding her breath in anticipation of where he would touch her next, each touch better than the last.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Oberyn asked, eyes moving back up to hers. Knowing fully well that she would answer with a No. She was too responsive to his ministrations to have done so before. “Right here?”

His thumb pressed down, featherlight, like a ghost, drawing a choked gasp from her, her hips involuntarily rolling in response.

It was as if lightning had shot through her, setting her nerves ablaze at his touch. Her skin hot, she felt like she was burning up from the inside, the pressure in her abdomen only becoming worse.

“N-No.” She breathed out. Already longing for more of his touch. Needing more of that buzzing feeling it provided, pulsing faintly where his thumb rested.

His thumb swiped lower, gathering a little more wetness before ghosting over that little peak of nerves again. Carefully, trying not to overwhelm her with these new emotions, coaxing a low moan from her lungs.

It might just become his favourite sound, a sweet symphony sung only for him in this shared intimacy. Sweeter than the choirs which had sung at their marriage celebration which just now seemed so long ago already. Sweeter than the birds, than the bustle of the markets, than the rolling of the sea.

He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, kissing the inside of it as he lazily rubbed his thumb over her, watching her reactions. Her eyes were dark with nothing but lust and curiosity, only fixed on his moving digit. She tried to hold back more sounds, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her heart still thrumming against it for reasons he liked now.

No longer out of fear but out of desire.

“How does it feel, my dove?” Oberyn whispered against her skin, pressing more wet kisses against it, the hand holding her leg caressing it while his thumb moved away from her clit. Instead, it traced her outer lips, which still made her hips jerk and roll but provided a more subdued sensation. “Tell me all, I wish to know what it feels like for you.”

Her eyes snapped up to his when his thumb moved away, a whiny noise of protest leaving her.

Desperation on her face.

“It feels good, Oberyn.” She whispered, the leg over his broad shoulder trying to coax him to continue. “You feel marvellous. My blood has been replaced by molten metal, I can feel it burning and throbbing.”

Oberyn smirked, lightly nipping at her skin. “Your cunt?”

Watching her discomfort at the word, he chuckled but saw her nod still.

The urge to taste her overcame him abruptly, the urge which had been his plan when she told him she was too scared to have him tonight. Knowing he could show her the heights of pleasure on the tip of his tongue, ease her into it entirely.

“My love, you said you would trust me with your life, did you not?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked onto hers. She nodded again, whispering a shaky Yes. “Please, lay back and close your eyes, I wish to surprise you.”

Her brows knitted together, having half a mind to do as he asked and not beg for more of his touch. Laying back down and closing her eyes, anticipation frightening her but trusting him in whatever he had planned.

It took a moment, a moment in which she heard him shift around, his tunic rustling, feeling him move.

And then, she felt it. Warm and wet against her, his beard scratching against her most intimate parts, her legs threatening to close at the foreign sensation but his broad hands keeping them open.

“Fu- Oh Gods, Oberyn!” She cried out, his tongue circling around her clit again and again, wet, slurping noises accompanying his motions. One of her hands threaded into his hair for purchase, not daring to open her eyes and look at him.

He hummed against her, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, eyes trained on her parted lips, face twisted in lust.

“Say it.” He commanded, finding it amusing that she did not fully give into her desires in favour of appearing proper. What was there to be proper about when he had his face buried inside her sopping cunt? “Say it, my dove.”

Her back arched, feeling him suck at the bundle of nerves which made her cry out once more.

“Fuck!” She moaned, liking how the word rolled off her tongue. “Oberyn, fuck! Oh, Gods.”

A smile crept over his lips, doubling down on his efforts, feeling her fingers tighten in his dark locks. Focusing entirely on her clit, eating her like a man starved all while he looked out for her body’s response.

She could feel something inside of her, the pressure mounting more and more as her whines and moans turned higher in pitch, his tongue driving her closer to something. And he could feel it, holding down her hips in order to lap at her, the obscene sounds in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he pressed against her.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him, the sight making her cunt clench. His head between her thighs, with a stare of lust and determination, his eyes dark and piercing.

It was a beautiful image.

Maybe she should have this painted instead.

“Let go, my dove.” He whispered, his voice slightly muffled by her, feeling himself hard against his breeches but biting back his own desires for her. Just this was better than the Seven Heavens, he was sure of it. Nothing would be sweeter than this, to bring her to the brink of pleasure and push her over for the very first time. “Let it take you, let it wash over you and just allow yourself to feel me.”

She did. Her body tensing up and expelling all air from her lungs, the cries of his name broken on her tongue as she tried to make sense of the intense feeling surging through her. The pressure releasing, her legs snapped shut around his head again but this time he did not stop her.

Oberyn wanted to see the full extent of her ecstasy, remember every sound, every little movement of her muscles beneath her skin as she shook.

Needed to memorize her expression as he brought her to completion.

He saw the tears in her eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of him, of the rush inside of her.

She felt dizzy as it faded, as he slowed down his movements until he had fully helped her through it all, pressing gentle, wet kisses against her mound and lower belly, feeling how her deep breaths let it rise and fall.

“More, please, more.” She whispered into the silence after a few moments. Quiet and breathless, his ears perking up at the sound.

Intoxicated by the way his mouth had worked her to completion, by how good it had felt. There was an understanding in her now, for why he had sought out pleasure for all these years before they had found one another.

She never wanted this to end, craving more of him, more of their unity.

“Ah, my wife is a greedy one, I see.” Oberyn chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I will give you more, my love. My wife shall have everything, I shall give you all you want for - gowns, jewellery, pleasure. I shall spoil you rotten.”

“You already do.” She moaned, his mouth back on her, hissing at the slight sting she felt. “Fuck, you do, Oberyn. You do!”

This time, his tongue wandered lower, and she threw her head back into the sheets at the feeling of his talented tongue licking around her pulsing, aching hole before he pushed inside. His nose bumped against her clit, the wet, vulgar sounds becoming louder.

Lapping at her like a thirsty man would drink from an oasis in the desert. Like she was the life to sustain him, to keep him breathing.

He groaned against her in an unabashed fashion, letting his pleasure from this be known, mingling into the perfect symphony with her cries.

That sweet pleasure coursed through her, letting tears well up in her eyes as she tried to breathe, trying to form words in between her incoherent sounds.

Delirious and intoxicated.

“Oberyn, please! I’m-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, ecstasy stealing her breath away as he expertly pushed her over again, her hands pushing and pulling at his hair. Too much, too much and yet it was just right, riding wave after wave that crashed into her, washed over her.

Her hips bucked up against him, chasing his mouth as he pulled back, giving her some reprieve, hungrily kissing along her inner thigh with a groan.

“I knew you would enjoy this, my love.” He growled, nipping at her skin with his teeth and making her squeak. There was nothing more he wanted than to be buried inside of her right now, he couldn’t deny that. But he wouldn’t, instead planning to wear her out so thoroughly with his mouth that all of her worries would simply ease away. “My sweet, wonderful wife.”

So he kissed up her thigh to her knee, letting his lips wander over every inch of her, then venturing further over her calf.

“I do, my Viper. I do.” She whispered, each kiss sending a jolt through her. Until now she couldn’t have fathomed anything to be so intense and all consuming as this. To make her feel like she was on a cloud, drifting away while her new husband worshipped her.

“I am not through with you yet. You will feel the heights of pleasure tonight, I have promised you as such.”

And before long, his mouth found her core again, coaxing another orgasm from her, her voice turning hoarse as she whispered his name over and over like he was one of the Gods.

Maybe he was.

With the way he moved about her body, his hands wandering and feeling while his tongue worked her up to another peak and another.

Holding true on his promises and leaving her spent when he finally decided that she had experienced enough bliss. The candles around them long burned down, shrouding them in darkness, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

Oberyn left her boneless on the bed, eyes closed and breathing hard, she drifted in and out of the comforts of sleep, faintly feeling his strong hands manoeuvre her under the covers.

“Oberyn…” She mumbled, hearing him shush her like he had done so often this night. The bed dipped beside her, his heavy form laying next to her body, pulling her close.

Still feeling like she was floating, embraced by his warmth, the happiness from earlier this night returning. His lips pressed against hers, so tender and gentle as if he hadn’t just taken her apart with only his tongue.

“Sleep, my dove. My sweet, wonderful and kind wife.” He whispered, kissing her forehead as she slowly drifted into slumber. Gratefulness and love sat deep inside her chest as she did. “There will be much more to discover. So much more.”

She woke before the sun had risen, her body aching in the most delicious ways as she moved. Oberyn’s arms still embraced her, turning around in his grasp to look at his peaceful form.

Her husband.

It still felt like a dream, too good to be true. Even though his strong arms around her body and his handsome face right in front of her reminded her that it was in fact real. She could still feel his hands on her body, etched into her skin like a mark. A mark she would be happy to wear until all eternity.

Her gentle fingers found the bridge of his nose, brushing over it, taking in his features. Thinking about the sight of him between her thighs, worshipping her.

How he had lapped at her, like a thirsty, starving man who had found his paradise between her legs, finally finding it after a seemingly endless journey. Drinking from her to sustain himself, taking as much as he was giving, making said paradise blossom.

She felt warm at the thought, her fingers wandering over his tanned cheek. Never had she seen him like this and she found it strange to see him without his smirk when in her presence. Always smiling, making her laugh.

Breathing in and out at a steady pace. This would be the face which would greet her until all eternity, she realized. The arms which would hold her every night, his warm, firm body pressed against hers, still clothed unlike hers. A welcome image, making her smile wider as she brushed some hair from his forehead.

“My Viper.” She whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, first on the tip of his nose, then his lips. Soft beneath hers, his beard tickling her skin.

Desire awoke in her again at the touch, the vivid feelings from last night at the forefront of her mind. His arms wrapped around her tighter, startling her as he tiredly kissed her back, awoken by her featherlight touch.

Caressing her, chuckling quietly when she drew back. His dark eyes were so beautiful, piercing even when laced with sleep. The most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, full of love and admiration for her.

“My dove, my sweet wife.” He sighed, one of his hands smoothing over her bare hip, moving to her bottom.

Squeezing it gently and making her gasp.

Fanning the flames within her, humming deeply at his ministrations. She thought about his mouth, how he had used it on her, wondering if she could do the same for him.

She wanted to, a strange eagerness to pleasure him overtaking her, her hand wandering to the opening in his robe, feeling his warm, bare chest beneath.

The thought of consummating their marriage seemed more acceptable at this moment, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully give into the idea just yet.

Oberyn saw the look in her eyes, recognizing it in an instant. How often he had seen this exact gaze in others, how often had it preceded the most wonderful sensations. Yet here, with her, it made him proud, made him more hungry than it ever had made him before.

Despite that, concern mixed into his excitement. She had been so scared last night, inexperienced and her head filled with terrible tales. The emotion in her eyes seemed real, but he couldn’t help but be worried.

“I wish to give back to you, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hand wandering lower, resting on his covered belly. The tips of their noses were touching, eyes locked onto another. “You made me feel the most incredible sensations, and I wish to pleasure you. Let me use my mouth like you used yours.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, surprised by her sudden boldness. He had always known that her soul simply needed a gentle nudge to bloom and come alive. That the fierceness he saw in her every day extended into far more facettes of her being.

It was as if a new spirit had taken over her, leaving her more confident.

“Please, Oberyn. I wish to give to you what you gave to me.” She whispered intently when he hesitated, still scared of the actual act itself, but more than willing to reciprocate his love and devotion the way he had shown it to her.

“My dove, this is about you, not me.” He whispered back, cupping her cheek in his large palm. Rough and calloused from years of training, years of fighting. “I cannot allow this in any good faith.”

“Please.”

The way she looked at him, so eager and determined. How could he say no? She wanted this, even if he wanted these glorious morning hours to be devoted to her only. Devoted to the beginning of their life together, the sun only starting to show the top of its face in the far distance of the horizon.

“Promise me that this wish is not borne out of any obligation you feel towards me.” Oberyn said, needing to rule out that the loving, kind spirit of her being drove her actions instead of her own desire. “This is borne from you, your own heart.”

She nodded, whispering a small Yes back in answer to his question.

He sighed, kissing her forehead with an affirmative hum. Feeling the excitement grow within him, his cock twitching at the thought of her mouth.

What a wonderful wife he had.

But as he watched her naked body emerge from beneath the covers, his brows furrowed, seeing her move to the side of the bed, attempting to slide off of it.

Oberyn grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks and she looked up at him, confused. Looking so beautiful, with the sun slowly painting the skies behind her a beautiful purple, driving away the darkness. Her hair tousled, shallow lines on her face from sleep.

“What are you doing, my dove?” He asked, sitting up.

Her brows knit together in confusion, mirroring his gaze.

“Getting on my knees, just like you did, Oberyn.” She answered, genuine about her intentions. Watching him shake his head, pulling her towards him.

“No.” He replied, looking at her intently. “I won’t allow you to. My wife will not kneel before me.”

“But, Oberyn-” Her attempt to argue was squashed by the look he gave her.

“I am to worship you, kneel before you on the floor to show you my devotion, to show you pleasure.” Oberyn said, looking at her kneeling on the bed in front of him. She seemed more demure again suddenly, more timid. But the lust still blazed in her eyes. “Far too many wives expect it to be their place, on the floor in front of their husbands. Not you. You will not kneel on the floor today, my dove.”

Her heart warmed at his words, smiling and leaning forward to kiss him, her hands wandering to the thin robe he still wore. His words touched her, so thoughtful of meanings she hadn’t even thought about yet.

She wanted to kneel before him, just as he had done the night before, but she cared deeply for his words.

Slowly she opened his robe as she kissed him, letting her hands wander over his toned chest, down to the soft swell of his stomach. Touching and exploring like he had, her lips mirroring the paths he had painted onto her not too long ago, kissing down his jaw, to that point which had felt so good on her, below his ear.

Revelling in the way his breath hitched when she ventured down further, kissing every inch of him.

In the way his hands threaded into her hair, moving it out of her gorgeous face to watch her.

“You are a fast learner, my dove.” He chuckled and she felt the vibrations ripple through him. A smile broke on her face, feeling encouraged by him, by the way he touched her, the way he loved her.

“I am, am I not?” She giggled, sitting back up when she had reached his navel, the patch of dark hair which travelled into his breeches. Sitting back on her legs, she admired him for a moment, his tan skin glowing in the faintest orange from the rising sun, his beautiful body on display for her, almost as naked as she was.

Littered with scars like she had thought him to be, both small and large in size, some deep and some shallow. Faint and bold, her finger tracing along some of them.

Looking like one of the Gods. Made in their image.

“You look beautiful, Oberyn.” She whispered, her hands wandering to the strings on his breeches, needing to see what lay beneath them. The outline of him was prominent, leaving little to the imagination. “May I?”

He smiled, leaning forward to gently capture her lips with his own. One of his hands smoothed up her arm, feeling her nerves well up again. Attempting to calm her.

“Of course, my dove.”

She smiled, rubbing the bridge of her nose along his just as he had done, her shaky fingers untying the string. Peeling back the dark fabric, she couldn’t hold back the gasp that left her lungs at the sight of him, springing free.

She had been right to be scared, to be nervous and while she felt a strange desire at the sight of his cock, angry and leaking, she couldn’t help but feel nervous all over again.

Oberyn just watched, slowly leaning back once more, her fingers trailing through the dark, coarse hair at the base. Just letting her explore on her own, hissing softly when she touched him, featherlight as if she was unsure.

Soft like velvet, throbbing and bouncing. The dark tip glistened with something.

She ran her finger over the prominent vein at the underside, then drew back, deciding to take his trousers off entirely first. Needing him fully exposed like she was, she tugged them down his legs, revealing his toned thighs and calves, hardened from years of training.

Like the Gods.

Wrapping her hand around him, she looked up to his face, seeing the intense gaze of his as he watched her fingers before his dark eyes met her own. Upon seeing the uncertainty in her, Oberyn gave her an encouraging smile, her touch setting him on fire unlike anyone had ever done before.

“You’re doing well, love. Keep going.” He said, his heart fluttering at her smile, his legs opening a bit wider. “Just move your hand, if you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said. Leaning down to take him in her mouth, she was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

“You best lay down on your belly for that.” He suggested, his voice growing thinner. This woman would rob him of his last sanity and he hadn’t even felt her properly just yet. “It will be easier on your body and I will be able to see your face, my love.”

“Oh.” She replied, the simple sound making him chuckle. Shifting into position between his opened legs, feeling awkward as she did. He beckoned her closer, helping her so her arms were positioned over his hips, her elbows resting on the sheets.

So close to him, her hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin. The hunger clear in her eyes as his cock was right in front of her, still gripped by nervousness.

Ducking her head, she pressed small kisses against his belly, then over his hip bones. Peering up at him through her lashes only to find him fixated on her, his hand coming up to gather her hair in a loose grip, just to get it out of the way. Watching how she teased him, his aching cock brushing along her cheek, trying to tame his hips which were squirming in anticipation.

Excruciatingly slow she moved back a little, lifting her head and taking him into one hand again. Oberyn’s breathing became heavier, seeing her lips descend and press against the head of his cock, like she was kissing it. Her tongue darted out, licking over the slit and grimacing a little at the taste of the pre-cum.

He couldn’t help the chuckle, warm and without malice, making her smile and giggle in return.

“Salty.” She remarked curiously, then resumed kissing him. Over and over, pressing her soft lips against the head, trailing them down the length of it. Just following what she thought was right, peering up at him now and then as if to ask for encouragement.

She moved so deliberately and gently that it looked like she was worshipping him. Worshipping his aching cock while laying in between his legs. Making his blood boil hotter than the sun, mesmerized by the sight of her.

“What a sight you are, my sweet dove.” He breathed out, fingers running along her scalp as she moved back up to the head. “My sweet wife. You are doing so well, simply keep kissing it.”

She felt warmth spread through her at the praise, the pressure in her abdomen returning.

But this was about him.

“Does it feel good?” She whispered in between kisses, letting her tongue dart out again, giving the sensitive tip the tiniest lick.

“Divine.” He moaned, the sight of her too much. She looked beautiful, her contours slowly being bathed in orange hues as the sun rose higher. “You may take it into your wonderful mouth, my dove. If you wish.”

She nodded, doing as he said, opening her mouth just a little to take in the head, already feeling heavy on her tongue. Did she just move her tongue now as he had done with her?

Or should she take more of him?

She decided on moving her tongue, licking at the head and experimentally sucking on it like he had on her clit, the deep groan that left him making her feel proud. Proud to be able to give back what he had shown her last night.

“By the old Gods and the new, nothing will feel more divine than this, my dove.” Oberyn moaned, his fingers twitching in her hair, clearly trying to hold back. Unwilling to scare her away, just letting her explore as she saw fit. “You feel wonderful, so wonderful. My cock on your tongue, what a sight.”

She took more of him, gently bobbing her head, knowing she was doing right when he kept making those wonderful sounds above her. Groaning and moaning with every movement, ecstasy overtaking his body.

Her own, private melody, her own song.

She wanted to hear more of it, becoming more eager, more assured with her movements, lifting her head to kiss it again, her hand spreading the saliva over what she couldn’t fit into her mouth, stroking him. Liking what she was doing, the heavy feeling of when he was in her mouth, her desire growing by the second but wanting to see what pleasure looked like for him. What his face would look like when he reached the heights that she had at the mercy of his mouth.

And as she continued, alternating between kissing him and bobbing her head on him, she didn’t feel scared or nervous anymore. She wanted him, needed him. Needed to know what his cock would feel like inside of her.

Needed to be one with him, beyond what they were doing right now. She was growing impatient, feeling so safe and so loved in his presence, here between his legs, that she did not want to wait much longer.

“My viper, I want you.” She breathed out when she lifted her head, her hand stilling for a moment. Pupils blown wide, a nearly ravenous expression on her face. “Please, Oberyn, my love.”

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant, finding it difficult to form a coherent thought with how close he was to his own peak, lost in the feeling of her lips around him.

“Are you sure, my sweet?” He asked, cupping her cheeks with both hands as she rose onto her hands and knees, her face close to his. “Do not feel pressured on my behalf-”

Slotting her lips against his, she cut him off, kissing him with such vigour he knew she was firm in her words. She moaned when he kissed her back, his hands on her body as he rose, moving her to lay down onto the silk bedding, never leaving her lips, staying connected to her.

Moving to her neck again as she laid below him, kissing and sucking at that sensitive spot below her ear.

“Oberyn, please.” She moaned, eyes half-lidded, squirming beneath his broad body. Hair splayed out like a halo around her head, tinged in orange sunlight. “Do not tease me, please.”

As he hovered above her, he took a moment to take her in. All of her, all his but not owned by him. Still as free as a bird for he would never cage her, make her submit, but this sight of her only for him to enjoy. The curves of her body, the way she breathed heavily, squirmed in anticipation and desperation.

All his. His wife.

Still unbelieving that this was reality, settling himself between her spread thighs. He was able to see her heart beat against her ribcage once more, just as he had wished to see it, pumping hard because of lust and not of anxiety.

His cock rested against her thigh, heavy and leaking and aching for her, aching to fully become one with her.

“Tell me you want this, my sweet.” He breathed, positioning himself so the head of him pushed against her aching hole. Ready to have him, inviting him in. “Tell me, my love. You want this, you want to become mine in body and heart and soul the way I want to become yours.”

She cupped his cheeks, eyes only on his as she nodded. Her heart swelling with every word that tumbled from his lips in the dawn, his handsome features lined by orange hues.

“Yes, Oberyn. I want this.” Her answer was a whisper but it did not lack in fervour. Smiling up at him, tears in her eyes, knowing what she was doing was right and that she was happy for this to be her life, with him by her side. “I wish to be yours, in body and heart and soul, connected to you until all eternity, until our hair turns grey and our bodies wither with the run of time.”

It was as if they held their very own, private wedding ceremony. Just the two of them to witness their words, to witness their love and passion and pleasure.

“Until all that remains of us are two stars in the night sky, our names a whispered memory.” He said, kissing her, his hips slowly pressing forward.

It took her by surprise, her gasp swallowed by his mouth as he carefully pushed inside of her, a groan rumbling in his chest.

A feeling like no other, feeling full as he stilled inside of her, his forehead resting against hers and breathing hard. The smallest laughter shared between them before their lips met again and again, his hands wandering all over her body, grabbing and pulling at every inch.

He could remain here forever, buried inside her, their lips meeting in a fiery passion, fuelled by their love for one another, the desire to feel, to be one.

Her embrace warm and welcoming, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. She wished she could crawl inside of his skin, mentally cursing herself for having been so scared of this.

Mentally cursing everyone who had told her tales of pain and misery, of simply enduring the first night and every night thereafter. Not one had mentioned the intense love and desire, the feeling of needing another human more than she needed water to drink or air to breathe.

The feeling of completion, like she had found a piece of herself in him which made her feel whole.

No. Like an addition to herself, an extension.

“Please.” She mumbled against his lips, her hands roaming over his back, feeling the muscles dance beneath his skin. “Oberyn.”

He understood, kissing her cheek when he moved his hips, pulling out of her almost entirely before sinking back in, and the sweet moan that left her was music to his ears.

Sweeter than any of the sounds he had pulled from her before, breathy and high-pitched.

Looking magnificent in her ecstasy.

“My sweet dove.” He groaned, setting a slow rhythm, trying to hold himself back. Her mouth and hands had brought him close before and her sweet cunt made him feel dizzy, too close to the edge for his own liking. He needed to savour this, drag this out, for her and for himself. Wishing to remember this forever. “Tell me what you are feeling, tell me all.”

A sloppy kiss met the corner of his mouth, trailing to his jaw.

“Complete, full and complete and ecstatic.” She moaned against his skin, her nails digging into his back. Driving in and out of her repeatedly, brushing against spots inside of her that made her feel lightheaded, her toes curling. “I never want this to end.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“This is what the Seven Heavens must feel like.” Oberyn groaned, his thrusts falling out of rhythm, overwhelmed by her. Her tightness, her embrace, her warmth. “Here, buried in your sweet cunt lies paradise, just for us.”

Nodding, her lips found his again, so close once again.

Tears running down her temples, settling in her hair. Feeling nothing but him, the world ceasing to exist while entangled with him, becoming drunk off the pleasure.

Her peak reached her so suddenly, she couldn’t do much more than whimper against his mouth, her arms pulling him into her. Breathless, her body set ablaze.

The feelings so much more intense than before, feeling him shudder and then still against her through the haze in her mind. Their lips never stopping, her name tumbling from his and right into her mouth, as if he was praying to the Gods above.

Basking in the afterglow, he kissed her cheeks, her temples wet with tears, shushing her gently as she cried. Tears of joy, of happiness unlike no other.

He could not imagine himself with anyone else, everyone that had come before her paling in contrast.

The sun warmed their skin, the sky a bright orange, fading into pinks and purples at the very edges. Dipping everything it touched into its mesmerizing hues.

“I love you, Oberyn.” She whispered, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. Stroking his cheek, tears still in her eyes, barely open from exhaustion, from bliss. “My sweet Viper, my husband.”

Oberyn smiled, slowly pulling out of her, already missing her warmth and tightness. He rolled them over to the side, carefully guiding her spent body. Admiring the beauty of her in the rays of the sun, casting beautiful shadows across her face, making her look like a fabled creature.

Glowing like the sun itself.

His Sun.

“And I love you, my Sun.” He whispered back, brushing some hair from her forehead. Seeing her brows knit together at the new name. “My wonderful wife.”

“My Sun?” She echoed his words, finding a warmth and safety in the name.

“You are my Sun, my sweet. The centre of my being, my warmth and my light.” He said, smiling gently, cupping her cheek. “Us Dornish worship our sun. She gives us food, she gives us life. A new day in her safety and guidance. She is sacred to us, without her, there would only be darkness and coldness.”

Her heart soared at his words, a sob leaving her, overwhelmed by his gentleness and his affection.

“You are my Sun now. Without you, my life would be dark.” He continued, brushing away her tears, filled with nothing but unbridled love for her in this moment. “And I am your Moon. Shining brightly only in your light, in your presence. Cold without your warmth, without your bright smile.”

She couldn’t find words to match his, everything she thought of seeming inconsequential.

But he was not done. His heart so full for her, as she laid in the light of the rising sun, embracing each other's spent bodies.

“Before you, my life was nothing but the chase for pleasure, to forget what I have lost.” Tears welling up in his eyes as well, a sight she had never seen before, raising a hand to wipe them away as they fell. Knowing somehow he was talking about Elia. “But now, with you by my side, there is no more need for such chases. All the pleasure of the world lies within you. In the warm heart beneath your ribs, your gentle kiss and sweet embrace. In this sweet cunt between your legs.”

She giggled between her sobs. Of course he couldn’t just not mention it.

But she felt sadness, her heart breaking at the thought of his dead sister. Of this sweet, loving man drowned in darkness and sorrow, trying to find something to take away the pain her death had caused.

He hadn’t talked of her much just yet, the memory too painful.

Hoping that he would now, after he had found a light to guide him out of the darkness.

“I wish to show you the world, to experience all the world has to offer us with you by my side. To give you all the children you wish for, tiny viperlings in the image of us.” More words which brought forth more tears. Ever the poet, ever spilling his aching heart. “All that will heal my broken heart. Healing it further as you have already begun to heal it, my Sun, unbeknownst to you. Every moment spent with my daughters, treating them like your own, giving them your love, all of that put another broken piece back into place.”

“Oh, Oberyn. My Viper, my Moon.” She whispered, wiping away more tears as her own continued to spill. Leaning up to kiss them from his cheeks, brushing her nose against his. “I do not have the words to explain what I feel for you. They feel inadequate to everything you have just said.”

Oberyn chuckled, moving to kiss her lips, those sweet, soft lips.

“There is no need, my Sun. Your touch and your smile are enough to let me know just what you’re thinking, what you are feeling. Let me worship you as you ought to be worshipped in this moment.”

Pressing their foreheads together as they lay in the glowing sun, tangled limbs and tangled souls warmed by it.

Just breathing, just feeling.

Connected in their very beings, basking in each other’s presence.

The love they felt was enough to sustain them for a hundred lifetimes.

The Viper and his Sun.

In a bond formed of love.

#oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #game of thrones #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fic #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #tvats

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

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complicated feelings about book 7

Hey, hello, hi!!

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts and feelings about the direction the main story is going in ever since 7-100. I wanted to wait until the hype for the book 7 part 9 and anticipating part 10 settled down a bit before I made this post, as I wouldn’t want to impede anyone’s excitement for it—and now that time has come.

While I wouldn’t say I’m being entirely negative or harsh in this post (I’d say I’m being “worried” in my critique at most), I’d caution you to avoid it if you think it would upset you or mess with your enjoyment of the main story, especially knowing that the book 7 part 10 update is coming later in August.

Thank you for your time ^^ and without further ado…

I started to feel iffy about how the story is going around the part Idia wakes up. At the time, I remained optimistic and brushed it off. However, the inkling I had then has since magnified, especially with the recent Scarabia update.

What is that issue with, you may ask?

The dream hopping and waking segments.

They feel so… for lack of a better term, dissatisfying?? Rushed?? I don’t know, but I’m left still feeling like (just as Ariel says) I want more. I was hype when they first happened, but with each new update, I let myself sit with what happened for a few days and, thinking back on it, problems start to arise.

Don't get me wrong, I'm NOT saying that these segments are lame or that they don't make sense. I love being able to delve into the dreams and see a ton of novel yet absurd things, and I love how genius Idia's plan is. It makes sense narratively and I, of course, appreciate being able to see the dreamscapes and the desires of so many beloved characters. BUT... The problems primarily come down to pacing and the overabundance of contrivances.

The set-up itself is elaborate but also keeps piling up more “but also we need to do THIS” details that seem to overcomplicate things or act as red herrings. Silver’s UM itself is already warranting an explanation, then we got Idia’s video presentation, now we have to account for leaving people and hologram projections behind… all for the sake of limiting how many people travel to the dreams because OH YEAH we also need to consider Malleus catching on. It’s contrived for the sake of the narrative giving everyone a chance in the spotlight before the Big Finale. The universe has to dedicate so much time to explaining how this is feasible or why people need to stay behind in order to justify the pacing and to avoid an increasingly growing group from competing for attention. We spent SO long on just exploring Lilia's dream that the shift to waking up all these other characters seems so much quicker by comparison. It's natural that we can only devote so much time to each character (since we have so many students to collect), but it also results in some people feeling very rushed or not fully realized. For example, Epel only gets 5 parts dedicated to his turn-around but Kalim gets 8. This variance naturally occurs as some dreams are less serious than others, but despite this it still leans into some non-OB boys getting more of the spotlight than others. Additionally, we also see very uneven distribution of lines across individual segments. There is so much information crammed into some parts (like 140 and 141) while other parts are pathetically sparse and not much happens.

When it comes to the OB boys, they of course get longer segments than the others, so it doesn't feel as bad. However, I think the OB boys come with other issues... Namely the "resolutions" to their battles against their OB forms. Not only is there a formula to how they are woken up (which makes things less exciting compared to not really knowing what happens in the main story except for OB boy at the end), but there's also a part carved out for them to give a big speech about how they've changed or how they'll move on from the past, etc. This is especially true of Jamil, who probably had the longest speech of the OB boys thus far.

Now yes, I know it's an anime trope to give speeches (particularly for TWST, which primarily tells its story via dialogue). But does it have to be so... blatant??? Like, the OB boys are usually alone or just trapped with their inner darkness in these moments. Who exactly are they announcing their character change to? It does not feel diegetic at all. This is a lot of telling and not as much showing. That contrasts with the character development we saw in book 6; at least there the OB boys were paired up with other people, so there was someone to bounce off of and butt heads with. It feels like they're having a conversation, actually bonding with their peers, and learning from those tough interactions. (In fact, I would argue that book 6 did this growth in a much better paced and more cohesive manner.) In the dreams of book 7, the interactions have to be shared among several other students and they have to be so much shorter as a result of that.

What we’re seeing in book 7 is character growth we already knew about, but told to us in a more overt way. We are not learning anything new. Waking people in book 7 involves a lot of flashbacks to events that already played out, so rather than any real development being made, it's returning people to the state they were in before (since that "change" was in the process of occurring in the real world).

It feels like book 7 is trying hard to follow through with all the promises the earlier books built up to. And, quite honestly, many of these emotional conversations (like Kalim and Jamil shouting at each other about their flaws) NEEDED to happen. I just don't know if this was the appropriate context for it, because it comes off as an ultimatum or an ending to a story that had so much more left to say.

The way these book 7 segments are framed, the students "waking" is meant to mark a pivotal moment in their development. I worry what this means, because the dialogue is very... resolute? Especially for the OB boys. And them announcing how they've changed out loud rather than in a more subtle way (like Kalim saying he is 'frustrated' but not being able to explain why in book 4, Leona saying that Jamil is "not like him" in book 6; implying that there is hope for Jamil but not for himself, etc.)... It gives the impression that this is the "end" of their character arcs, that their growth is now "complete", even if that wasn’t the intention. I don't feel like that's how character development works?????? It's never really "done", it's a continuous and ongoing thing, so the vibes of it feel a little off. I would have liked it more if it were open-ended or at least vaguer. Still hopeful, but vaguer. These are meant to be triumphant moments, yet I don't get that feeling because it's very repetitive at this point. I've pointed out many patterns myself, and that makes future installments VERY predictable and boring aside from the actual dream settings we visit. We have 11 more students to hit up. E L E V E N. That's SO many. Do you realize how far away that is????? I even ran the numbers:

Idia spans 109 - 116 (7 parts)

Epel spans 120 - 124 (5 parts)

Rook spans 125 - 131 (7 parts)

Vil spans 133 - 139 (8 parts)

Kalim spans 140 - 147 (8 parts)

Jamil spans 148 - 157 (10 parts)

That means, on average, it takes 7.5 parts for each character to wake up. With 11 characters left to do, that means we have at LEAST 82.5 parts left (spread across 3 updates, one for Octavinelle, one for Savanaclaw, and one for Heartslabyul). With the current 157 parts out, that means book 7 is going on until at least part like 240... AND WE STILL HAVE A TON LEFT TO WRAP UP, like Yuu going home, Grim OB, Crowley's intentions, the mystery of Raverne’s disappearance, the truth behind Mickey and Yuu’s connection, beating the crap out of OB Malleus, etc. Book 7 is dragging on for a while, and the novelty of each dreamscape can only last for so long before the same old pesky problems creep in again 💀 The pacing is so weird; it simultaneously feels too long and yet also not long enough. Not only that, but because there are so many other characters to collect, it is robbing Diasomnia and Ignihyde of THEIR promised screen time in the second half of the book.

A lesser issue I had was the weird... tonal whiplash? The dream segments are largely silly and they spend a lot of them goofing around with the explanation of having to "investigate" the dreamer's weak point and hitting on that to wake them. (This complaint runs counter to the pacing issues I mentioned earlier; cutting down on the time spent being silly means we'd be rushing the story, but not having silly parts means dragging the story out. It's hard to really balance the two.) Here I am sitting here and thinking 1) there is NO sense of urgency, 2) what a waste of time, and 3) what a wasted opportunity for Yuu.

I'm not a huge game!Yuu fan; I see them as a blank slate for self-inserting, and since I'm not someone who likes to self-insert, Yuu has little to no value to me and just serves primarily as a vehicle to have things exposited to them and as a POV character. But hey, if the story wants to stress Yuu is important and helps these characters change, then why not do it here??????? There's so few times when they actually do something of importance in the main story (with perhaps their most involved points being books 3 and 4, maybe 6 when they took the initiative to go free their friends/rescue Grim).

A lot of it honestly feels like wasted time since most characters outside of the dorm leader do not change in significant way or in less serious manners. It really falls flat because Yuu largely did not do anything to influence those extra characters, let alone the OB boys.

While talking with a friend, they suggested that non-OB boy sequences could have been relegated to vignettes to go with limited story cards (that way TWST could have more banners, assuming one for each character) or as free bonus side-content that unlocks as an optional thing similar to how the collecting wishes worked in Wish Upon a Star; they are not essential. It feels like they were obligatorily thrown in as fanservice before the big closing. The narrative would have still worked and we would get to the point faster if we limited the main story componeny to just the necessary people (Ignihyde + OB boys).

Another potential route: if you insist on hitting up all the characters before the end, why not give Yuu a chance to DO SOMETHING in book 7 since they're the only person in the wake-up crew to have interacted with all these people we're trying to wake up? The only one who has experienced detailed and prophetic dreams associated with the OB boys???? The one who has been tasked with investigating and resolving various students' issues around campus? Why not let Yuu take the lead in discovering the best method to wake each boy up? Then we'd at least get character development on Yuu's part, get to see how Yuu is positively influencing the boys, and it cuts down on the down time of wandering in circles and making no meaningful progress.

*takes a deep breath*

Anyway, those are my thoughts 💦 I would like to reiterate that I do NOT "hate" book 7, I just disagree with the pacing and how they've decided to write in waking up the characters for this current stretch of it. It's no doubt a daunting task and I'm sure the writers are all doing their very best... I don't know if the end product managed to achieve what it wanted to for me though. It’s tiring and repetitive (like bouncing up and down on a roller coaster that cannot decide how it wants to go and leaves you no time to recover/catch your breath), and I’m left still feeling unsatisfied and wanting more.

Theoretically, I like the ideas but not the execution of them… I can only hope that the pacing improves for future updates (especially with the Octa update on the way and attempting to shake up the formula by introducing two story SSRs instead of one), or that book 7 can at least end strongly with that final battle.

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perfectlyoongi · 3 months ago

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LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who didn’t believe in long-distance relationships until he met you. how was it possible to maintain a loving relationship when kilometers separated you? how could you show love and devotion if you were separated by screens? it was impossible to love someone you had never been with. it was impossible to love someone without really knowing them. so how were people falling into this trap and deluding themselves with fake love? how co— wait. but you… you were different, weren’t you? you managed to attract Taehyung. you managed to make Taehyung question his entire sense of reality. but you weren’t there. you were in another world. but still… in a way, you. “tell me what spell you cast on me. i want to get rid of this curse and talk to you again without thinking about how much i need to be with you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who always has a virtual date planned for you every month. Taehyung was a romantic by nature and, with you two being worlds apart, he had to find another way to express all his love and devotion to you. thank god there are several museums with online visits; thank god there were chat rooms with different games for you; thank god we lived in a time where the internet was the answer to all our prayers. once a month, Taehyung would take you to see and experience the world without leaving the comfort of your home, always guaranteeing and promising that one day all those experiences of yours would be lived in person next to him. “today we see this museum through our screens, but there will be a day when i will be able to take a photo of you next to your favorite piece of art just so you can see which of you is truly a masterpiece.”

LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who writes down all the dreams he has about you in a notebook. Taehyung’s mind was in constant motion when he slept, taking him on complex adventures and strange expeditions. and, in so many wild dreams, it was almost a certainty that you would pay Taehyung one or two visits; and it was these adventures that Taehyung remember the most, sharing some of the happiness he had felt in the dream in real life. but the dreams were so many and quite confusing that before telling you, Taehyung needed to write down each moment of the dream in a notebook, making sure that nothing was missed and that everything was perfectly clarified. “this dream is going to be a little confusing, so pay attention. you were at the top of one of egypt’s pyramids, but instead of sand there was only water. so, i showed up there in a little hot air balloon and…”

LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who becomes desperate with the distance between you. Taehyung swore he would start banging his head against the walls just to ease the pain he felt in his chest. why were you so far away? what cruelty did Taehyung do in a past life to be suffering immensely in this reality? would the gods be upset that Taehyung loved you more than they loved their immortality? were the stars jealous of all the memories you shared from past lives? would the universe itself be resentful because your and Taehyung’s love was purer than any of its creations? how could Taehyung live every day if you were so far away from him? he just wanted to hug you, kiss you, hold you in his arms, make you happy and make you feel loved and important. and he only wanted you. there. beside him. in this life. was this too much to ask for? “i swear to you that i’m this close to getting on a plane to go see you. i don’t care about my work and i don’t care about my friends. i just want you, i just need you. urgently.”

LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who never says goodbye to you. it was a small habit of Taehyung’s, a small detail that always weighed on your mind: why did he never say goodbye to you when you finished talking? when you realized this little curiosity, you went to talk to Taehyung, a little interested in the possible answer he could give you. but, out of so many scenarios you created in your mind, none of them matched the reality of the facts. it was with a serious and expressionless look, completely offended by your question, that Taehyung answered you, giving a little clarity to your heart. “our story is not over yet. why should i say goodbye to it?”

LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who offers you a stuffed bear and a bottle of his perfume. when the distance was crueler and there was a need to feel close to each other, Taehyung would ask you to spray the stuffed bear he offered you with his perfume. in a way, that idea of Taehyung managed to deceive your poor heart; when you hugged that bear with Taehyung’s scent, your heart fell into the illusion that you were next to Taehyung and, for small seconds, everything was okay. “i know i’m far away, that’s why i offer you this bear. it may not be very big, but when you spray my perfume, it becomes part of me.”

LONG-DISTANCE!TAEHYUNG who bought you a weekend in your dream city to meet you for the first time. when Taehyung showed you your flight tickets for the same day and the same city, you didn’t understand his idea; it took Taehyung to say that he would wait for you for you to understand that small gesture from him. he had remembered that city you so wanted to visit. not only that, but he also remembered the dates of your vacation. and booked a short stay in that city on your vacations. a stay with Taehyung. you were going to be together for the first time in that city that called you so much. your dream was about to begin. “just a few more weeks, my love, and then we can be infinite.”

#!BTS bouquet꒱₊˚ᰔ.#taehyung #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fic recs #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfction #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung oneshot #taehyung drabble #taehyung fic #taehyung x you #taehyung bts #v x reader #v bts #tae x reader #tae bts

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thrashkink-coven · 4 months ago

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Besties listen to me. Ok. Please hear me out. I am not a gatekeeper. We don’t gatekeep around here. Gatekeeping is hate keeping okay. You can get into the craft at any age regardless of your abilities etc etc. Elitism in occultism and spirituality is stupid ok.

BUT!!!

This is just a friendly reminder and fair warning ? (not warning because this isn’t scary) this is a message.

You don’t have to devote yourself to a deity if you don’t want to. Like, you’re allowed to just revere a deity without becoming a devotee.

Devotion is pretty intensely binding and long term.

There are many deities that I have worked with, or even worship(ped), who I am not a devotee of like Dionysus or Lilith, Azazel. Even with a deity like Horus, who I absolutely love and revere and even set altar space aside for, I wouldn’t say I’m a devotee of Horus because we haven’t taken vows or established a contract. I just… love them. and that’s p much it and that’s okay!

Im not devoted to Anubis or even Hecate (YET) because I haven’t put in that fucking work with them as I have with Lucifer or Aphrodite, and that’s okay too. It takes quite a long time. That’s the exact reason why I haven’t devoted myself to Hecate yet, I haven’t nearly gotten to the level of familiarity with her to do something THAT binding, it’s like a sort of marriage.

And likewise, I am still in the process of initiation with Leviathan, we’re taking it slow. I’m technically not even fully devoted to Hermes yet either.

You guys have seen my altar, I spend a significant part of my daily life working with and worshipping Lucifer because he’s my Patron. I don’t “have to” but I do pray and write to him every day. I make offerings to him every day, I wear his talismans, I think about him every day. More than any other deity that I work with, because I’m his, by vow. Not every deity that I am devoted to is always around me, but my Patron is. If not in spirit than in my prayers and heart.

Now this isn’t to say you have to have a big extravagant altar or spend a ton of time constantly worshipping a deity to be a valid devotee, we all decide what level of involvement we want to have. But do be warned, especially if it’s your first time, many deities do take it very seriously. Betraying that level of trust is not something I would advise.

You don’t have to be that involved with a deity if you don’t want to or you’re just not ready yet.

Kids, children, I’m talking to you, MINORS,

Again, no gatekeeping we don’t gate keep, HOWEVER. Be informed.

If you wouldn’t feel comfortable getting a Lucifer tattoo (or something of an equivalent permanence because not everyone likes the idea of body modification, you know what I’m trying to say) you might want to just wait until you’re a little taller, older and wiser to make the decision to devote yourself to him. Of course there are those of us that don’t care about permanence and want to cover our entire bodies with ink before we’re 25, in which case, do as thow wilt. I’m talking to minors specifically right now though, because I know that I would not have been aware and mature enough to devote myself to Lucifer in my teens. Maybe I was a dumb teenager, but the idea of a child being devoted to a deity gives me a similar feeling to how I feel when I see child marriage. It’s not the same, but it somehow kinda is. Just! be smart with your soul.

You’re still fully welcome and encouraged to honour and work with your deities, remember that there was never any rule that said you had to make contracts and whatnot to work with a deity. Make whatever altars you want. However, if you are making the decision to be patroned or devoted to a deity, you better be damn confident in that decision.

A prayer to Lucifer from me typically has verses along the lines of “I invite you into my body, mind and soul, I forever devote myself to you, you are eternal in my heart” etc, because I’m his devotee. I feel very safe saying that, those words bring me comfort. This isn’t to say I’m not allowed to grow or change my mind, but at least as of right now, I’m in it for the long haul baby. If you’re not at the place where you feel comfortable saying that to your deity yet, don’t force it, don’t fight it, that’s when things start going wrong.

You are more than allowed to just adore the fuck out of a deity without being devoted to them. I still work with Azazel and Hecate and other entities, I simply do not have the time (or energy) in my life to be devoted to so many deities at once. I’ve only ever given blood to one deity, and that’s my Patron.

I’m Lucifer’s bitch, I think I always will be. If you are lucky enough to be favoured by a God that you love that much then that’s awesome, but not being a devotee doesn’t mean you aren’t loved or just as important to your God. Be chill, go with the flow, and everything will be fine.

💋

#witchcraft #pagan #paganism #deity work #deity witchcraft #deity worship #demonolatry #demonology #magick #occultism #witch community #daily devotion #devotee

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thegratefulsouth · 8 months ago

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TWD Caryl - A Tree Fell in the Forest

I just finished watching TWD and searching a bunch tonne of stuff on this here Tumblr which I'm brand new to, and I have thoughts.

I am strangely drawn to imperfection, its beauty, and TWD sits in this place, hovering near almost faultlessness (characters), to being nearly unwatchable (where did the characters go), sometimes within the same episode. It's utterly fascinating! I am hooked! A little late, yes, but isn't that the story of my life.

I honestly have not felt this way about characters since the late 90's, when my 17 year old Willoz shipping heart waited desolately for Oz to return, and ... we all know how that turned out. Ah, shipping. I literally had not shipped a single ship since that day. Until I watched The Same Boat. TWD has some pretty special characters. Though I love Bojack and Ozark and Travis Fimmel's Ragnar, I did not feel compelled to examine the inner workings of those beautiful humans/humanoids beyond the show.

There I was, happily not shipping a ship, apart from my own relationship with my own beloved, which I ship ecstatically every day. (This is the kind of ramble I can indulge in when I think readership will be non-existent). Got another ship in!

Anyway, my point is that a Caryl romance is clearly canon, even though the relationship isn't (yet?).

I didn't actually fall in love with Carol until she listened to my urgent pleas to take care of the Wolves at the start of season 6. I should point out that I have ADHD so I didn't always have the dopamine? Emotional regulation? Focus? To listen to all of your speeches, Rick, or to watch entire episodes devoted to new characters, Tara, Magna, Alpha. So, apparently, I missed entire stuff.

Even after "C'mere", I just thought Carol and Daryl had this extremely unique soulmate bond, like that of Ragnar and Athelstan in Vikings. It is an extremely rare and unique portrayal of a transcendental devotion that cannot be likened to any other kind of relationship, because there are no other relationships like it. The bind encompasses every aspect of love and support needed to utterly fulfull and complete someone.

At this point I had stumbled onto Tumblr because I realised I needed pro-Carol recaps from Carylers, as they seemed to best understand and grasp this very special character. I went back and rewatched from the beginning and I was shocked. I rewatched (and noticed for the first time) the flirting, the hesitation, the banter, the unspoken LOOKS, oh so many. Drew the links from Consumed ("I kinda like it." "Stop.") Watched interviews, waded through the mass of gaslighting that abounds, which seems to wrap itself around every subtle, telling moment.

Why? Because it's fascinating. A mystery. Pretending something that happened, did not? A tree fell in the forest and some people did not hear it. Well I didn't hear it either! But I went back and found the tree. That tree is on the damn ground.

Carol and Daryl are so in love with each other it hurts. Their romance exists. Therefore, I'm gonna ship it.

TGS

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #caryl positivity #caryl is endgame

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xxcatzladyxx · 11 months ago

Text

Demon Slayer Advent Calendar | Day Eleven | Tengen x Reader | The christmas market

Written by @lupina36

~~~

"Wow, it's beautiful," you heard Suma gush as she admired with sparkling eyes the countless strings of colorful lights that lined your path through the city's annual Christmas market. The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon, but the streets were still packed with people.

All sorts of different smells and sounds hit you from everywhere. Christmas carols, cheerful laughter, roasted almonds, cinnamon and even something alcoholic. A small sigh escaped your throat. You weren't really a fan of such gatherings of people. You were much more the type of person who liked to retreat to your room for a few hours with a good book, but Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru had really wanted to go to the Christmas market and you had finally been persuaded by them to come along too.

Now you were standing here amidst the cheers, hustle and bustle and general merriment, trying to put on a happy face, but somehow not quite succeeding.

"We won't be staying long," Hinatsuru had told you. You just nodded and tried to go along with it.

Easier said than done. After a short time, you began to feel more and more uncomfortable and would have liked to just go home, but you didn't want to be a spoilsport. After all, it wasn't often that the four of you were able to do something together with your husband, Tengen Uzui, the pillar of sound. This little trip to the Christmas market was one of those rare occasions. There was no mission to complete today, which is why Tengen had decided to devote himself entirely to his four wives for once. Tengen was a caring man who cared about each of his wives, which was why he had immediately agreed when Hinatsuru suggested going to the local Christmas market together. Now you were all here and everyone was having a great time. Everyone except you!

It was all getting a bit too much for you and you longed for the peace and comfort of your home.

You were more of a loner and it was almost a miracle that you were married to a man who had three other wives besides you. You liked each and every one of them very much. They were your family. Nevertheless, there were still moments when you preferred to keep to yourself. The others respected that, for which you liked them even more.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't even notice how the others were gradually moving away from you, before you knew it you were suddenly alone in the dense crowd.

You quickly tried to keep an eye out for the others, but they had probably already moved on, because you couldn't see them anywhere.

You couldn't even see the tall figure of your husband anymore and he was really hard to miss. Finally you gave up and decided to just stay put until they came looking for you. That was one of the things you had been taught as a child, if you got lost in a crowd, to always stay where you were lost because there was a better chance of finding yourself again faster than if you were on the move.

You spotted a small snack stand not far from you and decided to wait there without further ado. After all, you were hungry and there didn't seem to be much going on there anyway. There were only two men sitting at the tables and drinking from small ceramic mugs.

When you arrived at the stall, you realized that there didn't seem to be anything edible here, but mainly alcoholic drinks such as mulled wine and hot chocolate with a shot.

Since you wanted to have at least something in your stomach, you ordered a cocoa, but without the extra shot of alcohol. For the life of you, you couldn't imagine that something like that would taste good. You sat down at a table a little away from the others and sipped your cocoa from time to time while watching the hustle and bustle around you. "Well, what have we got here?"

A disgusting mixture of alcohol, sweat and something greasy got up your nose and made you grimace. A man in his forties with thinning hair and a three-day beard suddenly grinned directly into your face. You ignored him and continued sipping your cocoa.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" he asked you, blowing his fierce flag in your face again. It was obvious that he had already had a few drinks.

You almost replied that you weren't alone, but that wasn't the case at the moment, so you kept quiet for the time being.

But that didn't seem to bother the guy. He continued to talk at you while he looked at your body with a clearly lustful gaze. You were starting to feel uncomfortable and you were about to tell him to get lost when he suddenly said. "I like you. What do you want for an hour?"

You stared at the man in front of you, completely dumbfounded. Did he seriously think you were a prostitute? That couldn't be true! Well, like all of Tengen's women, you had a pretty ample cleavage, but you'd never been mistaken for a prostitute before. On the other hand, the guy had already had a fair amount of alcohol, so there was probably no point in making a slug of him for asking you such a question.

Instead, you just took your cocoa and turned to leave.

Suddenly, you were grabbed from behind and dragged towards a small side alley, which was apparently very close to the drinks stand.

Thanks to your kunoichi skills, you quickly managed to free yourself from the stranger's grip and keep your distance from your opponent, who turned out to be the drunken man from the stand.

He gave you a dirty grin and said "I like it when you play a little coy. You don't want people to think you're a slut."

You snorted angrily, even though he had just taken you for a prostitute himself. "But you're all whores on the inside," he added, still grinning dirty.

That was too much! What did this guy think he was? "Are you still okay? I'm neither a prostitute nor a whore on the inside. I'm a married woman!" you hurled at him angrily. "Me too. Which doesn't mean that you and I can't have a little fun together," he said, which only caused you to grimace in disgust.

"No thanks. You'd better go home and get it for your wife," you replied and turned to leave again.

Unfortunately, turning your back on the guy proved to be a serious mistake as the next moment you felt a brutal blow to your back that drove all the air out of your lungs at once. Panting and gasping for air, you fell to your knees. For a moment, stars danced before your eyes and you were disoriented for a few moments.

All of a sudden you felt two large calloused hands roughly kneading your breasts from behind. The pain made you gasp again. You felt something hard against your back and didn't even dare to think about what it might be. Instead, you tried again to free yourself from the man's grip. But he seemed to have clawed at your breasts, because he didn't let go, no matter how hard you tried. "Come on sweetie, just relax. You'll see, you'll like it," the bastard whispered in your ear in a rough voice while he continued to massage your breasts roughly. Tears slowly welled up in your eyes and obscured your vision, but you could still feel him take one hand off your breasts and begin to stroke your thigh greedily. You immediately realized where this was going and you didn't want to let it come to that.

Instead, you decide to make one more attempt to escape the slavering hands of this drunken bastard. After all, you were a kunoichi and therefore trained in combat.

It shouldn't be a problem for you to free yourself from this situation.

But in this situation of all situations, all your fighting experience suddenly seemed to be forgotten. You felt helpless and weak. A circumstance that you didn't like at all, especially since the guy who still had you firmly in his grip had started to let his hand wander under the hem of your jukata.

Suddenly the guy had disappeared and you blinked a few times in confusion at the rapid change in your situation.

Still quite confused, you looked around the small alleyway and suddenly saw a tall figure looming over you. "Tengen!" you shouted, your voice trembling with relief, and you threw your arms around your husband's neck. At that moment, your tears broke free and you sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. You only noticed in passing how he wrapped his strong arms around you and gently rocked you back and forth until you calmed down a little.

"That drunken bastard seriously thought I was a prostitute"; you finally blurted out after you had managed to get your thoughts back in order a little.

"Do you think I look like a whore?" you asked your husband in a sudden burst of insecurity.

"No! Not a bit!" came Tengen's prompt and confident reply.

For a brief moment, you wondered where the guy had disappeared to so suddenly, but Tengen's other women quickly drew your attention as they came running to you and Tengen in the alley. Suma immediately threw her arms around your neck and nearly squeezed the air out of you until Makio unceremoniously pulled her away from you by the hair and scolded her.

Hinatsuru also embraced you and together you decided to make your way home. You didn't say a single word the whole way. Your thoughts were still revolving around the incident in the alley when you suddenly noticed how Tengen had stopped.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking at you with a worried expression. You finally managed to smile a little. "I was pretty scared about what happened, but I'm slowly getting better," you said, and that wasn't even a lie. You really did feel better. "I'm just sorry that I ruined the trip to the Christmas market for the rest of you. It's so rare for us to all get together," you added dejectedly.

All at once, you were pulled into a warm embrace and pressed against a muscular chest.

"You haven't ruined anything for us (name)," you heard Tengen say quietly. "Even though you don't like crowds at all, you came along anyway. We just should have taken a little better care of you. That will never happen again," he promised you solemnly, which made you blush instantly.

Without further ado, you stood on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on your husband's lips, which he immediately returned. "Apart from this unpleasant coincidence, the outing wasn't so bad. But maybe we can all do something in future where there are fewer people around. For example, ice skating or sledging," you suggested. "Or baking cookies," Tengen added, which made you laugh a little. "I think everyone's had enough of your dick cookies for now," you said, which also made Tengen laugh.

All in all, it turned out to be a nice evening, even if you would rather avoid the Christmas markets in future.

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copiousloverofcopia · 2 years ago

Note

The Copia I love reading about is how he's portrayed as odd, quiet, nervous...finally getting the chance to bed a sister of sin, only to ask afterwards shyly "was....was that good?". Dude....she can't catch her breath, her ears popped twice from the strength of her orgasms, and she can smell colors now....OBVIOUSLY! Turns out he's some sort of sex God with a magic dick.🤣

Lol sooooo I did a thing. I also made Copia a virgin in this so it's an even bigger 😳

Anyways ghestie here you go.

Okie Dokie

Also available here on AO3!

Definitely NSFW beneath the cut

Copia took in a cleansing deep breath, his palms clammy beneath the leather of his embellished gloves. The Cardinal stood alone in his office. The day was winding down into night and there was no more paperwork that couldn't wait until tomorrow. It's time, he thought, staring at himself in the full length mirror–practicing what he would say. He adjusted his biretta and fastened his pellegrina, the diamond encrusted grucifix sprayed proudly across his chest prepared to be on his way. Tonight was the night he would tell you.

He had a noted pep in his step as he passed the siblings as they loitered in the hallways. A warm smile worn well on his face, only the hint of unease in his demeanor as he made his way to the chapel. His footfalls echoed off the marble floor as he stopped just outside the chapel.

This was your meeting spot. A public space as to not lead you both to temptation. Copia was always careful to not be perceived as pushy or too forward in your quiet romance. Leaving both of you on edge, constantly wanting more, but neither making the first move.

You still found it romantic however, the hours spent under the cathedral ceilings painted a rich shade of blue—mimicking the night sky. It was wondrous to behold and coupled with the warm glow of the candles that would embrace you, the perfect setting—if only he’d make a move.

You turned towards the noise, met with the sight of your sweet awkward Cardinal closing up the doors behind him. Your heart began to pound in your chest. There was something about him that, despite what others said about his nervous disposition and “rat-like” appearance, made you ache inside. You watched, a smile on your face as Copia made his way down the nave.

You stood up to greet him. Breath held within your chest as he walked toward you, his eyes still on his feet. When he finally looked up at you he smiled, shaking his head. “Oh no amore, please don’t stand on my account.” he insisted, motioning for you to be seated.

Copia made the Sign of Sin, as he slipped into the pew beside you. A traditional self blessing and blasphemous display, as an affront to God, in respect of his Infernal Majesty. The sign itself, sending your eyes straight to the Cardinal’s groin, inspiring lascivious imagery and making your cheeks ignite.

“Ahem…So why did you ask me here?” you inquired, clearing your throat as you shifted in your seat. Copia placed his hand tenderly atop of your thigh, instantly heat began coursing through you. You were almost embarrassed at just how flustered you became at a mere touch.

“You see…I have been thinking cara mia. I have been thinking that we should…um…that we should—”

“Should what C? Just spit it out already?" You laughed.

“That we should c-commit ourselves to sin. To …ah…you know to um…consummate our devotion in his name.” Copia confessed, pulling the biretta from his head. He fidgeted with it in his lap, patiently waiting to hear what you'd have to say. At first you were unsure you’d heard him right. Both of you had been careful to not discuss this particular subject, straying far away from anything that may lead to its implication.

Now here he was telling you it was his deepest desire, his wish for you both to become one. Your heart pumped hard, so hard you felt it might break free of your chest. Your would-be lover's words made your blood rush, flooding your entire body, and culminating in the growing ache between your thighs.

“Oh…that.” You said, the words choked as you tried to speak them, your mouth dry and voice shaky.

“Sí…I…I have thought a lot about it…uh…in the past few weeks and well—I would like to try.” Copia explained, his eyes meeting with yours. The impact of his captivating and mismatched gaze, parting your lips and creating a throb felt between your legs.

“Are you sure, I mean I know that this will…would be your first–”

“I…think…no I know. I am sure. I can’t promise I will be any good amore, but I know that I want to be with you—in all ways. And this—this is something I truly desire. As a matter of fact. I–I have never wanted anything more.” He vowed, his hands taking hold of yours. Copia ran his thumb against the back of your hand, a soft and intimate gesture that only served to impassion you more.

“Ok.” You said, the only word you were able to form from your lips. Copia's eyes stared into you, growing hungry with each passing second. He removed his gloves, placing them beside you on the old wood pew, as he drew forth another smile. Suddenly he brought his mouth to yours, your face cradled within his hand, as he pressed his soft lips onto yours. A rush sent through you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and dancing with yours as if he had done it a million times before.

You lost yourself almost instantly, the moment both of you had secretly been waiting for was upon you. Now you struggled to hold in the moaning that so desperately wanted to leave your lips. Feeling his bare hand slide up under your habit made you breathless and trembling. Copia and you both moaning, fully unable to hold back as his fingertips met with the wet fabric of your panties.

“Oh amore, I want you. Por favore…Touch me.” he begged, lifting his hips up to send your attention to the swell of his cock below his cassock.

“Oh C!” You moaned, running your hand along on the rigid thick bulge of his pants.Your eyes widened, he was surprisingly well endowed. Your cunt aching so badly with the knowledge that you longed to have him inside you even more.

“Il tuo tocco è inebriante. Oh cazzo spero di poter durare.” Copia mewled, biting down on his lower lip as he slid his fingers past your panties, slipping carefully to meet with the full wetness of your folds. The silky flesh, plump with blood and need, making his cock pulse as he pushed his fingers deep inside. You both moaned once more, Copia stroking you and pressing into your aching cunt with full fervor. You felt yourself gripping the edge of the pew, Your nails digging into the wood as your hips rose up on Copia's hand.

“Amore, I want to be inside you. I need you now please.” Copia whined, unable to stand how good your pussy felt on his fingers. There was no need to rest on ceremony, he couldn’t hold off any longer.

“Take me C, show me how devoted you are to the sin of lust. To our dark God.” You replied, where those particular words had come from you didn't know, as he pulled his fingers from you. The Cardinal dropped his pants and undid his excessive buttons on his cassock. Rushing to get at his heavy, leaking cock as you wiggled out of your panties and leaned over the back of the pew. He pulled up your habit, bent over and ready as you revealed your dripping folds to him.

"Oh sweet Lucifer." Copia said, sucking in his lower lip as he stared at you. “Are you ready cara?” his words, even more strained and overcome with the impulse to fill you.

“Yes! C, please I’m yours!” You cried, looking over your shoulder as you raised up your ass before him, an offering fit for Asmodeus himself. Copia licked his lips, his eyes never leaving your body, as he rubbed his cock through your folds. Once he gathered enough of your slick, the head of his pulsing red cock pushed through and he buried it deep inside you.

“Mmmm…cazzo amore, you feel so good.” Copia groaned, sucking in air through his clenched teeth as he spread you out inside. Thrusting and pumping his hard cock into your warm cunt. You pushed yourself back on to him, allowing him in deeper. He grabbed hold of your thighs, steadying you as he fucked you right there in the chapel. Both of you too overcome with the heated sensations, of him sliding in and out, to care about being caught.

The girth of his cock filled you so tightly. The pressure against your every bundle of nerves, setting you aflame. The way he moved, the feeling of him inside…it was so salacious and unlike anything you'd experienced before. You wondered how the two of you were ever able to abstain before.

Copia pulled you up a bit, your hands still holding on the back of the pew for dear life, as he re-positioned you. “C? Ahhh AHHH!” You screamed, as this new position had him hitting you in just the right spot. Your body, clenching down around his cock and holding tight to him with his every movement.

“I want to be deeper inside you, feel every part of you." Copia panted as he rolled back your hips. The tip of his cock was pressing hard against your ribbed flesh with each thrust. The spot before only you managed to find, somehow the virginal Cardinal had found it within moments. The way it felt to have his cock rubbing you there sent you floating, your soul transcending your body.

You came hard, seizing down on him. Tasting the colors as they flashed by—painted on your eyelids held closed tight. Your mind, completely awash in the sensations felt between you. The rat man had surpassed all expectations sending you to the heights of passion and lust never before imagined.

With each passing moment, things only deepened in intensity. Both of you, clambering for air and struggling to maintain your grip. Quickly losing the strength to keep going but still needing to meet that extremely satisfying and fulfilling end. Copia continued to pump himself into you, the drops of sweat felt as they rolled down the small of your backs.

“Mmm… How? C?” you asked, breathless. Your words, almost incomprehensible as Copia smiled. He pressed his lips to your shoulder and he pounded himself even deeper.

“You bring out the beast in me. I need to fill you. Por favore allow me to cum…I don’t think I can hold it any more.” he growled, his grip tightening as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your ass. Copia losing his coordination with each subsequent thrust, ever so close to letting go.

“Cum C! Make me cum again for you!” You screamed. All of a sudden Copia pulled out from you, the sudden shock the loss of his width inside you short lived as he whipped you around to sit on his lap. You sunk back down on his cock, this time facing him. It was even more intimate and intense, his eyes locked with yours as he began to thrust up inside you, rubbing your clit with his fingers.

Your mouth fell open with his gentle touch. Copia taking his time as you rode him, holding you to slow you down. Both of you delighting in the feeling of you rocking your hips as you slid up and down on his hard shaft.

“Ah…mmm...you feel so good amore. I—I'm cumming, now cum for me!” Copia's words acting as a command, feeling his cock swell inside you. Pressing just enough more to send you over. You saw sparkles in your vision as you felt him begin to cum, the hot ropes of his seed pouring deep inside you. Your cunt squeezing him tightly as he tried to keep moving.

You both let out a final yowl as you road out the fall from your heights of pleasure. When it was all said and done you collapsed into Copia's arms. Sweaty and satisfied, a wide smile pressed on your face. Never before had felt this way and you suddenly wondered where this sweet dorky man had been hiding all this animalistic lust.

Copia broke the quiet come between the two of you as he spoke. “Did…did I do alright?” he asked, his face still flush from release. You looked at him in pure disbelief. Surely this wasn’t a serious question. Was it?

“I don’t want to sound like im being disingenuous or like im making stuff up…” you began swallowing back as you prepared yourself to answer, “C…I—I saw the end of the universe with that orgasm.” you confessed. You felt the words may sound silly but your satisfied, yet sore body was a testament to their truth. The cosmos had opened up to you with his touch. The pleasure he made you feel renewed your soul in ways that only Lucifer himself would be able to put into words, words beyond what you could muster.

“Okie dokie. Thats good then?” he asked, still unsure of himself as he smiled up at you. You couldn't help but break out in laughter. How naive he could be to not realize this. How could he not realize what a sex god he was as you sat in his lap within the pews, covered in sweat and cum from the encounter. Surely he was only joking, but you responded anyway.

“Yes, C…that was definitely good.”

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vesvosmozhno · 8 months ago

Text

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Pairing: Kang Yeosang x GN!Reader

Category: Angst

Word Count: 4k

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, Mentions of car accident, Implications of obsessive/yandere Yeosang, Implications of mental illness, Mentions of mental illness, Mentions of SA, A guy grabs reader's butt (non consensually), Some light suggestive content at the end, Drinking, Mentions of alcohol, Also bullying and yelling, Reader goes through it

Today was so rough.

First, it was your day off. Which sounds great, and it was supposed to be. You started off by going to a cafe to get some coffee. It was cloudy, a beautiful day in your eyes. Maybe it would even rain.

It started going wrong when you turned around and smashed into someone - spilling hot coffee all over both of you. Your victim was a businessman, and he laid into you until you were in tears while the entire cafe watched. Once he stormed out, a group of girls had started laughing at you, calling you stupid and a whole host of other things.

Coffee forgotten, you left the cafe.

Okay. A bad start, but you wouldn't let some jerks ruin your entire day.

About ten minutes after settling into your couch with your favorite book, your boss called. Your coworker was sick again, and you had to cover.

At least it was extra money.

Already exhausted from your bad morning and lack of coffee, you dutifully rushed to work.

A mistake.

The tiny restaurant was packed. And as soon as you walked in, your boss had other things to do. You didn't have a break as you tried to appease everyone, and the wait times from one person working made everyone cranky.

More than a few customers yelled at you, some made unnecessary comments on your appearance or brain function, and one stupid guy decided he had a right to grab your ass.

By the time you were halfway through your shift, you were already planning on spending your break crying.

Except you couldn't even have that! As soon as you mentioned it to your boss - he had no one to cover your break. You couldn't leave customers to wait, you just had to grin and bear it.

So you did. All grueling six hours of seemingly non stop abuse, until you got to flip the open sign and clean the dining area.

As soon as the last table was wiped down, you were out the door, not letting your boss make you handle his problems, too.

You practically collapsed at the back of the store - exhausted, starving, and sobbing as you let the weight of the day crush you.

A single day, and all this fuss.

“Sweetheart?”

You instantly perked up at the familiar voice, and even though you were a crying mess, you grinned upon seeing his familiar face. So soft, and kind, bathed in the lights of the building, just gorgeous and perfect.

“Yeosang,” You wiped some of your tears, already feeling better before he sat next to you on the curb.

“That's me. Why are you sitting on the curb crying, hun?” He asked, reaching out to brush your disheveled hair behind your ear.

“Bad day.” You groaned, dropping your head onto your arms that wrapped around your knees. Yeosang was always there for you, right when you needed him. Which had you squinting as you looked back at him through tears. “What are you doing here? I didn't text.”

“I came to pick you up from work. I always do, remember?” He asked. You frowned.

“I didn't work today. I just got called in…” You pouted. Yeosang smiled at you slightly, looking embarrassed.

“Ah, it must be a habit, then. You'll have to text me when you have a day off from now on. We can hang out that way, too.” He suggested. You couldn't help but smile, you always trusted him and he never gave you a reason not to.

Some would call him eccentric, maybe even obsessive.

Your chat log was a long wall of messages from you, he never responded - he didn't like to text. Instead, when you were having a hard time, he just dropped everything and showed up. Like you were his entire life. Maybe it was concerning, but… It was a devotion you honestly needed. You needed to feel cared for and important, and Yeosang gave you exactly that.

“Did you eat anything?” He asked. You sighed, shaking your head. There was just no time to. He stood up, delicately dusting off his pants in a way that came off as childish and cute before he offered you his hand. You let him pull you up. “Let's go somewhere, and you can tell me about your day, okay?”

The two of you walked under the streetlights, making it to a small diner right as it started raining. You ran towards it, the both of you laughing, though Yeosang was slower. You wheezed softly as you entered, trying to calm your laughter and appear sane and rational as you faced the diner hostess. Which was impossible - you were laughing, having obviously been crying, your hair an absolute mess and there were remnants of food on your clothes.

“Table for one?” She asked, and you sheepishly smiled at the weird look she was giving you. Oh, you must have looked like a psychopath.

“Two, actually.” You told her, and she nodded as she led you to a table.

“Drinks?” She asked.

“Oh, uhm…” You eyed the menu quickly. You grinned as you thought it would be hilarious to mess with Yeosang. “One couple’s milkshake.”

“Sure.” She walked off, right as Yeosang made it into the diner. Despite being the only one there, you still waved him over. He grinned as he slid into the booth across from you, completely dry despite the rain that had even gotten you damp.

“Did you order for us?” He asked, and you nodded, trying to hide your smirk. That was another thing about him - he had some aversion to people. He didn't like to talk to people, he never interacted with them or even looked at anyone when the two of you were together. You always ordered for him when you got food. “Good. Now, tell me about your day.”

You told Yeosang everything - from the cafe to your boss to the stupid customer that assaulted you. He was frowning, and he looked mad about the last part.

“Give me a description, I'll make sure that guy never touches you again.” Yeosang said darkly, but you just shook your head.

“It's okay, Sangie, really. It was one stupid guy. I'll live.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he pouted at you.

“But it shouldn't have even been one. I'll make sure he and all his friends know that you're off limits.” He stubbornly crossed his arms, and you giggled.

Before the conversation could continue, the hostess set a large milkshake in front of the two of you, two straws sticking out of it. You thanked her, stifling a laugh when you looked back at Yeosang. He was staring at you blankly, clearly unamused by your little joke.

“Aren't you hungry, Yeosang?” You asked, grinning wickedly as you took a sip from the straw aimed at you.

“Hilarious.” He spoke flatly, but he sat forward to take a sip, anyway. You just grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him as you both drank the milkshake.

The conversation was much better after that. You talked about whatever, it didn't matter, the two of you being together was all that you cared about.

After a good hour of sitting there, Yeosang excused himself to the restroom.

He was the best thing to happen to you.

You remembered when you first met him, a familiar pang of hurt crashing through your chest at the memory.

You had just gotten the worst news of your life. Your best friend since childhood was dead, a car accident that took his life. He was all you had - your everything, and he was ripped away from you.

You were walking home from work late at night in the pouring rain, focused on keeping warm in your thin jacket that did nothing to keep you dry. Then, a phone call, and something told you to answer. So you did.

His parents. Calling to tell you the news.

Your entire world stopped. All you could do was stutter out some half assed apology and thank you before you ended the call and checked the news with shaking hands. It had to be a lie - but it wasn't.

He was gone.

You screamed in the middle of the empty street, sobbing uncontrollably.

You were alone, truly alone, and the world was too heavy, threatening to crush you at any moment. You wished it would.

But then, a soothing voice, arms pulling you into a hug and it felt so much like him. For a second, nothing was real. It was your best friend, still alive, holding you tightly and shielding you from everything.

Once you calmed down, you felt embarrassed when you realized it wasn't your friend, but in fact, a complete stranger that had hugged you while you sobbed on a street corner.

He had just smiled at you, telling you it was okay. Everything would be okay.

He ended up sitting on the curb with you while you told him what happened, and then broke down again. He didn't leave, he didn't call you a freak. He asked you to tell him your happy memories of your friend. And you did, and it helped.

After a few hours in the rain, he told you to get home before you froze, but not before he gave you his number.

“I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

It took you two weeks to text him. You had a rough morning - a new job where your boss wasn't kind or patient at all, making you feel stupid as you tried to learn. The stranger kept his promise - he was there.

Now, looking at the hallway he had disappeared down, you felt so lucky to have him.

“Are you ready to pay?” You looked up at the hostess, smiling as you nodded.

“Yes, I'm ready.” You fished around for your card.

“I'm sorry about your date, Hun.” You looked up, blinking in confusion at the hostess as you processed what she said. What did Yeosang do? Besides, he wasn't even your date.

“Oh, he's not my date, he's my friend.” You told her, and she looked sympathetic as you handed over your card.

“Some friend.” She muttered as she walked away.

You frowned. Was the two of you talking and laughing for an hour not a good friendship? Maybe she thought he ditched you when he went to the bathroom. That had to be it. But, even if he was taking a while, he definitely wouldn't ditch you.

You looked at the milkshake as you took another drink - there was still a lot left. You weren't one to waste food, but you couldn't drink that much by yourself. Yeosang had been drinking it too, there really shouldn't have been that much left between the two of you. He was probably just not drinking that much.

It was shortly after the hostess returned with your card that Yeosang finally returned to the table.

The two of you left, bidding the hostess goodnight, and Yeosang walked you all the way home in the pouring rain.

You stood outside of your door, filled with nothing but joy and satisfaction as you looked at him.

“Thank you, Sangie. You're the best.” You told him.

“Of course. I'll always be here for you.” He reminded you.

You grinned, then leaned in to kiss his cheek before you were rushing into your apartment. It was just a friendly kiss - it didn't mean anything. You had no idea why you were blushing like a kid over it.

You didn't see Yeosang again for almost a week, your texts unanswered as always.

At the end of the week, your good days had run out again. This time it was the dreaded text from your mother, reminding you of the holidays and needing to come home.

Come home to be judged and picked apart by your entire extended family for a night.

No thanks.

But that was never an answer for her, you would have to go. Like you did every year.

You were consumed by anxiety as you flopped onto your couch. Without much thought, you texted Yeosang. Not even five minutes later there was a knock on your door, and you opened it to find the man in question.

“How did you get here so fast?” You asked as you let him inside.

“I was shopping nearby.” He told you, and you raised an eyebrow at his lack of purchases, but you said nothing. You trusted him. Maybe he threw down what he was going to buy just to get here quicker. He made himself at home on your couch, and you sat next to him. “Tell me what happened.”

You had told him your family situation before, so at the mere mention of your mother and the holidays, he knew. The two of you were now brainstorming revenge or a way out.

“What if I show up and then just leave after a few minutes?” You questioned. You were currently laying on the couch, your head in Yeosang’s lap and your feet propped up on the armrest.

“She’ll probably try to stop you.” Yeosang replied.

“Well, I'll just fake being sick.” That would probably fool her - she wouldn't want someone sick at her holiday party.

“What if she tampers with your car the second you get there? Or locks you in and doesn't let you leave? What if she doesn't care that you're sick?” You paused at Yeosang’s rambling, feeling more hopeless by the second. You personally didn't think your mother was that crazy. You sighed.

“Can I just not exist to her anymore?” You muttered. Yeosang chuckled, running a hand through your hair. You relaxed into the touch, it felt so nice to have him massaging your scalp and playing with your hair.

“Well, you'd have to change your name, move, get a new phone. A lot of trouble to avoid a holiday dinner, don't you think?” He asked. You looked up at him, pouting.

“You're the one saying she'll kidnap me!” You protested, but he just chuckled at you again.

“I didn't say it wasn't worth the trouble.” He corrected. You skeptically raised an eyebrow. He was so conflicting with himself today. “Have you eaten today?”

“I forgot…” You muttered. In your defense, your mother texted you at nine in the morning, and you spent the rest of the day panicking before you called for Yeosang. “Wanna order something?”

“What if we went out?” He asked instead.

“I don't know, Sangie… I'm tired. I don't really wanna go out.” You threw an arm over your eyes, not wanting to see him disappointed. You knew you would do anything for him, especially if he gave you that look.

“Come on, it'll be fun. We'll only stay for a bit, yeah?” You sighed, still not looking at him. But your plan to resist wasn't working, and you bit your lip before giving in and nodding.

That was how you ended up in a pretty nice outfit, leaning against the bar in a loud club. You were holding your favorite drink, the drink you'd ordered for Yeosang sitting on the bar next to where his back was pressed to the bar. He watched the crowd while you quietly sipped your drink.

You just weren't feeling it, but maybe you wanted to be there for him for once. He did so much for you, you would do this one thing for him.

On your third drink, you weren't totally drunk, but definitely buzzed. The music was getting too loud, now.

You turned your head to the source of obnoxious giggling. A group of three girls and two guys staring at you, laughing.

You raised an eyebrow. The hell were they laughing at?

“Sangie,” You turned to him, the group laughing harder. “What's up with them?”

He looked over at them, then shrugged.

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked. He leaned in to inspect your face, and your heart rate picked up. Even more so when he placed his hand on your cheek and wiped the corner of my mouth. You blamed the alcohol.

“Not anymore.” He told you, but he didn't move his hand from your cheek. That's what they had been laughing at for sure.

You pulled away from the touch, clearing your throat. You didn't want to have these reactions to your best friend. He was a friend. And a damn good one, sure… But still just a friend.

“I'm going to the bathroom.” He told you, and you nodded. It was odd, especially since his drink was still full. You moved it next to yours, intent on keeping your friend safe while he was away. You wouldn't question him, you trusted him.

The group started laughing again, and you turned to them with a glare.

“Who comes to a club alone?” One of them whispered.

You weren't alone. You were with Yeosang - had they not seen him? No. They had to have seen him. They were just looking for any reason to bully you, now.

You threw the rest of your drink back and ordered another one, downing it before Yeosang came back.

“Ready to go, hun?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist. You nodded, the alcohol making your brain a bit fuzzy.

Instead of guiding you to the doors, his body moved closer to yours. His chest pressed to your back, his hands on your hips, his lips right next to your ear - it was driving you crazy.

He must have been feeling the same way, with how his hands firmly held you in place while his lips brushed over your neck, down to your shoulder.

“Yeosang…” You mumbled, but it came out breathy, almost a moan of his name.

“What, my pretty?” He whispered, and you well and truly lost it. You tried to gather the last remnants of your sanity as you turned around to face him. It took everything in your power not to jump him right there.

“What are you doing?” You asked instead. He leaned in until your foreheads pressed together, giving you an intense, yet soft look.

“Taking care of you.” He replied. He leaned in more, your lips touching and you immediately melted into the kiss. You had been wanting this for so long now, you couldn't remember a time when you hadn't. Yeosang initiating it just made it better. It wasn't some stupid fantasy - he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You let him control the kiss, taking care of you like he said. It was everything you ever fantasized about.

When you broke apart, both of you breathing heavily, he smiled softly at you, squeezing your hips.

“Let's go home.” He told you, and you just nodded, your mind still hazy from the kiss and the feelings and the alcohol.

He held your hand tightly as he led you to the door of the club, out into the streets. It was cold, but he held you close to him. It didn't really help, but the thought was appreciated.

You were happily walking in a content silence when you glanced up at him.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You asked. He looked down at you, smiling.

“You don't have to deserve me. I'll be here regardless.” He told you, and you couldn't help but smile back. Everything was so serene, so perfect.

“I love you, Yeosang.” The words were out before you could stop them, and you didn't regret them at all. Especially not when he hummed a response.

“I love you, too.”

Yes. Your world was perfect.

The blaring of police sirens took you away from that perfect world, and you spun around less than gracefully to see a cop car pulling up beside you, the streets flashing with red and blue. The door opened, and a cop got out. He was tall, intimidating, but his face was kind underneath the sharp edges.

“Had a bit to drink?” He asked, and you dumbly nodded, wondering why cops would stop you in the middle of the street. “It's dangerous to be out walking alone.”

You frowned.

“I'm not alone.” You said, turning to look at Yeosang - only to find him gone. You stopped, looking around the street. You were so confused. Where had he gone? How did he even have time to go anywhere? Why would he leave you? “Hey, Yeosang?”

Your voice echoed around the streets, but there was no response.

“Yeosang, this isn't funny!” You shouted. The cop looked around, too, then sighed. He leaned back into the car.

“Kim, we've got a special case. Call for psych, let ‘em know we're coming.” You froze at his words, glaring at him.

“Hello?” His head popped back over the roof of the car. “I may be drunk, but I'm not psycho! Just - help me find my friend. He's around here somewhere, playing a prank or something - Yeosang!”

You turned your back on the cops, walking a bit further down the street, confusion turning to frustration to worry. Where did Yeosang go?

“Hey,” A hand grabbed your arm. You turned, frowning at the officer. Park, his name badge read. “Come on. Get in the car, okay?”

“No! I need to find my friend.” You pulled your arm away, stumbling back. As you lost your balance, he reached out again to catch you. He was giving you a firm look, laced with concern.

“When did you last see your friend?” He asked.

“Just a minute ago! He was with me right before you stopped me!” You protested. He paused, and then sighed. He took a step back, but still kept a hand on your back to keep you from running.

“Look, we've been following you for ten minutes. There was no one with you.” He told you. It was all so absurd, you laughed.

“Okay, you're crazy. That's impossible, my friend has been with me this whole time.” The look he gave you was sympathetic.

“Get in the car. Let us help you.” He told you, his tone gentle.

“Help me find him, right?” You asked. You were just worried now, wanting Yeosang to be okay. You couldn't lose another friend.

The officer grimly nodded. You got into the back of the cop car. There was a second officer in the passenger seat - a short man with bleached blond hair.

They drove around the area a few times, and you frowned as none of the passersby were Yeosang.

You pulled out your phone, texting him. No response. You called… Straight to voicemail.

"The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service."

You laughed at the automated message. No doubt a prank from Yeosang to scare you if you ever tried to call him. A prank that took three years to pay off. There was no way the number was actually deactivated - you texted him all the time.

“Do you have a message history with this person?” Officer Park asked.

You almost nodded, then stopped as you looked at the wall of messages that were only from you. There must have been a time when he actually sent you a message.

You started scrolling up. And up and up and up… You didn't realize how far you had scrolled until you finally saw a message from the other party.

Three years ago.

Still up for pizza tonight?

Your response sent an icy shock through your body.

Course, wouldn't miss it for the world, pooks.

You only ever called one person that.

Your best friend, who had been killed in an accident the next day. It was your last message to him.

You quickly tapped on the contact that read Sangie, bringing up the actual number. Your best friend’s number.

You sat up bolt straight, staring at your phone in horror.

How the hell had you been texting Yeosang through your dead best friend’s number - a number that was supposedly deactivated?

Then, it hit you.

The group at the bar. They said you were there alone.

The lady at the diner. Talking to you like your date hadn't showed up.

The unfinished milkshake.

Always showing up immediately when you needed him.

The shopping he obviously hadn't been doing.

The texts he never responded to.

You couldn't help the startled sob that fell out of your lips.

Yeosang, your friend of three years, the man you had just confessed your love to.

He wasn't real.

Strangers to Friends to Lovers to Imaginary Friend is so real

Tagging @halavibe and @wooyoungisbaby bc u guys seemed interested

#yeosang x reader #ateez #yeosang #fanfiction #reader insert #yeosang angst #ateez angst

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notanne-atall · 20 days ago

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Burn in flames | Chilumi drabble

. . . .

The Abyss took everything from Teyvat's most bloodthirsty warrior. His innocence, the sparkle in his eyes, his sanity, his peaceful nights, and now, his beloved. The only light that gave some meaning to his agonizing existence.

Lumine perished in the arms of the eleventh Fatui Harbinger, two months after her wedding at Snezhnaya's Palace. Not even the protection of an entire army could stop the arrival of darkness to the Cryo nation. He lost the only person who had been able to control the heavy abyssal power within his soul.

Lumine was unique in Teyvat; her celestial power was slowly extinguishing the dangerous dark flame that had tormented Ajax since he was fourteen. And not only that, but she took over his heart without even trying. The bright light that emanated from her strong spirit and kind heart enamored young Ajax until she was never out of his mind. Lumine was everything to him. His comrade, his lover, his reason for calling Teyvat 'home'.

She was everything. And the abyss took /everything/ from Ajax.

Now all he had left of her was the blood that dripped from his hands when he refused to let her go. He clung to her body as if he still held out hope that she would open her eyes and say "I love you" again. What happened next was the embodiment of pain shedding from his body with each passing day without the light that kept him sane. The trembling of his hands and the incessant heartbeat were the living sign of the abyss rotting his soul from the inside out.

"L-Lumine... Lumi..."

Ajax implored the heavens to return the beautiful star to which he was devoted; he begged to see the love of his life again, to feel her in his arms and to hear her laugh one last time. He wanted to exchange his life for hers… but nothing happened. Just pain. Darkness. Wrath. His weak body could no longer bear the fierce energy of the abyss fighting for corrupting his body and wrapping him in the dark to which he feared him.

"My love… Lumine..." He murmured before he kneel at her portrait on the wall.

The voices in his head were increasingly noisy and his own strength faded with each breath of air. Ajax was losing the battle. Without the voice of his sweet Lumine, fighting to survive no longer seemed to make sense. If she was no longer here… why keep pretending?

It cost him an agonizing scream to realize that the only reason to continue was to take revenge. And for this, he had to embrace the darkness inside him, Take advantage of it, use it as his weapon to get to the real culprit of all this: the prince.

Ajax died with Lumine, but Tartaglia was more alive than ever and with a thirst for revenge impossible to satisfy. Lumine's painting in front of him was the muse that would inspire each stab. The pain of his loss was now the flame that turned on his most primitive anger.

"My love... just wait a little longer, and we will together again," his purple eyes illuminated when the force of the abyss finally toured his veins with total freedom.

A tender caress to the face of his beloved in the painting was his last action that denoted his vulnerability; The last trace of Ajax in the wrath storm in which Tartaglia became. Take a hero's beloved from him, and he will carry on to protect his world. But take a villain's beloved from him, and he will make sure the world burns in flames.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

This drabble is based in this beautiful art made by my boyfriend, go see it in twt!!

Now I have a bluesky acc aside twitter, so u can find me there as @/cutieanne

#ajax #childe #chilumi #genshin #genshin impact #lumine #fanfic #tartaglia #my writing #my fanfic #drabble #one shot

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rhondafromhr · 5 months ago

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First little snippet of the ‘Grace is in the church of the starry children’ AU

It’s mostly Brenda pining for her tbh, we’ll get more into the plot in the next installment, hope y’all enjoy! Also, thanks again to @aroace-elgyem for the idea <3

Summary: In one timeline, Grace and her family are still highly devoted to their religion, but they worship entirely different Gods (or, rather, Lords) and have to be a little more hush-hush about it. Her old family friend, Uncle Wiley, brings her two special gifts for her eighteenth birthday: a cool, authentic vintage denim jacket from the eighties and her very own copy of the black book. She promises to use it sparingly until she’s older and she’s had more practice, but when Brenda, the pretty cheerleader at school with an obvious crush on her, confides in her that she’d do anything to get back her sister who disappeared, Grace decides to make an exception for her.

Grace eagerly springs out of bed the second her alarm goes off. Most days, she’d be a little more reluctant to leave her warm, cozy sheets and fight the temptation to hit the snooze button a few times, but today’s not just any day. She’s turning eighteen and her parents promised her that this is the year she can finally help Mr. Murray out with the Honey queen pageant. They reluctantly agreed to let her last year, but she didn’t get to do anything cool or important. Under strict orders from her parents not to let her do anything too intense, Mr. Murray pawned Grace off on Mrs. Monroe, who pawned a bunch of busywork off on her. This year’s going to be different, though. She’s eighteen now. She’s an adult and that means she finally gets to help with the actual pageant and witness the super important ritual that happens afterwards.

She takes a scalding hot shower and does her usual morning routine, getting dressed and putting on one of the two pairs of pants she owns with a texture she can tolerate, a faded black pair of jeans. She decides she wants to look nice today, it being her birthday and her very first day as a proper adult and all, and layers a white collared shirt underneath a black cable-knit sweater. By the time she gets downstairs for breakfast, her parents are waiting there for her with the biggest smiles on their faces and a fresh cup of coffee with her name on it.

“Morning, Gracie,” says her mother “happy birthday! Oh, our little girl’s all grown up, can you believe it, Mark?”

“I can’t, mother,” he replies, beaming with pride as he looks upon his daughter “seems like just yesterday, she was saying her first word! Oh, have we ever told you that story, Grace?”

She rolls her eyes, but she does so with a smile.

“Yeah, dad, only, like, a million times!”

She knows it by heart now. The two had a running bet. Her mother was certain that her first word would be some variation of “mama”, while her father was convinced it would be “dada”. Neither of them ended up winning. Her first word was, in fact, “Wiggog Y’wrath” and they were both shocked and delighted at how clever their baby girl was to learn and pronounce such a difficult, but important word. She sits down at the table and takes her first sip of the piping hot, perfectly brewed beverage. Her mother slides a plate in front of her. She even gets funfetti pancakes today! So far, this birthday is off to a great start.

“Make sure you drink your water, too,” her mother gently reminds her “all that coffee is going to dehydrate you!”

“I will, Mama,” she says. She always makes sure to bring a small water bottle with her in her backpack.

“Oh, Wilbur, called,” Mark says.

“Uncle Wiley?” Grace says excitedly “what did he say?” He’s been a beloved family friend as long as Grace can remember. He really is like an uncle to her. He doesn’t get to stop by very often, but when he does, he always tells Grace that she has a lot of potential and she’s going to go on to do important things when she’s older. He also always brings her apples for whatever reason. She doesn’t get why he likes them so much and she herself has never been partial to them, but she gratefully accepts them, just happy that he thought of her even when he’s busy with such important work. Sometimes, she and her mother bake them into apple pies.

“Well, he has an important meeting today, but if he can get out soon enough, he wants to stop by to see you tonight.”

Grace hopes he can make it. If her parents still put up a fight about the Honey Queen thing, he can surely help convince them.

She checks her phone and realizes that if she doesn’t hurry, she’s going to be late for school. She collects her daily hug from her father and kiss from her mother and heads out the door.

She parks her beaten up, but beloved two-door sedan that’s a few years older than her and heads inside. She doesn’t have much time to waste getting to class, but stops when sees Brenda standing by the front entrance, waving to her and smiling eagerly. Brenda’s one of the few people at school who actually willingly talks to her. Most of her fellow students side-eye Grace and avoid her as much as possible, others whisper about her behind her back and barely conceal their judgmental looks and laughter. It doesn’t bother her. She doesn’t need the approval of ignorant people who don’t know what’s good for them or the town or the world, anyway. Still, she can’t deny that it’s sweet that Brenda goes out of her way to be genuinely nice to her. She supposes she can spare a minute to chat with her. She doesn’t want to be rude.

“Hi, Grace,” she says with a nervous laugh “so weird running into you here! I was just waiting for, um, Stacy. Yeah! Hey, it’s your birthday, right? Happy Birthday! I actually have a little something for you. Nothing special, but, uh yeah.”

She hands over one of those bottled coffee drinks and a small box. Grace opens it to find a navy blue scrunchie with tiny birds printed all over it.

“They’re Nighthawks,” Brenda explains with a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, thank you, Brenda,” Grace says, studying the object and fiddling with it in her hands. “That’s really sweet.” She’s not sure what to do with it. Her hair’s on the shorter side and she rarely styles it, but Brenda did go to all the trouble of getting it for her. She settles on pulling half of her hair into a ponytail and using the scrunchie to secure it in place.

“Oh, cute,” Brenda says “I’m glad you like it! Oh, I should get to class, I’ll see you later, okay? Happy birthday!” She blurts out the words a little too quickly and promptly turns and speedwalks away. Grace guesses she changed her mind about meeting up with Stacy.

Brenda tries to regulate the pounding in her heart as she walks to class, in disbelief that she actually managed it. She overcame her nerves long enough to talk to Grace and give her the gift. She seemed to like it, too! It took forever to settle on what to get her. She didn’t want it to be too nothing, but she also didn’t want to go overboard and scare Grace off. She might be super down bad for Grace if she’s being totally honest with herself, but Grace doesn’t need to know that. At least not yet. They’ve only really talked a handful of times when Brenda’s worked up the courage to chat with her in the hallway or ask to borrow a pencil in one of their shared classes. It’d be weird to get her a super extravagant gift, as much as Brenda wanted to. She annoyed Stacy to no end, forcing her to pore over endless options and help her decide. Eventually, Stacy sent her the link to the scrunchie and messaged her, girl I love you but its 3am, just fucking get this and let me go to bed, we have school in the morning!!

By the time she joins her friends at the lunch table, she’s still buzzing.

“Hey, Brenda,” Kyle says “heard you talked to Chasity today. Didn’t know you were into serial killers.” He’s trying to act all tough and macho, but a genuine sort of hurt underlies it. Brenda almost feels bad, but she really can’t help if she doesn’t like him back.

“Shut up, Kyle,” she says “she is not a serial killer. Just because she’s quiet and aloof and mysterious and probably has dark secrets doesn’t make her a serial killer.” Brenda feels her face heating up. It might not make her a serial killer, but it does make her really, really cool and intriguing and hot. “And it’s not like we were making out!” If only. “I’m not into her like that!” Lies. “I just wanted to give her a birthday present.”

“Yeah, shut up, Kyle,” Max says, shooting a threatening look his way “how many fuckin’ times do I have to tell you, Grace Chasity is off limits. Do you want her to overhear?” He shudders, apprehensively eyeing the table across the cafeteria where she’s seated with the sweaty anime geek and a few other egregiously uncool people.

Most people at school are a little weary of Grace, but Max is downright terrified of her. However hard he tries to hide it, it’s pretty obvious. It didn’t take long for some of the nerds he torments on the regular to figure this out and start clamoring to sit with her at lunch. Even they seem to find her a little weird and off-putting, but they know he won’t approach if she’s there and they’ll get to enjoy their food in peace. Grace doesn’t really talk to them much. Whenever Brenda totally coincidentally walks by their table, Grace is brooding and silent, either with her face buried in a book or scribbling furiously in a notebook, seemingly engrossed in her own world and totally unaware of them rambling about their favorite Pokémon or whatever. Brenda sighs dreamily. She’s so cool.

Stacy turns to Brenda with a skeptically raised eyebrow and saying, “So, you’re not into her, but you somehow knew today’s her birthday even though you guys, like, barely talk? And made certain friends spend hours picking out that gift?”

“Hey,” says Brenda “I make it a point to know everybody’s birthday.”

“Really? When’s mine,” says Kyle. She scrunches her face up, struggling to remember.

“I wanna say…sometime in June?” Kyle shakes his head, looking slightly crestfallen.

Brenda cringes, feeling a twinge of genuine guilt for getting it wrong. Max snickers, delighted as always at seeing Kyle get shot down.

“March twelfth, right, buddy?” Jason says and Kyle’s lips curl into a faint smile. Brenda makes a mental note of that date so she doesn’t end up in this situation again. She really should start tracking everyone’s birthdays.

#you know the timeline is fucked when Grace doesn’t have her pink Schwinn with the ooga horn #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #grace chasity #brenda npmd #max jagerman #halocheer #grace/brenda #max is mainly tagged for tag blocking purposes bc I know a lot of people have him blacklisted #he literally has two lines

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the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes · 5 months ago

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𝒜 𝒮𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝒟𝑒𝓋𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝐵𝑒 𝒯𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒮𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓁𝓎 (A TDoaTE and AMD Crossover smutfic)

Pairing: M!OC (Harry James, first born son of Carla James from A Mother's Devotion) x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Story Summary: In an AU for both AMD and TDoaTE, Theia would have arrived at the hotel on Rosie's behest, but instead of falling in love with her Alastor, a different Alastor, one with a far more sinister shadow, would reside at the hotel, and beside him, a perky, chipper, and seemingly young doe-like woman had decided to play house. She decided upon first glance that like all the wayward residents at the hotel, that Theia, too, needs a mother figure, and Theia, dealing with parental abandonment issues and running away from home along with a bounty of secrets, decides to indulge her want for this if nothing else than so she can have a mother who loves her. One day, Harry, her eldest son, along with four of his brothers, arrive at the hotel. He's terse, he's taciturn, and he's incredibly tall---nearly twice her height. Life continues, and she begins to notice him, tries to get to know him, but nothing works. He refuses to open up to her. Until out of nowhere, he starts getting furious and bitter when anyone approaches. Anyone and everyone, except, inexplicably, her.

Word Count: 8.2k Authors: @home-for-wayward-fawns and I co-wrote this, and you can find A Mother's Devotion on his blog, or up-to-date on AO3 here.

Warnings: Cannibalism, Tentacles, Biting, Blood, Obsessive Behavior, minor spoilers for TDoaTE

Pre-Story A/N from Sera: Sorry for those dutifully waiting on Chapter 39 of TDoaTE; I promise I will have it up soon. This little bug of an idea has been in my head for months now, as I co-write AMD with it's author. I know the entire plot to AMD, and have been a simp for Harry since the idea of him emerged, so of course we got to talking about an AU where Theia is a part of Carla's life, deemed one of her children. Harry never falls in love in AMD, but in this shared universe, she and Harry would be perfect together. The following is the day the two of them give in to their feelings. It is almost entirely PURE SMUT and a delight to read, if I do say so myself. Enjoy!

When Theia first met Harry, he was cold and aloof. He rarely spoke, unless he thought it crucial, and even then, it was terse, to the point. He was like that with everyone, even his own brothers, and it struck her that he tolerated them more than got along. It was if it was expected of him more than anything else. He stuck to his mother Carla like glue, determined to stand between her and anyone else who got too close, constantly watching out for danger, determined to keep her from any perceived threat. He never laughed at her jokes; she tried so hard to get him to crack a smile at her puns—her absolutely terrible puns—but nothing worked; if he even reacted, it was just a raised eyebrow or a small eye roll before he made his way out of her line of sight.

Lately, he'd been more fire than ice. She had seen Harry stalking around the hotel, all growls and irritation, clearly upset about something. He’d been rude to everyone, snapping at Niffty for being underfoot, starting fights with Husk more often than usual, and just generally being on edge. She swore he’d nearly bit Angel’s head off just because they were having a conversation at the bar. She hadn’t been drinking, had sworn off whiskey long ago to appease Carla, but sitting with Angel had become a passtime nevertheless. She’d just sighed and got up to go to the kitchen, deciding that it wasn’t worth the bother to try and ask him again why he was in such a foul mood.

It had only gotten worse as the days continued on, Harry seemingly being irked by every little thing. Snapping at one of his brothers for lingering in the kitchen for too long when she was preparing a snack, or barking at a different one for leaving a perceived mess on the lounge floor. He’d appeared ready to bite another one’s heads off because he didn’t appreciate ‘his stench’ lingering in the halls. Each and every time, she would watch as his brothers backed off, cowering their heads in submission to the eldest of the Gill boys. One would expect this to appease Harry, but it didn’t; it seemed to only make him worse—he wanted a fight. So he started picking fights with Alastor—someone who wouldn’t hold back after being disrespected— and while it had never been in front of Carla, she somehow always managed to find them to pull Harry away by the ear. Perfect Harry, the perfect son, snapping and snarling with a rage uncharacteristic of him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t go to Carla for help, why he would growl at everyone—everyone but her. For being so standoffish for so long, it had suddenly turned sweet, suddenly almost doting of all things.

He’d been spending more time around her, time she hadn’t expected, asking about her day, standing closer to her than usual. She noticed his gaze seemed to follow her everywhere she went, and his sudden attention—focus—confused her.

She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, waking in the middle of the night, so she’d woken up late, too late for breakfast. She’d gone downstairs to make herself something, but as she did so, she noticed that Carla’s usual spread had been devoured, nothing left but crumbs. There was no one left in the dining room, no one but Harry.

He appeared to be staring into space, eyes unfocused as if lost in thought. She approached him quietly, cautiously, and when she was a few steps away from him, she asked in almost a whisper, “Harry, are you alright?” Seeming to right himself in an instant, his gaze snapped up to hers, his face still that always indifferent expression. “Of course.” He replied dismissively, before immediately asking, “Have you eaten?”

She winced as she shook her head. “I stayed up too late last sight and slept in this morning. I was just going to make myself something quick since everything’s already been eaten.” He raised an eyebrow at first, as if confused, then after a moment, he decided, “Sit. I’ll make you breakfast.” He stood then, and she was once again reminded of how tall he was, towering over her at nearly double her own height. She blinked, all twenty-nine eyes fluttering in surprise. He pulled out a chair for her to sit, and she did so, craning her head up to meet his gaze. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, Harry. Thank you.”

He nodded and left for the kitchen. She blinked again, puzzled at his choice of action, and stared down into the eyes on her dress. The eyes stared back. She hadn’t known he could cook, not really—certainly not enough to make her a meal—but perhaps it had been something he’d picked up from his mother. Closing her own, opened the eyes in the kitchen and watched his movements. He seemed to know what he was doing, taking out the tools and ingredients he’d need to prepare her something special—taking care to collect a jar of eyes she hadn’t noticed before, as if he’d gone out of his way to find them himself—and pluck a few green ones from inside. He didn’t even flinch, barely even blinked, as he tossed them into the pan to cook them, and it made her smile. He started on the coffee as the eyes cooked, and she saw him drop a pair of brown ones inside her personalized mug. When had he taken notice of her habits, known she preferred to cook with green, that brown went into her coffee? What else had he paid attention to, observed and taken note?

When it was done, he plated the cooked eyes, turned off the stove, and filled her mug with coffee. As he left the kitchen for the dining room again, she closed the ones in the kitchen and opened her own once more.

As he set the food before her, she smiled up at him, asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm always okay; I'm Perfect Harry; didn't you know?" He said it in a comforting tone, but his empty expression didn’t match it. There was something darker in his eyes, something different than the usual blood thirst for which he ached. He was standing next to her, as he so often was these days, always looming over her, as if trying to show off how big and strong hea was, as if he needed her to know.

She just chuckled as she took a bite of the eyes he brought her, sipped her coffee with a smile. "How could I ever forget? It's not as if Carla doesn't always remind me. Thank you again for the food, Harry. It's awfully thoughtful of you."

He didn't tell her that he liked just being Harry, that she didn't feel the need to remind him constantly how perfect he was, but she knew it to be true. She knew his mother din't mean to put so much pressure on him; knew Carla loved him, but she knew how exhausting it must be having to be perfect all the time. She knew he had five brothers because of Carla’s little mantra she would repeat when she was upset. One of them—Peter, along with Poppy, her only daughter— weren’t around, but Theia assumed they were both in Heaven, happy and carefree with a life far less complicated than her own. With four other brothers around, it struck her as odd that all the weight of Carla’s expectations always fell to him. It was easy for her to just let him be himself—just Harry—when he was around, and lately, it seemed as if that’s all he wanted, to simply exist in her presence.

"I like watching you eat, knowing that I was the one who made it for you." He told her simply, and there was a thickness in the air as he let the words fall. Standing all the while, he watched her as she ate. It wasn’t unexpected; he was just like that to her, looming and watching, and she was okay with it. It was an intense gaze that didn't falter until she let out a pleased sigh, taking bites and sipping her coffee. His entire body relaxed, looking like the pup who’d received the praise it craved. While his posture loosened, he still watched her—always watched her—something she’d almost come to expect.

He watched as she chewed, and she noticed as his gaze followed her movements, focusing on the way her sharp teeth bite into the eyeballs she suspected he harvested himself with her specifically in mind. The look in his gaze told of a story she couldn’t read yet, one she craved to know. As a keeper of secrets, Theia knew that Harry had quite a few, despite his aloof demeanor. Just as he knew she had many, she had a strong impulse to learn what he deemed so important as to keep them from his own mother. For instance, when had he learned how to prepare eyeballs so well? It certainly wasn’t a skill she would have taught him.

Theia smiled softly and continued to eat. It was delicious. Despite all of Carla's complaints about her children never learning how to cook, he must have gotten some kind of advice somewhere, for it was some of the best she'd ever had. She raised an eyebrow as she sipped her coffee again. "This is delicious. I didn't know you could cook. Eyes can be quite temperamental."

"I don't typically enjoy cooking, but I know enough to get by. I cooked for Mama when it got harder for her towards the end. I'd happily cook for you more often if it's what you desire." He looked down at her as he said the word, his gaze unfaltering as she ate.

She blushed softly and continued to eat. For a moment she was stunned, confused by his words, and it took her a while to respond. She wasn’t used to being caught off guard, liked to have a quick word for everything, but here he managed to do it. She sipped her coffee and let one of the eyeballs fall into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully, using it to take the time to think of a response. She'd always thought he was handsome, tall, strong. She'd hidden it for a long time, or at least tried to do so, knowing that Carla saw her like a daughter and he was her son. She'd tried to think of him as a brother, but that had never really been an option, so while amicable, she'd kept her distance. Now, it seemed as if she was the only one in the entire hotel he had any interest in even being around, and it confused her, but she liked how much he seemed to care. After she sipped her coffee again, she looked him in the eyes and gave him a soft smile as she said, "She was lucky to have you there for her, when she needed you most. I've never had someone like that, there for me when I needed them, making meals for me, not since I ran away." She took another bite and continued, "I'd be happy to eat whatever you make me, if it would be as delicious as this."

"I'll look after you." He growled low, and it almost sounded angry, like her words had sparked something deep and primal from within him. He coughed, trying to gain composure. "I'd like you to come to me to look after you. I'd really like it." She flushed even as she saw him flinch. She made a note that her family life—or rather her lack of one—upset him, bothered him that she didn't have what he did. She'd admit it, too, if pressed enough, but that isn't something she feels discussing with him just yet. She shivered as his words reverberated in the room, his growl seeming to wrap around her. It was warm, like a blanket, but there's something about it that makes her want him closer to her.

"I've always felt so safe with you, Harry." She said in barely a whisper, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "I'd like that too."

"I spent my entire life devoted to my mother; never once was my attention enraptured by another, and yet I find my thoughts drifting to you often. What do you want from me? I'd be happy to provide." He said, and there was a heavy intention to the words that she couldn’t quite decipher. It almost felt like a challenge, like he was daring her to come up with something ridiculous; if there were any man who would stand against the test of time, who would be arrogant enough to stand against the test of Heaven’s might, it was Harry.

She blushed impossibly harder, and it felt as if her face might melt. She was stunned a second time in the same conversation, and she had to take another sip of her coffee, let the other eyeball fall into her mouth as she contemplated a response. The very notion that any man—much less perfect Harry—would take an interest in her, was surprising. She'd never let herself give in to that interest, that want, but she found herself craving that especially as he looked at her like that. She's reminded once again of how incredibly tall he is, towering over her, looming, but it's not terrifying as it ought to be. It's comforting, knowing that he could protect her just as easily as he could break her. She finished off the last bite of her food and swallowed the rest of the coffee. She had to tilt her head up so far to look into his eyes, and she's almost convinced she's on fire. He'd always smelled so good to her: smoke, earth, and often like fresh blood, but somehow it's stronger; it's more and she wants to smother herself in it. "I-" She started and stuttered, not realizing how difficult this would be to say, given, well, everything. She took a breath and started again. "Harry, I'd take anything you gave me, as long as it was from you." She stood, took a step closer to him, and even as she did, it was still not close enough, and he's still so tall. "This is...hard for me to say, so I'll try to be as clear as I know how to be." She bit her lip, struggling to keep her gaze fixed on his. She was looking at him—always looking at him—but her gaze was blurred, unfocused, uncertain. "I want you. I want you in any way that you'll have me." She shifted her feet nervously, already embarrassed in anticipation of a rejection. "Sorry if that's too much; I know you don't see me like that…"

He cut her off, leaning in for a kiss, and she could feel his entire body vibrate as he purred against her lips. He was gentle, and a little awkward, growling as he pulled away. It confused her, his tone, and it showed on her face until he spoke. "You have no idea how I see you. I know what Mama says about me, Theia, but she's wrong. I may be the perfect son, but I'm a terrible man. I want you—all of you—and if you give that to me, I won't let you take it back. There is no power that will keep you from me. Devotion is kind of my family's whole shtick; let me give it to you, please." She practically whimpered as he pulled away, choosing to step closer to him—needing to be closer to him—close enough that she had to tilt her head so incredibly far back just to meet his gaze again. "I know you're not perfect. You don't have to be with me." She gave him a soft smile as she continued, "I'm certainly not perfect either, and I happen to like that dark side of you, the side she pretends doesn't exist. I want you, all of you, exactly as you are, Harry."

She wanted to kiss him back, but he was so tall that she'd have to pull her tentacles out just to reach him, just to stretch and climb him. They wanted to escape her, wanted to trap him against her so he could never leave, never escape, never abandon her like everyone else always had. "Please kiss me again. Please." She didn't mean for it to come out as a beg, but there was something about him, something about how close he was, about how she ached to be closer. She let her weight fall against him, practically groaning at the feeling of his body on hers. "I might break if you don't."

"I'll never let you break; I take care of what's mine." He kissed her again gently; his lips touched hers and he was so warm to the touch that it was like he was a roaring inferno. He ran his hand through her hair like she was something delicate for which he wanted to care. He pulled away again, scooting out a chair so he could sit on it. He looked at her, almost at the same eye level now, as he spread his legs comfortably, leaning forward. "There's no leaving my family, Theia. You can ask any of my brothers; I won't let you leave. This is your out. Tell me you want me, and I promise to take care of you in every possible way, or walk away now. I won't hold it against you. I'll still be your Harry; I'll still protect you always, but you'll be free of me. Devotion is worthless if it’s forced; trust me; I know."

He stared into the large eye at the center of her face—his favorite one—as he waited for her response.

She shuffled her feet again, biting her lip. "You know that I have secrets. There are things that view don't know, things I haven't told...well, anyone. If you take me as I am, promise to never leave me, I'll tell you them, and they'll be yours to keep. I'll tell you one right now: I don't have forever: to live, to be with you, but I'll be yours as long as I can be." She crossed the room to him, the few steps that it was, and somehow managed to climb into his lap, resting her legs across his so they dangled over the side. She felt so small, so fragile, so safe. She sighed into his warmth and looked up into his eyes. "I don't want out. I want to be yours, Harry. Forever, if I could, but I know that's not an option. It's not much, but I promise you all the time I have left." She placed a hand over his heart, curled into his side, and looked up into his eyes. "I want to never be rid of you. Please, Harry. I've never been more sure of anything before." "You will give me forever, and I don't much care who I have to go through to get it, but we can discuss that when you're ready." He told her, and it hurt that she believed him; she believed that there was no power that Harry would not stand against to get what he wanted. She remembered the day he met Lucifer, towering over the Devil himself with a stone cold expression, and demanded his mother’s soul back. He was fearless, and cold, and ready for war. That was Perfect Harry. She’d kept out of sight that day, and since Lucifer had been so preoccupied with Carla and everything else going on, she’d managed to keep him from noticing her, hiding in the background, but with Harry, she felt like she didn’t have to be.

He placed one hand on her waist before pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. She was open, and willing, and ached to be his. She ached to belong to someone who would fight against all the most powerful creatures in existence, to be kept safe by someone empowered by devotion and duty. He pushed her down on his thigh, slowly bouncing her on it as he groaned into the kiss.

"Mine." He growled into her mouth as he pulled her closer, as if she could never be close enough to satisfy him.

"Yours." She practically sobbed with a desperate breath, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "If anyone could break this curse—fix me—I bet it's you." She stared into his eyes, all twenty-nine of hers focused on his two. Forever seemed like a lifetime more than she had, even if what she did was far longer than the average human lifespan, seemed like so long to the average sinner. Thoughts swam in her head: so many secrets, so much history she'd never told anyone, never wanted to tell anyone before him. "I have so much to tell you, so much to say, but all of that can wait." She murmured against his lips, peppering kisses as she spoke. "Prove to me that I'm yours, Harry. Prove to me that you'll never leave me, that I'll be yours forever."

He kissed along her cheek, trailing kisses down her neck, being mindful of her eyes. "I'll never leave you. Welcome to the family, Theia."

He stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist as he did so. She wrapped his legs around his to steady herself, and she felt his cock jump in excitement against her thigh. He walked her to his room, kicking his door open as he walked inside before quickly turning, pushing her against it. "Fuck, you're so fucking gorgeous. You're mine." He growled, panting against her neck as he slid a large clawed hand up her thigh, hastily pulling her skirt up. "Fuck, I've never—I've never done this before."

"That's–That's okay." She panted, throwing her head back against the door with a soft thunk, bucking her hips in anticipation. "I know that you'll be amazing." She groaned as he nipped at the side of her neck, threaded her hands through his thick head of black hair. "You're mine after all." She said with a wink. He clawed at her panties, trying to pull them off her hips. "Shred them;" she moaned; "I just want you." The sound of fabric tearing hit her ears, and it fell away from her in an instant. She was slick, and wanting, and desperate. She knew that he was still fully clothed, and she couldn't possibly reach him from this angle even if she tried. She bit her lip and blushed again. "You're practically twice my height; how is this going to work?" He didn't respond to her as his claws dug into her now naked hips and he pushed her up against the wall. He lifted her legs over his shoulders as he licked up her thighs with a long thick tongue. "I'll make it work; I need to taste you first." He whispered low, before he was pulling her flush against his face, pressing his thick tongue between her glistening folds. He groaned in approval as if he were satisfied by the taste, as if she were a meal to be savored. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, dug his claws into her skin, holding her tight as she wrapped her legs around the back of his head. She burrowed her hands in his thick, dark head of hair, pulling at him, and he groaned. He felt her find his large wolf ears, scratching behind them, and he moaned, feeling his tail begin to wag in excitement.

She moaned too, tugging at his hair, pulling him closer to her, wanting him deeper, filling her. "You don't need," she purred as she bucked her hips into his face, "to be gentle with me. I like it rough." She found herself crying out and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he nipped at her with those sharp teeth of his. "Yes!" She exclaimed as that tongue curled inside her. He was slow and deliberate, as if she were a feast to be devoured and he had all the time in the universe. "Please," she found herself begging, though for a second she wasn't sure for what, "please, Harry, faster, deeper. I need more."

She felt him snarl against her as she bucked her hips into his mouth. He raked his claws down her thighs, wrapping his hands round the back of her knees and pinning them to the wall behind her. She gasped in shock and felt a full-body shiver run through him. He burrowed his tongue deeper inside her, seeming to enjoy the way she helplessly rutted against his face, clawing her nails against his scalp. She arched her back and bucked her hips into his face again as his tongue found that spot inside her that always caused her to see stars. "There!" She cried out with a sob, tears pricking at the seven eyes on her face, "Right there!" Her nails dug into his scalp, and if she were less distracted, she might have been concerned that she'd hurt him, but in that moment, her only focus was climbing closer to that peak. "More," she begged softly, pleadingly, "more, please."

He looked up at her, his hands tightening around her knees as he pushed her feet up to her head. She looked beautiful, perfectly bent in two for him as she arched her back, clawing against his scalp. He slowly pulled away, licking up to her clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it. He growled as she began to rock her hips, using his tongue to find her release until she let out a beautiful howl of pleasure. Her entire body shook around him and he let her ride out her orgasm. He slowly pulled her down, grinning as she wrapped her arms around him, and he licked up her neck. "Mine. All Mine." He growled into her ear. "I need to be inside you. I want you to take my knot. Tell me you want it; tell me you want me, gorgeous." She moaned at the thought of him filling her, stretching her so incredibly full. She had no doubt he'd be massive—so incredibly big even without it—but knotting her, she'd be stretched even more, stuck to him. "Please," she panted as she raked her nails across his scalp, "yours. Forever yours. I want you. I want you so bad it hurts." She bit her lip and bucked her hips into him, desperate for friction, for anything he could give her. "Please, Harry, fill me; mark me; knot me; break me. I need it." More words tumbled from her lips in an incoherent mess. She'd never been so desperate in her entire life, certainly not for a man. He was different though, made her feel like she was special, made her feel worthy of love. Just as long as she could be enough for him, maybe he would stay.

He tutted at her in gentle disapproval. "I'm not going to break you; I already told you; I take care of what's mine. I will fucking ruin you, though. You're mine now, I'm never letting you go. I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me." He pulled her with him as he walked over to the bed, pushing her down on the mattress. His room was bare, though that was hardly surprising. A wooden bed with gray sheets, gray walls, and hardly any decoration. The only splash of color in the entire room were the pictures on his dresser: all of his family, mostly Carla and who she could only assume was his little sister Poppy. He looked down at her sprawled across his bed, looking up at him with all her eyes, and he grinned. "Can I take a picture of you? I'd quite like to remember the day I made you mine."

She flushed at the notion, surprised, and nodded, swallowing back a sob. He wanted proof of her existence, proof that she lived, and that made her want him even more. "I suppose it's fitting. I'm your first love. This is my first photograph." It was simple; it was honest, and she gave him a sad smile. "My father never believed in indulging photography, thought it was too modern, that portraits were classier, and even then, I was never to pose for one. I'm a lot of things, Harry, but being loved by my parents was never one of them."

The very notion that he wanted to immortalize her, keep proof of her long after she'd ceased existing from this burden of a curse, should not have made her wet, but it did, desperate to be wanted, desperate for someone who wanted her as she was for as long as she could be. She only hoped it would be enough. "A first is a big milestone. Let's make it one to remember, one no one but the two of us will ever see.” She winked and tugged at the hem of her dress. It parted just enough to tease him further, sliding off her shoulders and hugging her breasts, slitting up the side as she let her legs fall open for him.

She knew that it was a strange concept for Harry to wrap his head around—the idea of not being loved—and it showed. It was obvious that he was loved—cherished even—by all those around him. Carla put a lot of pressure on him, but her love was immeasurable for her perfect son. Even his brothers loved him—despite the clearly tense relationship; it was clear that there was a lot of respect and admiration there. As he looked down upon Theia, it was evident that he could not imagine the life she had lived.

"Beautiful, gorgeous, mine." He praised her, pulling her out of her thoughts as he took picture after picture. “I’m going to plaster these over my walls; you will be the color to take over my gray, Theia.” She flushed at the declaration, at his poetry, moved by the notion that he wanted to surround himself with images of her.

She giggled and laughed as the light flashed, wondered if Vox was watching, if he was seeing what he'd once again failed to hold onto, a fact that she'd never dared to mention to Harry before, prayed it wouldn't affect them down the road even as she wondered to whom she ought to pray.

She knew that no man—no God for that matter—could ever compare to Harry anyway. No man could look quite like he did, could be as strong, as powerful, as tall. She had never been a good woman, never wanted to be, wasn't looking for a good man, either. She wanted a man who could be good to her—so good to her it was as if there were no other women in all of existence—and only Harry had ever met that criteria.

He put his phone into his back pocket before he slowly unbuckled his belt. There was an almost timid awkwardness to the movement, an unpractised action in front of company, and it excited her—she was his first.

As he unzipped his trousers, she tugged on the collar of her dress again, so as he pulled himself free from his confines, the fabric split for him, falling open to expose her fully. She found her mouth falling open in shock when she saw his absolutely massive cock, erect and pulsing with need, precum already glistening at the tip. It must have been an entire foot long and just short of half of that in width. A line of drool trickled out of her lips at the sight of it, thinking how she'd have to contort her features into her demon form just to take him into her mouth. It was a long moment before she spoke, entranced and mystified by the sheer size of it. "I've never even seen, much less had a man as big as you." She said when she finally found words, breathless as she parted her legs wider, wanting it, wanting him. "You're not even inside me yet and you've already ruined me for anyone else, alive or dead."

She felt a shiver run down her spine, spreading through her body in a wave as she imagined how she'd feel, how impossibly full she'd be stretched open on his cock. "Please, Harry, I need you." She moaned, practically begged, another line of drool falling from her lips.

Harry ripped his shirt open to reveal a chest of rippling muscle and thick burn scars across his entire body. A long silver chain ran down his chest, the center of which rested an ornate golden ring with a huge diamond on it.

He held the ring between two fingers, before placing a gentle kiss to it.

“This ring has been in my family for generations, a gift from first born son to first born son. My grandfather passed it down to me, as his did for him, and now it’s yours. My grandmother wore it her entire life. I hope you’ll choose to do the same.”

“I’m honored that you’d trust me with something so special to you, so important. I’ve never had something so meaningful as an heirloom before.” She replied, awestruck at the notion of having something so valuable: an heirloom that had somehow traversed death itself.

“I trust you with my heart, with my life. You’re one of the most important women in the world.” He said, and as if often the case was with Harry, every word was purposeful and full of meaning.

She blushed scarlet, shocked by his words. “Oh, view,” She said with a pun to try and brush away her self-conscious thoughts threatening to bubble to the surface, “it’s beautiful, Harry.”

“You’re beautiful, gorgeous, but not quite perfect.” He said, before he pulled off the large chain, carefully placing it above her so it could fall upon her own chest. “Now, you are perfect.”

She flushed even darker at his words, moved by his praise. While she didn’t think she was perfect normally, somehow, when he said it, she almost believed it. She moaned, opening her hips wider for him, ready and desperate. Understanding her want, her need, He gripped his cock, rubbing the thick head of it between the folds of her glistening pussy before he looked up at her. He slowly pressed against her slick entrance, carefully pushing forward with a clenched jaw. She spread her legs impossibly further, opening herself as wide as she could to make room for something so huge she was sure it would not fit, and then she watched as his eyes went wide. He seemed to stop breathing entirely as he finally thrust inside, and she felt her entire body tighten around him—he was so fucking big. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed, grabbing her hips to pull her down further onto his aching cock. "Fuck, shit, Theia, need, mine."

She threw her head back as she felt him deep inside her, stretching her so she was full of him. She ached to belong to him, to be Harry’s girl, and as if he had read her mind, he demanded it of her.

"Say you're fucking mine; say it. I'll fucking—I don't fucking know; whatever you want Theia; what do you want? Fuck, I'll give it to you." He groaned.

A choked moan escaped her lips as he slid slowly—oh so slowly—inside of her. It needed to be slow just this once—stretching her open so well on his massive, absolutely gargantuan cock. Her own string of curses—a rarity for her—escaped her lips as she reached for him, settled her hands on his chiseled and hairy biceps, wanting more but finding him too far away from her. "Fuck!" The first came as a surprise, even to her, and the rest tumbled soon after. "Fuck, Harry, you're so fucking big!" Another line of drool escaped her mouth as tears pricked her eyes. Her gaze kept drifting from between him and the necklace he'd bestowed on her, the ring he'd deemed so important that he kept it close to his heart. She felt overwhelmed at the notion that he would give her something so valuable, so important to him, as a symbol of what they were, a symbol of what it meant to belong to him. It meant forever, something she hadn’t even considered an option until him. It glinted in the low lighting between her breasts, bounced as he thrust his hips. She'd almost been married once, long ago, to a man who she had never wanted to spend days with, much less her life. Harry had always been different, even from the beginning, even before he didn't see her as worthy like she apparently was now. The notion of being his, so completely his had the tears escaping from the sheer relief of being wanted, needed, possibly even loved. "I'm yours; of course I'm yours. I'll always fucking be yours!" It came out as a combination of a wail and a howl as he continued to plunge deeper into her, and she thought he was done, but as she looked down, it was merely a pause, allowing her body to take even more inside. She whined at that, desperate for more.

This was never going to work without them, and they wanted to escape. Her eyes flashed red at him, and the silhouette of her tentacles loomed around her as she gave him a lustful gaze. "They want you, Harry, just as I do." She moaned as she felt him sucked into her deeper by the sheer notion of them coming out to play. "They want to wrap around you and bury you inside of me, make you mine just as much as I am yours."

"I'm going to make you my fucking wife; you're going to be Theia James, and you're going to spend the rest of your fucking life on my cock. I'll fucking—fucking—shit!" He cursed as her tentacles—The Thousand Eyes—emerged from her back to wrap around him, pulling him closer as he fell on top of her, his cock piercing through to the hilt and she screamed. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer so he could be deeper, and the head of his cock hit something, a wall deep inside her that made her wail. "Mine. You have no fucking idea how much I want you, how much I've watched you. Fuck. I'm yours. Forever and always. Fucking watch anyone try to take you from me, fucking watch them try." He snarled, claws digging into her as his usually yellow eyes slowly faded away into a dark, shadowy black.

She looked down and saw the large bulge poking up from her abdomen; he was stretching her to force her to accept his cock. He was reshaping her body to suit his needs, remaking her to match his. He began to thrust with earnest, hard and fast as she howled and writhed around him. He placed a hand on either side of her head, pressing his forehead against hers, and she watched a broad grin split across his face, as if he felt giddy that the seven eyes on her face were all on him. "Perfect Theia for Perfect Harry." He purred as he thrust forward, burying himself inside her to the hilt. "Perfect Theia, Perfect Theia, Perfect fucking Theia." He panted in time to his thrusts, never once taking his eyes off her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pounded into her, tentacles writhing around his limbs as she shook with pleasure, achingly close to the edge again as he called her perfect and his. Being his, being perfect enough for him was all she wanted, all she could ever need, and she felt this in every fiber of her being as she felt him hit that spot inside her over and over again. She could do that, be his perfect wife, be the perfect woman for him, if he'd let her stay, let her be his for all she had, all she could give him. She had a desperate want inside her, and he seemed to fulfill everything she'd ever needed, everything she'd ever craved. He wasn't familiar with how her body worked yet, but he would be, would learn every inch of her, would know every way that sent her reeling, but right now, she needed to teach him. One of her tentacles found his hand and pulled it to where she needed, curled around his fingers to show him exactly how she liked to be touched, brushing against her clit in just the right way to send her keening, arching into him as she took him even deeper, singing for him. "Perfect for you. Theia James, just for you. Yours!" She sobbed between breaths, so full to the brim and craving more even as her body shook. "Make me yours forever! I want your teeth on my skin. I want your name carved above my heart. I want to put my mark on your skin, show everyone that you are mine." She declared before it devolved into begging, "Bite me; mark me; fill me; breed me!" It was these words that sent her crashing through another orgasm, screaming, his name on her lips.

A snarl ripped from his lips, primal and violent, before he bit down into her neck. It was sharp and harsh as her blood flowed into his mouth. She screamed in pain but he didn't let go, couldn't let go. He wrapped his hands around the back of her shoulders, pulling her down on his cock as he thrusted up, before he was cumming deep inside her. He let out a howl as he did so, alerting all in the house that she was his. She felt his knot expand within her, stretching her impossibly wide as they were bound together. "MINE. YOU'RE FUCKING MINE." He snarled, claws digging into her naked shoulders and sweat dripping down his face. There was something animalistic to his voice, something deep and dark inside him trying to escape.

"Ỹ̸̲Ō̵͍Ụ̶̏R̸̫͊S̸̟͆!" She howled, eyes flashing red as her tentacles tightened around him, pulled him even closer to her, her nails pricked his scalp as her blood flowed into his mouth. "Ä̷͙́N̴͕͒D̸̹͒ ̵͕̿Y̷̧̛Ò̶̗U̶͔̐'̶̯̓R̵̽͜E̵̪̎ ̸͔̌M̷̹͐I̷̻̽Ñ̶̳Ẽ̴̯,̶̙̏ ̷̠̏Ḧ̸̯Á̷̘R̶̨͌Ŕ̷͕Y̴͇̐ ̴̪̔J̶̺͒A̴̪̚M̵͇̐E̸̍͜S̸͍̽!̷͉͐ ̴̛̺D̶̫̃Ō̵̯N̵̛͈'̶̹͘T̵̪̏ ̵͙̈Y̵̠͌O̵̡̕U̵̻͊ ̶̪̀É̸̟V̵͍̿Ë̷̢Ṙ̵̦ ̴̝̀F̸͎̈́U̴͇͒C̵̺̿K̸͙̊Ḯ̴̲N̵̦͂Ḡ̴̝ ̷͓̎F̵̬́Ȯ̷̢R̶͙̍G̵̳̈E̵̢̊T̴͚̾ ̴̮͛İ̶͕Ṯ̶͑!" Her demon voice slipped through as she roared, sinking her teeth into his neck in turn. His blood was sweet on her tongue, strong and musky and so him. She moaned into his neck as she drank from him, felt as he drank from her. She stayed there, lapping at the wound and licking him clean, sealing it with her tongue as she felt him slowly do the same. She wondered what he'd think when he saw the color of her blood, or maybe he already knew, wondered if it tasted different than that of a sinner. "Yours, Harrison James. Always yours." She murmured as he held her, his full first name slipping out on accident from her lips, with him still knotted deep inside her. They'd be stuck like this for hours. The knowledge of this sent another shiver through her, and she reached up to stroke his ears with a sweet smile. She hadn't meant to call him that, but had thought of him as more than Harry, just Harry, Perfect Harry. He was Harrison: handsome, strong, brave, hers for longer than she'd cared to want, longer than she'd be willing to admit. She'd wanted him to be hers and now he was, so it slipped out without warning. She hoped he wouldn't be upset, wouldn't hate that name from her lips. She knew if it were anyone else it would be bitter or scathing, furious or disappointed. From her, that name would only be loving, affectionate, and kind, if he'd allow her to give him that. "Sorry." She whispered sadly, "I know that name makes you uncomfortable. I have to admit I think it suits you better. Strong. Handsome. Mine."

"I can be Harrison for you, only for you. It'll be our little secret." He whispered, before he kissed her, slow and sensual. Red and black blood mixed on their tongues as they kissed. He'd want to bring that up later, likely much later. She knew the kind of man he was; he would want to hold her, all her secrets, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. She could only hope he would trust her enough to let her hold his too. His ears twitched as she stroked them, and he could feel his large tail wag from behind him in pleasure. He'd have her tied to him for hours, and then they'd go again; she never wanted to be free of him. "My Theia, my beautiful Theia."

She flushed with a smile, kissed him back as she knew he understood she was different, different in ways he didn't fully understand but hadn't been upset or disgusted with her. Their little secret he'd called it, and she smiled. One more for them to share. "A secret for a secret then." She found herself telling him. "If you'll be Harrison for me, I can be Iris for you, if you want." She murmured softly. "I love the name Theia, and it's more mine than it, but I want you to have it, to know it, for I love you more than any name in all of existence, in all of time itself." She continued to stroke his ears, carding her fingers through his hair, as she told him, "I left a life I didn't want to have my own here. I meant to run away, escape a marriage I had never wanted, hide for the years I have left, and disappear. I never meant to fall in love." She kissed him again, deeper this time. "Well met, Harrison James. My parents named me Iris, gave me a title and power, then stripped it away. I left that life a long time ago. For you, I will be Theia James, your wife for now and always." "Your name is Theia James; no one can strip that from you: forever defended, forever cherished, forever mine." He told her, and she understood that just as she didn’t like the name Iris, he would never speak it, that he wouldn’t stand to hear anyone call her by it ever again, and it was just as she wanted. She saw his ears press against his skull in sudden embarrassment, pulling her from her thoughts. "Sorry for cursing so much; you just felt really good." He chuckled, as she saw his face go red with embarrassment.

He pressed one hand against the back of her head, and the other to her waist so he could roll them over. He laid with his back on the bed while she was on top of him. He pulled her head against his chest—his heart—and sighed contentedly.

“I will never understand how my father could break my mother down so viciously, how he could stand to be so cruel to her, but know that I never will. I will never allow that swine of a man near you; I will never allow any man to taint your perfection. I will keep you safe: forever and always. I love you Theia James, my wife.” He said to her, and it sounded like more than a promise; it was a vow.

As she internally winced at the notion of keeping her from a man she had once allowed his entanglement—his company—she thought about his declaration to her. Vows and integrity were important. To declare something so crucial and follow through to the end without the necessity of a deal was something to which she too adhered, something she insisted she followed. It gave her great relief to know he was the same. She purred and curled into his embrace; the sound of his heartbeat soothed her as she started to be lulled into sleep even as they were still tied together. She knew they'd likely wake to do it all again, more secrets to share and more devotion to confess. “I love you as you are, my Harrison James.” She murmured even as her eyes drifted closed. “Swearing and all.” He loved her, and it felt right. She'd given him her heart, and he had vowed to cherish it, protect her, and love her forever, even as she knew that wasn't yet viable. She'd never understand how her parents could be so cruel to their own family, their own children, to each other. She would never be that way to Harrison—her Harrison. No one had ever thought to come looking for her here, not in the last sixteen years. She'd stay safe from her family with him, and they'd never need to come looking for her, far away in Pentagram City. She didn't need to break the curse. She'd found happiness in this, in them. This was enough. She'd be safe, in his arms, for all the time she had left.

A/N: Theia and Harry are fucking stupidly cute. He'd tear the world apart and lay it at her feet for her if it'd keep those eyes on him, would devour anyone stupid enough to get in his way---especially those who would to seek to take the woman he's deemed as his, his wife, away from him. She's so desperate for love, for someone who will keep her safe and devote their life to her so that she can do the same, that all she wants to do is be perfect for him, just as he is Perfect Harry, the perfect son, for his mother. These two make me ill and their obscene height difference is hot as fuck. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

The Demon of a Thousand Eyes masterlist || A Mother's Devotion masterlist

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