#tho don't think he really has self restraint like that

[keii]

late morning

[healmydesires]

sweet like sugar ꕤ (l.h)

part one

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Now that Logan was finally able to call you his, he couldn’t get enough of you.

OR

Logan fucks you from behind.

genre: fluff + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 3,7k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, thunderstorms, literally the scene right after this fic, porn with NO plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, inexperienced!reader, hint at loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, doggy style, soft!dom logan, ok… just in overall bye, logan is soft for reader, sub!reader, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, logan talks you thru it. a lot more daddy kink in this one ngl. HEAVY ON THE BREEDING kink aaaaa sorry. I am still ovulating. they’re both FREAKS. scent kink? reader is also ovulating bye. lots of pet names. logan is worshipping his sweet girl ok! reader is a mutant but it’s not really mentioned in this part tho. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!

a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! I finished part two that I wanted to originally post in the main fic but it kinda felt out of place idk either way!! I’m posting it now 🤪 I thought I’ll write what I WANT to read. this is high key self indulgent. english isn’t my first language so pls bear with me <3 this is just smut😭 I literally wrote this while ovulating…

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

Logan manhandled your body, guiding your body so that you were lying on your stomach. He manoeuvred you in the position he wanted you to be. His hands came to hold your hips, pulling them up, your ass in the air for him.

He kneads the flesh of your cheeks before spreading them apart for him. Your body slumped slightly forward with exhaustion but Logan is quick to grip your hips, holding you in the same position. “Oh kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He tutted.

You whimpered, feeling his eyes on your wet heat as it clenched repeatedly, aching and begging to be filled all over again and again. Logan growled as he stared at your entrance as your combined cum dripped down your hole, as you continued to clench around nothing. Your body trembled with anticipation.

Logan had made sure you’d cum several times before he took you for the first time. Before tonight, you were so inexperienced, a virgin actually. Now, all you could think about was that you wanted and needed him to continue and fuck you for hours, filling your pussy with his cum over and over again.

He leaned over you, covering your whole body with his own. Logan nuzzled your neck as he littered your skin with his kisses. You writhed against him, wishing he was just pushing his cock in you already and filling you up in the best way.

The air was stuffy all around you, each harsh breath released only thickening it up, leaving your skin hot and your mind fuzzy. Logan groaned into your ear, mouthing kisses along your neck, tongue trailing down the junction between your neck and shoulder before he gently nipped your skin.

Logan reached down to grasp his cock to line up with your tight entrance. He rubbed his tip firmly over your pulsing hole. Your mind was all over the place as his ministrations continued.

“Fuck, can’t wait to fill you up again.”

His breath caught in his throat as his cock smeared his pre cum against your already cum filled hole. The usual restraint between his mind and his words seemed to vanish, as words tumbled from his mouth.

“I wonder if you can handle this position already.” He whispered almost to himself as his hands kneaded your ass cheeks. “Your tiny pussy could barely handle my cock earlier…”

“No, daddy… I can take your big cock.” You whined desperately as you tried to push your hips against his own, hoping he’d enter your pussy again. You were squirming, as you kept trying to push his cock inside you, but Logan had a strong hold on you, which made it hard for you to move around too much. “I’m daddy’s good girl.”

At your words Logan growled, grasping your hips and tilting them more and pushed your trembling legs further apart.

Logan inhaled sharply. “You smell so good, kitten. I can smell your fertility. Your little pussy is practically begging for my cum.” He murmured against your ear. Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. Logan continued as he pressed tender kisses down your neck, “Can’t wait to breed this pussy again and again with my cock. All night.” Logan moaned and you hissed at the heated sensation of his cock, your eyelids fluttering when you felt it press against your entrance.

A broken gasp left your lips as he finally slid the tip inside you. You felt his body moving behind you, sitting up against you, and you knew his eyes were on your pussy. He watched as your walls spread to try and begin to wrap around him. You whimpered at the new angle as you tried to accommodate his girth. He could barely get more of it in your tight walls at first, eventually using more force to open you up for him. It felt like you were being torn open, split in half.

“D-d-daddy…” you stuttered and mewled.

“I know baby girl, I know.” Logan moaned as he gradually slid more of his thickness inside you and you trembled more underneath him. Your pulsing walls were wrapped tightly around his cock, as your soaked pussy pulled him in more. The pressure of his massive dick deep within your walls overwhelmed you while you clutched the sheets below you in tight fists.

Logan towered over you, as he pushed more of his length inside you, his gaze focused on your clenching hole as his dick slowly disappeared more and more inside you.

You arched your back as you clung onto the bed sheets for dear life, nails digging into the comforters. You couldn’t keep quiet, little mewls and whimpers tumbled past your lips with ease as Logan slid inside.

“Ah, daddy… so big.” You whined.

“You take me so well, pretty girl. Doing so good for daddy.” He moaned as he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your cheek, as he kept pushing more of his girth in you slowly. Every time Logan would slide more inside your pussy would squeeze around him. You knew he was barely halfway in, still you felt so full.

“So full…”

“I know my sweet girl, I know. You’re doing so well, soon you’ll be filled with all of daddy’s cock.”

The whines and whimpers and moans kept spilling from your lips as Logan continued to push deeper and deeper. Your hands trembled as they gripped the sheets between your fingers while he penetrated your tight walls.

“P-please, need more. I can handle it daddy…” you whimpered as you tried to push back your trembling body against him, his cock sliding deeper inside you.

He groaned at your desperate whines and as you pushed back against him , losing his composure momentarily as he thrust the rest of his thick cock all the way inside your wetness. The head of his cock touched your cervix once he bottoms out. A scream left your mouth as you trembled underneath him, your pussy trying to adjust to his size as it clenched around his cock. You pushed your head into the pillows as pathetic whimpers kept falling from your lips.

“Christ, you’re so warm—fuck—so tight,” he growled, rambling without a thought, too enveloped in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him.

You moaned and squeezed around his cock at his words, leaving him panting above you. Both of his hands moved to grab at your ass cheeks, kneading them slowly and gently.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so fucking hot… and wet. How are you this tight?” Logan groaned — the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the air.

There was an intense pressure deep within your stomach — Logan’s thick cock throbbed erratically inside you. The feeling of him nestled so deep within you had you sighing in pleasure. There was still a dull ache — from how wide he stretched you out; your walls pulled apart to their limits — but pleasure soon replaced the stinging ache. Gradually, you adjusted to Logan’s size and with an experimental swivel of your hips, you cried out in pleasure.

Fingers were digging harder into your ass, soft grunts and pants escaped his lips as you moved your hips slowly back against him. “Fuck— that’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock—you feel so good,” Logan growled as his head fell back. The soft murmuring of his voice ripped through the room, the sounds of his own pleasure intermingled with yours.

“Fuck, Logaaaan,” you whined — drawing out the syllables of his name. His hands were still on your ass — holding the plump flesh in his large hands while he squeezed and spread them apart.

Pleasure seeped into your veins, and you began grinding and squeezing more feverishly against him. Short gasps of pleasure slipped from your lips, as you felt his cock pulse inside your tight walls.

“Kitten, fuck, I can’t wait anymore. Need to fuck you.” He slurred and panted above you — euphoric elation dripped from his words. Your stomach twisted — the heat inside caused your stomach to flip and turn with every one of your movements. “Need to breed this pussy.”

“Ah, Lo—”

Both your breaths laboured as you’d feel his hips move, quickly pulling himself almost all the way out of your pussy, as you whined at the empty feeling. “Such a needy pussy.” Logan growled before he thrust himself all the way inside your cunt again.

“Ah ah fuck, daddy… oh my god—” you hiccup as he moved his hips slowly but hard against yours. You cried out as he thrust so deep inside you that it had your body slumping against the bed. Your pussy continued to pulse and squeeze around his thickness, as it tried to adjust to its girth still.

“Pussy needs to be filled all the time ain’t that right?” He groaned as he punctuated every word with a thrust.

You moaned loudly as you arched your back and pressed your ass up against him. He grabbed your asscheeks, keeping the angle perfect as he rolled his hips deeply into yours. You felt his cock throbbing inside you as you tightened around him.

He was so deep, hitting your cervix repeatedly which made your eyes roll back in your head.

“F-fuck baby girl, you’re so sexy like this.” Logan slowly picked up his pace at the sight of you throwing your head back. “You’re all mine, isn’t that right kitten?”

With every thrust, you couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure. Not only was Logan’s cock thick, but he was incredibly long too, his length just slightly curved: which allowed his head to drag against that sweet spot inside you.

Large hands moved to your hips, Logan gripped them tightly as he helped you move against him. Every movement had hot spikes of pleasure jolting across your skin, your toes curled in elation while your stomach twisted and knots violently. The ecstatic bliss of your impending orgasm called to you and you began bouncing your ass against him.

“Ah, y-yes yes yes, I’m all yours. P-please please f-fuuuck, I need m-mo—” you begged and you’re unable to finish your sentence as he gave you a particularly hard thrust.

You felt your arms almost giving out on you because of the force of his thrusts. Logan’s hands were clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him, and he leaned down to place kisses on your upper back, his kisses travelled down your spine, until he leaned back up and just watched you as he fucked into you from behind.

Skin melded together, your sweat acting as a glue, you lost yourself into the feel of Logan. Your mind goes blank as all you could do was focus on the feeling of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrust deeper inside you, which earned him whines and moans as you continued to cry out his name. You tried to tell him, breathlessly, about how good he made you feel.

The sound of your pleasure fuelled his desire to fuck you better, urged him to do more.

Logan picked up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that had your body going numb.

From above you, Logan fucked harder — his cock thrusting deeper into you. The additional sensation caused you to whimper, your pussy twitched as sheer, unadulterated bliss began flitting through your bloodstream. You were close — so close you could practically taste your orgasm; even if your mouth was completely dry from gasping his name and calling him daddy over and over again.

You clawed at the sheets, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your screams. The air was all stuffy around you as his hips moved faster, you whimpered as you tried to push back your hips against his to take more of his big cock. Your tiny pussy was so full of him, still trying to accommodate his thick girth as it pulsed and tightened around him. Logan moaned at the sight, kneading your ass as he tried to bury himself more inside you, his tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes rolled back inside your head once again as you dug your fingers more into the bed, you mewled against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

You whined loudly as he shifted inside you, the new angle made him hit your sensitive spot inside you.

“Fuuuck,” Logan moaned. Your pussy was so wet and warm around him, your walls squeezed his cock with every thrust, “feels so good, kitten. You’re taking daddy’s cock so well.”

Your noises became louder and higher pitched as he continued his assault on your pussy, indicating that you were getting closer as well as the lewd sounds of your pussy that kept meeting his cock over and over again. The sounds mixed so well with your desperate cries.

Logan couldn’t help it, you looked so pretty like this. Fucked out beneath him and so fucking full of his cock, the closer he got to his orgasm the more the images of you filled with his cum consumed his thoughts.

“Your pussy is so tight and wet around me, begging me to fill you up in other ways… begging for my cum.” He groaned as he thrust harder into your heat. “Begging for me to breed her.”

“God, daddy-daddy please. Fuck I—” You whined as your eyes rolled back inside your head.

“What do you want, kitten?” He groaned while one of his hands reached around you to slip against your clit as you writhed against him as he applied pressure. The pleasure had the tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, dying for your release.

Suddenly, everything became too much: the pressure against your clit, his grunts, the sticky, sweaty feeling, his scent, his warmth, the drilling of his cock inside you. Just everything. You tried to catch your breath but from how Logan was thrusting inside you and the rubbing against your clit it felt almost impossible to do so.

“F-feels s-soo— F-fuck, I-I, daddyyyy—”

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathlessly, “so cock drunk and so fucked out you can barely talk.” He whispered once he leaned down as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, as he picked up his pace once again. He fucked you so fast and hard that you swore you never moaned so loud in your life. “Don’t worry, I think I know what you need.”

He leaned his body completely against yours as he continued to hit against your cervix repeatedly while one of his hands kept rubbing your little bundle of nerves. “Feels good doesn’t it, sweet girl?” You whimpered and trembled underneath him as you nodded, he moaned against your ear before he whispered close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you wanted it.”

“Y-yes! F-feels sooooo so gooood, Looo—” you whined as he continued to hit your sensitive spots inside you. Logan’s fingers kept pressing down on your little nub making you squirm. The tension continued to build up as the pleasure became too overwhelming.

“That’s right, princess.”

Logan snapped his hips into you again and again, thrusting deep, causing you to see stars from knowing just how to pleasure you. You felt like your head was swimming once again as you whined. “I’m sooo so close, p-please… daddy… I’ve been such a good girl.” you begged desperately. You only needed one more little push, a little bit more attention to finally reach your peak again.

“Yes, you’ve been such a good girl for daddy.” He panted above you.

You cried out for him, your moans almost sounding like his name as he moved his head down again, pressing kisses all over the side of your face down your neck.

“Can’t wait, fuck—“ he breathed, he stopped himself to let out a loud groan, “can’t wait to fill you up. I keep dreaming about filling you up nice and good. ”

The words made you keen and pulse around his cock, as you moaned his name into the warm air of your bedroom. You wanted more, needed to hear more, wanted to know what else he wanted, what else he dreamed of but your voice was strangled, your brain incapable of forming a sentence.

“I keep dreaming about breeding this pussy until you’re fuckin’ pregnant.” He grunted before he whispered in your ear, “be a good girl and cum for daddy.”

“Fuck, oh my god,” you cried, a shrill wail as Logan’s words went straight to your pussy. Your cunt gushed all over Logan’s cock as he never stopped. His thrusts were hard and deep, enough to turn your vision starry.

“That’s it… that’s it, let go pretty girl.” He murmured lowly into your ear.

His hips never slowed down as he massaged your clit. And then the coil in your lower tummy snapped, your eyes rolled back into your head while you arched your back as your world dissolved into pure ecstasy. You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking as he talked you through it. You almost blacked out because of the intensity of your orgasm, trembling like crazy. You whimpered as the overstimulation got to you.

“Doing so good for me, baby.” He groaned as his pace became more erratic, with less finesse as he charged towards his own finish line. “Daddy wants to fill you up. N-need to fuck my cum into you, kitten. Breed you and get you nice and full…”

Your walls pulsed and tightened around him as he continued to hit your sweet spot inside you. He groaned as his movements became more sloppy. He cried out your name with a gasping breath. Loud mewls left your lips as he finally spilled his seed inside you, coating each inch of you with a warmth that pooled deep inside you. An instant wave of pleasure rolled throughout your body as he filled you up with his hot cum.

“Ah...” you whimpered underneath him as your body continued to shake.

He kept fucking his cock inside of you, fucking his cum deep inside of you until he was satisfied. Logan exhaled deeply as he came down from his high, his body slumping against your own. His cock was still lodged deep inside you, still half hard as he kept the cum inside your pussy. You whimpered as your pussy pulsed around him, as it kept clenching repeatedly around his still hard length.

You tried to catch your breath as Logan groaned while you continued tightening involuntarily around him. “Kitten,” he warned breathlessly, “don’t do that.”

“I can’t really help it.” You said under your breath.

He gently pulled out of your tiny spent hole, making you whimper at the loss and you felt his eyes on you, knowing that he watched his seed drool out of you. Your legs were spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he was much more focused on how his cum leaked out of you, his seed dripping down your hole. Chest swelling with pride, he couldn’t help but let out a lazy smile.Your pussy continued to clench repeatedly around nothing and he groaned at the sight. Logan made sure to plunge his pointer finger into your hole as you gasped, stuffing you back up with your shared cum.

You winced at the sensation, a whimper slipped from your lips at the sensitivity. Pressing a kiss to your knee, “We’ll have to clean you up,” Logan mumbled, even as he continued pushing his fingers inside you.

“Not now, I’m tired,” you murmured back whiningly. When the ache of oversensitivity got too much, you bat Logan’s hand away before you closed your legs.

With a low laugh, Logan pressed an apologetic kiss to your knee before picking you up effortlessly, making you yelp in surprise. “Up you go.” You were about to complain that you could walk perfectly to the bathroom on your own, when you felt sore and your legs felt incredibly numb.

Once he reached the bathroom, he sat you down on the edge of the bathtub all while running the water and surprising you with your favourite bath bomb, to create a bubble bath. It brought a smile to your face knowing he knew so much about you.

“Logan… how is it that you always know what I need?” You whispered as you looked at him dreamily.

“Isn’t that what your best friend and new boyfriend should know?” He gave you a teasing smile.

“Either way, thank you.” You whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You leaned into Logan's gentle support as the tub filled. When it was ready, he carefully lifted you and helped you into the warm water. Looking up, you moved towards the centre, silently inviting him to join. Logan eased in behind you, and you shifted forward slightly so he could settle comfortably. The soothing warmth enveloped you both as you relaxed against him, relaxing instantly in the peaceful moment.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

His strong arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you were nestled securely against him. You let out a contented sigh, feeling the solid warmth of his chest behind you. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing was soothing, and you found yourself relaxing even further.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath soft against your ear. His lips then traced a tender path down your neck, each kiss a gentle affirmation of his words. The sweet gesture sent a pleasant shiver through you.

A smile spread across your face as you settled deeper into his embrace, feeling utterly at peace. The moment felt perfect — safe, warm, and full of affection. You shifted against him, shuffling around as you moved closer into him in the water, you pressed your naked body against his. Face to face once again. Easily, your legs tangled together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you. Your heart swelled with emotion as you replied, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

“I love you too.”

In that quiet moment, surrounded by his warmth and care, you felt truly cherished. The storm outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of contentment.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ And that’s how the rest of the night went, tender kisses and soft touches shared between you two as you enjoyed each other's company. Feeling so loved and at home as you melted in his embrace.

[vaokses]

I worked the blade to make it deeper

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Nearly two years have gone by since you left with your mother for Dragonstone, and yet your absence is as sharp as the first day. Rumors spread through King's Landing about how a Tyrell knight has captured your heart, and these rumors haunt Aegon, from the Keep to the taverns, leading him, drunk and reckless, to a brothel in the Street of Silk. Not in search of comfort, or in search of some illusion of you to keep him company through the night, but in search of something else.

Word Count: 4.4k 

Warnings: 18+. Smut (slight). Prostitution. Dubious consent. Drunkenness, alcohol consumption. Voyeurism. Self-harming or self-destructive actions/thoughts. Aegon's head is not in a good place at all. Descriptions/Allusions to panic attacks. A lot of angst, just a lot of it. Hurt and no comfort. Allusions to bad BDSM practices. I write this with sub!Aegon in mind, by the way, I don't know how explicit it is in this work, but it's there, and I'm warning you in case it's not your cup of tea. If I missed any warning tags, I apologize, and please let me know.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Same universe as How long this love can hold its breath and the Pirtir series. This takes place nearly a year before the beginning of the story, around four or so months before the other Aegon PoV chapter. You don't need to read either to read this tho.

A/N: So, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. It mixes some of book!Aegon's approach to intimacy/sex because I find it really interesting. This is just a lot of angst, but his character is so fucking sad, I can't help myself. I'll write some fluff for him at some point, I promise.

Title is from "Love opened a mortal wound. In agony, I worked the blade to make it deeper." by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.

All of this would be easier if he could just forget, Aegon gathers. If he could just forget about you, about what he lost and what he didn’t have, then everything would be easier. The quiet of the Keep wouldn’t feel so deafening, the future ahead of him would be a tad less unbearable. 

And he wouldn’t be sneaking around like an idiot, eavesdropping on his mother and his grandsire’s conversation because he heard your name. 

“That boy will hand the Blacks the Reach if we do not step in,” Alicent argues, voice laden with worry. “His father is old, and he hasn’t inherited his judiciousness, his restraint.” 

“Lord Alisdair might still bend, once the Princess leaves Highgarden and his blood cools. Nothing makes a man as bold as a woman’s smile.” 

“Her smile, or the promise of her hand?” 

Aegon feels as if a weight had been dropped on his chest, and yet he does not even think about tearing himself away from here, about ceasing in his listening for any news of you. The closest he can get to you, nowadays. 

“No arrangements have been made yet, and if t-…” 

“My lord husband will approve if Rhaenyra asks this of him, you know this. He will wed her granddaughter to the Tyrell boy himself if it is her who asks.” 

“Has she asked?”  

A few beats of silence, the seconds before an executioner’s sword finds a neck. 

“It is a matter of time.” 

___ 

It is as natural as breathing, to Aegon, to escape the confines of the Red Keep by now, to evade his guards and sneak into the city.  

Now he sits alone -he shrunk from his usual company, he isn’t sure even why-,  nursing yet another jug of mead and chasing languidly for the welcome stupor of a stiff drink, and finds that not even here do you stop tormenting him. 

“My sister was there for the tourney in Highgarden,” A woman comments, carelessly loud as she speaks to the group of people sitting with her, a table away from Aegon’s. “She said the eldest of House Redwyne gifted the Princess a mare.” 

“As dragon food?” The man she sits on the lap of asks, prompting her to laugh. 

“I would like a mare as a gift,” One of the girls argues, at another’s scoff arguing, “What? What is wrong with that?” 

“The Princess rides Vermithor. What is a fucking horse against the second largest dragon in the world?” 

The wench that is sent to refill Aegon’s drink presses against him unnecessarily, and her hand traces over his shoulders as she moves away. He feels her gaze on him, watching raptly to see if he follows her with his own gaze, if he wishes to play along. 

He mislikes this, these games, playing pretend at seduction. It feels even more false than it already is, fucking a woman, if she likes pretending she wants something beyond the tenuous oblivion they can find in one another. 

“You gather she’s coming here anytime soon?” The man from the other table asks, diverting his attention to them -to you- once again. 

“I don’t think so. Everyone would be scurrying about in preparation. Whenever there’s something brewing up in the Keep we have more work months ahead.” 

“I hear she’ll summer in Highgarden.” One of the younger girls comments. 

The old woman’s laughter is shrill, grating. Gloating, almost. At least that is what it sounds like, to him. 

“Of course she is. Alasdair Tyrell has returned from the Shield Islands, and victorious at that. Made them swear to her cause, apparently.” 

“To Rhaenyra’s?” 

“No.” 

Silence follows the simple answer. Aegon motions for the wench to refill his drink, which she doesn’t do quickly enough. 

“Oh,” The man breathes. Short little chuckles escape his chest, and he praises, “Clever lad, eh?” 

“‘Tis quite a wedding gift, is it not?” 

Aegon takes fast, perhaps hurried, gulps from the flagon, but the mead isn’t enough to drown out their voices. 

“So she has agreed to it?” 

“She is a young girl, and he a knight who has more than proven his devotion. He doesn’t have her hand yet, but I’d bet he has her heart.” 

“So it isn’t just Vermithor she wants to ride,” The man boasts, followed by what sounds like a slap. “Ow!” 

“‘Tis the future Queen you speak of, you fool.” 

He should stop himself, but he doesn’t want to. Aegon turns to them and asks,  

“And the future wife of Lord Tyrell, no?” 

“My Prince.” One -or a few, he doesn’t really care- of them greets, and a few heads bow, but he motions their empty platitudes away. 

“It is a…a joyous thing, a betrothal. And one made for love, at that,” He smiles at them, but they don’t smile back. They look at him like he’s seen hunters look at cornered beasts, they look at him as if they’re afraid of him. “We don’t see much of those nowadays, do we?” 

“No, my Prince.” The older man agrees, still cautious. 

He isn’t an idiot, he knows that he wasn’t…that you don’t feel for him what he does for you, that you don’t think about him as often as he thinks about you. But some part of him, foolish and perhaps more than a little masochistic, still hoped the truth might be another. 

Still hoped, against hope, against reason, that you might one day return, that you might still choose him. 

“A cause for celebration then, isn’t it?” He asks, standing up and swaying slightly on his feet. Their faces are guarded, careful, and though he makes his best attempt at another smile, shameless and debauched, it seems they see through it. He pushes on, “Drinks for all! On me!” 

He plays along, he plays his part, for a while. The mead keeps flowing, and when it ceases, he switches to wine. Watered down and tasteless, but it washes away the ashes the memory of you leaves on his tongue. 

And the loud voices and cheers of the people in the tavern drown out even his thoughts for a while, but he finds that tonight the wine does not make his thoughts any easier to bear. It seems instead to make them louder, to make the ache deep in his chest sharper, worse. 

As the night goes on, his thoughts get louder and the crowd around him quieter as they return to their homes, and Aegon refuses to return to the quiet, the solitude, of the Red Keep. 

___ 

Long ago, years ago, he would come to places such as this and ask them to be soft with him, to hold him and treat him gently, to be what he imagined you would be -what he glimpsed at, what he had, for however short a while it was-, to grant him what he supposed he might have had, were you to have stayed. 

But he understood fairly quickly that it just made everything worse, that it made the absence much sharper, the emptiness gnaw at him with renewed strength; and so he started refusing them whenever they tried to offer anything gentle. They did it wrong, anyways, it just made him feel brittle and cold and alone, and he prefers the distance, and the oblivion it provides, over the hollowness that their false warmth leaves him with. 

The months and then the years went by, and you never returned, not even a glimpse of you and Vermithor on the distant skies, not even a short visit with your family, not even a fucking letter; and Aegon can no longer hold on to the fantasy that you might have wanted him, that you could have loved him. 

He gathers that it was for the better, that the illusion has shattered. It makes it easier, to find oblivion buried in some whore or another, to have his nights away from the Keep be the reprieve they ought to be. It makes it easier to make things quiet again, to lose himself when he can force his useless heart out of the way.  

But he often trips on it. His heart, that is. 

And sometimes his yearning overpowers his reason, and he finds himself searching for a shadow of you, a version of you that still wants him. Despite the ache and the absence, he still can’t bring himself to ask any of the women to pretend to care for him, to pretend to love him, anymore. 

He tells himself it is enough that they look like you when the lights are dim and wine clouds his senses, that they don’t say anything when it is your name he calls out. He tells himself it is enough to have this, and that to ask for more would be to ask to be torn open. 

But the absence remains, the hollowness remains, a void gnawing away at him, hungrier and hungrier the longer he indulges in foolish illusions, in tricks of the light.  

At his weakest, he asks them to prove to him what he already knows to be true. That you, fantasy or real, illusion or not, do not care for him, do not love him. That you, upon knowing what he has made out of himself, aware of what they will ask him to become, have come to hate him. So he asks them to hurt him, to refuse him, to turn away from him.  

He doesn’t understand why he does it, why he still chases after that when it leaves him just as empty as asking for anything else does. He doesn’t understand the part of him that finds comfort in his own ruin. 

He doesn’t understand why he comes here, why he is restless as he crosses the doors into the familiar brothel, why he feels his throat close up at the sounds and scents of this place, why his chest feels tight with something between desperation and dread as he sets out to…to do what it takes to make his thoughts stop, to make himself understand that he must forget. 

He finds the one he’s looking for fairly easily, long silver hair and deep red dress amidst a sea of heads of dark hair and half-naked bodies. Her back is turned to him, and the wine makes the sight resemble a familiar dream for a moment, and his breath catches. 

But when he reaches her and she turns to face him, the face isn’t a familiar one, the eyes are wrong, and the smile is a mockery of yours. 

He still extends a hand, wordless, to ask her to join him. 

It’s almost funny, that for all he despises his ancestry, what he has inherited; in the eyes of any of the patrons of this establishment he is but another Targaryen man, looking to get it wet only with the ones that, real or no, reflect the blood of a lost world. 

It is preferrable that they don’t know any better. He’d rather be his father’s son than the fool that yearns for a woman he cannot have. 

Aegon isn’t sure why he’s doing this, why he has come here, why tonight the wine has made the pain only sharper, more unbearable. He isn’t sure if he’s punishing himself, for being as stupid as to allow himself to hope you’d return to him; or if he’s just resigning himself to the truth that is, forcing himself to shatter with his own hands, before his very eyes, the fantasy of what could have been. 

But he wants this, he…he needs this.  

“And you,” He calls out, pointing to a well-built young man with warm eyes and chestnut hair. Quite close to a knight. Quite close to a Tyrell, even. Aegon offers him a smile, wide and lecherous. It is a lie, but it is one he himself believes, and the false merriment keeps him safe. “You will join us.” 

The man takes Aegon’s free hand, and he lets them lead him to a private room, of dim lights and of air heavy with incense. In the midst of the hanging curtains, the many candles, and the huge bed in the center of it all, Aegon feels for a moment as if he’s suffocating. 

“What can we do for you, my Prince?” The woman asks, voice low, sultry, dripping with false sweetness. 

A nauseating blend of anxiousness and dread rise within him, and though he reaches for the glass of wine on a nearby table, downing the drink in two gulps in an attempt to chase these feelings away, they linger. 

Aegon watches, numbly, as the man reaches for a pitcher and refills his cup without a word. It is welcome, almost a comfort, the weight of a full glass in his hand. 

“I…I want to watch,” Aegon admits, voice hoarse in what he absently hopes they confuse with lust. “The two of you. I want to watch the two of you.” 

There’s a chair near the bed but far enough, aimed towards it. He has the absent thought of how many must come here not for participation but for a show, and Aegon tries clinging to that small observation, amuse himself to thoughts of what others come to do in these places; but his mind, anticipating and yet dreading what is to come, lingers on the present. 

His gaze, unfocused and staring at nothing but the faint memories he wishes would leave him, cannot look at them as the man and woman undress and sit together in bed, looking at him.  

He cannot look at them, and yet he feels their gazes on him. He feels as if he were the one naked, the one on display, asked to put up a show. 

“My Prince?” The woman calls out, forcing his eyes to focus on her. 

She awaits instruction, and he finds he can’t give it. 

It is a painful reality, a mortifying truth, that he does not know how to offer softness, gentleness. Or how to receive it. Or how to witness it, even. 

In losing you, he gathers he also lost the part of him that knew of the softness of a gentle touch, that knew how not to shatter at the thought of warmth. 

And now he can’t even make this…this pretender, already a poor mimicry of you, portray your warmth, the gentleness of your affection; and Aegon cannot even witness a glimpse of the warmth and the softness that you surely now give freely to that fool on the far end of the world. 

It dawns on him then, that he has forgotten pieces of you, that he has lost part of you to time and to distance. And realization isn’t a weight dropped on his chest, or the ground giving in under his feet, no; realization is a slow pressure, a shrinking tunnel, an exhale that left him too late to realize he wouldn’t be able to inhale again. 

He grabs for the cup with shaking fingers, grips it so tight he fears it might crack, and downs the rest of the drink. But the numbness is escaping him, slipping like sand between his fingers, and the haziness has given way to something much worse, to a quickly-beating heart and thoughts chasing themselves in circles. 

And all the wine does now is make him feel as if he’s only further drowning, further losing whatever grasp he has at himself. He still drinks. 

What can he tell her? That he wishes to be hurt, punished, for his weakness, for his faults? That he wishes to see what he has lost, what he never had, what he never will have?  

That he wants for the thoughts to stop, for the pain to stop, and he only knows how to escape them with this, with sex; but the memory of you lingers too close, a knife wedged next to his heart, for him to even consider enduring another’s touch tonight? 

He tells her the truth instead, and if instead of a command it sounds like an accusation, he does not care. 

“You love him.”  

It is all the instruction he can give. He does not know what love looks like, what love feels like, so even if she doesn’t either and the act is a poor one, Aegon won’t know the difference. 

The man and woman fall easily into the parts they must play, pressing their bodies together and sharing a deep kiss, letting their hands explore each other slowly, with the pace of two people with all the time in the world, with the calm of those who have promised each other a lifetime. Aegon watches, and the nakedness of their bodies does not seem lewd, instead it betrays an intimacy, a warmth, that makes the void in his chest awaken with an oppressive sort of longing. 

Aegon’s gaze lingers on him, on the ‘knight’. He finds he cannot look away, and it isn’t jealousy that overwhelms him, or anger; instead, all that fills his him at the sight is dread, and morbid fascination.  

The man’s fingers are buried within her, his lips at her throat, and Aegon feels as if a knife were slowly embedded somewhere within his chest. With each breath, the knife digs deeper, tears further at an old wound, and yet he doesn’t look away. Instead, his breath quickens. 

And he knows it’s an act, that they’re playing at sharing a love they do not know or have, but he doesn’t know it or have it either, and sitting here he only feels more alone.  

But he cannot join them. Because you do not want him. 

After what he isn’t sure if it is a moment or an eternity, darkened gazes flicker to him, awaiting his permission, his command, to go on, with quickened breaths. Though for a moment Aegon finds himself staring back, unmoored and uncertain, he quickly recovers and stutters a response to go on with it. 

The man grunts a curse against her breasts as he enters her in one swift motion, and she sighs at the feeling, hoarse little moan rumbling past her lips as she adjusts to having him inside her. 

They start moving together, and though the sight before him is an objectively alluring one, and if nothing else he should be able to focus on the sounds leaving their lips, on the sound and scent of sex filling the room, Aegon finds himself not even slightly aroused. 

Then again, he didn’t expect to. He might enjoy pain sometimes, and perhaps even seek it, but seeing a mirror -however muddied, however imperfect- of the woman he loves making love to someone else is something out of a nightmare, not something he might enjoy stroking his cock to.  

He didn’t think it’d hurt like this, though. He feels useless tears stinging at his eyes, and his breath hitches, because he expected it to hurt, but he didn’t think it’d torture him like this. 

And yet he can’t bring himself to stop them, feels undeserving of intruding upon their -your-, however false, love. With a breathed little laugh that only further blurs the lines between the reality of two paid whores acting out what he wants and the mirages of two people on the far end of the world, the woman switches their positions, straddling him. 

Unprompted, the man sits up, mouths at her neck as she aligns his cock with her cunt again. Slowly, sensually, she starts riding him. 

Aegon sniffles, tries hiding a stuttered breath, and leans forward. What he means to sound like an order, like an instruction, is voiced instead as a plea,  

“H-…I want you to hold him, while…while you ride him. Hold him against you.” 

She does as he commands, and the sight of their embrace is enough to force Aegon to look away, flinch away from pain as sharp as a hit. He reaches for the pitcher of wine, movements hurried and jittery, and pours himself another glass, uncaring that it spills. 

He gives another order, another command. One after another. He tells the man, for he is naught but a lucky fool that doesn’t even see the fortune bestowed upon him, how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to make you his.  

They lose themselves in each other, waiting for no further instruction, exchanging caresses and kisses and breathed moans as they move together, as one. 

Aegon feels his composure, weak and brittle as it was already, begin to crumble. His hands grip at the armrests of the chair and tears burn at his eyes. He’s trembling, but neither of them stop, because neither of you notice, because you have each other, and he does not matter. 

He shakes his head, tries thinking clearly past the daze of alcohol and grief, and reminds himself it’s them. They’re strangers, they’re pretenders. He clings to that reminder. 

And yet each whispered word that they share, each shared breath, each tender touch, it feels as if it’s mocking him, taunting him with what he cannot have, what he can only watch from afar. 

The effect of the wine and the tears spilling from his eyes blur the edges of his vision, making the already stifling room seem smaller, the air thicker. Each breath feels pulled from his lungs, his body at the command of someone else, because he still cannot look away. 

He understands better than ever why Helaena presses her palms to her ears when the crowds get too loud. He wants nothing more than to cover his ears, close his eyes, hide himself and get away. Why is he here, why is he doing this? 

He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want this to happen. And yet he can’t stop watching, why can’t he stop this? 

She’s close to the edge, he can tell, and while he needs for this to be over, he cannot stand the thought of it at the same time. 

It is unbearable, and he stands from that chair, not to approach them but to step away. The room spins around him, his balance fails him, his voice fails him. 

She clings to him, hides her face in the knight’s neck and away from Aegon’s view. She looks like you, and she sounds like you, and he lost you he lost you he lost you. 

“Tell him you love him.” The voice is his, but not really, and he hears it from far away, from somewhere beyond the panicked cadence of his breaths, from a dream in which it is your love for him that Aegon asks to hear. 

You bring your knight closer to you, hand tangling in short tresses of chestnut hair. Your mouth is close to his ear, your voice a breath, a promise Aegon knows he shouldn’t be allowed to hear,  

“I love you.” 

You shatter, and so does Aegon. 

Her cry of pleasure and the knight’s mask the horrified sob that leaves Aegon’s chest at what he has done, at what he has tainted; and in their shared ecstasy they thankfully do not see him squeeze his eyes shut and cravenly look away, face crumpled in agony. 

He stumbles back onto the chair, some absent voice in the back of his mind reminding him it is unfitting of a prince to fall on the ground, that the people cannot see him on his knees. 

He thought he’d be in control, that if he commanded them, if he was… 

His thoughts matter not, what he expected matters not. The fantasy, painful as it was, has shattered, and the jagged pieces of it dig into him like glass. 

Aegon slumps in the chair, his body exhausted and worn. He feels used, wretched, and despite the weariness consuming his very bones, his mind remains restless, agitated. 

And the silence that lingers after they are done is worse, almost. He cannot bear to look at them.

“You…you can leave,” He tells them. A breath, two, and with a rush of energy he doesn’t have, Aegon stands up instead. The movement feels uneven, exaggerated, and he grabs at the back of the chair to keep himself from falling over. With his free hand, he gestures at them to stay where they are, and corrects himself, “I-I will leave. I’m…I’m the one intruding, am I not?” 

They don’t laugh, so he does. Or he tries to, but what leaves him is this manic little sound, this choked sob. 

He moves to leave the room, but he stumbles over his own feet, and thankfully catches himself on a nearby pillar. He needs to get out. 

Everything is too much, too bright, too loud, too painful, and he cannot escape it. In his head still resonates the breathed I love you. 

Why would you say that to him? He…he’s nothing, he doesn’t… 

No, no. Aegon squeezes his eyes shut and reminds himself that it wasn’t you, it was her. The impostor, that…that poor mimicry of you.  

And he instructed her to say that. Why did he do that? 

He wanted to fill the emptiness inside him, to…to quieten it all for a few moments, he didn’t want…he didn’t want this. But the void within him grows, and it hungers, and it tears away at pieces of him, breath by breath. 

He stumbles out of the pleasure house on trembling legs, but doesn’t make it far before his labored breaths become too quick, too uneven. The air that enters his lungs hurriedly, stutteringly, over and over, still isn’t enough for him to breathe. 

Aegon staggers into a nearby alley, clawing desperately at the brick wall in an attempt to keep himself grounded, to keep himself from breaking, from falling. 

He still does, between labored breaths and memories that taste of ash, he crumbles under the weight of his disgust and his hatred at himself, at what he does, at what he failed to do; and falls onto the cold ground. 

Back against the wall of the empty alley, Aegon brings his knees to his chest, and hugs them close to himself, head bowed and eyes shut tight as he tries forgetting.  

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! My askbox is always open for questions or comments, and soon I think I'll be taking requests.

I should have waited to post this (I posted the first chapter of Pirtir today) but I couldn't help myself. This was so fun to write. I find these themes really interesting, and I want to delve into them again in the future. I have some stuff planned but they're still a bit further ahead in the posting schedule.

Thank you for reading!

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Alucard thinks the dreams he crafts for you are delicious. And they feel so real, don’t they? Maybe they are. Maybe all of this is. In the end, only you and him will know.

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors, don’t interact), angst, horror, mentioning of noncon, sexual themes

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ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

really love the idea of alucard messing with reader in her dreams 🥰 and the power of friendship — even tho its not enough to stop the horrors that await them all

The Basement’s Monster II

“Find me, trandafir… or I'll find you.”

You wake up in a foreign land. It’s dark. There’s a nip in the air. Alert and frightened, you glance down. You're standing upright. Your bare feet are encased by snow and ice. The frosty dust travels all the way up to your ankles, scratching your raw skin. Around you are tall evergreens, their skirts hiding more than ice beneath them; you learn this almost immediately.

As you guide your gaze down their branches, you catch a glimpse of something in motion between them. You take a step back. Suddenly, growling is heard to the left of you. With a gasp, you whirl to face the threat. It leaves no trace. You hear the same noise again, closer this time. You can’t catch the culprit, regardless of your wit.

Unmoving, you listen to the ambiance of the eerie site. You want to freak out. It takes every fibre of self-restraint to not. But inwardly, part of you does. Part of you spends several seconds attuned to your heartbeat, believing that cardiac arrest will kill you before the monster does. Inside, you claw your hair out in chunks and howl like a werewolf into the cloudless sky. You close your eyes and beseech for a swift end, because giving up is easier than the prospect of failing, or running into the abyss, of getting lost in this Carpathian forest.

A soft growl emerges from behind you once more. Hauntingly, the beast’s breath dances across your bare shoulders. Your hair hovers on end. Jesus Christ; this thing is close enough to touch you.

Your survival instincts kick in. Thoughtlessly, you bolt forward. A sitting duck certainly doesn’t stand a chance; a running duck might.

The snow crunches under your toes as you dash. The crescent moon poorly illuminates your path while you clumsily dodge trees, dead shrubs, and pitfalls, panting feverishly. No one has treaded this section of the woods yet. There’s no indication of where to go, or where you could be headed. All you know is that you're being hunted.

You stumble to a halt when your lungs burn, begging for reprieve. Collapsing to your knees, the powder beneath you cuts into your skin. You barely feel the slices; you’re too cold to notice.

You swallow laboured pants and kneel in silence, attending to the earth. You count to sixty three times. In that span, you don’t hear anything.

It’s odd. There are no animals in this area, prowling about in the guise of night. You seem to be the only living creature out here. A cryptic realization strikes you. Animals and insects can detect predators more effectively than humans.

Climbing to your feet, you survey the circumference around you. The shadows remain in place this time. Still, there’s an unrest in the pit of your stomach that prompts you to move on. Staying here will do you little good.

You trek forward, rubbing your arms to keep warm. The walk feels like it lasts for an eternity. Maybe it does. But even eternities die hereafter.

There's a wooden post pitched awkwardly near a hulking tree. At the top is a carved arrow pointing to the right. You can’t read the words that are scratched into the jaded wood. You reach up to wipe off the snow. Unnerved, you discover that the characters are in a different language.

Nu intrați.

You look in the direction it’s signifying. You squint through the blowing snow, straining your eyes to scan the visible distance. There’s no path in sight. You don't know what you were expecting. You do notice something else, though. Through the thick trunks and thorny bushes, the small hills and frosty terrain, you see a light. It’s dim and foreboding. It’s also the only lead you’ve got. Reluctantly, you embark.

At your rear, the darkness is steadily closing in over your shoulder. Is it you, or is the void getting closer? You can no longer conceive the larger details of the woods behind you. It's inky and devastating. You get the sense that you'll be consumed if you don't pick up your pace. Right then, your stride transforms into a brisk jog.

Utterly disoriented, you reach the light source. Your icy fingers coil around the post. This one has a lantern dangling from its upper axis, swaying ominously in the arctic gusts; that must be what you saw. You shift to get a glimpse of what was pursuing you. Nothing. It cowers from sight, skirting along the hem of light, as though fearing what will be revealed.

Next to you, on the opposite side of the post, there are items dangling from a hook. They appear to have been planted, given their relatively clean state. Strange, based on the lack of footprints. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to determine that this is bait from the predator chasing you. Upon further inspection, it's a cloak and a pair of boots. Gear to survive this landscape — a grim confirmation that he doesn't want this charade the quest to finish prematurely. Mournfully, you may have no choice but to adorn them if it means getting out of this polar nightmare alive.

You snatch the cloak and toss it over your figure. It’s made of a white silky fur, instantly enveloping you in a toasty hug. There’s a thicker pelt lining the garment, barring the wind from gaining access to your nudity. The length of the fabric lands below your knees, guarding most of your body. Surprisingly, it's weighted.

You put the boots on next. They’re precisely your size. Creamy white fur lines the collar, cushioning your glacial feet. They stretch a few inches above your ankles. You're better equipped for the expedition ahead. The relief that hits you is instant. It offers the physical security you required to commence.

Leaving the light is petrifying. You don't know if the creature is going to pounce on you the moment you're out of safety. Graciously, it doesn't. That's how you know there's more for you to see.

Your destination remains unclear. You're aiming for the direction the arrow suggested, but you haven't seen a sign post since. You wonder if you missed the path somewhere. You suppose you'll never know; it's more likely you'll perish out here.

Minutes turn to hours. You're relentless. Exhaustion perches on your shoulder like a dreadful gargoyle, slowing you down. In your perspective, stopping would mean giving up. You won't do that. And thus, your aching soles hike further than they ever have.

A deviation in the scenery finally gathers your attention. Weaving through the trunks and canopies, you notice grey rock. At last, a clue as to where you might be, and how you can reach civilization. You rush, fast approaching what you seek.

The moon shines just right. Your jaw drops. It's a towering cliff face. The trees thin out, and you capture a set stage fresh out of a sinister fairy tale. Evacuating from the forest, you lay witness to a castle at the edge of the massive stone mountain. A shallow layer of snow decorates the path leading to its gigantic archway, unlike the mounds you treaded through on your trek. This place is distinctly habitated.

The gates are several metres taller than you, made from a ferocious oak. There are twin knockers on either door. You can't make out what shape they are. You feel drawn to enter.

A wave of anxiety chokes you. Intuitively, you believe it would be a grave error to trespass further. The beast has other plans for you, however; he didn't bring you all this way to have you turn back.

He slithers up behind you — where he's been hovering for your entire odyssey — and digs his feral nails into your bicep. The sharp tips puncture your flesh, extracting blood. You open your mouth to scream. Everything settles into a muted chaos. The last thing you witness is the vampire running his tongue along his finger, tasting your life force.

You jerk into an upright position. Sweat pours down your face, dripping from your wrinkled forehead. Eyes watering and lips trembling, your gaze darts to and fro. Soon, your vision stabilizes.

There’s no forest. There’s no snow. There’s no castle. You’re in your bedroom. Panic becomes background noise as you hash out the questions in your mind.

When did you fall asleep? You didn’t want to pass out, but you must have lost the battle. You can’t blame yourself; it was late. The last thing you recall being conscious for was reading about Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Must have been a little dry.

How long have you been asleep? Afternoon sunlight beams through your curtains. It’s definitely past noon. Then, what happened during your slumber? Your memory is fading upon awakening. You’re already forgetting several key portions of your dream, such as the event which caused you to run further into the unpredictable woods. The final details are fuzzy, as well. You know something must have startled you into consciousness — but what?

You throw off the sheets and scrutinize your form. There are no scratches. Bruises aren’t decorating the skin of your ankles, nor are there markings from the cuffs of your boots. The threat of frostbite didn’t directly affect you, either, sparing your flesh from decay.

Perplexed, you get out of bed. What was that land you were in? And that language. You wish you could remember what the sign said. There’s no hope of deciphering lost words.

You tug your robe off its hanger and slide your arms through the wide sleeves. You’re going to shower and brush your teeth. Then, you’ll go downstairs to have a meal. There’s much research to be done. You need to feel fresh and energized if you want to keep up.

You leave your bedroom. Peeking around the corner, you notice there’s more life than usual in the house. Everyone seems to be home. Nelly is in her bedroom, talking to a friend. Cree is listening to music at a moderate volume, singing along occasionally. Downstairs, Ericson is likely in her chamber or lounging in the living room. It’s a nice change.

Quietly, you move down the corridor. The bathroom still bears uncomfortable memories for you, but you can’t avoid it. Hygiene is too important. You dip inside and close the door.

Washing up goes immaculately. You’re able to groom yourself for the day without qualm. The vampire doesn’t show himself. In fact, you’re safe until you’ve stopped expecting the worst.

Robe tied firmly at your waist, you open the bathroom door and release the steam that’s been built up. The cool air is refreshing as you step outside of the humid space. A soft sigh escapes your lips. It’s silent. Mournfully, your peace doesn’t last.

You pass Nelly’s room. Strangely, her door is open. Filled with natural curiosity, you glance inside. She’s not talking on the phone anymore. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, head hung low. Her short red box braids dangle in front of her face, shielding her features. Instead of chocolate skin, you see something else. Dark tendrils are crawling along her exposed flesh.

What the fuck?

You grind to a halt. You’re inches away from your door. You want to pretend you never saw that. Unfortunately, you can’t. If Nelly’s in trouble — if the monster has enough gall to lay claim to her — you have to do something.

You clamp your eyes shut. Your breathing is dysregulated and chaotic. It’s impossible to soothe your grieving heart. You really don’t want to do this… but Nelly has shown up for you countless times in the past. It would be a disservice if you abandoned her.

With sheer motivation, you veer in the direction you came. You adjust your robe and creep closer to your comrade’s door. You purse your lips. Now, it’s closed halfway.

“Oh, god.” You whisper, practically frozen with fear. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

You open the door prudently, using your whole arm. The scent of cinnamon and almonds — her favourite body spray — warms your spirit temporarily. Nelly’s no longer on the bed, though. In fact, there’s no trace of her at all.

“Uh… hey!” You call out. “You okay?”

Not a sound. Worry grows thicker in your chest. You wander into the room. The window is closed and none of her usual electronics are on. It’s as though she was never present to begin with. But you know you heard her before showering. And who was that on her mattress?

Your earlobes tingle. You pick up on a gentle noise. Initially, you think it’s movement.

“Nel?”

But it’s not shuffling; it’s sobbing. And it’s coming from her closed closet.

The twin wicker doors are menacing. There’s darkness in their confines, meaning if Nelly’s in there, she’s sitting on the floor in pitch black, crying. That’s not like her.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You shake your head, stepping away from the source. There’s no goddamn way you’re searching in the closet for your friend — not alone. You have to get out of here and find someone to help you, now.

The crying ceases abruptly. You don’t stick around to find out why. Barrelling towards the ajar door, you throw it open. The knob flies into the wall, breaking its stopper and lodging the ball into plaster. You’ll apologize later.

You whirl into the hallway and cut to the right, smashing into someone in the process. You trip backwards and catch yourself on the wall. Holding your head, the person is blurry for a short eternity, until he reacts.

“Woah!”

A friendly male voice penetrates through your tunnel vision. Amiable hands grasping your upper arms crush your apprehensiveness. You unravel, breathless.

“Cree!” You gasp, seizing his shirt with quivering fists. “We gotta— we need t—“

You can’t summon the words. There’s embarrassment as much as there is urgency. Although you don’t have the ability to prove what you experienced, you need him to believe that you’re telling the truth.

“Hey!” He cooes. “Calm down, girl.”

He folds you into an embrace, large arms boxing you against his firm chest in an expression of care. He recognizes how frazzled you are. And his efforts aren’t lost on you, despite the influx of anxiety that’s pumping through your veins. You spend a few moments huffing and puffing and wailing. There’s no time for hugging, and yet, it’s what your nervous system craves. You lean into him.

Cree has been your friend for a while. He’s only let you down once. It was when he was smudging his grandmother’s home. He accidentally lit your hair on fire with the white sage. You didn’t talk to him for days after that. This is different, though. Would he scorn you for being spooked?

“There’s something in this house.” You croak, going all in. “I keep seeing it, and hearing it, and it’s trying to hurt our friends.”

His hold tightens. He strokes your back and shushes you gingerly. The gesture ought to be comforting; instead, it disheartens you. He doesn’t seem to grasp your admission. Maybe you were wrong; maybe there’s no one you can trust with this horrible secret.

He shuffles so that his arms are outstretched and his hands are clasping your shoulders. There’s confusion carved into his face. He explains himself.

“I heard scratching on my wall. If I wasn’t lying in my bed, I wouldn’t have heard it. It was steady, like nails on drywall.”

Your watery eyes widen. The head of his mattress rests against the wall corresponding to Nelly’s closet. A shiver scrambles up your form, causing you to cringe. What would have happened if you’d opened the wicker doors? You dread considering the gruesome outcomes.

“It stopped, and shit was quiet for a while. Then, someone was crying.”

You tremble. It was the monster luring you into its clutches. Cree nearly overheard your demise.

“I-I-I thought I s-saw Nel.” You stammer, rattled. “S-she—“

“She left for work this morning.”

You whine. You’re grateful she’s alive; nevertheless, this news has you questioning your reality. You might be losing it from the level of psychological warfare this bastard is inflicting upon you. Regardless, you know that whatever you heard talking on the phone wasn’t your friend. Whatever you observed sitting on the bed, with tentacles for legs, wasn’t your friend, either. The monster has been hunting you from the second your eyes opened.

"I thought I saw her when I walked by her room." You gesture to your robe. “As you can see, I just finished showering. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking kinda sick. I went in the find her, but—“

You can’t stop thinking about what was in that closet. It was luring you, like a scumbag uses candy to snatch kids. He tempted you in the realms of curiosity and goodwill, effectively poking at your moral code. You have to admit, scurrying out of the bedroom didn’t feel great when you thought Nelly could’ve been in there.

Your exhale is noticeably strong.

“—but I heard someone crying in the closet.”

“And you ran.”

You nod, failing to restrain a waterfall bursting at the gates. You bawl into Cree’s shirt. He lets you, all while stroking your back and rocking you in place. He knows there’s nothing to say to a grieving soul, and so, he simply holds space for your pain. Your break down lasts for a good five minutes.

Alucard stands by the doorway of Nelly's room, observing the scene with envious eyes. If you turned around, you wouldn't catch him savouring your misery. He's undetectable to the human gaze.

It was him in the closet, luring you into his clutches. He shapeshifted into one of his various forms and embellished his usual theatrics. You took the bait flawlessly. If you were an idiot, he would have captured you there. He isn't certain what he would have done with you, so perhaps it's better for your health — and the longevity of his game — that he didn't fall for his trickery. Still, he doesn't care for the result augmenting before him.

The one you call Cree has his hands on you. He may prove to be an obstacle if he's not removed. You could be driven closer to the boy as you grow more frightened. If that’s the case, he'll have to speed up the process of isolating you from the others. They have you to blame for the cruel measures he’ll engage with to enact total control over his future queen.

He refrained from caressing you last night, in the dream he fabricated. He could have tackled you into the snow and taken you if he wanted. He’s more of a gentleman than that, though; tactics such as animalistic, dehumanizing rape is a method most commonly employed by the Catholic church. He, on the other hand, will lay claim to your body when you give him permission; he won’t have you until then.

In your sleep, he permitted you to venture closer to his castle, to work for the life he’s ready to give you — albeit unknowingly. He was impressed by your perseverance. He’s witnessed mortals give up after being chased by Baskerville. You chose to push on. You are proving to be very worthy. This was accentuated by the taste of your blood. He was fortunate to relish in a few drops.

When there's fresh, delectable blood available, a part of him — one who's incredibly juvenile — tends to coax him into indulging. In his younger years, he would have. He's learned since then, however. Watching his greedy counterparts drain humans dry and suffer the brutal consequences, it cemented the idea that feeding carelessly results in an untimely demise. He wouldn't be the apex predator he is today if he didn't heed his cryptid instincts.

The others died; he’ll live forever. Hopefully with you by his side.

Cree doesn’t explicitly indicate whether he believes you or not. What he does do is offer his support. He tells you to call him when you’re nervous. If he’s at work, and the cafe is dead, he’ll be able to chat with you for a bit. It’s an incredibly sweet gesture. Part of you wishes he volunteered himself to help you battle the monster in this house. Doesn’t he comprehend the gravity of letting this creature roam free?

He invites you into his room. You listen to music until Nelly comes home. He tells you that all of you are going to sit down and have dinner with each other this evening. Before leaving for work, the redhead told him and Ericson — both of who were already awake for the day, themselves — that she's going to bring home a few pizzas. After that, he's going to search the basement.

You don't know how he does it, but Cree manages to take your mind off the situation at hand. By the time Nelly arrives, you're laughing together about misheard lyrics from a song he showed you. Her advent is a reminder of sinister activities. Your mood is sapped the second you hear her keys jingle.

By six-thirty you're in the dining room, seated at the table. It's massive and made of a solid mahogany. Around it are six chairs. Two more sit off to the side. You recollect how adamant Nelly was about purchasing the set.

“We can’t have a house without a dining table. Might as well not have a damn house at all.”

This is the first place she's ever called home; you don't blame her for wanting it to be perfect. She's invested. You wish you could follow her lead.

You reach for a slice of your favourite pizza. Once everyone has food on their plate, the devouring commences. You didn't understand how hungry you were. You skipped breakfast and lunch today, but Cree gave you small candies to tide you over. Right now, this meal feels like the best thing you've eaten in your whole life.

You munch in silence. Cree pipes up between chewing.

"Yo, I heard some shit in the basement today."

You swallow, staring at him intently. He didn't tell you he was going to do this. Is he sparing you the embarrassment of having to bring up what occurred earlier?

“Oh yeah?” Nelly drones, biting into her food.

“Yeah. I thought it was someone crying.”

“What is it with everyone getting creeped out by the basement?” Ericson asks genuinely.

"Dunno." Cree shrugs. "Anyone wanna come check it out with me?"

Nelly hums, curiosity evident in her tone. She mulls the idea over in her head. You notice the rings beneath her eyes which resemble cattails in their colour. She tried to cover them with makeup, but it must have faded after a full day of working. Your friend seems exhausted.

"Sure." She concedes with a shrug, focusing on her food. "But give me time to eat and digest before this little—" She pauses to gesture at Cree, who's visibly animated in his seat. "—adventure."

"Sweet!"

Something you've come to realize about your comrades during this ordeal is that they're exponentially compassionate towards one another, yourself included. Your collective dedication to friendship is admirable. Each of you have different personalities, and yet, you mesh well on a united front.

"I'll come, but I won't go down." Ericson chimes in. "It's too cold."

"You sure that's why?" You lift a teasing brow. "Or are you scared?"

She head rolls around the back of her neck. She faces you with an exasperated expression. You crack a simper.

"Girl." She scoffs. "You're asking me if I'm scared when I busted in the washroom to save your ass from a peeping tom?"

"Nah, that's a human!" Cree interjects, grinning. "What about if (f/n) said she saw a ghost tryna get at her?"

Nelly snorts, almost choking on her food.

"You're acting like the ghost is tryna fuck."

"Maybe it is!" Cree snickers.

"Hey, if I was dead for decades, I'd be pretty horny." Ericson asserts.

As funny as it is, once removed from the reality of the circumstance at hand, you barely giggle. It stirs anxiety in your chest. The threat to you is tremendous. And what if the vampire is trying to fuck? That's an outrageous demand you don't want to give into.

Later that evening, Cree and Nelly disengage the locks and open the door to the basement. You and Ericson gather around to watch. You can tell Nelly has some reservations about the impending endeavour.

“I’m telling you right now: if there’s a demon down there, I’m getting terminating the damn lease.”

While you nod in agreement, pleased by her willingness not to trifle with the supernatural realm, Ericson rolls her eyes.

“Chill.” The brunette groans. “I swear, you guys are freaked out by the house shifting and the pipes rattling.”

“Darkness, too.” Cree adds with a coy smile. "Don't forget that."

He flicks on the light switch. Abruptly, the bulb blows. Its deafening snap has you covering your face in terror. Ericson shrieks.

“What the fuck!” The man cries. “Shit, dude! That could not have happened at a worse time!”

“What a coincidence.” Ericson mutters, weary.

“Yeah.” Nelly grumbles, face twisted in disapproval. “But I feel like that was too much of a coincidence. I say we keep that door locked tight. Like, I’ll wait at the top of the stairs while you guys investigate, kinda thing.”

You get why she doesn’t want to put herself at risk. She’s smarter than most. A bad omen is a bad omen.

“I mean… I don’t want Cree going by himself, so I’ll go, too.” Ericson volunteers.

She’s genuinely concerned for his safety. You are, too, but you can’t set foot down there. Guilt rises. You punch it down so it’s mere background noise.

Cree scoops his phone out of his pocket. He turns on the flashlight app and regards Ericson. He flickers the beam beneath his chin.

“‘Kay. You ready?”

The young woman replicates his moves.

“Sure am.”

Ericson trots down the stairs after Cree. You stand on the stoop and gaze into the abyss. It’s haunting to remember when you were here on the viewing day, tempted to meet the monster. You believe he blew the bulb. Does he plan to screw with your friends while they’re in his domain?

Suddenly, nausea bubbles in your gut. You shouldn’t have let them go. He doesn’t seem capable of harming you on the other floors of the house, but what if he’s more powerful in the basement?

A hand drops onto your shoulder. You yelp at the impetuous contact. Thankfully, it’s Nelly.

“Are you okay, hun?” She inquires, perturbed. “You’ve been hella jumpy lately.”

She hasn’t been noticing the noises. She hasn’t been privy to his growing vitality. The closest she got to him was today, when the lightbulb blew. If she knew, she would be frightened, too.

“Cree isn’t the only one hearing noises.” You admit. “It feels like there’s something else here with us.”

She bobs her head slowly, digesting your confession.

"You're saying you heard noises?"

"Yeah."

"In the basement?"

"That's right."

"And we sent those two down there?"

You bite your tongue until you taste iron. That's precisely what you were pondering when she confronted you. In a sick way, you're content that's you're not the sole one concerned about their trek into foreign territory.

The clock in the kitchen cycles two and half times. Just then, footsteps echo from the stairwell. Unknowingly, you and Nelly hold your breath. They’re gradual and intentional. It could be your friends or the beast. Graciously, Cree’s head appears. Ericson is there, as well.

"Nothing at all is down there, guys." He announces, securing the door behind Ericson. "Just dust."

"Yup." His counterpart corroborates. "We split up and didn't see anything weird."

Relieved, you huff. It doesn't mean that he's a figment of your imagination, or that he's not surveilling you; it means that your friends made it back up alive. He didn't trifle with them.

"Whew!" Nelly bellows. "Y'all had me worried there for a sec, I'm not gonna lie."

"Like when the light went out?"

Ericson rags on her in jest. She laughs.

"Yes, exactly!"

The brunette turns to Cree.

"Are you satisfied?"

He stares at you. It's in indication that he wants to know your answer to Ericson's probe. With the smallest of smiles, you nod discreetly. You can't rely on them to take down a vampire. It's enough that no one got hurt. Cree mimics you.

"Totally, dude. Thanks."

With that, everyone disperses. You decide to retire to your bedroom for the evening. You have a lot of work to do. Cree turns in, too. He’ll probably stay up and play games with his friends. Nelly heads for the bathroom to shower and hit the hay. In her words, seven in the morning comes fast. You think this is a positive ending to the night.

Ericson moves towards her chamber. She's the last to go. Once she's inside her room, she locks the door. Then, she removes an amulet from her back pocket. The jewel is crimson, as though filled with blood. It's encrusted with gold. She found it down there, when her and Cree were searching for any sign of life. It was tucked away on a ledge in the cold room, at the furthest corner of the house. She spotted it because she thought she saw something when she scanned her flashlight over the small space. Upon further examination, she discovered this mysterious treasure.

She grins. This will be her little secret. She can’t explain why she doesn’t want to tell you or the others about the jewel. Does she think you'll steal it from her? She has no reason to. Years have dictated that none of you are thieves.

It's peculiar...

...but a voice in her head — distant, yet demanding — implores her to keep this to herself.

[slugghee]

FELT ASSHOLE RANKING!!

who's the assholiest of them all!!

Itchy - Itchiest asshole on the planet

Die - Definition of disproportionate retribution. Would vivisect you for what could creatively be interpreted as a slight against him… if he had the fucking balls (Unrelated but he would scream if he saw this ranking. He does not believe him and Itchy are anywhere near the same level)

Clover - Gets away with wayyy too much shit and he knows it. The master of backhanded compliments. Has a lil' nasty habit of treating his peers like toys. Loves to employ plausible deniability with his assholery, and his luck covers his tracks

Snowman - Would surpass Clover if she didn't think the Felt simply weren't worth the effort. Has no problem instilling mortal fear in them for the sin of breathing the same air as her

Trace - Will deny it but he’s by far the biggest shittalker in the Felt. Can get very mean about people he doesn't care about, even if he’s too much of a little bitch to say it to their face. His past trails power also gives him a lot of material…

Fin - Originally wasn't that much of an asshole at all, but has become more and more assholey after joining the Felt (*cough* no thanks to Trace…)

Crowbar - Assholery is mostly limited to workplace frustrations. Unfortunately, he has never had a fucking hour off

Matchsticks - don't be fooled by his firefighter schtick… he starts fires on PURPOSE! all to experience the rush of PUTTING THEM OUT! Assholery is mostly but not entirely limited to disingenuous arson tactics

Stitch - His power gives him plenty of opportunities to commit assholery. However, he's much more responsible about it than most other felt members would be. Doesn't stop him tho

Quarters - Just because he's a standoffish loner doesn't mean he's an asshole. Well unless you try to talk to him for more than 15 seconds

Biscuits - More aware of the consequences of him and Eggs's antics than Eggs is, but goes along with it anyways because they're buddies :) (and also he generally cares less about others’ feelings than Eggs does) 

Doze - Can get extremely passive aggressive if you make him angry. Usually it's justified though… usually…

Sawbuck - By far the most well-adjusted Felt member. Sawbuck only acts like an asshole when it's hot or justified. Even then he tries not to start conflicts, not because he's a pushover but because he has self-respect and robust self-restraint. (and also bc his power sucks)

Cans - He's just here to help!! Has trouble reading the room and gets riled up quickly, but will apologize for misunderstandings. Still not above teasing everyone for being fucking TINY!!

Eggs - Really… not an asshole. It would be hard for him to act assholeish if he tried. Not above pranking folks with Biscuits but that's like bare bones leprechaun behavior

[pacifymebby]

Hey! Can I request the peaky boys with a reader who has abandonment issues, I just know alfie will give one of his best bear hugs if you tell him about it, I'm wondering how it would work out tho cause of them being gangsters and all

Hi there lovely!! Im so sorry that this has taken me this long to get to, i loved this request so much and i wanted to do it justice? I have abandonment issues ngl so i hope i did manage to do this justice

Tommy

🌿So caught up in his own issues he doesn't notice yours until someone else points it out to him.

🌿 Honestly i think tommy has one of those terrible inferiority matched with superiority complexes that means hes constantly oscillating between "I'm beneath them" and "fuck everyone I'm better than everyone"

🌿Like beneath everything theres this desperation to be loved that isn't calmed but more squashed and silenced by his convinction that he isnt worth loving/ cant be loved

🌿 So anyway between all these issues he has he probably won't notice anything about you to indicate that you have an issue of your own. He's not exactly self centered, more that theres already so much noise in his head...

🌿 And it'll be his issues that push your issues. His convictions that hes a bad man that you shouldn't love... He'll probably do the dramatic thing and try to cut you off or push you away when things in his life get dangerous for you...

🌿And you'll panic and get so sad and he will see he's breaking your heart and terrifying you but it'll take someone like Pol to slap him round the face before he really understands what hes doing to you

🌿 The way him pushing you away just makes you hold on tighter... There will be a bit of relief in him too, he'll like the fact that you don't want to leave him (because of those issues of his own) and there'll be a level of healing there for him, realising someone does think he's worth loving.

🌿But i think when it all comes to a head, you'd be arguing, you'd both say hurtful evil things to one another in the heat of the moment "you can't just fucking leave me!" "its for your own fucking good, are you stupid? Don't go thinking for a second that i want to do this love, im just doing the intelligent thing... Youre an intelligent girl aren't you? Don't be so fucking stupid..." "I don't want to live without you!" "better you died without me than because of me y/n" "Can't you see thats the same fucking thing tommy!"

🌿 And then maybe finally he'd understand, he'd see your desperation, see how hurt you really are and he'd soften and return to you, kiss you, hold you in his arms, change his mind.

🌿 "You don't want to live without me?" "No," "then you won't, you won't..." just gently shushing you... But he does think you're insane and wants to know why you're like this, wants to know what happened to you to leave you so scared of being alone

🌿He'd be angry and bitter about this too, why would anyone treat someone as lovely as you with so little care or heart. He'd want to kill them, take their eyes, do something to take revenge, he would probably exercise self restraint though.

🌿 I think he'd have a whole new complex but it would be slightly healthy in an insane and unhealthy way... His new obsession would be staying alive for you, not wanting to abandon you, knowing his life means he could die any minute, death lurks round every corner, it stalks him through the streets...

🌿 And because of this he'd write you letters every now and then for just in case it happens, explaining to you how he isnt just abandoning you. He'd make sure all his affairs were in order, that you wouldn't be left on your own. There would be instructions for his family on making sure to take you in, he'd tell Polly to treat you like a daughter ect.

🌿 He would make you a promise he couldn't keep. Tommy gives the impression of being sensible but he's always making people promises he can't keep (because he's arrogant enough to believe that he can keep those promises)

🌿He'll hold you so tenderly, tell you he loves you, no one else just you, tells you he'd die without you too. He's being deadly serious too. His biggest fear is something happening to you that leaves him left in this world without you.

🌿He'd make sure you knew you were loved, he'd buy you a necklace or something, something simple, that you could wear all the time, that would remind you he was with you always.

🌿You would get so insecure so often just because Tommy socialises in glamourous circles and often meets the most beautiful women, but he would always know the right things to say and do to sooth your worries and reassure you that you mean the world to him.

Alfie

🐻 If you thought he was soft with you before wait till you see him now

🐻 Alfie is very in tune with your emotions and he can tell when you're worried or feeling down. So he knows that something is getting to you before you admit it to him

🐻 You have been trying to hide your issues too because you're aware that it's just a bad choice to be romantically involved with a dangerous gangster when you are quite so scared of being abandoned or left behind like you are.

🐻 Your way of trying to deal with these issues is to kid yourself that you don't have them, that everythings fine, that you'd be completely fine if anything were to happen to Alfie or if he just decided he wasn't interested in you anymore. So whenever Alfie does try to ask whats wrong you would just shut him out and dismiss him

🐻 And when it does come time for him to go away on business, when his life is potentially at risk, you would try to pretend you weren't bothered... Which would hurt Alfie, because he'd think you don't care about him...

🐻 And then he'd try to pretend like he didn't care...

🐻 And things would potentially get pretty messy, you both pretending not to care about the situation, both of you trying to ignore the very near future...

🐻 He'd end up going ahead with this meeting or plan and you'd spend the whole time he was away going crazy, biting your nails, pacing and being restless, convincing yourself he's died, driving yourself crazy and drinking to get through the anxiety...

🐻 So that when he returns he finds you a complete mess, sitting on the kitchen floor with a bottle in your hand, you havent slept, you were drunk but you've cried yourself sober and you feel completely broken down

🐻 Alfie would be heart broken to see you looking so forlorn but he'd do his best not to show you that, smiling sympathetically instead, sitting on the stool at the table and leaning down to reach for the bottle in your hand.

🐻 "hmmm yeah right, i see the problem here ziskeit, yeah i see the probpem.. This you're drinking right here, this is Shelby Gin right and although it claims to be "distilled for the eradication of a seemingly incurable sadness" it just don't do what it says on the label yeah... In fact poppet, I'd go as far as to say that it actually makes you feel much much worse..."

🐻 You'd have been in a state of shock when he first came in, not really believing him to be there at all, but maybe at the sound of his voice youd have looked up at him, realised it really was him and instead of looking so sad and broken a little smile would come onto your face and when he smiled, your smile would grow bigger and brighter.

🐻 "Youre not dead," youd smile seeming to forget the misery of your solitude. Alfie would laugh at you a little confused and he'd shake his head. "Last time I checked ziskeit..."

🐻 He'd beckon you up to come and sit with him and hold you snug to his side then he'd want to know why you were so miserable.

🐻 And when you told him about everything he'd not say a word, just hold onto you very very tightly, he'd tuck your head into the crook of his neck and kiss your hair. He would probably hold onto you like that quietly for quite a long time. It would be the cosiest and most comforting of hugs, you'd feel small and snug and so secure held tightly in his big arms as he held onto you for dear life.

🐻 He would probably be a little concerned/upset that you hadn't told him sooner, and he'd want to be careful about understanding you completely.

🐻 But once he did he'd be so reassuring and loving to you hugging you tight in his big arms, he wouldnt shut up about how much he loves you and how its his job to look after you and never ever leave you.

🐻 He would defintely make the promise he knows he can't keep but he'd also tell you he knows he shouldn't make it because he can't really keep it... "now i know its irresponsible to make promises you know you can't necessarily definitely 100% keep however, right now poppet i think its what you need to hear and its what i want to say and i reckon thats as good a reason as any to break my rules yeah? What do you think?"

🐻"now i dont often ask you to torture your old man reminding him that there have been other men in your life but... I what i wanna know right... Is why someone as sweet and lovely as you, could possibly think that someone who loves you very much... Cause i do yeah, i love you very much... Could possibly leave you..."

🐻 "poppet i ain't even gonna leave you when i die right, I'm gonna follow you around everywhere, fucken watchin over you every day for the rest of your life yeah"

🐻 Alfie would take you and everything about your relationship so seriously. He'd do lots of things to remind you of his devotion to you. I kind of feel like acts of service are his love language and like just looking after you and providing for you and spoiling you are how he'd want to show you how he values you.

Arthur

🍂 Arthur definitely has abandonment issues of his own and therefore your relationahip would be intense, perhaps volatile to begin with, before you understand one another completely.

🍂 Once you work out you're both just scared of the same things you'd stop fighting or getting paranoid about one another and you'd come together stronger than ever before.

🍂 You would stick to one another like glue, completely devoted to eachother. Arthur would view you as his saving grace, he'd treasure you and be so protective.

🍂 He'd never want to let you out of his sight. Which would be fine because you wouldn't want to leave his side for even a second.

🍂 He would definitely have his own issues about not abandoning others too so he'd be very reassuring, loyal and determined not to leave you on your own ever, or let you doubt his feelings for you.

🍂 There would be lots of tearful dramatic promises of his love and devotion.

🍂 But it would always be worded like "Its you and me now eh sweetheart, we're gonna be alright, we're gonna look after eachother, we're never gonna leave one another alone, yeah you and me right..."

🍂 Holding your hand super tight out in public. Always having you tucked under his arm

🍂 Coming home drunk and dropping to his knees to confess his undying love for you, as if its the first time he's confessing his undying love for you

🍂 I can't state enough how dramatic and intense this relationship would be. You'd both need one another so hard, but as a result youd both always feel needed. You'd know your worth 100%

🍂 But if you did argue they'd be volatile and you'd both really hurt one another, because you'd both be so scared that the other was going to leave, that fear would make you clumsy emotional and youd both say stuff you dont really mean

🍂 You'd both do lots of crying i guess, but when you do make up again it would be just as passionate as the argument.

🍂 The make up sex would be intense ya know?

🍂 I feel like he'd need lots of eye contact, not just in sex but like just in day to day life, youd constantly be looking at one another only to find the other looking back, so your day would be scattered with these sweet moments of quiet connection, both of you blushing or smiling because youve been caught watching your lover.

🍂 Arthur is actually very good at talking about his feelings, hes just never been given the chance to before. Even tommy shuts down those conversations, so Arthur would be scared to tell you how he feels at first... Once he knows he can though he will always be honest about his feelings and you'll know you can talk to him about anything. The two of you would share all your deepest darkest emotions, trusting in eachother completely. You would be eachothers rock.

🍂 You would obviously eventually have been honest with him about your childhood and your past relationships and whatever it is that's left you with all these issues and fears... And whether its a boyfriend, a father a mother whatever.. Arthurs going to hold grudges against anyone who has ever hurt you

🍂 If it was an ex or a father, he can't promise they'll live much longer...

John

🌼 John wouldnt notice at first, its not as of hes completely emotionally immature, because hes very mature when you need him to be, its just that generally speaking hes still very boyish...

🌼 So your fears go unnoticed by him to begin with. Over time however he does notice the way you hold onto him for a moment longer than is natural, how sometimes you get teary eyed just saying goodbye to him in the morning when he's off to work

🌼 And its impossible not to notice how upset you get when he's a little late home in the evenings... You really struggle when he doesn't come home on time... Your mind starts wandering to all those terrible possibilities... That something could have happened to him when he was out with the lads...he could be injured, lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life... Already dead, abandoned in an alley bleeding out.

🌼 The relief which washes over you when he comes through the front door leaves you shaking and when he pulls you in for a quick kiss he sees the light catch the tears in your eyes...

🌼 "Whats the matter love has something happened?" when he asks you you try to be brave, shake your head and lie, tell him youve just got dust in your eyes as you turn away from him and busy yourself with dinner

🌼 But john doesnt really know how to leave something alone and he'll keep pressing you on it, especially when you say "really john its nothing, just being daft.."

🌼 Hed get all serious then, cupping your cheek in his hand, turning your gaze back towards him. "Nah flower, dafts not like you... Youre not daft.. Talk to me love, whats wrong?"

🌼 "Its nothing really i just... When youre late home like that and i dont know where you are i get worried dont i, you know me mimd starts wandering and i get to thinkiny somet awfuls happened to you... That maybe youre not coming home at all and then i stsrt thinking about how i dont really think i could handle that like, if you didn't come home one day..." youd tell him all about how scared you are of him leaving you alone in this world, that you kind of feel doomed in a way, because everyone youve ever known has left you one way or another and youre so scared that one way or another he's going to end up leaving you too...

🌼 And John would listen to you, quietly, thoughtfully, his brows knitting together because he's concentrating and taking you so seriously.

🌼 He would be so soft with you, holdong your face in his hands, looking you deep in the eyes.

🌼 Like Alfie, super soft, makes you promises he knows he might not be able to keep but can't stabd to see you sad.

🌼 Kind of wants to be around you all the time

🌼 Takes being your man very seriously and will try very hard not to give you reasons to doubt him.

🌼 Imagine him taking your face in his hands, his eyes locked with yours as he tells you "you're the most important person to me in this whole world and I'm not going anywhere, I'm never leaving you flower, not for anything..."

🌼 He knows he shouldnt make promises he doesn't know whether he can keep, but he supposes he'll just have to do his best to keep them.

🌼 Which means being less reckless and more thoughtful, he'd mature a little bit, wouldn't needlessly put himself at risk.

🌼 He would be curious to know what happened to you to leave you with your fears but he wouldn't push you to talk about it. He doesnt like to be reminded that you were ever anyones but his, not just because youre his girl, but because he gets frustrated that there were times in your life when you needed him and he wasn't there because you hadnt met yet.

🌼 So to make up for that he just tries to be there for you as best he can now, as your protector, always reassuring you hes there to look after you and love you whenever you need him.

Bonnie

🍀 The softest most gentle boy in the world. He'd be upset by what you were telling him. It would be a lot to take in and he'd be blaming himself for your fears thinking it was something he'd done to make you feel that way

🍀Wordlessly wrapping his arms around you, pulling your whole body into his lap, tight against his chest, squeezing you reassuringly and lovingly, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder.

🍀 He'd nuzzle into you and the two of you would be quiet, you sniffling into his chest trying to stop yourself from crying. Him unable to cry but feeling like he wants to.

🍀 He'd probably apologise to you which would confuse you...

"I'm sorry little dove,"

"What? Why are you sorry Bon its not..."

"Well i obviously haven't been there for you enough lately if you're getting scared like this... M'sorry if i havent been doing enough to y'know... Show you how much i love you..."

🍀 You'd be so shocked by his words you wouldn't know what to say but you'd kiss him softly and try to explain it isn't really his fault at all, but he probably wouldn't accept that there wasnt anything he could have done... Because he thinks he should have been there for you more, told you he loves you more ect...

🍀He would kiss your forehead and then rest his against yours, promising you the whole world, telling you how much he adores you, how everything he does is for you, how he wouldn't want to live if he lost you

🍀It would be intense but ever so sweet, him playing with your fingers whilst he spoke, lying back and bringing you down with him, letting you calm resting against his chest.

🍀He's so devotional, he is always telling you he's yours and youre his girl, starts saying "my little dove" instead of just little dove

🍀 Makes a point of being just a little more possesive around the fire in the evening when other lads try to flirt with you he'll proudly tell the whole world youre his. He'd want to have you near him at all times and probably stick to you like glue. Always holding your hand or putting his arm around you.

🍀 He would talk to you about your feelings even if its not the easiest thing in the world, he'd lie awake with you at night, playing with your hair and listening to you as you told him what had happened to you in your past, why you're so scared of being abandoned...

🍀 He'll take you seriously... Obviously.. But to hide any difficult feelings stirred inside him at hearing how youve been hurt, he'll make a joke about beating whoever hurt you up, "yeah you just tell em to meet me in the ring my little dove, teach em a lesson they wont forget..."

Issiah

🐀Is a charmer and a flirt and although he is completely committed to you, his girl, he will struggle not to flirt with the odd girl in a bar or smile and wink at someone he catches checking him out

🐀And you dont want to be annoyed at him for it because you dont want him to think youre one of those crazy, uncool, possesive girls

🐀But youre just scared he might actually get bored of you one day and just decide on a whim to abandon you right there in the middle of the garrison in exchange for one of those prettier girls

🐀You would end up arguing about it, you making petty bitchy remarks until he snaps at you, and honestly the second he does youd burst into tears unable to hide your real feelings.

🐀"Please don't leave!" the words would come out before you could stop them and youd feel completely pathetic and worthless, but he'd just look at you with a frown on his face, no longer angry just confused and... Concerned.

🐀"Why the fuck would you say that?" he'd ask slowly, he knows the answer but he doesn't really believe it... Surely you don't actually believe he'd abandon you?

🐀He'd do a lot of realising very very quickly, frowning deeper when he realises that yes, that is in fact exactly what you think.

🐀You wouldn't be able to stop your crying, you'd be so upset and half expecting him to walk out there and then.

🐀"If you're gonna go then fucking do it already Isaiah stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" "Like you fucking hate me!"

🐀After that he wouldn't exactly know what to do with himself, sure he's good at charming girls, but he doesn't really know how to get them to stop crying... Or to believe him when he says i love you. Usually they just do.

🐀He'd take your hands kind of hesitantly, not shy but just uncertain, he doesnt want to fuck this up and make it even worse

🐀And then he'd give your hands a squeeze and probably just try to speak from the heart.

🐀"I don't hate you mousy, i dont know why you think that but i dont, i couldnt possibly hate you and I'm definitely not gonna fuckin leave you..."

🐀You wouldn't know whether to believe him at first, looking up at him from under watery eyelashes, sniffling and blushing slightly.

🐀"Ever?" youd ask and he'd smirk down at you affectionately, "Ever." he'd confirm kissing your nose and stroking your hair.

🐀He'd ask you why you thought he would want to leave you, but he can't really say he's surprised. "You know none of that flirting means anything, its just part of the deal aint it... Being one of birminghams most charming criminals..." he'd joke to try and reassure you but when he sees it isnt working he'd be serious again. "I love you and only you and you know I'd die for you so i dont see why youre so scared I'm gonna walk out on us..."

🐀"Dying is a sort of leaving too ain't it Isaiah..."

🐀He really wouldn't know how to reassure you then, he'd chuckle nervously.. "Love you do realise who i am right? What i am..." "You know what I'm involved in... With the Peakys..."

🐀"Even so..."

🐀I don't think he'd promise you he wasn't going to die, i think he'd just try to make sure you knew he wouldn't leave you of his own choice. He wouldn't want to make a promise you'd live to regret.

Michael

☘️ Doesn't understand at first. And i do think you would have quite an intense argument about it. Not loud and shouting at one another but quiet and guarded and trying to be polite

☘️ Because Michael views himself as a gentleman and would be offended that you'd think he would ever cheat on you or abandon you because that would be improper and he views himself as above that

☘️ "is that really how little you think of me? Is that really how poorly you think i view you? You think i have such little respect for my girl that I'd just up and leave her?" his voice would be tight and sharp and he wouldn't be looking at you. He'd be wounded and taking it very personally

☘️"Thats...thats not what i meant its not like that at all..." youd be struggling to get your words out or explain what you really meant, "i just..." he wouldn't be listening to you, instead hed be getting more wound up by the second thinking in stupid circles, worrying that you were going to leave him.

☘️ "Then what is it like y/n cause right now it sounds like youre accusing me of something i havent even thought about doing... Sounds to me like youre the one looking for reasons to leave..."

☘️ Tears streaming down your face as you stare back at him in shock, you're panicking, you can hardly breath

☘️ But michaels just being cruel now, saying it to test you, he's watching you crumble and taking reassurance from it, its evidence enough that you love him, that you don't want to leave him, your fear is genuine.

☘️ "Tell me y/n if youre so scared I'll leave you why don't you do yourself a favour and leave first eh? Save yourself all that heartache?"

☘️ "You... You don't really mean that michael i know you don't..." "Yeah?" michael is a bastard, he likes how much you need him and he wants you to be dependent/scared to lose him.

☘️ So then he'd soften, he'd come close to you, hands on your hips, holding you in his palms as he strokes his thumbs over your hips. "Listen Y/n whoever else you've known before, anyone whose let you down in the past... They're in the past. You're mine now remember? And I'm a good man y/n i really am, I treat you right, i treat you like a princess don't i? Even if i do bad things to other people right, even if I'm one of the worst men in new york city... I'm your man and thats never going to change... So youd better get used to that"

☘️All of this being said, michael knows how to make you feel loved, how to reassure you. Perhaps he didn't realise before how much reassurance you needed, but now that he understands this he is nothing but kind and sweet and good to you. He always was of course but now he makes an extra effort.

☘️He makes a point of telling you he needs you, or telling you he needs to see you. He'll call you into his office telling you its important, then, when you arrive all flustered and concerned, he'll just smile and say he needed to see his girl.

☘️ He'll always have a hand on you somewhere, your thigh under the table, your hand, his arm around your waist. He becomes physically even more possesive in an attempt to show you he isn't going anywhere.

☘️ He will make the promise he can't keep because he is arrogant and truly believes he can promise he's never going to get killed.

[rockybloo]

You joked yesterday about the Bitterbat/Sweetheart romance having "chaotically problematic" aspects, and I was curious if you could expand on that. TBH so far, they don't really seem especially unhealthy towards one another and as far as I can tell, it's not like Amara is letting Bitterbat kill/hurt innocents.

The chaotically problematic aspects come from how they are just a romanticization of stalking and obsession.

Bitterbat is a yandere. He'd never hurt Sweetheart - that is the biggest rule of writing him. Even when they do their mock battles, he may scratch her up some but that's only because she explicitly told him to beforehand.

Bitterbat is madly in love with Sweetheart. He thinks about her every hour of the day. He wears her clothes, occasionally swipes her underwear, watches her sleep, follows her damn near everywhere she goes, and knows whenever she is thinking of him. And god forbid he ever discovers someone has done her wrong. He'd show them there are worse fates than death.

And Sweetheart finds this behavior absolutely adorable. She gets butterflies in her stomach knowing Bitterbat does this typa stuff. She absolutely fangirls and squeals.

Her reaction isn't the result of delusion, just like Bitterbat's obsession with her isn't the result of him not being in his right mind.

BOTH are self aware and know their behavior goes against the norm. BOTH do not care. They used to, but then they realized that life isn't as fun when they hold back. So they just dropped the restraints. This is their love language - if the world doesn't like it - it can fuck off. One of them is keeping it safe, and one of them is showing it mercy.

Sweetheart sees some clothes go missing, she immediately knows Bitterbat swiped them and asks him if he could return some specific ones by (insert date) because she has an event she has to go to and she had an outfit she was planning on wearing.

She notices him following her while she is on her college campus and she orders two frozen yogurt cups so he can sneak on over while he is his itty bitty self and enjoy a treat with her before she goes to class. HELL, sometimes she just notices him following her and beckons him over so she can scoop him up while he is itty bitty and slip him right into her bra so he can ride along with her throughout the day.

And whenever she feels his eyes on her whenever she's resting, she sleeps a little more soundly since she knows he won't let anything bad happen to her both in the outside world and her dreams (since Bitterbat can enter dreams - he only does such with Sweetheart's tho)

There's more examples but basically, I have absolutely no interest in writing a "yandere creeps out their crush" story. We have so many of those and, while it makes sense a lot of people enjoy that type of story, I find more fun in flipping it on its head.

The concept of a female character who is decked out in the most lovecore fit, designated as a defender of love, deemed to be a role model and the ideal heroine, being down bad and matching the freak of her obsessive villainous boyfriend who causes deaths so gruesome, it'd make a slasher flinch, just scrubs my brain right.

It fills in the gaps I always feel when I see any series and spot a villain crushing on a heroine who ain't into them.

Glitter and Guilt is basically just a "What if the heroine WAS into it tho?" story.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You)

First posted: January 25, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd and his various siblings

Favorite bookmark: "A variety of permutations and flavors of Robin h/c featuring Jason! The Baskin Robins of BatFam h/c, if you will."

Second favorite bookmark: "and so, step by step, the prodigal stray coaxes himself home."

Tier: #3 in hits & kudos & subscriptions, #4 in comment threads, #2 in bookmarks

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Individual chapter notations below the cuts.

Chapter One

First, to note, the title came last and is from "Hey Brother" by Avicii because it was already on my BatFam playlist and gave me strong sibling feels, so it worked!

Okay if I remember correctly, this fic came about because 1) I had jotted down story ideas, all surrounding Jason, that were all just a bit too similar for me to feel comfortable doing them as one-offs, and 2) it was late 2018 when I start writing so I was deep in 5+1 IronDad fics.

This fic was so deeply indulgent from start to finish, which I think might be why people liked it so much? Like, if you're into the tropes into this fic, you're really into them. It scratches the itch just right, because it's my itch and I wrote it for me.

The plan was to do like I did for my other multi-chapter fics (except Nature and Nurture, RIP me) and write it all out before posting anything, so I could be sure that I would actually finish. I don't have that kind of self-restraint anymore. But it was a fun challenge to figure out what should happen to whom and in what order.

Jason didn’t sleep much anymore. He’d always been a rough sleeper, his years spent in low-security public housing and then on the street grinding away at his ability to rest with ease. He slept lightly, his consciousness skimming just below the surface, ready to spring awake at the softest noise.

As I've said before, sometimes I have an idea for a fic but then, when trying to start it, a sentence pops up immediately as my opener. That's always a wild ride because sometimes it seems to have nothing at all to do with where I want to go, so then I have to backtrack and figure out but why tho????

Moving to the Manor had helped some, after he’d assured himself that no one was going to scratch at his door or steal his shoes. The cold mornings had been the best, spent curled under a mound of the softest blankets imaginable atop a mattress so perfectly contoured to his bones that it’d felt like floating on the surface of a pool. He’d slept, truly slept, at the Manor.

I like the idea of, even at Jason's most toxic and vitriolic, the Manor itself still representing safety and comfort. Maybe sometimes he would twist it into stifling or grossly indulgent, but I think deep in his stomach he would know that distortion was a lie. The Manor was safer than anywhere else, even with his mom.

Those days of rest were long gone. The Pit had done a number on his brain—intensifying and altering his emotions, erasing some old habits and dialing up others, leaving dark chasms where memories should be.

I've seen other fics play with the idea of the trauma of Jason's injuries, death, resurrection, and the Pit all combining to some degree or another to swiss-cheese his brain (a phrase I lovingly borrow from Quantum Leap.) And that of course leaves a bunch of really fun room to play with—how much does Jason know he's missing vs. how much is gone or totally distorted without him even being aware? (Again, another thing I tease out in various fics like N&N.)

It was like someone had jammed a stick in his skull and given his brain a good stir. Or maybe that was just the crowbar. Ha.

I made myself snicker with that one. It's so voiceily Jason but also that ha is so guttural and specific in my head, you all will never know.

He was making progress with his budding criminal empire—splashy progress, as displayed on the crusting cuffs of his sleeves and the splattered toes of his boots, but also more subtle progress, too. The subtle form was harder, so much harder, but he knew its changes would be more permanent, in the long run. Splashy got people talking. Subtle got them bowing.

Jason! Todd! Is! No! Thug! He is smart and cunning and uses violence to make an impact and that's that on that.

And though he’d heard her speak before in the careful neutral of the middle-class, the sounds being beat out of her now were Crime Alley crooked.

I like the idea of Steph and Jason growing up in the same neighborhood. It's not a hill I'd die on, but it makes for some interesting fic.

The girl put up a good fight. She was rough, no finesse, no real training. All knuckles and elbows and feet and knees. He spotted some of the Bat basics pop up in the way she ducked and spun, but she wasn’t lithe like Nightwing or crafty like the Replacement. She was a brawler. And she was losing.

She is who he might have been, without Bruce and Alfred and Dick. A decent fighter, stubborn, willing to brawl it out, but ultimately destined to lose.

It sucked in an abstract way, the way it sucked that someone was going hungry halfway around the world, the way it sucked when a stranger missed his bus. It sucked, but it wasn’t Jason’s problem, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. B needed to learn to pick up his toys.

Starting with Steph made the most sense to me. She wasn't (and isn't) a member I know super well, with so much of her canon backstory being things I have no interest in, and she's part of the Family but in that awkward "we're maybe siblings but also I have a mom and also I dated one of you too??" ways, so she's got a little bit of distance, for me as a writer and also Jason. She doesn't have the emotional heat of the others. He doesn't hate her, just what she represents. He also doesn't care what happens to her, except—

The knife glinted in the amber streetlight and cast a shadow across the yellow emblem on her chest.

She's not Batman. She's not a Robin. She's Batgirl. And that's a different thing entirely.

Jason knew what they saw when they looked at him. He was big now, broad-shouldered and massive in a way he had only ever dreamed of being as a scrawny, malnourished street kid. His helmet was blood-red and gleaming, its angles sculpted to subtly suggest a skull. And his clothes were still stained with actual blood. He was an Alley myth, a nightmare with more bite than the Bat, because he wasn’t afraid to do real damage. He was death.

Jason Peter Todd is scary smart, and he knows how to make the exact impact he wants.

“I don’t know you, but I know your colors. You’re Ibanescu’s boys.”

I had to google Gotham crime families. I know literally nothing other than the name.

It was one thing to let her get the snot beat out of her. And even if someone else had taken a shot at her, he wouldn’t have minded. But he couldn’t. Not in that suit.

:3

“It’s not about you,” Jason repeated, his voice gravelly and rough. He pointed toward the yellow symbol on her chest, the symbol that, in the world he’d left, the world he remembered, belonged to someone else. “I owe her a debt. And now it’s paid.” Jason was a murderer. A thief. A criminal. A drug lord. He had no illusions as to his own goodness anymore, no hope for redemption or grace. But he had his values, the few precious things that he would not allow. One of those, it seemed, was watch a man restrain and stab a Batgirl while he did nothing.

Someday I'll write more about that. The partner and friend and maybe mentor who was still reeling from trauma and hadn't yet found her way when Jason was snuffed out of existence.

Jason was tired, but the night was just beginning.

So that's where it starts. Jason tired, literally caked with dried blood, stepping in not because of love or hate or curiosity or concern but because he felt he owed a debt to someone else and that debt instead landed on the person in front of him.

[anxious-lee]

|| Quasimodo Tickle Headcanons ||

A/N: didn't actually think anyone would want these but @shyleereading , this one's for you 😤🫶❤️

--------

- 100% lee

- mans does not have the confidence to tickle anyone

- doesn't think much about tickling until Esmerelda comes into his life

- she's always finding new ways to bring out Quasi's spirit and joy for life, this being one of them

- not the fastest at picking up when someone's about to tickle him, but when he does, he'll start backing away, stammering and babbling about the chores that need doing and how he should really go see to them

- VERY VERY ticklish

- as strong as he is, he's got no chance of saving himself from dastardly fingers

- not that he wants to anyway

- secretly loves being tickled

- he wasn't shown any physical affection throughout his life, so tickling, as Esmerelda has shown him, is a fun and kind way to show your love and care for someone

- but again, is very shy about it, so don't expect him to admit it

- most ticklish spots are his ribs and underarms (he SQUEALS)

- his laugh 😭 is 😭 so 😭 pure 😭

- everyone who knows him thinks so

- it's light and high and giggly and agghh 🫠

- THE SNORTS 💘💘💘

- despite what people say, he can't unhear the cruel voice in his head telling him he is ugly and unlovable, and unfortunately that includes a hatred of his own laugh

- when the tickling starts, he'll try to cover his laugh with his hands purely out of instinct, but that never lasts long. eventually the sensation is too much to bear and he has to draw his hands away to protect his spots

- gets the urge to grab the ler's wrists, but he is terrified of his own strength and doesn't want to risk hurting you, so his hands either are shielding tickle spots or hiding his burning red face

- oh you KNOW he's a blusher

- teases work splendidly on him, specifically the compliments (ex: "your laugh is so adorable!" "you're so cute when you blush" etc) *quasi.exe has stopped working*

- can say the t-word just fine normally, but if asked to admit that he's ticklish, his throat goes dry

- when it's Emerelda tickling him, you know damn well she won't let any self-deprecating talk fly. what usually happens is she calls him cute, he denies it, and she (offendedly) tickles him harder until he reluctantly gives in to her

- can easily get overwhelmed with tickles if it's too intense tho, so no restraints ✔️, light pinning ✔️, only one spot at a time ✔️, nothing too crazy

- while Phoebus and Quasi had a rocky start to their relationship at first, they are great friends now, and Phoebus will help Esmerelda wreck him when he gets an opportunity

- what really flusters Quasimodo too is when Esmerelda and Phoebus are holding a conversation AS they're tickling him senseless, as if he's not even there

- when things ACCIDENTALLY tickle him, he'll try his damn hardest to make it appear like nothings wrong. 1) he's embarrassed and 2) he doesn't want to make the situation awkward, since they aren't TRYING to tickle him

- little does he know, he's a terrible liar, and it's amusing watching him to try to behave normally

- does little leg kicks into the floor to keep from hitting the ler but CHRIST does it tickle

- hugging his waist also helps, sort of

- nothing makes Quasi's friends happier than seeing him smiling and happy ❤️

---------

That about does it 👏! Quasimodo is my boi and I wish sincerely that he had more tickle content. This'll have to do

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The ones I like most or are most invested in are:

1. Just take it (I’ve read this an embarrassing amount of times)

2. art of etiquette (I just can’t wait for the smut at this point, they’ve been dancing the tango for so long 😂)

3. still with you (I get the feeling JK is gonna find out in the worst way about the Jimin sleepover and damn I can’t wait for the stalker reveal or how much worse it’s gonna escalate! Can you tell I’m getting more invested in this one?)

4. he doesn’t deserve you. (I hate taehyung in this one, he’s evil!-no hate though I love your writing!)

I honestly should circle back to your master list and give falling and semantic error a shot. I’ll probably read seven days to fall again once it’s finished since you only have one more chapter)

I think I found your blog because of do it for him and that story is really unique and so good but damn JK is a terrible human being in that one 😂

Happy early birthday and hope you have fun in TX. I would give you recommendations but that’s the one part of Texas I haven’t been to lol

🧜‍♀️

Oh my gosh I love this

I love that you reread my stories that so wild to me! Thank you for doing that 🥺

Yeah that one is the definition of a slow burn but like they clearly like each other but his position as her teacher is really holding them back but their self restraint is slowly diasapting

I'm so glad you're getting more invested cuz yeah let's just say it's gonna be a bumpy ride for sure.

It's okay babes he's there to be the villain so you can hate on him as much as you'd like 😂 (I love Tae irl tho like he's my little bean 🥺 meanwhile TYPE 1 🫠)

I mean yeah if you'd like to you definetly can! I'd love to hear what you think about those two as well!

Semantic Error is inspired by the bl kdrama/manhwa 'Semantic Error' but I changed it so oc is a female and both of the people who are going after her are guys (Jungkook and Jimin...again lmao) I read it and I really liked the dichotomy of the personalties of the two main characters so yeah I'm excited to get back to that one at some point lol

Falling is one that was supposed to be a one shot but then I started building more of a plot around it after I posted it. I just loved the idea of an Angel Jungkook becoming a Fallen Angel but is still in love with Guardian Angel oc. I love it but ngl I almost feel like I want to rewrite it. I don't know though we'll see but I'm going to continue the story either way.

Seven Days to Fall Again has two more chapters left but yeah I don't blame you if you wanna wait so you can read everything all together haha.

Haha oh gosh yeah I think a lot of my followers found me because of Do it for Him and I'm super grateful to the person that requested it because yeah it really was unique and I really liked experimenting with that kind of plot line.

Tbh Do it for Him really didn't get too much attention until like a month or two after I posted it. Like it just blew up over night which was absolutely insane!

I got so many asks (as you can see from the masterlist lol) and it was so freaking cool! I owe that story a lot since I feel like it really brought me a great audience and I'm so thankful to everyone who has supported me even after reading Do it for Him.

Jungkook is a horrible person in that fic but I'm happy I was able to do that since he's supposed to be a yandere character but the part that scares me is that people wanted/thought they were gonna end up together.

I'm like wtf no way he's a psycho and she despises him! Why would she want to stay with him? But yeah I'm still glad that people loved him despite all of his madness 😂

Thank you love 💜 it's on the 14th so I've got a little while left to enjoy being quarter of a century lmao. I still can't believe I'm that old lmao I still feel like I'm 22 or something 🫠

Ahh I'm so excited like I spent a good part of the night planning and it's gonna be so fun!!! And no worries love! It's the thought that counts haha

Love you sm 🧜‍♀️ and I hope you enjoy my other stories as well if you end up checking them out haha

[kulemii]

my fucking god today was horrible. i don't necessarily think he was a bad guy aside from the misogynistic takes. he was just too much to deal with for. 10 hours. way too fucking much. he doesn't believe in silence. he felt like he needed to talk the entire time. he would beat the same one topic into the ground for 30 minutes, even if i would go quiet, signaling my disinterest in continuing the conversation. he kept trying to pressure me into talking politics with him even tho i explicitly told him that I didn't discuss politics at work. and then,

when we slightly veered into a certain topic, he proved precisely why i dont by misrepresenting what i was saying and wouldn't drop it even when i tried to shut down the conversation. he kept questioning me for not laughing at his jokes that i obviously didn't find funny- i was doing more than enough from my part by giving him a polite smile and when he did get a little bit of a chuckle out of me he would beat the joke like a dead horse. i swear i dont think he's a bad guy but he's ridiculously annoying. he would NOT allow me moments of silence. he would almost demand responses from me everytime he spoke. and then whenever i would go silent he would pretty much guilt me by saying that it was better having a codriver that he could talk to because otherwise he gets sleepy and would pull over and take naps throughout the route which would clearly prolong the day and just UGH. i could barely make posts because he required so much of my attention. everytime I'd grab my phone he'd be talking which was constantly and he'd go "you're not even paying attention." which made me feel bad until toward the end of the route when i got super agitated from the heat and being hungry because he was barely making stops so i started ignoring him. i had to annoy him about stopping just so that i could use the bathroom- cue an hour long rant about how using the bathroom is natural and he has no problem stopping for people to use the bathroom when uhhhh hello???? you made me wait hours before we stopped anywhere because of the schedules???? and when we did stop it was because YOU were thirsty! my god, i thought the old dude annoying me about my ex was bad but at least he gave me a break this was CONSTANT For 10 fucking hours straight! i wanted to just scream WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR 5 MINUTES?!?!? at one point. oh and apparently someone told him that he's the funniest guy at the station and he made that my problem???? he was trying to make me laugh which is not a problem but if you see that your jokes don't work on me after a few tries, GIVE IT UP! he wouldn't fucking let it go and after a while I stopped giving him polite smile even because i felt like that would be enough of a deterrent. it's not my job to coddle your fucking ego anyway. not once did i think he was funny. he said some stuff that made me chuckle because it was like "did he really just?" and that's IT- God! I'm so FUCKING IRRITATED- I could've bitten him by the end of the route if didn't have this much self restraint. OH and he tried to make me join in on the following debate with him "abortion is worse than slavery" SHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP. and he wouldn't drop it I SHIT YOU NOT- FOR 19 FUCKING MINUTES I COUNTED. i never and i mean NEVER want to fucking ride with him again. it was a nightmare.

[tapioca-puddingg]

The Riku vs Terra Discussion

Hey y'all. So as you can see, I didn't choose violence today.

I've already spoken about this in my Terra video, but I'll reiterate my talking points here bc it's quicker to consume than a video.

So because Riku and Terra have similar story arcs related to darkness, a lot of us are naturally inclined to compare their stories and their behavior. However, I feel like some folks compare them with the added context of Riku’s redemption arc as ammunition against Terra. It’s comparing the life of someone who’s struggling to someone who has already succeeded, so that wouldn't be fair. So if we’re gonna play the comparison game, it’s only fair to start by isolating Riku’s behavior in KH1 and Terra’s in BBS since that's where these two made their starts.

This isn't me trying to say that one is better than the other. They both come from different lives, have different insecurities, and have different personalities. They are both flawed in their own ways. This is just a compare and contrast type of thing.

Riku was far more problematic at the start of his journey.

He actively antagonized Sora and co., worked with Maleficent (albeit it was to try to find a way to save Kairi, but still), was manipulated by Maleficent, was later possessed by Ansem, and attacked Sora while he was possessed.

Not to mention that he was selfish. He was totally fine with never returning home or seeing their parents again. Zexion calls him out on this in Re:CoM; that he was the reason why Destiny Islands fell to darkness.

I guess to give him the benefit of the doubt, the situation was more dire, as one of his best friend's heart was missing, and he was willing to do anything to help her.

Terra showed a lot more self-awareness and restraint. He was trying to do what Master Eraqus told him to do while simultaneously trying to figure out how to control his darkness. However, the desperation combined with his own insecurities made him vulnerable to being tricked by villains, like Hades.

Sadly tho, I don't think that he exercises discernment with some of the villains; Cap'n Hook in particular. And with Xehanort, he doesn't realize that he's been fooled until it's too late (which isn't his fault, Xehanort was playing 5D chess).

Beyond KH1, Riku had a lot of time to self-reflect and come to terms with his darkness, and he also had a good support system in Mickey. Mickey was someone that was genuinely curious, compassionate, and open-minded with him. He was willing to stand by him and support him no matter what. That’s somebody that Terra needed.

This might be a hot take, but Terra didn't have the best support system to be able to deal with his darkness issue. Eraqus was Eraqus-ing and Aqua assumed the worst about him after seeing the aftermath of his actions. Ven still supported him, but I think the distrust from Eraqus and Aqua had way more of an impact on him.

Honing in on Aqua for a moment, she always arrived in the worlds after Terra. From her perspective, it looked like Terra was doing a lot of fuckshit. He did leave the worlds pretty unresolved, so I understand why she was suspicious of him, especially with Terra’s lack of communication. BUT at the same time, she also didn't ask him what really happened. But anyways.

Terra and Riku were both manipulated and possessed at one point. They also both protected their friends from their possessed bodies; Riku protected Sora from himself in Hollow Bastion and Terra tried to protect Aqua from Terranort in the realm of darkness.

Riku is able to succeed where Terra couldn't. Riku was lucky to have Sora when he was possessed, otherwise he might've ended up being possessed for who knows how long. Like I said, he has a year and some change to grow as a person, whereas Terra has that opportunity taken from him.

Currently, Riku already has gone off to rescue Sora. Terra's story arc from this point forward has been undetermined and I have no idea what they plan to do with his character. In terms of the Wayfinder trio, Aqua will be training Kairi (and maybe they'll explore new worlds together?), and Ven might embark on a new journey based on his forgotten memories of the Age of Fairytales. Maybe Terra will help Aqua in training Kairi. Maybe he'll go on his own healing journey. Or maybe he'll eventually retake the Mark of Mastery exam and become a master.

I don't have a conclusion to this, I just like talking about things. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[azz4me]

the bread is back!

Another anon :0! Oh queenie come on, not everyone is toast xD there's only one~

Omg does that mean now I got a roomie >.> hellos there's no furniture here as this is my new home and I'm still shifting in but make yourself comfortable <w<

Bdksjwjs my fic gonna give meaning to your life?? Too much pressure--

My own self restraint stops me from writing smut u.u

no part 2?? Ok I'll be patient

Ok I have my fic drafts thatll go in the next ask, lemme ramble about Manager Kim goo first.

I...

sits down

Pretty..pretty boy.

Hehe honestly I'd also bite goo's built, branded or not, just the fact that he wore it around his waist and had it in his arms--

Local soldier obsessed with fake blonde twink, twink lures soldier with hug just to yeet him out of the window. Makes old man want autograph.

Bruh the moment I saw that hug I was like, WHY AIN'T THAT ME

Please goo, throw me around,,,, not even in a kinky way just pick me up with some excuse dammit-

Also also...GOO THOUGHTS

That had me screaming you know?? WE GET TO HEAR GOO'S THOUGHTS??WE GET TO HEAR GOO'S THOUGHTS!! DAMMIT I ALWAYS WANTED TO HEAR GOO'S THOUGHTS!!!!!

Baaah tell me your thoughts more hubby, wanna hear how annoyed he is, or how he views the world,just the way how his mind percieves reality UGH I LOVE IT I WANT MORE

He's so damn hot

I love him sobs

~🍞

oh my uncooked bread, I have been craving for some burned toast for a while now.

I didn't really think there would be someone else, the poissibility that there would be someone else in my inbox anonymously didn't really occur on my mind my brain is dead set that any anonymous message would just be toast for sm reason

have fun with your roommate, although idk if they would even return back ^.^

Life fucking sucks. I hate the fact that I have to interact with human beings to be considered normal and it's draining out my social battery. So yes, yes fics give me life. I need to recharge the fuck up or I will strangle/kick someone to death.

You don't need self restraint. I need self restraint. My hands been twitching alot to beat the shit out of someone, so i have been sleeping alot more lately, 14-16 hrs a day.

manager kim goo😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

the panel where goo pulled his belt out did something to me and the window has never looked so jumpable before. I was GAGGED. PTJ HAD ME GAGGED. The shivers and giggle I let out-

sorry but i am a parasite and i am not leaving him for my dear life. nah ah. nop.

i would probably 100% die if i was there but that's a small price to pay if i get to be on the position. ehehehe🥰 EHEHEHEHEHEHEH👹👹👹-

what kind of question- OFC OFCCCCC YOU SHOULD!!!! DON'T LET THAT OLD AGE RUIN YOUR FANBOY MOMENT OLD MAN!!!!!

SO??? SO WHAT??? IT'S FUCKING KIM JOONGOO INFRONT OF YOU👹👹👹👹👹!!!!! WHY THE FUCK DID HIS BRAIN CELLS GET REDUCED ALONG WITH HIS HAIRLINE? IOUGKVBWSIGUSVIGLS

but damn that bald spot be shiny af tho

we need more Goo thonks!!! MOREEE!!!!!! I WANT TO HEAR/READ EVERY SINGLE THING HE THINKS OF!!!! PLEASE TALK MORE!!

ahjussi a real one tho. Who doesn't want Goo to be on their side????

Goo is so damn adorable, it makes me tear up. The way I would like to unhinge my jaw and swallow him as a whole piece is unreal.

[n41r]

A sudden afternoon thought hit me yesterday and just sticks with me after reading two small comics that gives me a bit of context of things, it's just a silly theory of mine that went on in circles and long descriptions. What if with whatever happened to Raisiya in new Chapter 7 brings in Star Warrior Light (at least from what I can understand by hearing his dialogue on JP gameplays) then prompts the time dragon and the purple cloaked prophet to intervine from making a different outcome, like essentially making an endless time loop with small variety of outcomes of different interactions and probably more? This got to me when I was listening to three different Raisiya's themes. The first goes on at a normal pace with intrumentals, most likely wind instruments yet continues on with different volunes without letting down the tempo. The seocnd goes on a bit slower but the wind instruments is changed to chorus, probably with the purple eye in his design. The third one felt like there's no more restraint left on the melody, going all in with adrenaline and full on rock. It's like as if he's urging for an outcome to happen and there's no more holding back the strongest abilities either side has to be, probably with how Light has a dialogue with him when facing against Raisiya. Then whatever Light wanted to accomplish in Raisiya's stead prompted both the time dragon and the purple cloaked prophet to intervine and prevent the future from changing... at least I think? Yep, I'm still drawing blanks on many things about Oreca lore so it's entirely my guess with many nudges from watching and reading JP contents.

As for my ask on this, are there any other interpertations of the players aka as Battlers/Master/Summoner in Oreca Battle? I like what you came up with and I still hadn't realized that until now, with how there's some fusions are limited as far as I know of. Hope it's okay and sorry for the long ramble there! Also is it okay if I reblog some of your posts?

Sorry the answer took awhile! I rarely touch the lore on the New Chapter series, so I needed time to read up some stuff from the wiki first and opening my twitter's bookmark for the other answer-

I read up on the JP fanwiki that the reason why Light appeared was because of Raisiya (thought it's unclear to me what the reason was-), it probably have something to do with what Raisiya knew about the future? There was also some mention about wanting to change the future, and that reason might be the reason why the time dragons and the Prophet Sybil shows up as well

An interesting take, tho! Thank you for sharing the bits of lore that you found out!

Oreca Battle OSTs, huh? I rarely touch them as well actually, I kind of afraid I will get too emotional listening to them- There is this one time I cried listening to Dia's theme song, I'm still unsure why I cried tbh-

And to answer your questions, I'm not really sure why, but I rarely see mention or interpretation of human battler at the JP community One of my interpretation was actually inspired by my mutual's tweets, but it looks like I didn't bookmark the very tweet that inspires me- But here are some tweets from my mutual from twitter, nefer_ty that also inspires me (I hope Nefer-san is okay with me sharing some of their tweets outside of twitter-) (1) (2) (3)

There is also this one cool Oreca Battle artist who makes some fancomic of their original Oreca Battlers, and they are amazing! I don't know if it counts as the kind of interpretation you're looking for, but I'm including their Pixiv link as well (x)

Also, please feel free to reblog my posts! I'm only keeping my self-insert stuff as un-reblog-able, but the other posts should be okay In fact, I'll be elated if you reblogged them, so please feel free to do so! ヾ(｡･ω･)ﾉ☆ﾟ

[poisonouswritings]

Any felix crumbs? SFW, NSFW, whatever you prefer, i'm about to climb on the walls i miss him so much

Can't believe we started this hiatus with another Felix death I miss him so much QnQ

SFW here, NSFW under the cut, I have Felix things in my drafts!! I'll get to them eventually!!! I am so bad at keeping a steady work pace!!!!!

Someone said that Felix's accent is close to a British accent and I'm gonna agree! I'm thinking a royal accent for him. Also I just think him using British idioms would be funny so

He likes butterflies and moths! Taxidermies them! Usually after Stella hunts them down

He reads out loud sometimes,, does voices for the different characters,,,, nerd

Likes operas and musicals! Tried to bring Anisa and Sage once and long story short they both got banned from the concessions.

Hums while he works/studies.

Imagine like,, his old school asks him to come in to give like,, an alumni speech,,,, Escell probably makes him go,,,,,,,,,, does not help with his self-esteem that ask these people he graduated with when on to be important and powerful mages and he's just,, like,,, over here. His advice for the students basically boils down to 'be gay and do crimes'

Honestly I think that's just his life motto in general

Totally uses magic to get out of chores. Real Sorcerer Mickey-esque shit. That time Sage got stabbed with an enchanted broom? That was all Felix.

Actually I don't remember what the canon response Sage gave to that was so maybe it was canonically Felix???

Maybe it's because I'm listening to Pinball Wizard but,, idk I'm not saying he'd be good at pinball but I am saying he'd enjoy it

Stella catches mice and gives them to Felix,, Felix feeds them to random owls that show up at his window (who are attracted by his magic),,,,,, he just has owl friends now. Names them all. At least one is named Bernard

He would totally listen to Harry Styles

Is always cold,, walks between Sage and Anisa because they're warm

He and Tulsi have a Short Alliance. Aka a any time Sage bullies one of them for being short the other has to roast him for something.

Used to make his family mud pies and would cry if they didn't eat them. Escell and Scylla wisely just pretended to eat them. Florian ingested so much dirt,,,,,

Does he use an eye mask when he sleeps?I'm gonna say yes. A silk one.

Okay so he cast a translation spell on us at one point so,, like,,, cast a translation spell on Sage and Anisa to make it so they couldn't understand each other. No real reason why. He just likes tormenting them. Good for you babe.

Silk underwear? Silk restraints? Yes

Giggles a lot when he feels good, especially when cumming. He tries to muffle it but,, does not do a convincing job of that

Would read 50 Shades but mostly to laugh at it

Monster fucker monster fucker monster fucker!!! If Rime was corrupted Felix was 10/10 fuck him

Felix,, has,,, helped Rime on his heat before,,,,,, he talks about it like he's a veteran describing a battle, with the thousand-yard stare and everything, but really he uh,,, yeah it was a good experience for him

Probably has a higher libido than anyone gives him credit for!!

Not the best at dirty talk. Sorry. Very good at praise tho

Obviously he's a brat. Even as a dom he still managed to be bratty. That's just Him In General.

Always cleans up after sex because he doesn't like feeling sticky.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Researching...

ZETA

You need to see this first then this

The alchemist had been trying all remedies to shake off the stress and fatigue in his system and they all seemed to fail, no amount of sketching or discoveries can pull him away from it. So when you offered a solution he hasn’t heard, he’d jump at it immediately. “You know, some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever.” “Intercourse? If it’s true, then please, I wish to have intercourse with you.” “Wha- wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!” “Convenient, I love you, anything else?”

Pairing -> Albedo x Female Reader

Word Count -> 2944

Themes -> Smut, PwP, PwF, Woohoo, the "thing", the "do"

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> NSFW CONTENT, DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGED! (this is awkward because you two have no experience, jsyk)

(Z,E)-9,12-tetradecadienyl acetate (TDA, also known as ZETA) are usually emitted by females to attract males for mating. Sex pheromones are defined as odors, produced by either males or females that stimulate one or more behavioral reactions in the opposite sex, bringing the males and females together for the purpose of mating.

The foldered papers at the mahogany desk met with a soft plop at its weight, and you noticed the Alchemist suddenly straighten his back from his spaced out daze on the noise, whipping his head towards where you stand. Albedo's teal eyes were wide from the sudden intrusion, but his eyelids drooped over them once again upon the realization that it was just you who entered as it loses its light once more. This worried you.

The Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius has been in a dilemma recently. And all of Mond knows of this.

Albedo naturally holds himself in a regal and composed aura that draws people to him in admiration and trance. But this Albedo lacks such gait, with shoulders tense and eyebrows furrowed, steps heavy and head hanging low.

He has hit a wall in his never-ending research. And the effect was obvious on him.

Days he'd be cooped up in his laboratory staring at nothing, glaring at his setup. Days he'd be gone beyond the walls with his easel and sketchbook, only to return with unfinished artworks meant to be forgotten. Sucrose had tried placing experiments that are easy to handle and give him at least a sense of self-confidence for solving, but even that cannot pull his mind away from his obstacle.

"You know," leaning on the table with arms crossed, you watched the Kreideprinz drag his foot to where you were, aiming to check on the folder that you just submitted, "Some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever." Such words smoothly flowed out of your mouth despite the masked embarrassment you expertly hid through a haughty smirk.

That someone was Kaeya, and that Kaeya threw out that same comment next to you when you two saw Albedo walk through the headquarter's halls like a zombie a few days ago.

The sudden pound of fists on the table at either side of you startled you, expertly caging you in as you looked up. Albedo loomed over you with eyes brightly catching the sun, giving it the luminosity that carried the same curious look he had when faced with the unknown. "Intercourse? If it's true, then please," oh no, "I wish to have intercourse with you."

Excuse me? "Wha-" suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how close you are to one another. You slightly hiked yourself up against the table, as to preserve what little distance you have. "Wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!”

And without skipping a beat, he mused, "Convenient, I love you, anything else?" That familiar smirk displayed on his face.

Contrary to his face tho, you greatly contest to Diluc's hair. Really a normal reaction- to this guy suddenly confessing! Your head is already whirling around in confusion and your eyes couldn't set itself straight at him, still mindful of the distance of which reminded you why you were in this predicament in the first place.

Albedo attentively watched your eyes stray to the side as he stands there in silence, seeing it land at the entrance to his laboratory. Ah of course, he thought he'd made a discovery, as he leans away from you to make his way towards the door.

And shut it with a click.

"Wait, wait, why did you lock the door?!" You finally mustered up the courage to speak (breaking away from the shock of his confession) as he finds himself where he stood over you, eyes filled with confusion.

"You were quiet after my confession. I know such moments of romance are intimate and with your eyes, I only wanted to give us privacy," his brows furrowed with confusion before his shoulders dropped, a sharp sigh escaping. "Normally people would express their reciprocation by now," he breathed as he starts pulling back and away, "but voicing your rejection would have been appre-"

Quickly with a yelp, you reached out for his departing form, pulling him back by the grip on his shirt. Albedo's eyes only widened a little as he was quick to grip the table's edge to stabilize himself, one arm wrapped around your waist to ground you. "No! I do- do love you too!" You finally squeezed out the embarrassing confession, "You were just so sudden, it surprised me so much!"

And suddenly he was laughing openly, full of relief and humor, as his shoulders slackened at the validation. The heavy weight on his shoulders eased as if a physical matter left it, the bout of removed tension making him slump on you.

You cradled the tired Albedo in your arms as you let him place his chin on your shoulder. This man is your lover now, you thought as the fact finally dawned on you. The brilliant and most loved in Mond now tied down to you.

Basking in the presence of a person now his, Albedo found himself breathing in. There was a scent to you that always soothes him which now feels emphasized at the closeness. His pupils dilated as his face buries itself closer to the junction where your neck and shoulder meets.

Ah, what was this? Was this the pheromones you once talked about in your research on zoology that attracts those to them? He mused in his mind as those teal eyed fluttered shut, nose brushing at your neck for another whiff.

While Albedo indulged himself with the natural scent of you, you stood there with weak legs, trembling and red from the notions. Oh gods, you whimpered at the feeling of his lips brushing at your skin, you're whipped for this man.

"I'm waiting," you had to hold the shiver when his words vibrated against your neck, "for your answer on my offer, I think it would be good to try." Ah the 'intercourse'. You placed your hands flat on his back as he leans away to stare in attention, and then you finally explained to him what you meant, what you'd do, and what it entails to.

Albedo nods in understanding at your every clause and explanation. And his bright mind understood far too easily how it would help. "We are lovers now," his eyes twinkled at the cute scrunch of your nose upon the embarrassment of the fact, "sooner or later we'd end up doing it anyways. When shouldn't be a matter."

Albedo always make a good point.

With your consent, Albedo slowly lays you on the surface of the table as his other hand makes quick work to swipe away the items that would be in the way, thankfully the carpeted floor prevented anything from breaking. His lips found yours almost naturally as you urged him to take off his coat and you worked on your own, the thoughts spiraling in your head for every clothing that is shed:

Albedo has little to none idea on how sex works between humans, and you had your base knowledge from the things you learned from academics; in short, you're both inexperienced and you are his anchor.

How funny how the master role quickly switched, you thought with an inward laugh before it died in your throat at the sight— he stands there with his undershirt unbuttoned, belt and shorts caught by his knee, and his apparent bulge outlined by his boxers. Your thighs instinctively closed, you don't know what's considered average in size for such things, but you know for a fact there's gonna be some difficulty.

"Is something wrong?" His raw and calloused hands (gloves long gone) softly landed at your squirming thighs, the contact sending a shiver all over. "Am I doing something wrong?"

No, you breathed as you urged him to step closer and settle between your legs at the edge of the table, his form forcing you to spread your limbs apart.

The intoxicating scent that Albedo indulged in earlier was stronger now, drowning him and clouding his thoughts. The waft plunged through his senses so forcefully that he stumbled a bit on you, hips hitting as he grips your sides to keep him steady.

Next came the warmth that touched his sensitive length as it laid between you, the contact had forced out a cute squeak from you and an airy groan from him. His hips buckled to catch the sensation as he finds himself rutting between your folds with ragged breathing.

So good, it felt so good. Albedo finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open from what he now identified to be pleasure, and as he looks up to check on you, you were struggling just the same. Your chest rises and falls in quick successions as you covered your eyes with an arm, whimpers coming out of your slightly parted lips.

Fuck. If only he wasn't so engrossed, he wanted to capture this image through painting. "Am I-," he cleared his throat of the hoarse voice, "Am I hurting you?"

You gasped at the cold and wet feeling swipe from your chin to the corner of your lips, licking the trail of drool you didn't even notice when you opened your eyes to see Albedo's up close. With a shake of your head, you gripped the ponytail of his braid to pull his head for a sudden kiss.

Staggering over your form as your legs hiked up to hook around his waist, you guided the tip of his length to your entrance as he ravaged your mouth without restraint. Lips bruising each other, tongue tracing the underside of yours gingerly before it licks at the roof of your mouth— all the sensations had fogged up your consciousness so badly that you didn't feel an ounce of pain when he finally entered into you, guided by a shy gentleness to his ministrations.

It is only when his tip finally touched the opening of your cervix did you whimper; the way you're being stretched and the fullness of his length in you making you writhe under and around him, the friction only making rousing him more.

Albedo produced a low growl against your lips as he bit down on the bottom one, his trimmed nails digging to your soft-skinned hips as he pins it down. "Stop- nghh- stop moving around so much," a sudden warmth pooled into your stomach as you tightened around him.

Mistake number one: You didn't expect for his gentleness to be gone.

Spurred on by your tightening grip and the pleasure shooting up him everytime his tip came in contact with your edge, Albedo went into a relentless pace, pounding straight into you to hit that spot. Your pants turned into breathless chokes everytime he comes in contact, forcing your raw moans out of you. There's a dull pain by your entrance everytime he grinds against your walls, and he whimpers your name in pure ecstacy every stroke.

Your back arcs as he smacks into you, pulling back halfway through before burying deep into your hole once again. His brutal pace gets sloppy at times, before his strength comes back again to pull you closer. Halfway through Albedo produces a feral growl as he grips one of your legs behind the knee, pushing it closer to your body and slightly angled to the side.

And the moment he thrusts in with the new position, you cried out his name. The tip of his length reached far deeper with this new angle, and had plunged the top right into your cervix— your hips trembled as Albedo's whole body shivers at the new sensation, fingernails digging into your thigh as his other hand intertwines with yours, pinning it down on the table as leverage.

"Ahn," he whispered your name tiredly with tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, for the first time staring at your eyes after he had started, "How are you? Is it okay? Is it..."

Good, you mumbled with a tired smile at his consideration, bumping your hips to emphasize on it- which drew a sharp gasp from the both of you, he was already in so deep, your hips bruised and touching.

He rolled his hips to test out, his thickness rubbing at the walls as he stirs your insides. The sweet moan you produced spurred him on, and he was once again staggering into you, his hips slightly elevated in an angle meant to pierce through you.

The sound of flesh smacking against each other overpowers even your loudest moan as Albedo pleasured himself inside you desperately, the smell of sex filling your sense of smell. He chases the way your hole drips and wafts with the scent, drawing in a huge breathe whenever your mixed cum spills past his tightly locked dick in you.

And soon his pace became more desperate and short, as he makes quick work at hitting you in your most sensitive part to barely give you time to gasp for air. Your walls clenched down on him so tightly as you came, a cry of his name passing your lips as your back arched—

the pressure made him buckle and he thrusts in deep one last time, tip breaking past your cervix, as his climax enters you in thick strings of warmth.

That was mistake number two: you didn't bring protection with you.

But at that moment you couldn't care less (your cycle just ended anyways, you should be fine), watching him whimper your name in full pleasure as his teeth grinds against each other, his forehead and eyebrows knit and furrow as he releases before it relaxes after he is done.

And then he falls face first to your chest, the renowned Alchemist running out of the minimal stamina he had with him. Buried between the valley of your breast, Albedo had the most serene (almost drunk) expression on his face, lips pressed against the skin over your heart where it beats with fervor from your activity.

He tested another experimental thrust, lighter this time, as he felt your mixed fluids moved around the tiny space. You gave a wailing moan at his action, and he breathlessly laughed at your reaction.

Albedo stayed in you and on you for a few more minutes after that. Still trying to regain strength as your tired pants became the white noise that night.

"Albedo..." he hums against your chest as his arms tightened around your waist, enjoying the peace your hands brought to him as you stroke his cheek. "Albedo, I need to clean up." He jests that you should just keep it in you and you responded with rapid pats, whining at the notion. He chuckles.

It took him a lot of willpower to get up and he made it obvious as hell, taking his time to remove himself off your chest, grumbling that his bed was complaining too much. You let out a cute snort before smacking his arm. Albedo grips your hips as he gently pulls out when he stops suddenly, realizing that the liquids would pour out and make an obvious mess if he were to do so.

His head passes around the immediate area as he pinpoints a peculiar object, plucking it from its plastic package, still new from the bubble wrap. A sharp gasp suddenly comes by you at the cold and hard sensation that replaced Albedo inside you, only a few inches deep as the Alchemist walks off to get tissues. Wary, you looked down to see the object, choking out when you saw its end sticking out past your crotch:

A test tube, pristine and clean, was preventing the fluids from dripping out of your hole.

When Albedo came back with the tissues and spare cloth in hand, he muses at how your deep red face was smacked tightly against your palms. He offers to clean up, a gentle hand carefully pulling out the tube, but you refused and got quick work on yourself. That was enough embarrassment for tonight.

Unbeknownst to you with your busied self, Albedo held the glass vial in close inspection and curiosity. The translucent white liquid barely blocks the night light and produced the same strong scent he'd been chasing the whole night— he sticks his tongue out to taste, ah, slightly salty and sticky.

Albedo wonders what kind of experiment he can do with this.

The obvious lift on the shoulders of the Chief Alchemist was greatly acknowledged by everyone in town who were aware of the impasse the young man had troubled himself with for the past few days. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the tealness he has shined with newfound vigor. Besides the mood shift, many of the knights had also noticed the time spent between the two of you. Missions and expeditions were always coinciding with each other and people barely saw you separated, giggling and smiling to yourselves in your pink world.

One day they finally found out about your relationship when a knight barged in to his laboratory for an urgent matter. Blurting out the Chief Alchemist's name before he realized that you were there, lips locked against each other.

The news spreads fast with that little detail and everyone congratulated you on your relationship.

Behind your bashful smiles, you and Albedo sighed in great relief, thankful to the archons that the knight didn't took notice of your hand under his big white coat that time.

This turned out like this cuz alchemy boy very new to things u_u and little stamina, he needs to exercise more ehe-

@creation-magician @dandelion-dreams @zelos-simp @struggljng @youroffical-weirdo @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47