#tip toeing elf

[girlinthebrightbluejeans]

like a baby deer learning how to walk

[jubi-draws]

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[eiightysixbaby]

eddie in a reindeer costume. that’s it, that’s the post. oh and he’s just like, chronically horny for you.

“Oh, look at you!”

The figure that steps out of the dressing room has your eyes lighting up, your mouth twitching as you hold your laughter off. The person on the other end of your delight is… not so delighted.

“I cannot believe this.” Eddie stands with his hands on his hips, looking down at the holiday monstrosity that is his costume.

He’d lost a bet with Steve, and they’d decided that the loser had to be the final piece to Nancy’s holiday charity event being held at Starcourt Mall.

She already had a Santa, thanks to Chief Hopper. She was going as Mrs. Claus, while you, Robin, and Chrissy had pitched in to be elves. Jonathan got off the hook easy as the designated photographer.

The only thing missing… was Rudolph.

You bring your fist to your mouth, the knuckle of your index finger between your teeth to prevent yourself from erupting into a laughing fit.

A pair of opaque brown tights clings to Eddie’s legs, a matching brown tunic of sorts on his top half. There’s a fluffy patch of white fabric at the belly, and a thick red belt around his middle. A red collar adorned with gold bells rests around his neck, and to top it all off, he has a pair of antlers on his head and a red foam ball on his nose.

The only thing that looks remotely Eddie, are the black combat boots they allowed him to wear on his feet.

“Come on, you look adorable!” you say, pinching at the meat of his bicep.

He groans, shaking his head. “I am not going out there like this. This is humiliating!” he grits, his voice coming out somewhat nasally thanks to his fake nose.

“It is not!” you insist, though your giggling gives you away.

“You’re laughing! You can’t even look at me with a straight face!” he pouts, taking in the elf costume you’re wearing.

“Okay, you look hot as fuck in your costume. Like damn, sweetheart,” he says, eyeing you up and down. You flush at his wandering eyes, giddy with his praise — even if he looks ridiculous while giving it.

“The red and green’s really doing it for you? And the hat with the built in elf ears?” you tease, knowing he just likes the way the outfit hugs you in all the right places.

“Babe, like, it’s not even fair how good you look. If I had known Wheeler was gonna put me in a pair of tights, I would’ve literally killed Harrington if it was my only way to win that bet.”

You cradle his cheek in your palm, letting your thumb rub over his skin. “Baby, it’s for the kids, okay? It’s just a few hours.”

“My entire evening is not just a few hours. These tights are gonna cut off all circulation to my fuckin’ dick by the time we’re done here,” he complains.

You shove him playfully, the bells on your outfit jangling with your movement. But he’s not done with the theatrics.

“Oh god,” he says after a pause. “I’m gonna be out of commission. I’m gonna have no dick, they’ll have to amputate.”

“Eddie,” you roll your eyes. “You are so dramatic. The tights are not gonna kill your dick.”

“How do you know that?” he asks, pulling you into him. His big arms wrap around your back, hands holding your ass loosely. “What if wearing this costume means I can never fuck you again? I think I’ll have to tell Wheeler I can’t do it—”

“Eddie!” you say again, scolding him lightly. “You are going out there, whether you like it or not.” You stand on your tip toes, pressing a kiss to his frowning mouth.

“Whyyyyy?”

“Because, it’s for the kids. Like I said. We have to do this.”

He seems entirely unconvinced as he gazes down at you, those big doe eyes of his heavy-lidded as he stares at your red lips.

“What’re you thinking about, Munson?” you ask, recognizing the growing playfulness in his eyes.

“Think we have time for a quickie?”

You press your palms to his chest, shoving him off of you with a laugh.

“I am not fucking you while you’re wearing antlers. Or that big ass red nose.”

“Okay, rude!”

He doesn’t have time to protest any further, because the rest of the group has come to find you. You hear a muffled chuckle from behind you, and you spin around in your green elf boots to face the culprit.

“Aw, well aren’t you just the beacon of holiday spirit!” Steve says, grinning like the devil at your boyfriend.

“I’m actually going to murder you. In cold blood,” Eddie retorts, scowling at the only person not in costume, save for Jonathan. “This isn’t even fair. I have to wear this and Steve just gets off the hook?”

“You lost the bet, Eddie,” Robin chimes in. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Come on, Rudy,” Jonathan pipes up. “We’ve got some Christmas cheer to spread, so get your best smile on.”

“I hate all of you,” Eddie deadpans.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nancy says, motioning all of you in the direction of your photo-op setup. “You’ll get over it.”

You link your arm with his, squeezing. You stop him from walking ahead, tiptoeing to get your mouth level with his ear.

“As soon as this is over, you can have me however you like,” you whisper. “But you better be the holliest, jolliest one out there tonight, or no deal,” you add, before pulling away in a flash and skipping ahead to catch up with Chrissy.

“Oh god, you can’t be putting that in my head right now!” he groans from behind you.

You hear his collar jingling as he starts to move.

“Wait up!”

[angelfic]

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

© angelfic 2023.

[kat651]

Imagine: elves having highly sensitive ears and you finding out by accidently touching them.

(You are half-elven and your ears aren’t near as sensitive to touch). 

Elrond:

You sat on the divan, lord Elrond was laying with his head on your lap as you gently played with his hair, letting him rant to get all his hidden bottles up emotions out. “Oh! And then-” he sat up and sighed. “I’ll just say that meeting was a disaster…” he slumped and looked over at you. “I’m sorry to rant like this…”

You smiled. “It’s alright…” you mumbled as you gently tucked a stray hair behind his ear, tracing it up to the pointed tip then down to his jaw. As you did, the pulled away. “What? What is it?” 

“Nothing, it’s just that the ears of an elf are highly sensitive…”

You scooted closer. “Is that so?” You placed your hand on the back of his head so he couldn’t pull away and with the other you hand you gently traced the edge of his ear. 

He went to pull away but you held him fast and it only took a moment for him to go limp in your arms as you continued to mess with his ears. 

You smiled as he lay with his back pressed against your chest. His eyes were shut and his lips slightly parted as you continued to gently mess with his adorable pointed ears. 

You smiled as a soft blush spread across his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Aww, you look so cute when you blush…”

He opened an eye and looked up at you before he closed his eye again. 

“Elrond…” you whispered after a moment. 

The elven lord didn’t answer. He didn’t even stir and on top of that his breathing has slowed. You smiled and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead before closing your eyes as well. 

Legolas:

You and Legolas had been close for some time now and you had innocently came up behind him and began to mess with his hair, slightly damp from having recently washed it.  

He turned to look at you. “Y/n?” You began to braid the hair by his ears, putting it into the style he normally wore. He relaxed and let you fix his hair for him. All went well until the last braid. Your pinky slowly slid down the outside of his ear as you braided it. He leaned back until his head fell on your chest as he breathed deeply. 

“Legolas?” 

“Ears…sensitive…elves…” he mumbled. 

You smiled and kissed his temple. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You asked, finishing off the braid. 

He shrugged as you then went and touched the tip of his ear. He smiled and closed his eyes. “I knew you’d… mess with… me…”

Thranduil:

You chuckled as he walked into one of the manny tents that lined the elven war camp. “What is so funny?” He asked, draping his cape over a chair. 

You walked up to him. “Here,” you said, motioning for him to lean down a bit. He did, raising an eyebrow, you gently adjusted the silver crown, re-centering it in his forehead. As you did, you bumped the top of his ear. His eyelids fluttered for a moment before his hands flew up and grasped your wrists in one swift movement. You yelped in shock. 

He loosened his grip a bit and gently rubbed your wrists. 

You whimpered. “L-lord Thranduil?” 

He sighed and let go of your wrists before standing straight and looking down at your startled face. 

He sighed. “Sometimes I forget you are half human… elves ears are highly sensitive…”

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t know I-”

His lips met yours as he slowly brought your hands to this ears. You hesitated a moment before gently rubbing your finger along his ear. He let go of your wrists and pulled your body closer. “Y/n…”

Lindir:

Lindir had been messing with you in a playful matter all day and you eventually decided to play back. You gently took his face in your hands. “You stubborn… elf…”

You had expected his eyes to widen and him to turn an adorable shade of pink but instead his eyes fluttered closed and lips parted slightly. “Y-y/n…m-my ears…”

“Hmmm… are they sensitive?”

“Yes, v-very…”

“Well it would be a shame if someone were to oh I don’t know perhaps…” you stood on the tips of your toes and very gently took the tip of his ear between your teeth. 

His body instantly went limp and you gently lowered him to the ground before nipping gently at his ear while you ran your fingers through his hair. 

He clawed at your back. “Y-y/n…” 

You smiled. “Hmmm?”

He managed to look up at you before something took over his brain and his lips smashed on yours. “I love you…”

Your eyes widened. You’d only been dating him for a few days. You hadn’t even told anyone and here he was, kissing you as if you’d been together for years. 

You pulled away, startled. “Lindir?” 

He looked up at you with pleading eyes before he realized what he had done and he scooted away. “Y/n I-I’m sorry i-”

You pressed your lips on his again and began to mess with his ears once more. “I love you too.”

pt two here

[vrystalius]

could you do hashira men with an s/o that's taller than them? (idk how this would work for gyomei since hes a literal beast)

Being taller than the hashira

How will they react to their s/o being taller than them?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa (179cm, 5’10")

You just can’t stop annoying him for being taller, can you? You with the head-pats, weather jokes and whatnot. It annoys Sanemi to no end how Genya is taller than him, someone who’s supposed to be smaller just because of his age, and now you’re doing it too! You’re supposed to be his spouse, damn it! Stop holding things above his head where he can’t reach it! He’s completely average height! Why are you even teasing him like this? It’s not Sanemi’s fault you’re rivalling the height of a mountain, so why make it his problem that you’re insecure, huh?!

Also, do not even dare to pet his head like you would with a child. He will kick your leg or break your kneecaps when you do it. He’s a grown man and doesn’t need you joking to him everyday that Sanemi’s going to get taken away during the Christmas period to work in Santa’s workshop as an elf. (Let’s pretend Santa exists in the Taisho Era)

“Never pat my head again. NEVER. And now fuck off or I’ll ignore your ass for the next week, no kisses, no nothing.”

Kyojuro Rengoku (177cm, 5’10")

It’s very amusing and adorable to him. Kyojuro needs to lift his face a little to properly face you and tip-toe a little to kiss you. It’s one of his favourite things in the world. Also, another thing he loves about you being taller than him is how comfortable it is to hug and hold you. Once he wraps his arms around your waist he can perfectly nuzzle his face against and into your warm chest.

It’s very endearing to him how you have to lean down to kiss him on the lips and how you sometimes pat his head as a greeting or just randomly without a reason. It makes Kyojuro’s whole day when you ruffle his hair a little everytime your hand touches the top of his head.

He sometimes hears from Tengen’s wives how they steal Tengen’s clothes to wear them, and he wanted to test this out himself. His clothes are too tight and small on you, but your clothes somehow fit him perfectly. They’re a little oversized, but that’s what makes them so comfortable. Kyojuro steals your clothes daily and wears them around the house with a huge smile.

“Oh, is that a new shirt, my love? May I try it on as well? It looks very comfortable!”

Gyomei Himejima (220cm, 7’2")

It was very surprising to him when he first met you. Gyomei believed that no one is capable of being taller than him, but you proved him wrong. He almost pitied you for towering over everything, like him. Due to his height, many people find him intimidating and scary, something you probably experienced yourself as well. He is very curious about your own experiences about being so tall and how people act around you.

Also, Gyomei feels very comfortable around you. He’s actually glad that his spouse is a little taller than him, that way he’s not afraid of scaring you with his height alone. He asked you not to tell anyone in case people ask, but he adores being the little spoon snd being held by you during the nights. It makes him feel just a little safer and more loved.

“My love, may I lay my head against your chest? You’re incredibly warm…”

Giyu Tomioka (176cm, 5’9")

Your height makes him slightly insecure about his own height. Giyu knows that he’s not the tallest of them all and that you can’t influence your height, but he’s just average. Average in fighting, average-to-worst-hashira, average in protecting, and now average in height. Seeing you tower over him like that… it just stings a little.

Yet, he likes when you have to lean down to kiss Giyu. It makes him flustered how you sometimes tilt his chin and lean down. One time, you lifted him up into your arms and peppered his face in kisses, then putting him back down and walking off. You left him behind to get all flustered and embarrassed. It makes him… feel things when you can throw him around with ease. It’s embarrassing, incredibly so, but he just can’t deny it to himself how much he actually likes it. He just really hopes you won’t notice.

“Put me down. Please. Pretty please.”

💠

I know this is short, so forgive me! I want to post at least two things today and take advantage of my sickday as much as possible :P! Hope you enjoyed reading it and thank you so much for requesting! This was fun!

Anyways, take care of yourselves <3

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

DAY ONE: Steve Harrington x fem!reader Steve was sure this was worse than his Scoops Ahoy uniform. It had to be. It had bells.  

Robin had simply rolled her eyes and told him to be grateful she’d managed to get them both something that paid this time of year, so Steve muttered something under his breath and jammed the hat on his head. 

He jingled when he walked. 

The green and red outfit was a kind of velvet, shorts above his thighs and striped tights that made his leg look like candy canes. The hat had a bell on the end of it and so did his fucking shoes, two gold balls  on the tips of toes and he sounded like a christmas carol as he called the next kid in line. 

“Santa’s ready to see you, buddy, just go through the curtain.”

Being one of the mall’s Christmas elves was definitely rock bottom. Steve was sure of it. But then you appeared above the crowd of kids crying and yelling for Santa Claus, shouldering past the tired looking parents. You had a few bags in one hand, filled with presents and wrapping paper, a takeaway cup of something hot and sweet in the other. 

“Please tell me that’s for me,” Steve mumbled appreciatively, groaning when you handed him the coffee. He took a sip, cheeks flushed pink, eyes rolling back in theatrical pleasure. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You grinned, nose still scrunching at his flirting, even years later. “You have, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again.”

Steve beamed, eyes brighter than they had been before you approached and he took you by the crook of your elbow, pulling you behind the ramshackle frame that ached as Santa’s grotto. He mouthed a quick plea to Robin, who merely sighed and took up the boy’s position at the front of the queue, doing her best to wrangle the kids. 

Now hidden, Steve ducked down to kiss at your cheek, feeling brave enough to catch the corner of your mouth. He tasted like coffee and vanilla and you hummed, accepting his thanks with the upturn of your face. 

“Bad day?” You pouted. 

“Kids are insane,” Steve huffed back. “And their moms are worse. Y’know one tried to pinch my butt?” 

You snorted, unable to take the boy seriously, not when his hat jingled as he shook his head. “My poor guy,” you soothed, biting back a grin. “It’s ’cause you’re such a hot elf.”

Steve made a face. “I don’t think that’s possible, it’s the hat, y’know? It’s ruining my hair, it’s so—”

You moved closer, tugging at one of the gold buttons that ran down the centre of Steve’s chest, your fingers slipping between. “Well, I like it. You look adorable.”

You watched Steve swallow, cheeks going pink, eyes darkening as his gaze slipped to your lips, to your hands and the way your fingers were trying to seek out the warm skin under his uniform. “You do?”

You nodded, grinning. 

“I mean, adorable wasn’t really what I was aiming for…”

“No?” You pressed yourself onto your toes, shopping bags crinkling between your knees and Steve’s. You found his lips for a kiss, a sweet one - soft and gentle, the slightest peck that Steve tried to chase. “I could just spend all day on your lap, telling you what I wanted for Christmas.”

Lips parting, Steve almost dropped his coffee. He coughed, cleared his throat once, twice and blinked away the spell you’d cast on him. He nodded vigorously, the little bell of the end of his hat tinkling rapidly. He was red in the cheeks, flushed to his fake, pointed ears and he looked like he was struggling to remember where he was. 

“You can- you can totally do that, yeah.”

“Yeah?” You asked through a laugh, brows raised. “Come see me after work?” You were already backing away, returning to the throng of kids that were pushing at Robin’s knees. 

Steve was still nodding, pushing a palm to his crotch, cheeks on fire. “Yeah, yeah, fuck— I’ll come round.”

You grinned, pleased with yourself. “Good. Bring the hat.”

[corroded-hellfire]

My Favorite Elf - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When you and Nancy go to the mall to finish up your Christmas shopping, the sound of a familiar voice leads you to a jolly surprise.

Note: I wrote this for @palomahasenteredthechat’s 12 Days of Joemas with the prompt “Is that velvet?” 💚❤️

Words: 1.4k

The holiday season at Starcourt Mall can be a chaotic nightmare on nights and weekends. Crowds so dense you can hardly see any of the mannequins modeling the latest looks at the GAP. It’s for this reason that you and Nancy decide to make a mall run straight from school one Tuesday afternoon. 

With most parents still at work and middle and elementary schools still in session, the mall is the calmest you’ve seen since before Halloween. You and Nancy plan on taking full advantage of getting all those last minute gifts you’ve been meaning to buy.

“Okay, I got the shoes,” Nancy says, jostling the brown paper bag in her hand in emphasis. “You wanted to go to Walden Books next?”

“Yeah!” you say. “I saw this book there the other day and I think Eddie would really like it.”

“Why didn’t you get it for him then?”

“He was with me,” you laugh. “As busy as it was, I still think he would’ve noticed me buying something.”

The bookstore is on the second floor, so you and Nancy have to take the escalators closest to the food court. Right before you lift your foot to hover over the silver steps, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind the escalators. 

“Are you ready? Come on, we’ll go up together.”

Your brow furrows in puzzlement, and Nancy turns to look at you with the same expression mirrored on her face. Together, you walk around to see what Eddie is doing at the mall and who he’s talking to.

A Winter Wonderland greets you and Nancy as you step around the towering escalators. The centerpiece is a life-size gingerbread house decorated with every type of candy you can think of. Colorful gumdrops frame the front door, pieces of licorice act as shutters to the icing windows, and oversized swirling lollipops stand around the house like a security team. 

Fake pine trees dot the scenery, their needles covered in fake snow. In fact, fake snow permeates about every spare inch on the display. It’s all around the platform and heavily dusted over the roof of the house. 

Sitting right in the middle of it all is the man himself: Santa Claus. He’s perched atop a large red throne smack dab in the middle of the wonderland. The entire display is surrounded by a white, glittery snowflake fence. 

There’s a girl dressed as an elf in a green tulle skirt and red tights standing behind a camera facing the big man. Your eyes then come across the best sight of all.

Your hand comes up to cover your enormous grin as you take in your boyfriend in his very own elf attire. The left half of his button up shirt is red, while the right half is entirely green. The same is true of the pants, just reversed; a green left leg and a red right leg. His hair is tucked up in a bun at the base of his neck and the rest of his curls are hidden by the green Santa hat on top of his head. The hat has golden jingle bells on the top and fake points to rest on top of Eddie’s ears to give the magical illusion of elf ears. The part that tickles you the most though is the shoes. They’re green with pointed toes that curl up, with a golden jingle bell attached to the tip of each. 

“Did you know he was working here?” Nancy asks you, a few giggles escaping her. 

“No!” You laugh but find it strange to look at his hands and see no chunky silver rings. 

The only people in the line to meet Santa are a little girl with long blonde hair, half up in a pink ribbon, and her mother. It’s understandable that there's hardly a crowd here on a Tuesday afternoon. The little girl looks scared and won’t let go of her mom’s hand no matter how much she encourages her. 

Eddie walks over to the girl and crouches down to her level.

“Hi. My name is Eddie. What’s your name?”

“Christina,” she answers softly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Christina. Are you a little nervous to meet Santa?”

She nods her head.

Eddie offers her his hand. “What if we go up there together?”

Christina still looks hesitant.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “He just wants to know what you want for Christmas so us elves can get to work on it. That is…if you’re on the nice list.” Eddie tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “You have been good this year, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought! Now, do you want to come up and tell Santa what you want?”

Christina stares at Eddie with wide blue eyes for a few moments before she nods her head. Eddie gives her a smile and extends his hand again. This time, Christina takes it. 

You watch as Eddie leads the small girl up to Santa and tells him her name. He crouches down and stays there until Christina seems more comfortable with Santa. When she climbs on his lap, Eddie steps aside so she can share what she wants with Santa in private. 

Once a picture has been snapped, Christina hops off of Santa’s lap and Eddie gives her a candy cane before she leaves the little Christmas village with her mom.

There’s nobody else in line to meet Santa, but he’s still scheduled to be there for another two hours according to the sign. The photographer elf starts cleaning up around her area and Eddie shuffles around his small space, looking for something to do. You take the opportunity to walk closer to the magical scene, Nancy right behind you.

“And here I thought Hermey the little elf dentist was the cutest elf I’ve ever seen,” you say as you approach the fence.

Eddie looks up and you immediately see his cheeks darken, but he gives you a bright smile.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks.

“Shopping,” Nancy answers, holding up her bags as proof.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, looking at all the festiveness around him.

“I’m just here for the candy canes.” He laughs when you pinch your eyebrows together. “Figured I’d get a holiday job and make some extra money.”

“What for?” you ask, knowing there’s nothing you want that could cost more than a few dollars. And that Wayne will probably just get a new mug. Again.

“Well,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I know your favorite band is starting a tour next month…”

“My favorite band besides Corroded Coffin,” you say, pointing an index finger at him.

“Yes, of course, that goes without saying.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him, though your heart grows three sizes at the gesture.

“I wanted to,” he says with a bashful shrug. 

You peek behind the gingerbread house and raise your eyebrows at Eddie when you see it’s away from any possible prying eyes. He chuckles and nods his head in that direction.

“Be right back,” you tell Nancy.

“Take your time,” she teases.

Eddie helps you over the snowflake fence and you take another look at his costume. He looks even cuter in it closer up.

“Is that velvet?” you ask.

“No, thank God. Cotton. This already gets hot enough.”

“Look at my adorable elf boyfriend,” you say with a playful smirk.

His face starts to turn red as you wrap your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist and gives a small squeeze.

“You know,” you muse, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“If I’ve been good this year.”

Eddie laughs and leans in to nudge his nose against yours.

“Because I already know the answer to that one. Pretty sure I contributed to it,” he says in a low voice, causing goosebumps to run down your arms.

He presses his lips over yours and holds you up against his body as he claims your mouth. Your hands slide into his hair, and it makes the green hat move, causing the little bell to jingle.

You pull away, unable to keep kissing because you’re full of giggles. Eddie sighs.

“Fine,” he whispers. “I guess we’ll just have to get naughty later then.”

[charmandabear]

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

Summary:

Just some nice little smut inspired by Noctis’ Rockstarion render as well as Purple Danger Noodle’s incredible art. (Seen above, and I have permission to post this!)

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2k Tags/Warnings: modern au, rock band au, band manager halsin, rockstarion, anal fingering, hand job, anal sex, desk sex, soft daddy dom Halsin, brat Astarion, blood drinking

I’d been meaning to post this for a while, but I figured today is a good day because tonight I’ll be streaming my Astarion origin run, right in time for Halsin’s romance scene! Check me out on Twitch, I’ll be streaming at 7:30 Central time. Hope to see you there!

Read it on AO3

Astarion swaggers offstage, covered in sweat and glitter, endorphins running high. He bursts into Halsin’s office only to find his manager bent over some papers with a serious expression on his face. Well, this simply won’t do at all. He pops himself onto the corner of Halsin’s desk, leather pants squeaking as he crosses his legs. Halsin glances up at him over his glasses, unamused by the rock star’s antics.

“Astarion,” he says in a low voice, a warning. A cheeky grin slides onto Astarion’s face as he nudges Halsin’s thigh with the toe of his boot. Halsin sighs, takes off his glasses, and stands to tower over Astarion.

“Another charge from the hotel. What on God’s green earth possessed you to steal the hair dryer? Did you need to rip it out of the wall?” He folds his beefy arms and fixes Astarion with a reproachful stare. Astarion uncrosses his legs and leans back on his hands, returning Halsin’s stern look with an impish one. Halsin steps between Astarion’s legs and slides a hand into his long silvery locks, giving a quick little tug. Astarion’s mouth pops open as a satisfied groan escapes his painted lips, his hips tipping forward to try to close the distance between them.

Halsin pulls him into a hard kiss, pressing his groin against the growing bulge in Astarion’s pants. He slips his tongue past the musician’s lips, the acrid taste of menthol cigarettes and tequila lingering in his mouth. He breaks the kiss, keeping their faces in close proximity.

“I thought I told you to stop smoking those awful things,” he says gruffly. “They’ll ruin your voice and then I’ll be out of a job.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy Halsin, with a talent like yours you’ll never be out of a job,” he says with a breathy chuckle, and reaches forward to palm his manager’s cock, earning a low grumble in return. Halsin tightens his hand in Astarion’s hair, who gasps and pulls his lips back into a smile, his fangs glinting in the low light of the office.

“I’ve told you not to call me that.” Halsin’s tone is threatening, but his rutting hips give him away. Astarion hooks his thigh high boots around Halsin’s waist and pulls him closer.

“So do something about it, daddy,” Astarion taunts, and with a single motion Halsin tears through Astarion’s pants, the leather ripping easily at the seams. The rock star isn’t wearing any underwear, most likely because he knew he was going to get lucky one way or another. His cock springs forth, pink bulbous tip already leaking with a drop of precum. Halsin takes it in his hand and swipes his thumb over the slit, gathering the liquid onto his finger.

“Open,” he commands and Astarion obeys instinctively, taking his thumb into his mouth and sucking ferociously. The taste of himself dances over his tongue and he looks up at Halsin with round coquettish eyes. Halsin returns the look, heavy lidded, his breath stuttering as Astarion’s tongue swirls around his thumb. With his other hand, he quickly undoes his belt, pulling out his own girthy cock and letting it land with a thump on the desk. When Astarion sees it, his moan vibrates through Halsin’s hand.

Halsin curls his fingers around Astarion’s jaw and pulls him forward so his lips can press against the pale elf’s ear. 

“Little one, how much of my cock do you think you’ll be able to take tonight? A third? Half?” he hums in a low tone, and Astarion shudders.

“All of it, please,” he whimpers as he pops Halsin’s thumb out of his mouth, a trail of saliva still connected to his lips. Halsin utters a low and dangerous chuckle, taking his slick thumb and pressing it to Astarion’s puckering rim. 

“Will you let me take the time to stretch you out properly? You have not been known for your patience, historically.” He pushes his thumb past his entrance and Astarion rewards him with a needy whine.

“Yes, please, I’ll be patient,” he says through gasping breaths, “just please don’t stop.” He lets his vinyl jacket slide off his arms and latches his hands onto the back of Halsin’s neck to brace himself.

Continuing to work his thumb inside Astarion, Halsin’s hand fumbles with his desk drawer, pulling out a jar of coconut oil. He yanks one of Astarion’s hands from his neck and presses the jar into his palm.

“Be good and open it for me, would you, love?” He grunts, focusing his energy on twisting and pumping his thumb. Astarion opens the jar eagerly, holding it out for Halsin to scoop it with his unoccupied hand. The sweet smell he now associates with fucking his manager wafts up to his nose and his cock twitches in response.

“Coming around on the coconut oil, are you?” Halsin laughs, and Astarion makes a failed attempt to pout.

“You fucking hippie,” he gasps, his voice completely overtaken by desire. Halsin takes a generous chunk of the white substance and it quickly melts on his warm fingers. He pulls out his thumb and replaces it with two oiled digits and Astarion drops the jar somewhere on the carpeted floor.

“That better not have broken, my Star,” Halsin warns as Astarion pushes himself further down onto his thick fingers. He roughly grabs the vampire’s pointed chin, holding it tight between his forefingers and the thumb that had just been inside him. “Understood? I’d rather not have to punish you for something so trivial.” A wide grin breaks out across Astarion’s lips.

“I promise, Daddy Halsin, when you punish me it will be for a very good reason,” he replies wickedly, running his tongue across the tip of his fangs. Halsin let out a primal growl before silencing him with another fierce kiss. He roughly thrusts his fingers into Astarion, putting the weight of his hips behind it. Halsin’s throbbing cock skids across the glossy surface of the desk, aching to be inside his obstinate charge. He scissors his fingers hastily and Astarion cries into his lips, hooking his heels into the soft flesh of Halsin’s ass.

“Well then why don’t you put those pretty little lips to good use before you give me one?” Halsin growls, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the tip of his cock. He bares his neck to Astarion whose tongue darts over his lips hungrily. “Kissing and licking only, you must earn the right to bite,” he clarifies and Astarion lets out an exasperated whine that gets quickly cut off by Halsin pushing into him.

“Fuck, Astarion,” he groans as the musician licks the sweat from his neck. “You’re so tight, are you sure you can take it?”

“Yes, please,” he says on a breathy moan, his fingers coiling into Halsin’s auburn hair. “I need to feel you, I need to taste you, please, I can take it, I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” 

Halsin laughs quietly; he has such a way with lyrics, and yet it’s still so easy to reduce him to a babbling mess. He slides in a little deeper, Astarion panting and squeezing his eyes shut. Halsin grabs his chin again and brings the musician’s gaze to him.

“Look at me, my Star, look at me and breathe,” he coos gently and Astarion’s wet eyes lock onto Halsin’s face. He kisses him again, languid and slow this time, and pushes in a little further. “That’s my good boy, taking me so well.” Halsin strokes Astarion’s neglected cock, earning a stuttered whimper in response. His hips cant into Halsin’s hand, desire and need driving him forward.

“You’re almost there,” Halsin continues his tender coaxing, “and you feel so good, my Star.” His forehead falls onto Astarion’s shoulder, the spice from his cologne overtaking his senses. He’s trying to control his speed, but his head grows cloudy with the rocker’s heady scent and he pushes a little too fast. Astarion cries out in response and Halsin instinctively pulls out slightly.

“No, please don’t stop,” Astarion mewls pathetically, “I can take it, I need you inside me, please Halsin.”

“So hungry,” Halsin laughs, “but for my cock or my blood, I wonder?” Astarion clings to his hair and tightens his legs, pulling Halsin in completely until he bottoms out. They both groan loudly, their voices mixing together in a symphony of hedonistic desire. 

“Hnng, such a good boy,” Halsin wheezes and tilts his head, exposing his neck. “My good boy has earned his reward.” Astarion sinks his fangs into Halsin’s thick jugular and drinks deeply, his sweet blood flooding his mouth and rushing directly to his cock. He grabs onto the collar of Halsin’s button down, his breaths coming in short stuttered puffs with each thrust of Halsin’s cock. Halsin growls wordlessly into Astarion’s ear, his lips brushing against the tip. Astarion unlatches from Halsin’s neck, blood dripping down his front and splashing onto his chest, seeping easily through his mesh shirt.

“Must you always leave a mess wherever you go?” Halsin grumbles and Astarion lasciviously licks blood off his fingers.

“But you’ll put up with it for this tight little hole,” he responds with a cheeky grin, the recent blood he drank making him bold. Halsin roughly pulls out of him and grabs the leather collar around his neck, pulling him closer.

“What was that about me punishing you for a good reason?” he hisses, and before Astarion can respond the burly elf has him flipped around and bent over the desk, his rock hard cock caught between the smooth mahogany and the leather strap across his stomach. Halsin grabs hold of Astarion’s silver locks and pulls his head up as he continues fucking him from behind. 

“You’ll clean up after yourself, won’t you little Star? Say ‘Yes, Daddy Halsin.’” Halsin’s voice is gruff and stuttered, and Astarion can tell he’s getting close. The friction from Halsin’s thrusts pushing his cock into the desk is bringing Astarion to the precipice as well.

“I thought you didn’t like it when I called you that,” Astarion rasps, his words losing some of their sharp edge given how strangled they are. Halsin pulls harder on Astarion’s hair and the rock star gasps out a laugh.

“Yes, Daddy Halsin,” he huffs, and his compliance earns him Halsin’s hand on his cock. He groans with relief, pushing his hips back into his manager’s while also thrusting into his hand. 

“My beautiful Star,” he grunts into Astarion's shoulder, his thrusts losing pace and growing erratic. Astarion lets his head fall back, breathing heavy, losing himself in the sensations. Halsin pumps his hand vigorously and moans loudly when Astarion comes, his seed spilling over his fingers and dripping down onto the desk. A few more rough thrusts and Halsin's coming too, groaning and feeling Astarion clench around his pulsing cock.

The two of them still, panting and coming down off their sex-induced high. Halsin kisses Astarion’s shoulder and pulls out, stepping back to survey the damage. He has blood splattered across his collar and down his arm, sweat and semen mix together in the crumpled mess of papers on the desk. Astarion leans forward on his hands, giggling.

Halsin tucks his softening cock back into his pants and straightens his bloodied shirt. 

“Well now,” he says in a much more genial tone, “you can get started on cleaning up all of this, and I think I'll go take a shower.” Astarion whips around, fixing Halsin with a shocked glare.

“There is no way in hell am I cleaning up this mess,” he pouts, and Halsin hooks a finger through the o-ring on Astarion's collar, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

“You will, little Star, if you don't want the hotel damages to come out of your bottom line,” he murmurs, reaching around and giving Astarion’s bare ass cheek a tight squeeze. “But I suppose you've earned the right to clean yourself up first.” He tugs on Astarion's collar and the musician stumbles forward, his lips curling into a smile as Halsin leads him to the shower in the adjacent room.

[werecreature-addicted]

Birth Control Anon again (Gotta come up with another name for myself someday). Remember that post about how centaurs can't mastrubate that was circling Tumblr a little while ago? Just thinking about it about it and imagine; You work as something of a monster sexpert, you have a nice little business providing toys and gear for anyone and anything. Nice treated iron chains for a kinky elf looking for the right sort of sting during a BDSM session? You've done that. A suspension rig that can (safely) hold all 13 ft of a lamia and still be sexy? You can get one done in a few weeks. A cocksheathe for a werewolfs poor human boyfriend who can't really measure up to non-human dicks? Got it in a week and a pamphlet on how else you can please your partner to boost his confidence. You get the picture. You've made a name for yourself in certain circles.

When a shy centaur tip-toes his way into your workroom, you're almost surprised that you've yet to have one as a customer before today. He explains his perdicament, he simply cannot reach back there himself and he's broken too much furniture humping it trying to get off. Can you do anything to help him out? You ask him about his preferances, what he wants or needs and he shyly reveals just HOW inexperienced he is in all of this. Trying to vaguely explain such and such a thing he's seen in some centaur videos and you two end up watching it together--for research purposes, of course. You work on the fuck machine for him, it's a long process and you don't normally update a client as often as you do to him, but the few times you've been on a phone call, his excitement and anticipation is palpable over the phone and you can't help but think this is like edging for him. When it's done you ask him if he want's to try it out, he blanches a little. Right now? Infront of you? You tell him yes, it's a big rig and you want to make sure everything's a-okay. He's blushing and shaking with excitement as you help set him up and then...

i mean this is your first time making something like this and this is his first time fucking something like this you HAVE to be there to watch, just to make sure everything fits properly. maybe even lube up his cock and help him mount the toy before fucking the shit out of it. :3 all part of customer service baby.

[tathrin]

A Gimleaf Thought:

Dwarves for whom their braids are a huge aspect of their identity and presentation, and which are consequently considered Not Appropriate to touch casually unless you are on very intimate terms. Stroking a dwarf's beard-braid in public in more than the lightest and most fleeting of touches would honestly be more inappropriate than just reaching down and grabbing their cock, it's on that level of intimacy, right?

Elves whose ears are extremely sensitive, not just in the keenness of their hearing but in terms of touch, too. (Yes, Viggo, this one is for you.) Throw in some social aspects of the importance of song to elvish life and spirits (this world was literally Sung into existence, remember, and the elves are very bound to this world and its Song) and you end up with a similar situation, where touching an elf's ears is like the most intimate gesture ever. Not something you would do casually, or to anyone you weren't on like...imminent-betrothal-level terms with at least. With me so far?

Well: Gimli does not know this about elves. Legolas does not know this about dwarves.

The first time Legolas starts toying with Gimli's beard, it's as much idle curiosity as anything: elves like pretty hair, and pretty braids, and Gimli's beard is very pretty. (And he asked Galadriel for her hair! and got three strands! so clearly Talking About Pretty Hair is something they can both appreciate, and thus bond over!) Gimli goes BEET red not that Legolas notices because he hasn't figured out that only elves blush with their ears yet but is too shocked to muster even a token protest, and by the time he remembers how to breathe it's too late, Legolas has already been talking for ten minutes about how nice Gimli's hair is and can he teach him some of those braids they look neat...? and Gimli can't possibly bark at him to stop touching them now, can he? That would be rude. And anyway, Legolas clearly has no idea what fondling a dwarf's beard implies, and there are no other dwarves around to see him now, so it's harmless. It means nothing. Nothing.

Meanwhile the first time Gimli touches Legolas's ears, it's to flick one of them in jest as he teases him for being able to hear a butterfly yawn from forty leagues, you silly creature! Legolas also flushes, dark enough that his brown ears look like they've been dipped in some of his father's favorite wine, but he's never been that good at saying things delicately anyway, and he doesn't want to rebuff the dwarf when Gimli clearly has no idea the implications of what he's just done or the fact that Legolas is shivering all the way from the tips of those ears down to his toes right now and it would be rude to explain now, when Gimli has already moved on to his next clever jest, so Legolas just blushes and lets it go, it's not like Gimli will be able to reach his ears often so he doesn't need to worry about it...

Only somehow they seem to keep finding spots where the road dips and curves, or there's rubble to sit on, and then the mines are just full of broken stones at convenient heights; and then they end up in a boat together, where Gimli can absolutely reach them; and well at least they're not in Lórien now so nobody is around who will know what that means, so Legolas doesn't have to avoid his hands anymore; and then they end up on a horse together, and his ears are even more easy to reach now; and then they're resting on the wall of the Hornburg waiting for the orcs to come and it's very comforting, actually, to have Gimli's hands stroking his ears like that, callused yes but so soft and gentle; and by the time they get to Gondor it's far too ingrained a habit to stop...not that Legolas wants him to.

Meanwhile, of course, Aragorn and Gandalf know EXACTLY what both braids and ears mean to both dwarves and elves, and they spend weeks gossiping together in quiet Quenya about it, and taking bets on what will happen when one or the other one of them cottons-on to what that means to the other one, and who will find out what first, etc etc.

(When Gandalf meets the Three Hunters again in Fangorn, the state of those bets is one of the first thing he asks Aragorn to fill him in on during the ride to Edoras because all wizards are gossip queens.)

And then the Grey Company shows up, with Elladan and Elrohir, and Legolas watches his whole long life flash before his eyes when Gimli reaches up to give his ear a caress—a friendly and completely platonic caress of course, it's not like he knows what that gesture means, he couldn't possibly have figured it out and be doing it on purpose now, don't be absurd you silly elf—right where they can see it!

Gimli suffers much the same experience when over the campfire that night Halbarad casually mentions all the dwarves he's befriended during his time as a Ranger, why Gimli he even knew your dad back when you were all living in the Blue Mountains, nice to see you've gotten your journeyman braid I bet that made Glóin very proud...

Gimli goes as red as Legolas's ears, and then as pale as Saruman's robes. Aragorn silently curses that Gandalf isn't here to see what comes next (he is going to gripe so hard when he finds out he missed the big reveal!) and holds his breath, waiting to discover who's about to win (and lose) all those bets...

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, yandere, monster au, orc x elf!reader, huge size difference

fem reader

Orc Master – who makes his pretty collared elf-pet lick and kiss his heavy balls because his cock won’t fit in her mouth…

They’re the size of grapefruits – bigger than your tits, nearly bigger than your head, and you can only suck a small spot at a time – smacking off the warm weights with a lewd pop before suckling another place just shy of it.

He strokes his cock above you – pearls of pre, more like marbles, trickle down the spine of it before dripping onto your face and chest.

His other hand cradles the entirety of your skull, holding a fat thumb on your brow – angling your head to look past the thick structure shadowing you up into his hooded eyes filled with carnal heat, leering at your pretty face smothered in his sack, begging for what’s kept inside them, warm and ready to flood your guts and breed you full.

His brawny legs are taller than you as you kneel between them – feeling like a beggar praying to a god. His foot, larger than your leg – and his big toe, the size of your fist. Making the whole ground shake when he stomps it down next to you – wordlessly encouraging you to be more eager. 

He's always glossy with old and new sweat – layered thickly and sticky on his tough skin, along with red and brown flecks of blood and mud – highlighting every fat muscle as though carved in metal. Broad shoulders swole with brute strength – even his neck is buff with it, thicker than your thighs – looking proud and toppling as he looms above you. 

His words are few but weighty, grunting out, “Tongue.” Appeased when you listen and stick the pink thing inside his dickhole. Endearment in his voice, purring out “good bitch…” and softly calling you his “tiny elf-whore,” while petting your hair – steering your little head up and down his tall shaft, letting your mouth catch all the spilled mess frothing from his leaky tip.

The muscles in his thighs flex while you suck along his thick veins, pulsing where they fork along the tall tower. You have to gulp when you think about how massive it is – you can’t even reach around it when using both your hands – and you have no sound understanding of how it even fits inside you at all.

When he sucks your tits, he’ll take half of them inside his warm mouth – nomming on them while he stretches your hole with one finger after the other. 

His digits are the size of a male elf’s manhood – you can’t reach fully around one with your hand – and he’s got three of them pumping your tiny elven cunt – prepping you for his much meatier orc-cock.

You’re held easily on his lap, seated sideways and pretty. His drool runs down your chest and belly, and you’re soaked in your own sweat after cumming for the umpteenth time. Still, you squirm when he finally dabs your puffy cunt with the sturdy meat. When it stands between your thighs, the plush cockhead reaches high enough to get cozy between your breasts, and you can already feel it punching your ribs and rearranging your organs.

You always break, trying to fling yourself off and run away despite the collar sitting around your throat with a chain trail leading to the bed.

You’re never able to get out of his grip anyway. He pulls your hair back, making your head hang backward, chest arched up – it’s an awful position, leaving you no option but to thrash – unable to see what’s going on or how to prepare for it.

He picks up your thigh and holds you up in the air by it alone, using you like a ragdoll as he spreads you wide. Huffing out impatient grunts at the numerous failed attempts of pressing his raging cock-head inside you, always slipping through your slit and rubbing off on your clit. He grows angry rather quickly, growling until your hole finally gets sloppy enough to allow the very tip to find footing – just enough to let him knead the entire bulb inside you and slowly sink inch after fat inch all the way up until you choke on it.

Stuffed so fair-tight with a big bulge in your poor belly. You squeeze on it with a cry – your whole body reacting to it, contorting while it settles deep within you. Knees lifting and bending with thighs winding shut, curled toes, and fingers making tight fists.

He’s kind enough to let you roost on it for a bit before moving.

Standing up, he lays your back against the plush bed, still warm from where he’d just been sitting – and wraps a hand around both your ankles, holding them up – placing the other on the dome of your ass, hooking a thumb over your hipbone.

Most of you is still in the air – making so much blood pool in your head. Going dizzy and breathless once he sets the pace, dragging himself out of your tight walls – beyond content feeling your tight cunt squeeze on him as though begging him to stay inside.

You make the cutest sounds – makes his balls clamp up as they swing and softly clap against your back while he slowly lolls his entire length back inside your warmth.

Once your hole surrenders more to his size, he’ll lay your legs to rest against his chest and mirror the placement of his other hand – both now grabbing each of your buttcheeks – starting to fuck your womb tightly.

He loves elven pussy – especially yours – so sweet and juicy, cumming on him every few minutes – milking him for his cream.

You get a fever once he finally cums – pumping it all inside you, unloading for a full minute or two, leaving you gasping and panting with broken moans cut with cries – feeling it seep out around the edges of where he has you stuffed, running down your ass and spine, dribbling down his balls and hitting the floor in fat drops that give a sounding thud.

He waits until his cock is sluggish before sloshing out. 

Everything is a sticky mess, but he cares little for cleaning up – staggering over the bed and immediately falling into a snoring sleep with you tucked under his heavy arm.

After all, he has to make sure everyone knows who you belong to – not only by keeping you collared with his crest but by making sure you smell ripely so – scented from head to toe with his jizz and urine.

BNHA – Enji, Bakugou, Kirishima, Deku, Muscular, Gigantomachia

JJK – Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Kenjaku

AOT – Erwin, Reiner, Zeke

HxH – Uvogin

[thanksforthelaughs-inactive]

We Saved Each Other (Legolas x Reader Short Story)

Read on Ao3 "We Saved Each Other -Chapter 1"

CHAPTER 2: A03 or Tumblr

CHAPTER 3: A03 or Tumblr (HEAVY NSFW)

Summary: Reader and Legolas are ordered to keep a band of orcs away from the Woodland Realm. Their love for each other is their greatest strength as Reader saves Legolas from the blade of an orc and he returns the favour by guiding her back to health during the weeks after the battle. Their love flourishes into something deeper as they tentatively tip-toe around each other, wanting something more but being too reluctant to approach the subject until the tension becomes too much and they both finally fall into each other.

Note: This will likely only be a two chapter short story, possibly three depending on where it takes us. The first chapter is the lead up to the reason why this story was originally written as I didn't want to write a smut piece with no plot. Hope you enjoy it! Kudos and comments are so appreciated.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (female elf)

Warnings: head trauma, stabbing, angst, smut, virginity loss, fluff fluff and more fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second week you had woken up in the healer's rooms under observation after slipping into a coma for the better part of a month. The last thing you remember was battling a small group of rouge orcs that were trespassing within the King's forest. Your squad along with 4 others which were led by the prince had been ordered to remove them with haste. The sound of metal on metal and arrows flying through the air could be heard in all directions. Being the experienced warrior you are you were more than capable of holding your own as you took down orc after orc as though it was child's play. As always, your main concern was looking out for and protecting your closest friend and the other half of your heart who always fought alongside you. With the prince in your sight at all times, you continued to fell the foul beasts with both your knives and arrows. Glancing around to check on Legolas, your heart dropped when you noticed an orc coming up behind him with it's sword raised as the prince was already engaged in a hand to hand battle with another beast. Without hesitating you went to load an arrow into your bow to save the prince but your quiver was empty and you hadn't realised. Panic set in as you knew that you would not reach the orc in time before they cut down the light of your soul and you made a quick decision that left you defenceless. You yelled across the way, "Legolas! Behind you!" hoping your plea would reach the prince as you threw your long elvish knife with deadly precision and it embedded itself in the orc's skull.

With a deep sigh, you took a moment to recover from the shock and felt relief that Legolas was ok. That was until you heard the prince call out at you, "Y/N, ON YOUR RIGHT!" but before you could turn your head to see what Legolas was warning you of, you felt the sharp sting of a small blade pierce the side of your body and the scream that left your mouth echoed through the forest. You had no weapon with which to protect yourself as you brought your hand up to stop the swing of the sword the orc was hurling in your direction. Connecting your hand with the pummel of the sword and stopping it from running you through, you heard the prince yell out as he was frantically trying to reach you. You were looking directly into the orcs hateful eyes now and heard his evil laugh as he grabbed the hilt of the blade still embedded in your side and twisted. Letting out a blood-curdling scream, your sight was temporarily blinded from the pain of the action along with being headbutted with such force by the orc in front of you. Dropping to your knees, your vision was blurred but your hearing was still acute and you heard Legolas' screams and rapid footsteps approaching but so did the orc. The disgusting creature knew he was out of time and just before the prince reached you both, the orc raised the handle of the sword high above you and smashed you violently against the side of the head just above your right ear. You fell to the ground hard as darkness took hold of you and did not relent until you woke within the healing chambers of Mirkwood almost four weeks later.

During your recovery, Legolas did not leave your side. When you eventually woke from your coma he was there and each morning after that as your eyes adjusted to the new day's light, he was there still. This morning was no different as you looked over to the side of the bed and found the elf you loved most in this world sat within the chair resting, his hand moulded into yours as you both slept. The wound in the side of your body was healing well and the pain in your head was slowly fading with time. You had insisted that you be allowed to return to your own private chambers to continue your recovery but the healers and the prince would hear none of it, concerned that you may have sustained greater injury that was not able to be seen. Being kept for observations was the final decision and even though you wanted nothing more than to rest in your own bed, you agreed for the sake of your best friend. The compromise was that if all was well and your body continued to mend after two weeks of observations then you would be allowed to return to your chambers and this morning marked the agreement.

Slowly you moved to sit up and while your wound was healing well, it was still tender and you tried to not make a sound as you shifted your body back up against the headrest. Sensing movement, Legolas' eyes snapped into focus and his body jolted awake looking at you with great concern. "Shhhh, my love," you began, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "it is well." Legolas sat on the edge of his seat eyeing you over, making sure all was in fact well. You began speaking again, "Good morning, my prince. I really wish you would take proper rest within your chambers. I am quite alright now." Looking up into your eyes while shaking his head slightly and holding your hand in both of his now, Legolas responded, "Good morning, my y/n. I trust you slept well?" Looking back into his eyes with the same amount of love you smiled, "I think you know the answer to that already. You never leave my side. Please, take some rest." Legolas brought your hand up to his lips with both of his and laid three gentle kisses on top of it, "I shall rest when you are back on your feet, meleth nin". You smiled down at him as you watched him press his lips against the back of your hand and you felt love spreading throughout your body. "Well while on that note, this new morning officially marks two weeks since we came to our agreement.". You watched the prince with curious eyes wondering how he was going to respond. With your hand still within both of his and his breath gently caressing the back of it, you noticed he did not move or say anything. Instead just sat there as he understood your meaning.

Trying to get his attention once more, you removed your hand from his grasp and gently placed it against the side of his face, "My love? Did you hear what I said?". Legolas subtly nodded his head and let out a defeated sigh, "Yes, meleth. I heard you. I just do not completely agree with the choice but a deal is a deal. You are still healing and must not push yourself to the point of beginning the recovery all over again. Your tenacity is one of the many things that I love about you, but you must look after yourself and listen to your body. Can you do that please? For me?" You felt that your heart would burst from the words spoken from your beloved which were full of love and concern for you and you couldn't help the smile that lit up your face. This was not lost on the prince who was thoroughly confused, "I'm serious, y/n. Do not make me worry for you". This elicited a small chuckle from you which further confused the prince, "I know, my love, I know. Forgive my actions but I believe you would be concerned for me whether by my choice or not." Legolas playfully scoffed a little, "Well, yes, I suppose you're right. Just don't make me worry more than is absolutely necessary." Grabbing his hand now, it was your turn to bring it up to your lips as you placed a small kiss upon his knuckles, "You have nothing to fear. My recovery continues and I will feel much better from the comfort of my own chambers."

You saw a small wave of reassurance wash over Legolas' features as he moved to sit back comfortably in his chair. His hand remained within yours and you couldn't help but listen to your feelings telling you there was more on his mind. Gently squeezing his hand to get him to look at you, you decided to ask him. "Legolas, there is more you're not telling me, is there not? Do not feel as though you need to hide anything from me. What troubles you?". With a deep sigh, Legolas sat foreword once more and gently ran his thumb over the top of your hand while deep in thought. Watching him and allowing him to gather his thoughts, you wondered what could be plaguing his mind. "You are still not completely well, y/n. It worries me you being on your own within your chambers. What if you have a fall and reopen your wound? Or worse, fall and hit your head while it is still healing in ways we cannot see? There would be no one there to help you until it would be too late and I cant... I cant..." the prince's trembling voice fell silent as his head hung low and he shook it, fighting back the tears. Your heart lurched in your chest as your heard the turmoil in his voice, "Hey, shhh shhh, my love. Please, look at me." you gently requested as you tried to bring his face up to look at yours. He allowed you to guide his eyes up to look into your own and what you saw left you heartbroken. Glassy eyes that were full of unshed tears bore into yours and you gently ran you thumb over one of his cheeks. "What can't you do, my love. Tell me". Legolas' eyes closed as you asked him to finish his earlier statement and the unshed tears fell down his face. Opening his mouth, a shaky breath escaped before he began speaking at a volume no louder than a whisper, "I can't... lose you again, y/n. I can't."

Legolas' words left you speechless and you brought your legs around to hang them over the edge of the bed to bring your body closer to the prince's, providing him comfort. "Oh, my love. You won't lose me, I promise. I'm here and I'm staying." you swore as you brought your arms around his shoulders and he placed the side of his head against your chest wrapping his own arms around your waist, silently weeping. Running your hand through his hair to soothe him you heard him speak, "But I did lose you, y/n. For almost four weeks I did not know if I was ever going to look into your eyes again. Hear the sound of your voice or be able to caress your lips with my own. I was living in hell and then my father came to see me and spoke of what would happen should you have left us. I couldn't breath let alone bare the thought of living in a world without you in it. Especially knowing that I was the reason why your life was in the balance in the first place." The prince took a breath and a moment to collect himself before continuing, "When you woke, I felt as though my life had purpose once more. The relief was like nothing I had ever experienced. It was like my life had started anew and a new sun shone upon me for the first time. My soul embraced yours as it returned to us and hasn't let go." The sheer amount of love and pain in Legolas' words had you breathless and shocked. "My love, I'm so sorry to have put you through all that emotional turmoil." you said as your hold on his body tightened, trying to ground him to the present.

You felt Legolas shake his head against your chest before he moved away to look at you. Bringing your face between his hands, he brought your forehead down a little so he could gently place his lips upon your forehead before replacing them with his own. You both closed your eyes as you took in the presence of the other and let the intensity of the moment wash over both of you. Legolas whispered, "Do not apologise, meleth. It is me who should be seeking forgiveness as you protected me and left yourself defenceless. Your loyalty almost cost you your life and for that, I shall never forgive myself." Bringing your hands up to hold the top of his which still held your face, you gently shook your head, "Would you not have done the same for me? No forgiveness is necessary. It was an act of love, not loyalty, and should it had been my last, I would have gone onto the next world with a full heart knowing you lived by my hand." Legolas gently moved his face away from yours slightly to look into your eyes and you saw a mixture of admiration and love within them as he took in your words. The next thing you felt was his lips upon yours as he kissed you passionately in response to your candour. The amount of love flowing through Legolas in the moment had overwhelmed him and it was the only response he felt he could provide after hearing you speak. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he kissed you desperately and your hands rested on his wrists, caressing him the same. The kiss was long, intimate and spoke more truth than any words ever could.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, the prince brought his hands down to hold yours within your lap as he moved closer to the edge of his seat, closing the gap between you both. "Meleth, I am aware of our agreement regarding your return to your chambers as of today. If I may, I have one more request if you would listen to it?" You looked at your beloved and nodded your head encouraging him to continue. Taking a deep breath, Legolas found his courage, "If you would have me, I would ask to join you in your chambers to ensure your health and safety until you are able to truly take care of yourself without assistance. I would request separate sleeping quarters are made up so you can be comfortable with your own space as needed." The request had shocked you as people of your realm did not share chambers until marriage but you understood Legolas' concern and if you were being completely honest with yourself, the idea excited you a little which you kept hidden. "My love, we are not wed nor have we even spoken upon the idea. Would your father even approve of such a thing?" you asked reluctantly, not wanting to know the answer. Legolas tightened his grip of your hands and smiled, "I have already spoken with him about it and it took some convincing but he saw my reasoning and agreed that you would need support for at least a little while." Your heart jumped at his response and you tried to hide a smile that wanted to overtake your features. Seeing the hidden smile, the prince couldn't help his own smile as it lit up his face, "Don't pretend to be happy with this new development." he teased and you gave him a playful smack on the side of his arm. "Is that how you thank someone who is looking out for you?" Legolas joked. You said nothing and just sat there beaming at him, trying to hide your full excitement. The prince continued, "So, will you have me as a temporary roommate then?" Looking back into his eyes you nodded without hesitation, "Of course. I wouldn't say no to the Prince of Mirkwood heading to my every request."

Legolas chuckled and playfully kissed your lips again before standing, "Do not get used to it, my lady." He moved to walk away from your bed and your hand instinctively tightened around his, "Where are you going?" you asked almost too urgently. Smirking down at you and kissing the top of your head, the prince spoke once more, "No where, meleth. Do not fret. I am getting a healer to look over you again before I take you back to *our* chambers." The way he said 'our' sent a shiver down your spine and it settled directly in your core. This sensation was brand new to you and you were not sure of what to make of it. What was this feeling he had pulled from you just now? You barely had time to consider it as Legolas returned with a healer who examined your still healing body. After some moments, the healer looked at both you and the prince before giving you the all clear to be moved. Legolas reached out with both his hands for you to take them as you gently stood from the bed. Once on your feet and steady, the prince brought his arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to him so he could fully support you. The proximity of your bodies and the way his hand felt flush against your waist had that shiver flowing through you again in all the same places as before. Legolas felt your heart jump, the beating increased and vibrating throughout your body as he held you, feeling his own body temperature spike in response. Certain muscles growing tense and hard as he uncomfortably walked you towards your chambers. This temporary roommate situation was going to be very interesting.

[thecampjuicebox]

Glorious Suffering

Pairing: Abdirak x Tav(f) x Astarion

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, sadomasochism, use of objects for hitting, blood, bruising, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, orgasm denial, oral, fingering, p in v penetration, minor game spoilers

Trying out a new writing format to put better emphasis on dialogue. Let me know what you guys think!

The stench of blood and unwashed bodies lingers in the air like a thick blanket. It stings in your nostrils - singes the hairs with gut churning ferocity. Putrid. It makes your eyes water. Your stomach turns and bubbles as your breakfast threatens to make a second appearance. The once grand Selunite Outpost has since crumbled to near ruins, the occupation of goblins tainting its beauty and grace in a matter of days. Filthy pests, they are. You turn your head up, eyes watering from the scent as you climb the stone stairs toward a hallway of small rooms. Your group follows close behind reluctantly.

"This place is disgusting." Astarion whines, tip-toeing around small piles of bones and viscera.

Cautious eyes peek around corners. The first room is brightly lit with candles and lanterns, a young man strapped by the wrists and ankles to some sort of torture device. Two goblins swing maces and whips in his direction, shouting obscenities and asking for information. Information the man clearly doesn't seem to have.

"Pathetic. All of them." Shadowheart huffs, turning her nose up at the display with obvious disdain for what she's seen.

"They can't even properly swing a mace to cause actual damage. Lady Shar would be displeased."

Astarion grins at the sight. Excited fingers crawl against the stone brick wall to take hold of it as he leans into the doorway, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip and trace the sharp points of his fangs.

"Let's stay and watch." The spawn's flirtatious nature can be so insufferable sometimes.

"Astarion, come. We have other business to attend to." Your voice is sharp and stern, seemingly the only way the elf will listen to you.

"You're such a bore." He groans, pulling away from the wall and hooking his index finger into the back of your leathers, giving them a playful tug toward him as he presses close to your behind and mumbles into your pointed ear.

"Doesn't that device look like such fun? We should give it a try once the little green ones have no more use for it."

Your cheeks burn crimson and a disengaging elbow flies out from behind you, connecting with Astarion's abdomen hard enough to force him to let go of your leathers.

"Not now, you tease." With a cough, he puts some distance between the two of you - an insidious grin lingers on his lips.

The second room draws closer and the quiet mumble of a man inside makes your ears perk up. His voice is strained, the occasional sounds of mace to skin ringing through the hall. He cries out, and every hair on your body stands on end. Astarion rounds the corner first, stumbling upon a man with medium build, knelt down in front of one of the rear walls of the room. He stands and turns to your group slowly, eyes falling on you first. His gaze is almost.. Comforting. Silver eyes pierce through you like the sharpest dagger. It nearly knocks the breath straight from your lungs. His chest and abdomen are alarmingly bloodied and bruised, little cuts and scratch marks speckling his skin. Astarion clears his throat once he notices your eyes locked on one another and the human offers a kind smile.

"Greetings, child. I've met few aside from Goblins here. Are you also here to assist with the prisoner?" He questions, motioning toward the room just next door.

You shake your head slowly, averting your gaze to the floor for a moment. Warmth swirls in your belly. He's incredibly handsome, the salt tones in his blonde hair showing his age. His voice is low and raspy and it sends shivers up and down your spine when he speaks - like sweet red wine to your ears. Delicious and intoxicating. His face contorts into a grimace as he crosses his arms over his chest and rests his weight on one foot.

"Hm. While I was thrilled to be invited here, I must confess I find the goblins and their methods.. Crude and primitive." He leans forward at his last word, eyes narrowing toward you. "Pain without purpose is a terrible thing. Wouldn't you agree?"

Your cheeks involuntarily flush that deep shade of crimson that clearly gives you away. He awakens something within you. You'd recognize his garb from miles away. A follower of Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain. The things this man has probably seen. The things he's done. It excites you in a way that's almost embarrassing. A familiar ache pings in your core and you can't help but cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together tightly to dull the desperation. The inherent need. The human before you certainly notices and takes a step closer, inhaling slowly before he speaks. He's toying with you now. He must be. Astarion can smell the growing eagerness in your blood, hear the way your pulse quickens, life force pumping into different parts of you now. He smirks and keeps quiet, but gods, is he painfully aware.

"Forgive me -" The man interjects, pointing directly at you now. You gulp. "but that look in your eyes. Something terrible has happened to you."

You cross your arms over your breasts, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Clever man. How did you know?"

"Because I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror.. Dear one." His hand reaches out to caress your soft cheek and goosebumps raise by the millions on your skin. "We've all suffered in these.. Dark times. It is little wonder you bear scars of pain and anguish. Please. Let me.. Alleviate this pain."

"What exactly would this entail?" Astarion's voice cuts through your thoughts and your eyes shift to him in disbelief.

"Well, the Maiden of Pain, Loviatar, teaches us that pain is a most powerful and sacred sensation. And, should our pain delight her, she will grant her most sacred of blessings." His hands clench into excited fists in front of him. "If you would permit it, I could show you first hand."

A knot forms in your stomach, twisting and tangling, his words sending jolts of arousal and excitement throughout your entire body like bolts of lightning. This experience would be new, however. The idea of such an act being performed in front of your newly acquired companions, and the man you'd started to have feelings for, makes your brain fuzzy. Gods, they'd for sure say no. Maybe even leave you to find a cure for the wriggling parasite behind your eyes by yourself.

"Sounds like a wonderful show. She accepts." Astarion beams, his eyes fixed on you, scanning up and down as your heartbeat quickens further. "As long as we can stay and watch."

"Surely Shadowheart has some reservations about watching, right?" You ask with an air of desperation that's almost laughable.

She grins and places her hands on her hips, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Lady Shar would frown upon me if I were to miss something as deliciously torturous as this. Go on."

"Oh, I have something exquisite in mind." He rubs his hands together, a devilish grin smeared across his lips. It makes your core ache even more. "Disrobe, face the wall, and we can begin. And by the way.. You may call me Abdirak."

Disrobe? Gods, this was not on your list of things to do today. Kill some goblins? Sure. Save a wildshaped druid from death? Easy. This? This may be the most difficult thing you've ever done. Astarion waves a hand toward you, motioning for you to obey the Servant of Loviatar. Your confidence wavers for a moment. Not only are you about to willingly endure what is essentially torture, now you must do it.. Naked. You gulp and set your backpack down at your feet. First goes your boots, next your leather harness, your head turning to look at Astarion who is enamored by the sight of you slowly undressing, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. Another gulp. How embarrassing.. Shadowheart snickers quietly at your obvious discomfort. Trembling fingers struggle with the laces of your tunic and in a bout of frustration, you quickly tug it over your head. The white linen falls to the floor at your feet, your perky breasts bouncing ever so slightly from the rushed movements. A quiet sigh emits from Abdirak and he quickly looks to his table of various weapons, hand hovering over the selection.

You finally tug your leathers down past your knees, kicking them to the side with reckless abandon just to get it over with. Your lack of underwear earns a barely audible groan from both Astarion and Abdirak alike. Naked and exposed, you shiver, hands resting at your sides.

"Well, go on, darling. Don't be shy."

Astarion's words give you the final push to step forward. You face the wall as instructed and chew at your bottom lip as the human lifts a mace into his hands, turning it over to inspect its condition. A quiet "Yes.. This will do nicely." stoking your fire as you wait. Abdirak approaches you from behind, reaching down to guide your hands toward the wall, foot kicking between your ankles to spread your legs apart. The cold metal of his mace traces along your spine and you shudder, teeth chattering at its frosty bite. You wait with baited breath. Brace for the imminent kiss of pain. Abdirak rears back and lands a blow to your back hard enough to knock an involuntary yelp from your throat. Astarion chews the tip of his thumb, his right hand lowering to the front of his leathers to palm at his growing erection. The half elf stood close beside him eyes him carefully, and then you, arms crossing over her chest now, completely unamused.

"The pain you suffer will cleanse you. Do not fight it."

A loud sob follows Abdirak's words as you process the pain, blood trickling from a new gash on your skin. You beg for mercy, plead for the pain to stop, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. But this is only the first blow, there is so much more to come. Somewhere deep down inside, you're enjoying this. Your companions watching as you stand there, completely vulnerable, bloodied and bruised. Open to the elements and whomever wanted a taste. The human licks his lips.

"Your voice sounds so sweet, dear one. Keep going."

"Don't wear her out entirely, priest. We may have use for her yet." Shadowheart grins, eyes narrowing on your trembling frame.

Her mocking tone and underlying breathiness strikes an interesting chord with you. Exciting. Stimulating. Blood pumps in your ears - a deafening drum beat that only you can hear. You sway your hips to the rhythm and Astarion chews at his bottom lip, ready to pounce. Hunger burns in his stomach. Emptiness. Even though he'd fed on you just hours before, his mouth salivates like he's positively starved. He intends to devour you in one way or another.

Your tormentor rears back to land another blow, this time to your ass, and it nearly knocks you forward into the wall. You grit your teeth and stifle a scream and Astarion groans at your strained noises. He's enjoying this almost as much as you are, you're just much better at hiding it. Arousal soaks your folds. Your walls flutter around nothing and you chew your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Abdirak lands a third blow against your thigh. Nails dig into the stone bricks, almost bloodying your fingers. Gods, you want more. Need more. Abdirak takes a step back to admire his work, rubbing the tip of the mace up your inner thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. You whimper and he quirks an eyebrow. In a sudden change of mind, he swaps the mace for a paddle, little circles cut from the wood to increase the sensations. A quick smack earns a loud cry from your lips.

"That's it, dear one! Let Loviatar hear you!"

"Not the worst technique, priest. Good wrist movement. Lots of.. Enthusiasm." Shadowheart interjects again plainly.

Astarion continues to palm at his cock as he watches, eyes fixed solely on you. The way your blood bubbles up and trickles over your flesh. The scent of your arousal. It's the sweetest perfume and he can hardly control himself.

"You're being so good for him, darling. Keep going."

The vampire spawn's voice is breathy and low. You moan just from his words and Abdirak lands another smack to your opposite ass cheek, a large red print immediately surfacing and swelling on your skin. "Fuck!" You cry loudly. Tears sting in the corners of your eyes. The human grins and sets the paddle down, moving behind you to trace his fingers over each bruise, cut, and mark he'd left. Little trophies of devotion. His goddess will be pleased. You shiver at the contact of his fingers.

"Sweet child.. You bore the pain like a true believer. I am proud to have served you this penance."

"Th-Thank you.." You muster quietly, bottom lip still trembling at the threat of tears. "I enjoyed myself."

Abdirak tilts his head back and sighs heavily, one hand reaching down to trace over your bruises once more. His cock throbs beneath his garb and he presses a free hand into it, groaning at the friction.

"As did I, dear one. Loviatar herself found your performance.. inspiring."

He grins and steps to your side, leaning close to your ear. His breath is warm and smells of a metal. More goosebumps speckle your skin as he presses his lips to your pointed ear and whispers quietly.

"And on a personal note.. Thank you. That was positively divine. This doesn't have to be the end, however. You've proven yourself perfectly capable of accepting such exquisite pleasure. I'd love to show you so much more."

"She'd love that. May I assist?" Astarion murmurs, approaching the two of you with confidence.

Normally you'd be incredibly irritated by the vampire spawn speaking for you, but now, Gods you couldn't be more grateful. A cold hand cups your cunt suddenly and you jolt at the sensation, back arching forward as Astarion's middle finger presses just barely into your folds and against your clit.

"Mm. She's so wet for us."

Sharp teeth just barely pierce your shoulder, a sensation you've become all too used to ever since you discovered the pale elf's affliction. You'd let him feed on you when it was needed, and sometimes purely because you enjoyed how he'd hold you close to him. How he'd savor your taste and lick your skin clean. His sweet words of encouragement as he'd bite into another place. And the way he'd talk you through the dizziness once he was finished. Your brain whirs with arousal as Astarion coos quietly against your skin and presses little kisses to the now bleeding spot. He drags his fangs over your flesh with torturous slowness, exhaling heavily at the salty taste of your sweat and blood combined. The finger pressed to your clit begins moving in circles and you nearly fall apart right there. Your legs tremble. Toes curl against the stone beneath your feet. Abdirak picks up the paddle once more and eyes Astarion. They exchange a glance of approval and the paddle makes fiery contact with your skin once more, over the same swollen spot it had assaulted before.

A mix of pain and pleasure courses through every vein in your body and your vision goes white. You could cum at any moment. Another smack. And another. And another. Astarion lowers his hand from your cunt, landing a smack of his own against your folds and your knees nearly give out at the force.

"Gods, please.." you whimper loudly, head falling between your shoulders.

"Yes, beg for it, dear one. You're doing so well for us."

"What a good girl you are, darling."

Their combined praises is enough to push you over the edge, but you hold on tightly. You can't cum. Not yet. Astarion's fingers circle around your slick soaked slit, playing with the clear sticky fluid for a moment. One digit slides inside first and you whine loudly, hips pushing back against him.

"M-more.." you beg.

A second finger slides inside and stretches your entrance ever so slightly, the cold digits pressing firmly into that spongey spot that could stop your heart.

"More!" You cry, and both men behind you grin at your desperation.

Abdirak slides his index finger into his mouth to soak it with his spit before lowering it between your thighs, forcing it inside of you atop Astarion's hooked fingers. The stretch burns in the most delicious of ways.

"Please.. Please more.."

A second finger of Abdirak's slides inside and finally you're sated, hips bucking back against their hands rhythmically. Astarion kneels down and sinks his teeth into your left ass cheek, blood trickling from the flesh and down his chin as he sups of your nectar, his eyes rolling back in his skull. He can taste your orgasm building. Your arousal and desperation. Your every need and want. His fingers pump in and out of you with bruising speed and Abdirak follows suit, his free hand reaching around the front of your waist to pinch your clit between his thumb and index. He rolls the sensitive, swollen bud between his fingers and presses sloppy, open mouthed kisses down your bloodied ass and thigh, savoring the metallic tang of your blood and the sweetness of your sweat. A delectable treat for all of his senses. Your moans grow louder and louder, jaw hung open and drool falling from your mouth in a steady stream. An eager hand reaches up to shove itself into your mouth and cover itself in your spit before moving back to your clit, spreading the wetness around.

The knot in your belly grows tighter and tighter, wound like a bow string, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the near painful overstimulation of your slit. Still the fingers work furiously against your walls.

"I'm gonna - I need to - Gods please!"

"Ah ah ah, use your words, darling. What do you need?"

The spawn drags his tongue over the globe of your ass to clean the remainder of blood from your skin. A quiet groan escapes his lips and he stands again, free hand taking hold of your hair to stand you fully upright.

"I need to cum.. I'm gonna -"

Just as you're about to topple over the edge, both sets of fingers are pulled from your cunt, a thick rope of slick still connecting you with the two men standing behind you. You keen at the emptiness. Your walls squeeze and contract around nothing. Abdirak lands a hot smack against your clit, and then another, and another, grinning as you sob loudly at the strikes. His pulls his hand away reluctantly, slipping his slick covered digits into his mouth to suck them clean. Astarion flashes him a toothy grin.

"N-no please.. Please!"

All you can muster are pathetic pleas and raspy whines, your feet stomping in frustration against the dirty stone beneath you. Astarion's fingers wrap themselves around your throat from behind and yank your back against his front, the threat of his angry erection rubbing back and forth against your bruised ass. You're fully exposed. Vulnerable. Writhing and crying for release. Such a beautiful sight to the vampire spawn and the servant of Loviatar. This is torture.

"Shadowheart, my dear. Are you sure you're not interested in some fun?"

"I'd much prefer to watch, thank you."

The half elf smirks and leans against the wall, eyes scanning over the scene just a few feet away. Her eyes narrow on you and you can feel her gaze burning holes into the back of your head. Does she approve? Do you even care? Skilled fingers work the front of Astarion's leathers open and his cock springs up and out, a soft slap against your ass startling you from the heavy daze filling your head. Your brain feels like cold snow slush. Your legs are weak, growing weaker by the second as Astarion rubs the tip of his weeping cock against your hungry slit. You nearly pull him right in and he hisses at the tightness. The invitation. Abdirak lowers himself to his knees in front of you, both hands finding purchase on your hips to keep himself steady. Gentle kisses pepper your abdomen, hip bones, and your stubbly mound, a shiver running up your your spine at the warmth of his breath against your sex. You wiggle your hips, both to tease the vampire spawn behind you, and to beckon the human's lips toward the spot you need him most.

Without warning, Astarion slips inside. His size surprises you. The delicious burn of the stretch, how he's nearly in your guts before bottoming out. Gods, he's huge. A careful push of the hips nestles him fully inside and he waits there for a moment.

"By the nine hells, you're tight.." He murmurs, lips pressed tightly to your ear now.

Abdirak's tongue flattens against your clit and he lifts his head to slide it up and over your mound, repeating this same movement to go back down. His strokes are slow and calculated. The combination of sensations makes your legs tremble like leaves in the winter air, and your hands fly down to tangle in the human's hair and guide his head. With a tut, Astarion reaches around to quickly grasp your wrists and yank them behind your back - you're pinned in place, forced to submit to his quickening thrusts and the skilled swirling of Abdirak's tongue. Your frame bends forward just slightly at the force of the spawn's thrusts, your legs spreading further apart instinctively. Again, that familiar knot twists and tightens in your belly and surely you'll cum at any moment. Astarion's free hand moves your hair away from the side of your neck to expose the still-healing bite marks from just the night before. He lines his fangs up perfectly re-open the wounds and you hiss at the sting. Like shards of ice in your veins. Overcome by pleasure and blood loss, your vision goes fuzzy. Drool drips from your lips and down your chin. Positively cock drunk.

Not even a soft moan is able to escape now. Only heavy exhales and gasps making your lungs burn and your throat raw. Abdirak's tongue works with surprising artistry against your clit still, lips sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves to earn any sounds he possibly can from you. The loud slap of skin against skin rings throughout the stone room. Surely the rest of the outpost could hear you. You're surprised you don't have an audience gathered in the door way, watching the way you're being devoured and fucked into oblivion. The vampire spawns teeth leave your neck with a soft slurp sucking the last little drops of your blood through the puncture wounds, his tongue swirling around his lips and teeth to collect the remnants. Astarion's thrusts begin to lose their rhythm and you can't help but grin as his cock twitches erratically inside of you. Abdirak quickly releases your clit from his swollen lips, ducking his head further to use his tongue on Astarion now. The tip of the human's tongue traces the furry outline of the vampire spawns sack before sucking one ball into his warm mouth, massaging it in his jaw. The he switches, and the primal growl that escapes Astarion makes your heart flutter.

"Fuck, I'm cumming! Oh gods, I'm cumming!" He groans loudly, nails digging harshly into the plush meat of your hips as he quickly pulls himself from your constricting walls and spills his seed onto the small of your back.

Your end draws near, Abdirak's fingers finding their way into your cunt with impressive speed. They hook forward into that perfect spot and you cry out loud, finally able to make some sort of noise. The spawn behind you rubs his softening cock against your ass, keeping a tight grip on your arms behind your back still. Quiet squelches and slurps from the human between your thighs make you grin. Disgusting. Cold hands keep a careful grip on your trembling body. One restraining your hands, the other wrapped tightly around your throat now, playing with the pressure against your arteries. First a soft squeeze. Then it builds, and your hearing muffles. Black spots invade your vision. The spawn releases, and all of it comes rushing back. You gasp loudly for air, lungs on fire. Playfully, he repeats this again and again - bringing you to the brink of unconsciousness then quickly yanking you back. Soft coos and words of praise work you up to your climax.

"Such a good girl. So obedient. You like that, don't you? You like when I tell you how good you are?"

You nod in agreeance, unable to speak. Words feel foreign on your tongue. Your mouth is dry now, like you've filled it with linen. Still your end builds. Loud cries, sobs, and screams alert all of Faerun of your pleasure. You should be embarrassed. Ashamed, even. But you couldn't care less. Not now. You nearly topple over the precipice of pure ecstasy when suddenly.. The feeling disappears. Abdirak moves back from his original spot. Your cunt aches. Empty. A soft whimper escapes you and your head falls back against Astarion's broad shoulder.

"You thought we were going to let you cum? Little love.. How naïve."

His words sting like bees. Little Love. The degradation should upset you. Should ruin whatever arousal you have left. But it doesn't. If anything, it adds oil to the fire. You're more wet than ever. Heat rises in your ears and the tips turn a bright red, your fists balling up behind you in frustration as you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Through gritted teeth, you growl. A pathetic performance, on your part. Abdirak stands before you and circles his index finger over both of your nipples, smirking at you with half lidded eyes as each one perks up.

The half elf across the room giggles in amusement.

"Positively cruel."

"Patience, dear one.. You'll meet your end soon enough."

[lakefu]

The Climb

Summary: Tav and Astarion learn that vampire spawn are supposed to know how to climb walls and ceilings.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Its just fluff, really. Post-game married tavstarion.

Word count: 1.3k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Pst… Astarion,” Tav whispers, trying to grab the elf’s attention.

Crimson eyes dart up from behind a large book that's being read across the table.

“Can you uh… uhm…” Tav nervously looks around the room. There’s a lot of people here, some are even glaring at her. Since when did libraries become so popular on a Thursday afternoon?

Tav scoots her chair as close to him as possible and continues to whisper.

“I’m reading about vampires,” she admits, and he turns to look at her with a tilt of his head.

“Oh whatever for darling, you have the real deal right here. I'm sure whatever tome you've plucked from this dreary establishment is nothing but a fairy tail anyways,” he rolls his eyes and laughs, earning a “Shush!” from a nearby reader.

Tav smiles wearily, and makes sure to keep a low tone. “It says that vampire spawn can climb up walls… and ceilings”.

Astarion laughs even louder now and the librarian scolds him from across the room. Tav mouths a “Sorry” over in her direction and she sighs. After an “incident” had gotten the couple banned from the library closest to their house, she wasn't about to get in trouble at the second closest too.

Tav focuses her attention back to Astarion. His eyes are on his book, but they aren't moving. His knuckles seem whiter than usual as they grip the sides of the pages.

“Have you ever… tried to climb up walls?” She asks innocently enough, but his eyes flash up at lightning speed.

“Have you ever tried to climb up walls? No? So why would I?” He hisses, and the librarian stands up from her desk.

Tav jumps up from her seat and grabs Astarion’s hand, encouraging him to follow her.

“Thank you so much, I'll bring this back in a few days!” She gestures at the book in her hands and then back at the librarian, running out the door with lover in tow.

***

Pacing around the bedroom, Astarion keeps his eyes glued to the book and continues muttering under his breath. Tav sits on their bed and watches the vampire’s erratic movements with concern. She feels a bit of regret telling him about the book in the first place, since the last thing she wanted to do was put any new worries into his life.

“Hey, you're probably right… It's probably not real. Just made up for a good story,” she tries to reassure him.

“No,” he states simply, and ceases his pacing. Facing the wall near the bed, his fingers trace the pages of the book for what feels like the hundredth time.

Harmed by Running Water. Check. Forbiddance. Check. Sunlight Hypersensitivity. Check. Spider Climb.… What?

He presses the book closed with such a force that Tav could have sworn she saw a poof of dust fly from the pages.

“Everything else in here is correct. Why would this one thing be a lie?” He sighs and leans over to place the book down on the nightstand. His hands move to massage his temples, never letting his gaze leave the wall ahead of him.

“It’s not like I was given an instruction booklet the moment I was turned, you know. I had to figure everything out for myself,” he spits out, words full of a poison that makes Tav shiver. 

He raises a singular finger and presses it against the wall.

“And clearly… I couldn't even do that properly,” he says softly, dragging his finger down the wall. 

He appears to look straight through the rough surface, clearly lost in a deep, distant thought. 

Tav scooches off the bed and approaches him gently, wrapping her arms around his waist with a careful squeeze. Standing on her tip-toes, she reaches upwards and plants a soft kiss on his porcelain neck. 

“I don't know what to do, love,” Astarion whispers, and leans his head into hers. 

Tav closes her eyes and considers the situation as she feels cold fingers caress her cheek.

“When you hunt… when you feed… you feel a bit feral, don't you?” Tav smiles up at him and studies his confused expression.

“‘Well, ‘a bit’ might be a slight understatement, but yes. And it’s all a matter of control anyways,” he hesitates, and waits for further explanation.

“Yes, exactly!” Tav exclaims, taking a step back and feeling optimism swell back up within her. “You should focus on those types of feelings. Allow your body to tell you what to do. Try to relax, focus, and you’ll do fine!”

Astarion scoffs, but Tav can tell that he is taking what she said to heart. He squints at the wall once more and adjusts his posture.

“I can uh… move the mattress over here if you're worried about falling or something,” Tav jokes, but honestly, she would do it if it made him feel better.

“Oh please- i’m the most dexterous person in this whole town. You know I always land on my feet,” he laughs and makes a grandiose hand gesture in Tav’s general direction.

So, he was feeling better then. Good. 

Tav heads back to her previous perch at the edge of the bed and watches in anticipation of whatever the hells she was about to witness.

Nothing but silence filled the room for a long while. And then, quicker than a blink of an eye, he was simply on the wall.

Tav jumps back, mouth agape, and watches as the vampire continues his ascent up the wall until he is completely upside down on the ceiling. She nearly felt ill at the initial unnatural sight of it all, but in a strange way, it felt all too natural at the same time.

“Gods…” she whispers. “My husband is a spider”.

Astarion let out one of the deepest and most sincere laughs Tav had heard in a long time. He was having the time of his life.

“This is madness, truly!” He shouts from above, scampering about like some sort of creature that would normally not be allowed inside the house. “Tav, do you realize how much we can do with this? Where we can go? Where we could sneak into?” “I'm so proud of you dear, really, and- wait what did you say? We?” She jolts up from the bed and walks over to his point of initial ascent, as if beckoning him to come down and talk. 

“Yes darling, I can carry you on my back, I'm sure of it”. He's crawled off the ceiling by now but is still nearly halfway up the wall. Just enough to meet Tav at eye level, only a bit more upside down than usual.

Tav doesn't know what to make of this proposition. It might be the one of the most unorthodox situations she’s ever heard of, and yet, it's still a bit… romantic? She feels her face run red.

“Do you realize how insane you sound right now?” She questions with eyes widening and shooting up a toothy grin.

Astarion takes one hand off the wall, still managing to maintain a balance, and reaches down to hold Tav’s cheek.

“And when have we ever been sane, my love?” He crawls a few more inches down the wall until he’s in a spot where his lips can reach her own. A sweet and selfless kiss is planted upon her lips, and they enjoy this new position for a few moments before Tav stumbles away. She’s not even the one who’s been upside down and yet she feels more light headed and flush than he does.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” She exhales, and takes a satisfied step back to look at her curious lover. 

Gods, what is he about to get them into?