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goldfades · 1 month ago

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PLAYING WITH FIRE──FATHER CHARLIE

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─ summary | a preacher's daughter becomes involved in a secret and passionate affair with a priest, challenging her strict upbringing and the expectations of her family and faith.

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x preacher's daughter!reader

─ warnings | NSFW (with plot) under the cut. fingering, heavy make-out sessions, praise/degradation?

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Your father always said the church was supposed to be your sanctuary.

From the time you were old enough to sit still on a pew, the towering stained glass windows and the echo of hymns in the vaulted ceiling had been your world. Every sermon, every candlelit service, every whispered prayer had woven itself into the fabric of your life, wrapping you in a cloak of devotion that felt as natural as breathing.

Now, standing in the shadow of the altar, that cloak felt a little too tight.

The evening light filtered through the stained glass, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floors. Blues and golds stretched in long, quiet beams, like the church itself was holding its breath. Outside, the world was settling into the calm of twilight, but inside, the silence felt heavier than usual. It pressed down on your shoulders, thick and stifling.

You stood there, fingertips grazing the smooth surface of the wooden pew in front of you. The familiar scent of incense and old books filled your lungs as you breathed in deeply, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had been crawling under your skin for weeks now. Something was different, though you couldn’t quite place it. The church, once a place of comfort, now felt... constricting. Maybe it was the weight of expectation—or maybe it was something else entirely, something you didn’t dare to name yet.

Your gaze drifted to the large crucifix at the front of the room, eyes tracing the well-worn details of it, the soft glow of candlelight flickering at its base. You were supposed to feel something here. Reverence. Peace. But instead, a knot twisted in your chest, a tangle of emotions you couldn’t unravel.

Footsteps echoed behind you, soft but deliberate, the sound pulling you back to the present. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel his presence like the air had shifted, like the temperature in the room dropped just a fraction of a degree.

“Evening service is in an hour.”

Father Charlie’s voice, smooth and low, cut through the silence, brushing against the nape of your neck like a whisper. You swallowed, your pulse quickening, though you weren’t entirely sure why. He always had that effect on you, though you told yourself it was nothing. Just nerves. Just... respect. Nothing more.

You turned to face him, forcing a smile as you nodded. “I know. I just... wanted a moment before the crowd comes in.”

His eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary, and something in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the way you felt when he did, like you were being seen for the first time, like every carefully crafted piece of who you were might unravel if you weren’t careful.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice still soft, but there was an edge to it now, something unspoken that hung in the air between you.

You looked away quickly, your fingers curling tighter around the pew. Your father’s words echoed in your mind, reminding you of your duty, of your place. You were the preacher’s daughter, after all. Everything about your life was tied to this church, to your father’s legacy, to the faith you were supposed to uphold with unwavering loyalty.

But then why did it feel like everything was starting to crack?

You forced yourself to stand taller, clearing your throat as you spoke again, your voice quieter this time. “I should probably go help with preparations.”

“Right,” Charlie said, though he didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off you.

The silence stretched between you once more, and you could feel the weight of it, heavy and unspoken. Something was shifting, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

───

College had opened a thousand new doors for you, each one leading you further away from the world you had known for so long. The freedom was intoxicating—more than you could have imagined. Late nights spent in libraries, impromptu road trips with friends, a city that felt alive beneath your feet, humming with possibilities you had never considered. For the first time in your life, you weren’t tethered to the expectations of your family, the expectations of the church.

But even as you explored new ideas, met people who challenged the beliefs you had grown up with, and carved out space for yourself in a world much bigger than the small town you’d left behind, something kept pulling you back. A tug, a whisper, a lingering sense of obligation that gnawed at you when the campus quieted down in the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t just the faith you were raised in that haunted you; it was the weight of your father’s voice echoing in your head, the way he spoke about duty, commitment, and sacrifice. His sermons had always been about more than just scripture—they were about life, about how the world tested you, how sin was a slippery slope. How it could seduce you without you even realizing it.

You thought you could ignore it for a while, push the thoughts aside as you embraced everything new. But when the holidays came and you found yourself back home, the old routines settled over you like a heavy coat. The Sunday services, the church events, the constant watchful eyes of the congregation. You could feel them all waiting, wondering if the preacher’s daughter had come back changed, if the world had gotten to you.

And then, there was Father Charlie.

You hadn’t expected to see him again—not like this, not after everything had shifted inside of you. College had given you new perspectives, yes, but it hadn’t prepared you for the way your pulse raced the moment you saw him standing in the front of the church, speaking with your father as if everything was still the same.

But it wasn’t.

Charlie looked different. Or maybe you did. He was older now, though not by much, and there was a certain weight in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just his sermons or the way he carried himself with that steady, unshakable calm; it was the way his gaze lingered on you, the way it seemed like he could see through the mask you were trying so hard to keep up.

You’d always known him as the priest who helped your father, the man who had been an almost constant presence in your home, at dinners, at family gatherings. He was someone you trusted, someone you never questioned. Until now.

There was something about him now, something that made the air feel too thick when you were in the same room. Maybe it was because you had changed, maybe it was because you had seen more of the world and realized how small the one you left behind had been. Or maybe it was because for the first time, you were looking at him not through the lens of innocence and trust, but through something darker. Something you weren’t ready to name.

It started innocently enough—helping your father prepare for services, catching up with old friends from the congregation, falling back into the role of the dutiful daughter. You had perfected that role long ago, and slipping back into it felt almost too easy, like muscle memory. But every time you caught a glimpse of Charlie, that mask cracked just a little more.

You told yourself it was nothing, that it was just the stress of being home again, of reconciling who you were now with who you had been before. But it wasn’t long before you found yourself lingering after church events, staying late to help clean up, just to see if he’d still be there. Just to see if his eyes would meet yours again, if that strange, unspoken tension between you would return.

And it always did.

It was subtle at first, the way he looked at you from across the room, the way his gaze lingered just a little too long before he turned away. You tried to convince yourself you were imagining it, that it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But then there were the conversations, those moments when the two of you were alone in the church hall, the only sound the distant hum of people outside. The way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he leaned in just a fraction too close, the way his hand brushed yours when you passed him something.

It was nothing. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But one evening, after a particularly long meeting at the church, when everyone else had left and you were gathering your things, you turned around to find him standing in the doorway, watching you.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. The look in his eyes was different this time—darker, more intense. There was something there that you hadn’t seen before, or maybe something you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

“I didn’t expect you to come back,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. His gaze didn’t leave yours, not even for a second.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you tried to gather your thoughts. “It’s home,” you replied, though even you could hear the uncertainty in your own voice.

He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. The sound of it clicking shut seemed to echo in the silence, making the space between you feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to find something, some answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet.

You should have felt uncomfortable. You should have made some excuse to leave, to get out of there before whatever this was could unfold. But instead, you stayed rooted to the spot, your breath shallow, your heart racing in your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

Your heart skipped another beat, a wave of heat washing over you at his words. You didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to say to the man standing in front of you—the man who had always been so steady, so composed, and now looked like he was standing on the edge of something dangerous.

“Charlie, I—”

“I know,” he interrupted, taking another step closer, his eyes still locked on yours. “I know this is... complicated.”

Complicated didn’t even begin to cover it. He was a priest. You were the preacher’s daughter. There were rules, lines that couldn’t be crossed, things that couldn’t be said.

But here you were, standing in the quiet of the church, and those lines had never felt more blurred.

It was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. You knew it deep down, felt it in the pit of your stomach. He was a man of God, your father’s closest confidant, the last person you should have these thoughts about. And yet, here he was—standing before you, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, like you were the only person in the world at that moment.

He was too close now. You could smell the faint scent of incense still clinging to his clothes, could see the slight furrow in his brow as he struggled to keep his composure. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the muted shuffle of footsteps outside the room.

You should leave. You needed to. But instead, you found yourself taking a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

“I don’t know what’s happening here,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible.

Charlie exhaled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Neither do I,” he admitted, his voice low, almost broken. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy and dangerous. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be a man above these temptations, above human desires. And you were supposed to be someone who understood that, who respected the boundaries that came with it. But somehow, those boundaries had started to blur long before either of you realized.

His hand twitched at his side, like he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you, to close the distance between you. For a moment, you thought he might actually do it. That he might cross that final line. But he hesitated, clenching his fist as if to hold himself back.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered under his breath, taking a small step backward, as if the space would help clear the growing storm between you.

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words, the right way to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions inside you. “Charlie...”

“Don’t,” he cut you off softly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand how wrong this is.”

His words hit you like a cold splash of water, but they didn’t stop the way your heart fluttered in your chest, or the way your stomach twisted with something dangerous. You knew he was right. This was wrong, on every level. And yet, the way he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he said your name—it sent a shiver down your spine that you couldn’t ignore.

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just stared at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something darker—something you didn’t dare name out loud.

“Because,” he finally murmured, his voice thick with restrained emotion, “I can’t help it.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words settle over you. It wasn’t the confession you had expected, and it wasn’t one that made things any easier. If anything, it only made the situation even more complicated.

“I should go,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to take a step back, to create some distance between you and the storm brewing in the space you shared.

That was all you said before turning around, and leaving the room.

───

You weren't sure how this had happened, but sure as hell did. Charlie's lips were on yours, pushing you into the door with force. You hummed into his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

All you remember was his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. The world outside that door no longer existed, fading into a blur as Charlie’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that felt like it had been building for far too long.

All you remembered was the sound of your own heartbeat, pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else—the quiet of the church hall, the soft creak of the door behind you, the whisper of your name on Charlie’s lips before everything had spiraled out of control.

You had always imagined this would be different, more hesitant, slower, maybe even sweet. But this? This was something else entirely. It was rushed, desperate, like both of you had been holding back for so long that the dam had finally broken, flooding every bit of restraint.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to close the gap between you entirely. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as if he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t. His lips were warm, insistent, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, surrendering to the pull you had resisted for so long.

The weight of what you were doing hit you in flashes—between the soft gasp that escaped your throat and the way Charlie’s breath hitched when you responded with equal need. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be doing this. But nothing had ever felt so... inevitable.

The taste of his kiss lingered on your lips, sending sparks through your body that only grew more intense the longer it went on. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, the battle he was fighting between what he knew was wrong and what he wanted more than anything at that moment.

It was a battle you were losing, too.

You broke away for a second, gasping for air as his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes—dark, conflicted, and filled with something so raw—locked onto yours. For a moment, the weight of what you’d just done hung between you.

But then, before either of you could think too much, his lips were back on yours, silencing any doubts. This time, softer.

This time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. The urgency had dimmed just enough to let the moment stretch out, to let the reality of what was happening sink in. His hands traced a path from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer, while his lips moved tenderly against yours, tasting you in a way that made your knees weak.

Your mind was a blur of sensations—the warmth of his breath, the soft friction of his body pressing into yours, the quiet hum of the world outside this stolen moment. Every touch, every kiss, felt like it was lighting a fire inside you that you couldn't put out, even if you tried.

But then, as his lips left yours to trail softly down your jawline, the weight of it all crashed down on you. What had you done? What were you doing?

“Charlie,” you whispered, your voice trembling as reality clawed its way back in. His name fell from your lips like a plea, though you weren’t sure if you were asking him to stop or to keep going.

He froze, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his hands still gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Then, with a shuddering breath, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression filled with a storm of emotions—regret, desire, conflict, everything.

“I... I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. His eyes searched yours, as though he was looking for some kind of answer, some justification for the lines he had just crossed. “I shouldn’t have...”

You shook your head, still catching your breath, your hands sliding down from his shoulders. “No,” you whispered, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Don’t apologize. I wanted this, too.”

Charlie swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, torn between the undeniable truth of your words and the overwhelming guilt gnawing at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as if to ground himself, to keep himself from falling further.

“We can’t do this,” he muttered, almost to himself, though the words were meant for both of you. “This... it’s wrong. It goes against everything.”

“Charlie,” you scoffed as you straightened up. “So what? So what if this is wrong, who said we can't have fun every once in a while?”

Charlie’s eyes darkened at your words, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. You watched as he clenched his jaw, wrestling with the temptation that you had just fanned back into life with that careless, reckless comment.

“Fun?” he repeated, his voice low and strained, almost like he couldn’t believe you had said it. “You think this is just fun?”

You tilted your head, shrugging, though you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “Why not? Why does it have to be this heavy, guilt-ridden thing? It’s only wrong if we make it wrong.” Your voice was bold, but there was a trembling edge beneath it, one you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Charlie’s hand ran through his hair in frustration as he stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, taking a step closer, and for a moment, you saw the fire in his eyes again—the same fire that had pulled you both into this moment in the first place. “This isn’t just some game. You have no idea what you’re risking.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance again, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “I know exactly what I’m risking, Charlie. And I don’t care. Don’t you get that by now? I want this.”

For a split second, you saw the conflict in his eyes again, the internal war he was waging, but then his hand reached out, gripping your arm, pulling you closer. His breath was ragged as his forehead pressed against yours, his fingers tightening around you like he was holding on for dear life.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured, his voice thick with desperation. “This isn’t something we can just... play with. It’s wrong, and I—”

“Do you want me to stop?” you cut him off, your voice soft but firm, your lips inches from his.

Charlie’s breath hitched as his grip on you tightened even more. His eyes searched yours, the weight of the decision heavy between you both. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with anticipation, with the unspoken truth neither of you could deny anymore.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he admitted, his voice a hoarse whisper, filled with all the tension and desire he had been trying so hard to suppress. “But I should. We should.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, and without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

That was all it took.

In an instant, his resolve crumbled, and Charlie’s lips crashed into yours with a force that sent a shiver down your spine. All the restraint, all the guilt, evaporated in that single moment as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you against him like he couldn’t get enough.

That was how this little affair had began. What started as a reckless act of rebellion, something thrilling and dangerous, had spiraled into something much bigger, something neither of you could have anticipated.

For Charlie, everything began to shift. At first, it was just the stolen kisses and the hurried, whispered moments behind locked doors. But then, gradually, you noticed the change in him—subtle at first, but undeniable as time went on. He wasn’t the same devout, principled man he’d been before. The conviction that once held him together was starting to unravel, and it wasn’t just about you anymore.

His sermons, once delivered with unshakable passion, began to falter. He spoke the words, but there was a hollowness to them now, a lack of fire that hadn’t been there before. The weight of his role as a priest no longer seemed to sit so heavily on his shoulders. It was as though he was slipping further away from the man he had been, day by day, like he had loosened his grip on the faith that had once defined him.

It wasn’t just in the church either. You saw it in his eyes, the way they lit up when he saw you, no longer clouded with guilt or hesitation. The same man who had once knelt in prayer for hours, seeking forgiveness for even the smallest of sins, now seemed to be the furthest thing from repentant. There was a spark in him that had nothing to do with religion—a hunger for something more, something that you had awakened in him.

You had become his escape, his release from the rigid life he had once lived. And it was clear that, for the first time in a long while, he was having fun. Real fun. The kind that made his eyes light up with a mischievous glint, the kind that left him grinning after each secret encounter. He was no longer the solemn, restrained Father Charlie that everyone in the church knew. Around you, he laughed more, joked more, and seemed more alive than he ever had before.

There was a recklessness to him now, a side of Charlie that had been hidden beneath layers of duty and piety. When you were together, it was as though none of the rules applied. His hands roamed freely, his lips found yours without hesitation, and the weight of his priesthood—the guilt that had once threatened to crush him—seemed to melt away with each touch, each kiss, each stolen moment.

He wasn’t praying for forgiveness anymore. He wasn’t praying for anything at all.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all. Charlie was slipping further and further away from the man he had been, from the role he had devoted his life to. But even as you saw him change, a part of you knew—you liked this version of him better. The one who wasn’t weighed down by morality, the one who let himself live, who let himself enjoy this, enjoy you.

Because, in truth, he had never seemed happier.

Then, your family's Christmas Eve dinner came and of course, Charlie would be invited. Your mother and father were practically buzzing with excitement—this was their biggest event of the year.

It would be in your home, just as it always was, with the dining room decked out in festive decorations. The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and roasting meat filled the air, and the flicker of candlelight danced along the walls. Your mother had spent days planning every detail, from the table settings to the perfect holiday playlist softly playing in the background. This was the night your family pulled out all the stops, and the guest of honor, of course, was none other than Father Charlie.

As you descended the stairs, dressed in a modest yet elegant outfit your mother had insisted upon, your stomach churned. The thought of Charlie sitting across from you, pretending nothing was happening between the two of you, made your skin prickle with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. You could already picture him, composed and serene, his priestly demeanor fully intact. But you knew better. Beneath the calm exterior, beneath the collar, there was a man who had unraveled, one you had helped tear apart.

The dining room was a scene of festive cheer by the time you arrived, your parents bustling about, greeting guests and making sure everything was perfect. You could hear your father laughing loudly from the other room, his booming voice full of pride as he told someone about how Father Charlie had become such an important part of the church community. How proud they were to have him there.

And then you saw him.

Charlie stood near the fireplace, talking to a few of the older parishioners who had arrived early, his usual composed expression firmly in place. He looked every bit the part—his black priest’s garb impeccable, his hands clasped in front of him in that familiar posture of calm authority. But when his eyes flicked over to you, for the briefest of moments, something shifted. His gaze lingered, and you saw the hint of heat behind them, a flash of memory that you were certain only the two of you understood. His lips quirked up in a small smile, seemingly innocent and kind. But you knew better.

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother’s voice pulled you back into the moment. “Sweetheart, come say hello to Father Charlie!” she called, her voice brimming with affection.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto your face as you made your way toward him. Your mother was already gushing about how wonderful it was to have him here, how much your family appreciated him spending Christmas Eve with them. You barely heard her, your mind racing as Charlie’s eyes met yours, steady but unreadable.

“Good evening,” he said softly, his voice smooth as ever, though there was an edge to it that only you could catch. The soft smile that graced his features had turned into a small smirk as he took in your shy expression.

He extended his hand, and for a split second, as your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity surged through you. It was barely noticeable—a moment so fleeting your mother wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But for you, it was enough to send your mind spiraling back to all the times his hands had been on you in a much different way.

“Good evening, Father,” you replied, your voice steady, though your pulse was racing beneath the surface.

“Such a lovely home, as always,” Charlie said, turning his attention to your mother with a charming smile, ever the perfect guest. But as he spoke, you caught the way his fingers flexed slightly, like he was trying to hold back something deeper.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself painfully aware of Charlie's presence, of the way he seemed just a little too comfortable, a little too close. He wasn’t careless enough to raise suspicion, not with your family and half the parish sitting around the table, but there were moments—subtle, fleeting moments—that made your heart race.

It started with the way he looked at you. His eyes would linger a beat too long whenever you caught each other’s gaze across the table. He spoke politely to your parents, laughed at the right moments, even indulged your father’s long-winded stories about the church’s history. But every time he glanced your way, there was something beneath the surface. A smoldering awareness.

Then, there were his hands. When he passed you the breadbasket, his fingers brushed against yours. Not an accident, not something your parents would ever notice, but it was enough. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and the heat in his gaze told you he knew exactly what he was doing. His thumb grazed your wrist in a way that made your breath hitch, and when you glanced up, he was already looking away, like it never happened. But you knew.

Charlie was being reckless, though not in an obvious way. His behavior was just subtle enough to keep from drawing attention, but to you, it was impossible to miss. His foot nudged yours beneath the table during dinner, a simple tap, but the look he gave you when your knees touched—it was almost too much. You could barely keep yourself composed, your mind spinning with the memory of him pushing you up against the door, his lips on yours.

"Father, would you like more wine?" your mother asked, completely oblivious to the tension simmering between you two.

Charlie smiled, nodding graciously as he held out his glass. "Just a little more, thank you."

As your mother poured, his eyes found yours again. This time, he didn’t look away, not immediately. The corner of his mouth quirked up, just enough to send your thoughts into overdrive. It was like a private joke, one that only the two of you understood. A secret dance of hidden touches, stolen glances, and unspoken words.

You tried to focus on your plate, on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible. Every move he made felt like it was meant for you, no matter how small. When he reached for his napkin, his hand grazed your thigh under the table, just for a second, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. You glanced at him in shock, and he gave you a sideways smile, the kind that spoke volumes without a single word.

He was playing with fire, and so were you.

Dinner stretched on, with your father telling more stories and your mother doting on everyone, but all you could think about was Charlie. The way he leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping the room, but always coming back to you. It was reckless, the way he was letting his guard down, letting you see the cracks in his calm facade.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” your father asked, drawing you out of your thoughts. His concerned gaze made your stomach tighten.

You forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yes, just tired, I think. It’s been a long day.”

Your father patted your shoulder, satisfied with your answer, but when you glanced at Charlie, you saw the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t tired at all. He was far from it.

As dessert was served, the tension between you two only grew. He was no longer pretending to keep his distance, not really. His foot stayed lightly pressed against yours under the table, and when your fingers brushed again as you passed him a dish, he let them linger, his thumb trailing over your knuckles for just a second too long.

The worst part? No one else noticed a thing.

Charlie was playing this game with expert precision—just enough to make your pulse quicken, but not enough to get caught.

As dessert came to an end, Charlie's eyes flickered towards you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He had barely spoken directly to you the entire night, but now, it was like he couldn’t wait any longer. You were both playing this game, pushing the boundaries of how far you could go without crossing an invisible line—at least in front of everyone else.

"Could you show me where the coffee cups are?" Charlie asked, leaning back casually in his chair. His voice was calm, maybe even a little too casual, but you caught the subtle undercurrent of something more.

Your mother’s head turned slightly, her brow furrowing in mild confusion. "Father, you’ve been here enough times to know where they are, haven’t you?"

You held your breath, your pulse quickening at the way your mother’s question hung in the air. Charlie smiled smoothly, shaking his head.

"Ah, but every time I’m here, something’s moved around. You know how it is in a busy house," he said, chuckling lightly, the picture of a gracious guest. But his eyes were on you again, and you knew this wasn’t about coffee cups. Not even close.

"Of course," your mother laughed, brushing it off with a wave. "Go ahead, sweetheart, show Father Charlie where everything is."

Your heart was pounding as you rose from your seat, barely able to look at your parents. The room felt too small, too hot, like every eye was on you as you and Charlie stood up from the table. But when you glanced back, your father was already engrossed in another conversation, and your mother was busy with the dishes.

Charlie followed you into the hallway, his footsteps too close behind you. Your breath hitched as you led him toward the kitchen, trying to act natural, but the tension between you two was suffocating. You could feel his presence like a shadow, his gaze boring into the back of your neck as you rounded the corner.

The second you stepped out of view, his hand caught your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You spun to face him, heart racing, and before you could say a word, his body was pressing you back against the kitchen counter.

"Charlie—" you whispered, but he silenced you with a look, his breath coming fast and shallow.

"I couldn’t stand it any longer," he muttered, his voice low and thick with something dark. His hands came to rest on either side of you, trapping you against the counter, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "I need you, baby..."

Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed the side of your face, and you felt your resolve start to crumble. You knew this was wrong—knew it with every fiber of your being—but Charlie’s lips were dangerously close to yours, his breath warm on your skin.

"You’ve been driving me insane," he whispered, his voice ragged, filled with a hunger he hadn’t bothered to hide anymore.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment crushing down on you. There was still time to stop this, to step away, but you knew neither of you would. You had pushed each other too far, and now, there was no turning back.

"I know," you breathed, barely able to get the words out. "I’ve been waiting for you to crack."

A low groan escaped him, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, hot and demanding. His hands slid down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the heat between you was overwhelming. It was reckless, dangerous, but it was also everything you had been waiting for.

The tension that had simmered all night finally broke, and you melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with the same desperation. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

Charlie pulled away just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes. "Your parents are in the other room," he murmured with a small smirk, though the way he held you betrayed any thought of stopping.

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. "Then why can’t you stop?"

His jaw clenched, and without another word, he pulled you into another kiss, deeper this time, his hands exploring your body with a reckless abandon that sent a shiver down your spine. The world outside the kitchen, the family dinner, the church—it all melted away as you gave in to the dangerous pull between you.

Charlie pulled away for a second, his hand reaching up to grip your face harshly. "Dirty girl, aren't you?"

You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes never leaving his. "You started this, Charlie."

Charlie's grip tightened, and you felt the heat of his gaze searing into you, both intoxicating and possessive. He kissed you again, his mouth fierce, almost punishing, as if he couldn’t stand the space between you. Your back hit the counter, but the discomfort barely registered—he pressed his body into yours, and you gasped against his lips, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation flooding your senses.

His hands roamed, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding beneath your shirt, the roughness of his palms igniting your skin. You felt him pause, as if savoring the feeling of you under his hands, and when he finally pulled back, it was only to whisper against your ear, his voice low and thick with desire. "You like this, don't you? Knowing we could get caught..."

You could barely think, your body burning with need. You bit your lip, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "Isn’t that what you want?" you whispered back, your own hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin.

Charlie groaned, his grip on you tightening. His fingers found the hem of your jeans, teasing, as he trailed hot kisses down the side of your neck. "Always so defiant," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’ll break you yet."

The intensity of his words sent a thrill through you, and you tilted your head back, giving him access to more of your neck as he kissed you, nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of marks behind. His hands, strong and demanding, finally dipped lower, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

"Charlie," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as your hands clutched at his shoulders, needing him closer, needing more.

Charlie’s breath was hot against your neck as his hands traveled lower, teasing the edge of your jeans. His fingers dipped just beneath the fabric, tracing your skin with maddening slowness. "Say my name again," he demanded, his voice husky and filled with dark need.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as his fingers toyed with you, just enough to make you squirm but not enough to satisfy the aching desire that built inside you. "Charlie," you breathed, your voice trembling, desperate.

His hand tightened around your waist, pulling you harder against him. "Louder," he growled, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He was taunting you, daring you to give in completely, and you could feel the power shift between you. You were no longer in control—he was, and the knowledge only heightened the tension.

You clenched your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn’t making it easy. His other hand slid to your throat, not choking but holding you in place, his grip firm as he pressed his lips against yours again, more demanding than before.

"You think you can push me, don’t you?" he muttered against your lips. "Make me lose control." His fingers slipped lower, brushing the spot that made your knees weak, and you gasped, unable to stop the flood of heat that rushed through you. He smiled, wicked and knowing, as if he could sense your surrender.

Your head fell back against the cabinet, your breathing ragged, your body burning under his touch. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again, his eyes dark with lust and dominance. "But you're mine," he murmured, his voice a promise and a warning all at once. "And you’ll break before I do."

Your heart pounded in your chest as Charlie's words sank in, his hand at your throat tightening ever so slightly, just enough to remind you of his control. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you found yourself caught between the desire to challenge him and the undeniable pull of surrender.

"Are you sure about that?" you whispered, your voice soft but laced with defiance, the words barely slipping past your lips as you fought to maintain some control.

A dangerous smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s mouth, his gaze flickering with something dark and unrelenting. "Oh, I’m sure," he said, his tone low and dripping with confidence. His fingers danced over the waistband of your skirt before slipping inside, his touch both teasing and commanding, and the heat pooling in your lower abdomen intensified, your breath hitching in response.

His fingers played with your panties, that were already soaked before slipping in a finger. You let out a soft hum, your head falling back on to the counter as your eyes squeezed shut. You tried to steady yourself, your grip tightening on his shoulders as you fought to stay grounded, but Charlie’s presence overwhelmed you.

His lips found the hollow of your throat, and he kissed his way down, each press of his mouth against your skin sending shockwaves through your body. When his finger moved deeper, the other brushing against your clit, your body betrayed you with a soft, needy whimper.

"That’s it," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low growl, filled with satisfaction at the sound. "Let me hear you."

The tension inside you built, every stroke of his finger pushing you closer to the edge, and you were losing the battle of resistance. Charlie’s hand tightened around your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you locked in place, at his mercy. His breath was hot against your ear, his fingers moving in a rhythm that had you trembling.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice rough with desire.

Your mind was clouded, your body aching for release, but you bit your lip, fighting the words he wanted from you. The defiance only seemed to amuse him further, his grip tightening slightly. "Still holding out?" he asked, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "You think you can win this game?"

Your heart raced, your body betraying you as you squirmed under his touch, and you knew you were close to breaking. His fingers moved with more purpose now, pushing you closer to the brink, and a gasp escaped you as your resolve began to crumble.

"I—" You could barely form the words, your body arching into him, desperate for more.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice a rough whisper. His fingers curled, hitting just the right spot, and the pleasure coursing through you was too much to bear.

"Charlie—please," you finally gasped, your voice breaking as you surrendered to him completely. "Make me cum."

A satisfied grin spread across his face, and he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, his hand finally giving you what you needed as his finger moved deeper and quicker. "Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, his voice dripping with possessive pride. "Cum for me."

That was all you needed to let out a shuddering moan, your knees falling weak as the knot in your lower stomach snapped. Charlie's hand covered your mouth quickly, the sound muffled by his large hand. After you rode out your high, Charlie's hand slipped out of your skirt as you caught your breath.

As if on cue, your mother came in with some dishes in her hand. There wasn't even a trace of suspicion in her expression, she was too busy with the dinner to even question why you two were taking so long and why you two were standing so close.

"Did you guys find the cups?" She asked with a sigh, loading the dishwasher with the dishes.

Charlie casually wiped his hand on his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he hadn’t just had you unraveling under his touch moments before. His lips curved into a smirk, eyes glinting with amusement as he shot you a sideways glance. The contrast between your rapid breathing and his calm demeanor was infuriating. He knew exactly what he’d done to you—and he was reveling in it.

"Yeah," he said smoothly, his voice steady as ever. "We were just…looking for them."

You tried to compose yourself, struggling to regulate your breaths without drawing attention. Your legs still felt shaky, and the warmth of his body so close to yours lingered like a sinful reminder of what had just happened. You forced a smile, hoping your mother wouldn’t notice the flushed look on your face.

Your mother barely glanced at you two as she continued with the dishes, completely oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air. "Great, we're just about to leave for service," she said with a tired sigh. "I’ll need your help with cleaning the table soon."

"Of course," Charlie responded, his voice filled with an edge of playful charm, though only you could hear the smug satisfaction underneath it all. He took a step closer to you, almost brushing his arm against yours as he reached up to grab the cups from the shelf. The proximity sent another wave of heat through you, and it took everything in you not to react visibly.

Your mother turned her back again, preoccupied with the dishwasher, and Charlie seized the opportunity. He leaned in ever so slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You’re going to have to work on that poker face, baby."

You shot him a sharp look, your body still buzzing from the intensity of earlier, and now his teasing only made it worse. The urge to wipe that smug look off his face was almost overwhelming, but you had no choice but to keep it together, your mother only a few feet away.

As he moved past you, you caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. He knew how much power he held over you in that moment, and he wasn’t going to let you forget it anytime soon.

Your mother finally turned back to face you. "You okay, honey?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she noticed you standing still by the counter. "You look a bit flushed."

You swallowed hard, fighting to find your voice. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a little warm in here," you lied, managing to give her a weak smile. "I'll help with the table."

Charlie glanced back at you, his smirk still firmly in place as he picked up the cups. His voice was smooth and casual, betraying nothing of the wickedness lurking beneath the surface. "I’ll take care of the rest," he said, shooting you a look that made your pulse quicken. "You just… relax."

Your mother nodded, oblivious. "Thanks, Charlie."

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swordsandholly · 5 months ago

Text

Fancy

Ch. 4: Black Out Days

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Fat!Reader

MDNI | cw: sickness, hallucinations, injury, some light dubcon

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life. Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate.

A/N: the tone of this story has sort of shifted as I’ve worked on the next few chapters/plot points. I hope it’s not too jarring, but I’m excited for the direction it’s going in.

Your mother rises out of her drunken stupor - spine too straight and head flopped back limply. As if her hips are the only thing capable of moving and her neck has snapped at every ligament. The worn sheets pool around her hips, torn neckline of her nightclothes exposing her gaunt, bruised collar bones.

She says your name in that sickening, gruff voice of hers. A voice too exposed to the poisons outside. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, coats her teeth as she speaks. Black and viscous. “Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You’re small. A child kneeling by her bed like you always did, waiting for her to ask you to bring her water or pain pills. “What?”

“It’s easier if you give in.”

People aren’t buried anymore. There isn’t room. Your mother’s urn is painfully cold in your hands. You stumble as the train lurches. A new voice hisses above you. Wild eyes and big hands that leave clawing, bloodied stripes in their wake down your body. A flash of blonde, some sort of scar. An accent so old you don’t recognize it.

“It’s easier if you give in, little girl.”

You fall back, out of the train doors and onto something soft and silky. For a few beats you stay there, in the quiet. In the dark. Comfortable in a way so deeply foreign to you it might as well be alien. Until some thick cover pulls away from your face. John grins down at you, shirtless with his head resting on his hand and elbow on the pillow below him.

“Knew you were awake.”

You rub your eyes. “Wh- when did- when did I get here?”

He frowns, a deep crease forming in his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” You run a hand through your sleep tangled hair. “I don’t know…”

“It could be so easy, Fancy.” He murmurs, voice low and far away. “It doesn’t have to be… this.”

“I can’t…” Something complicated swirls in your chest. A twisting of guilt and love and unadultered disgust.

The world shifts. You’re standing, now. Simon leans on the railing of the penthouse balcony, staring out at the city. He takes up so much space. Envelopes you without even touching you. “How many memories do you think a person can lose before they’re someone else entirely?”

“What?” You frown. There’s an ache in your head - a drumming pain growing more intense by the second. Your bones rattle along to the rhythm.

“It’d be so easy…”

You peel your eyes open only slightly. It hurts, as if they’ve been glued shut. An offensive light blazes in your face. It takes a moment before you realize the tingle on your skin comes from the UV lamp beside you. Did you fall asleep under it again? No matter how hard you blink your vision won’t clear. When you finally manage to swallow it feels like your throat has been lined with shards of glass.

You grope around the bed uselessly, hands unsure. The edge of the bed takes longer to get to than it should. With a low groan you crawl to the edge, barely managing to swing your legs over. Well, swing is a generous description. In reality you end up on your back on the floor, head thunking against some sort of plush rug or carpet. Your vision swims.

With another groan you slowly pull yourself up into a shaky stance. Wherever you are, it’s big. The bed you fell out of is easily a king with richly woven sheets and a thick comforter. The rug on the floor has such intricate patterns it makes your pounding head dizzy. There’s even a fireplace in the far corner, unlit at the moment.

Something different catches your eye - an item too familiar for this foreign room. Your box of valuables sits on an elegantly carved wooden dresser. Real, actual wood. You run your fingers over the strangely organic material, so rare that it almost feels more unnatural than the plastic plywood you’ve grown accustomed to in the slums.

You limp weakly toward the heavy door on the far wall. A whine escapes you as you pull it open, the heavy wood causes the hinges to creak quietly. You poke your head out, walking down the empty hall like a person with decade long atrophy. Sweat drips down your back, the sickness in your gut turning to anxiety as you realize where you are.

The penthouse.

Voices waft through the mostly open central area - deep and growling. A sound you might mistake for an angry beast if it weren’t for the intelligable words the noise makes up.

“Bloody ‘ell, Price, what the fuck?” That baritone could only belong to Simon. You poke your head around the corner of the wall, peaking into the living room where the four vampires stand.

“I know, I fucking know. I couldn’t-” An exasperated sigh. “I couldn’t lose her again.”

“So you fuckin’ marked ‘er?”

Your hand lifts shakily to the still sore cuts on your neck. They’ve scabbed over but barely. The action makes you look down at your hands - neatly bandaged. Recently, too, you think. At least if your blurred vision is to be believed.

“We’ll lose ‘er anyway if you fuckin’ scare ‘er away!” Simon’s volume continues to grow. He steps forward. John doesn’t back away.

“Guys…” Kyle tentatively steps in, hands outstretched between them as if stepping into a dog fight. He might as well be, frankly.

“You promised her you wouldn’t!” Simon’s voice wavers. It makes your heart skip, the unsteady sound so bizarre coming from him. “We all did!”

“Simon’s right.” Johnny crosses his arms. “We said we’d take our time. See where she’s at.”

“Weren’t exactly taking your time when you fucked her raw were you?” John snaps back. It’s shockingly childish and out of character for the man. Not that you would know. He sighs, rolling his wide shoulders. So much for not being angry about it.

Before you can make heads or tails of the scene playing out in front of you, your vision blackens, one leg stiffening and the other giving out. You barely catch yourself on some random side table, knocking it against the wall in the process. Despite your efforts to hold yourself up you collapse onto the cold, hardwood floor.

“Oh, baby girl.” It’s Kyle at your side first, cool hands tenderly enveloping you as he checks for damage.

“Don’t…” You push at his chest weakly. “Don’t touch me…”

“Dove-” A crack sounds throughout the penthouse, deafening and ringing as Simon’s palm comes into contact with John’s chest, forcing the man back a few steps.

“You’ve done enough.”

There’s a moment, long and silent as you watch them stare each other down. A power struggle. John is the head of the coven, objectively. The only way to change that is an exchange of power. A death. You’ve seen it out on the streets within lesser covens. Simon is bigger, but you can see the cold, dogmatic shift in John’s eyes. The look he gave you in the car. The one that says he is well and truly Right and there is nothing to stand between him and what is Right.

The moment ends when you double over, lungs heaving as you choke and cough. A slimy, viscous glob of red-black comes up from your throat. Barely liquid with the thickness of it. You fall limply against Kyle, as much as you’d rather be left in a dark alley than with these psychopaths your body just can’t hold itself up.

Someone scoops you up, pressing you tightly to their chest. Johnny or Kyle, you think. A touch so soft and sweet you might mistake it for love. Not that you would know. You’re back under the wave of nothing before you even touch the sheets.

You sit still as you can, arm growing tired of the stiff angle you have it positioned in. Laid out across some old loveseat that creaks every time you move even slightly. You don’t trust it to not have at least a little dry rot considering it’s from a good few centuries ago. One of those random pieces John hoards for some secret reason. The light positioned carefully above you feels too warm, discomfort making you twitchy.

“Johnnyyy!” You whine. “Hurry up!”

“Ye can do it, bonnie. Just sit like me.” He goes still. Inhumanly still. Transitioning from living (well, undead) being to a marble statue in barely a second. It sends a frightened shiver down your spine - the prey instinct in your hindbrain moving into overdrive.

You take a shaky breath. “I hate when you do that.”

When he does what? Has he done that before? Have you been here before?

“Jus’ be a good lass f’me.” Johnny murmurs. A different sort of shiver runs down your spine.

You recognize his room but it’s… different. Lighter, somehow, than the last time you were here. The only time you were here. The wall has far more drawings tacked to it, nearly doubling the amount and bleeding across onto another side of the room. You squint. It’s you. Well, mostly. All in different poses, some more salacious than others, each carved out with a deep attention to detail. Were… were those there before? They couldn’t have been.

Your body lights up, the room grows darker. Nearly pitch black. Your hips roll lazily. You feel… good. Ecstatic. The warmth from the light replaced by an immeasurable heat. The man below you comes into focus as the dream settles - a mountain. Blonde and pale and scarred. Part of his right ear is clipped off from a fight. At least you think it was a fight. His hair just barely long enough for you to tangle your fingers in. You’d know those dark eyes anywhere - the ones that look right to the very core of you. That know you wholly from Eve.

“Fuck, Si…”

“Tha’s my girl.” He grins. The action pulls at a scar covering his lips. “Always so good f’me.”

The hands on your waist lift you like nothing. Like you weigh as much as paper and are just as delicate. A burning fills you, a tension that pulls a grating whine from your chest.

A distant part of you remembers to question what this is. Why you’re here, with him. Why you’ve never seen his face before but seem to know every detail of it by heart. The rest of you falls into the moment without a care, allowing yourself to be consumed entirely by him and his desire. It’s all you want - all you need.

Simon’s voice rumbles in a sort of call and response to your devoted babbling. “I love you.”

You jolt, snapping forward and sloshing water around you. For a moment, you panic that you’re drowning. That you’ve been dropped into some great sea and left to flounder.

There’s a quiet rumble behind you, vibrating through your back. Simon. You couldn’t make out whatever he said.

You relax instinctively. Some unconcious part of you falls back into him. Until he runs a soap rag over your chest and you tense, clumsily attempting to cover yourself and curl into a ball. The water sloshes over the edge of the tub again. You don’t get very far, despite the massive size of the bath you’re utterly surrounded. Bracketed by Simon’s strong thighs and large hands.

“None of that.” He barks, pulling your arms back to continue washing you. “You’ve been sweatin’ in bed for four days. Gonna make y’self worse.”

Four days? Worse?

You stay quiet, limp and pliant as he pours a hefty glob of shampoo into your hair. Vanilla. Far too exhausted to put up any sort of fight. Not that you would win. It feels good, if you’re honest, the way he systematically scrubs every part of your scalp, slowly detangling with conditioner. You nod off for a moment, coming back when he pours water over your head to rinse you.

“Simon?” You murmur weakly.

He grunts.

“Why am I here?”

The hands in your hair pause. Only for a moment before going back to their gentle movements. “Because you’re ‘ome.”

You shiver, another coughing fit wracking your body. At least nothing comes up this time. There aren’t bandages on your hands, just the scabbing wounds that have obviously been carefully tended to. Even as the coughing subsides your breaths wheeze, shallow and hollow in your chest.

When you were young, your mother would set you in a cart to walk to the supermarket. The cracked streets would bump and rock you uncomfortably but it was better than walking all those miles. You always hated the market. Too loud and confusing. A maze of sterile white tile and shelving so high it felt giant to you.

One time you lost her, distracted by a massive plushie that she said you can’t afford. You’d stood there staring at it, angrily contemplating why you couldn’t afford it. What sort of societal disservice had been done that you can’t have that bright pink creature. Angry and lost you ended up wandering the aisles for what felt like an eternity. Walking through that white void in search of… you’re not really sure what, actually.

That confusion continues to eat at your mind as the aisles transition into a small, lush greenhouse. The UV lights above you would burn, if it weren’t for the large hat covering your head and shoulders. Gardening gloves protect your hands as you carefully harvest a few tomatoes. They came in so well this year, bright and firm.

You’re lost in it. The green. So accustomed to grays and neon lights that it feels unnatural. You turn your gloved hands over, palm up, down, up, down. They’re yours but distant. As if you’ve possessed some alternate version of yourself. You suppose you have, in a way, if these fever dreams are in pattern. Not that you remember the others well.

The lights turn off suddenly and you freeze, muscles tensing and hackles raising. You turn slowly as the door begins to creak open, trowel in hand. Not that it would do much against whoever has you cornered. John said to be wary.

He’s been acting strange lately.

Isn’t he always?

A hand clamps over your mouth and you shriek behind it. You claw at the stony hand covering you, instinct taking over. Adrenaline pulses through you.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” Kyle coos, letting you go quickly. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t do that!” You snap, harsher than you meant. Or less so?

He deflates a bit, shoulders sagging. “Sorry, I just wanted to come in here with you for a bit.”

“Why?” You snort. Kyle is the only one brave enough to venture in. Even with an external light switch, the others are far too wary of the UV lights hanging across the roof to enter. It’s a joke between Simon and Johnny - that they’ll throw Johnny into the greenhouse if he doesn’t behave.

Kyle nods, scooting forward. You can barely make him out, the only light being that of the faux stars drifting gently through the fogged greenhouse glass. “Missed you.”

“I saw you, like, five minutes ago.” Did you?

He shakes his head. You wish they would tell you more. They always hold back so much, as if your puny human brain can’t grasp what they think. You could. You’d learn to. Even if it was some horrid, eldritch secret you would bear it for them. He pushes you back until you’re laying on the floor, slowly resting his weight on you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Just let me stay like this for a bit.”

You frown, but only move to reach up and pet his hair. It’s smells like vanilla. He stole your shampoo again. A fraction of you screams, rails against the idea of being this close to an apex predator. To a man you don’t know. Strange. You know Kyle. You love him. Both the fear and the fondness swirl together into a confusing mixture in the back of your mind.

“We can stay. For as long as you want.”

Something heavy and cold coils around you. You weren’t out as long this time, you think. If you’re even awake now. The room is dark. A pitch black void that you float in outside of the grounding weight holding you in place. That vanilla scent felt so real, still wafting through your nose. A nagging sense of despair settles in your chest as it dissipates.

“Need t’go home.” You croak, unsure of why you say it. Your tongue feels heavy and numb. God only knows why.

“Ye are home.” Johnny murmurs in your ear, voice low.

“Not m’bed… sheets’r t’nice.”

“It’s yers.” Johnny’s arms tighten around you. His voice shakes. “It’s always been yers.”

“N-no…”

“Knew it was tae soon tae bring you back.” He buries his face between your shoulder blades. “Told Kyle it’d be tae much.”

“Wh-”

“Ye make us such a mess, bonnie.” He sighs. “Cannae believe Price-“

Johnny cuts himself off. You can’t find it in yourself to argue or press. A sob wracks you out of nowhere. Something about Johnny, about being wrapped up in his strong arms sends you over the edge of it all. The weight of him mimics the one in your chest.

“Dinnae cry.” Johnny sits up a bit, running a thumb under your eye.

“I’m s-so confused-“ You sob. “I can’t- I-“

Somewhere in the midst of your crying fit the bed dips in front of you. Kyle cages you in between himself and Johnny, pressing you tightly in the center. It makes you want to thrash, to fight and scream.

It also feels so, so good.

You’re back in the slums, in your apartment, with some random man groaning above you. He works down the street, you think. Smiles at you whenever you go get a coffee or cigarettes. You stare at the ceiling blankly. You brought him here… why did you bring him? What- You hiss at the living heat of his hands, burning through your skin - gut churning at the blue of his eyes. It’s wrong. Neither bright nor tranquil enough. You can’t voice it. Can’t place it. They’re just wrong.

You catch a flash of dark irises as you take drinks to some slimy little vampire paying on credit. Immortal but still poor. Pathetic. Suddenly, though, you don’t care when he and his friends grab at you, your gaze trained on the man lounged in a booth on the other side of the club. You can’t stop staring at him, something tugging at you deep down to go to him. His eyes connect with yours, and you nearly leap with joy when he waves you over.

Except, when you get close, you freeze in place. Straddling his lap, a crushing weight lands on you all at once. They’re not what you’re looking for…

What are you looking for?

You sob in your bed late into the night, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re so lost. So hollow. You don’t know why - don’t understand what changed. Some portion of you carved out into nothing. A soulless tulpa born of someone’s imagination. You can’t be human, there’s no way you can be human and this empty. A walking carcass. Not even undead, just barely animated. A puppet, almost.

It’d be so easy…

You wake in a fog this time, limbs heavy. As much as you try to will your arms to move, they won’t quite do it right. Your hands glide over the soft fabric around you, barely moving a few inches. The muscles twitch and shake. It feels like wading through molasses and with a thousand pounds of steel strapped to your back as you attempt to sit up even slightly.

“There she is.” A familiar voice murmurs. It’s soft, comforting, but also incredibly far away. “Hey, lovie.”

“Kyle?” You croak. You might as well be speaking around a massive ball of cotton. There’s something hot and wet streaming down your face. Are you crying?

“You’re alright.” He murmurs, soothing down your hair. Petting you like a dog in pain. An injured, feral animal.

You collapse back on the bed - not that you made it that far in the first place - unable to see more than a few feet in front of you. Kyle, really. Kyle is all you can make out. His face so vivid you’re sure you could draw it from memory. “Where am I?”

He pauses. “…Your room.”

“M’chest hurts…”

“I know, lovie. We’ll make it better.”

“What’d y’do t’me…?” Your vision flashes in and out. You’re going back under, as hard as you try to fight it. The edge just comes closer. You teeter on your heels.

“You just breathed in some bad air. You’ve been out for… a while.” Somehow, you get the sense that what he says is an understatement. That there are layers he has to hold back. Simon said four, you remember, though you can’t quite define if that was real or a dream.

“I hate you.” You whisper, barely audible. “I hate all of you.”

“I know.” Kyle sighs, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. “I know.”

Teeth sink into you. A choked gasp escapes your lips, body stiffening and hands knotting into some thick cloth. The pain is searing but fleeting. A part of you, the present part of you, feels disgusted. Wants to shake and batter whatever parasite has you caught in its maw. Another part, a far more distant piece of you that you aren’t even sure is you, blossoms with warmth. You melt into the strong arms that hold you against a cool chest.

“John?” You murmur. Or, rather, this other you murmurs.

A low groan reverberates from his chest to yours. Your head gets lighter, vision fuzzy around the edges. A hand clamps over the bloodied parts of your neck. Your vision fractures, partially the scene in front of you and partially the ceiling of your room that isn’t your room. Your lashes flutter and you’re back loosely straddling John’s lap.

“Yes, love?” He pants, mouth and teeth stained red. It sends a wave of panic through your veins.

You swallow roughly. “I don’t-”

Something shatters - the staccato sound reverberating through the apartment.

You startle, sitting up and throwing your blankets back. The bed is empty, room dark except for the few embers trapped in the fireplace off to the side. You don’t notice the box missing from your dresser.

“Hello?” You frown, standing and moving toward your door as if possessed by some external force. As if you at all know where you are going. Your bare feet pad quietly against the hard wood, door silently sliding open a fraction.

There’s another smashing sound. Your heart rate spikes, fear coursing through your veins. No one’s home - they left days ago. On business.

How do you know that?

Suddenly you’re in the living room of the apartment, crouched behind the couch and groping underneath for one of the silver daggers stashed around in various hiding spots. An insurance policy. Your breath comes in short, rapid gasps. You have to get out. Get downstairs. There’s security down there. They’ll help you, they know you.

How do they know you? How did you know the knife was there?

With the small dagger gripped tightly in your fist, you flinch at another smash. It came from John’s room across the apartment, another following right after. It sounds like this person (or people) tore his metal bed-frame apart. Splintered into pieces.

You take the opportunity to carefully move toward the front exit, allowing the noise to cover the sound of your movements. Damn the open concept design. You told John you didn’t like it. Breaths come in faster and shallow. You’re not built for running - too soft from all that pampering. A chubby, well loved pet. Not that you’re complaining. It’s just not the best for this particular moment.

A figure moves at lightening speed from John’s room to Kyle’s. You duck down behind the kitchen counter, covering your mouth to stifling the sound of your breath.

“I can smell ya.” A low voice taunts, echoing through the apartment. Fortunately, your scent is everywhere. It will take longer to distinguish where you are in particular than he may think.

Why is your scent everywhere again?

There’s more tearing and smashing. A door groans loudly as the intruder tears it off the hinges. More shattering. Your heart breaks a little - that must have been Kyle’s pottery. Oh he worked so hard on those. Some of them are from a century ago.

Anger begins to boil up your spine. Who is this fuck who thinks he can just wreck your home? Someone you know, for sure. He would have had to be invited in at some point. With a sneer you continue making your way through the penthouse, toward the front door. John’s going to rip this fucker in two when he gets back.

Except, just as you’re reaching for the front door, the vampire exits Kyle’s room. You meet his eyes - glinting in the dark of the hall. There’s barely a beat before you begin to rush, opening the door as fast as you can.

Not fast enough, of course. You’re only human, after all.

A scream rips it’s way through your throat as you connect with the far wall, knife clattering who knows where. Something broke, you’re not sure what. Every nerve ending seems to light on fire as you try to sit up. Your arm doesn’t move more than a twitch when you try to stand.

“Hey there, little girl.” The man pins you suddenly. You get the nagging sense that you know him, his name on the tip of your tongue. Buried somewhere under lock and key in your mind.

You thrash, punching at his chest and tearing at his hair. To no avail, of course. He just lets you, a cruel grin spreading wider and wider the harder you try to get away.

“What do you want!” You finally sob, going limp when your body finally gives out under pain and exertion.

“To destroy John’s coven. Obviously.” He huffs. “Yer step one.”

The vampire grabs your jaw in an iron grip, your teeth crack under the pressure as his pupils dilate. They’re bright - so blue and infinite and you can’t look anywhere else no matter how hard you try.

A clarity washes over you almost violently as you come to - like breaking through the surface of water after staying under too long. Everything from yo ur time under washing away, sinking back into the deep. A forgotten wreckage - old and twisted and grown over. Another lost Atlantis somewhere in the depths of your mind.

“John?” The name falls from your lips before you even realize you’re speaking, before his face comes into focus. Soft and familiar - comforting and enraging.

“Right here, dove.” He murmurs, dabbing your face with something damp and cool.

“Wh…” You swallow roughly, not entirely sure what you even want to say. So any words threaten to spill from your lips and yet your mind feels blank. All fuzz and static.

You want to beg him to let you go. To keep you forever. To tell you why he brought you here despite the ever nagging sense that you know why. Something deep in your marrow that connects you to this place - to these men - at the very soul. You are theirs and they are yours and you want nothing more than to run from them as far as you can go.

Those blue eyes focus on yours, so oddly gentle for all of their inhuman qualities. “We’ll talk when you’re better, okay?”

Talk about what? There isn’t anything to talk about. You don’t know them and they don’t know you, no matter what that tugging in your chest tells you. You’ve lied to yourself before - you’ve lied to others before - surely you’re just doing it again. This man hurt you. Marked you, whatever that means, so why do you still melt into his touch?

Your name falls from his lips, reverent and frightening. You blanch, eyes wide and mouth falling open. You didn’t tell him that. You didn’t-

“Just sleep for now, yeah?”

~~~

John watches intently as you fall back asleep. There was panic in your eyes for a moment, but your sick body can’t do much more than drift in an out of consciousness. You look more peaceful this time, at least, your breathing even and your body still. You’d been thrashing before, for what reason he isn’t sure. The lower city’s poison air does a number on the body, it’s effects only growing worse as time goes on and the pollution becomes more dense.

He did that, didn’t he? He left you and now you’re sick and hurt. John runs his fingers over the Mark, nearly entirely healed now. Just two small, faded marks that will follow you to the grave.

“I’m so sorry. I just keep failing you, don’t I?” He sighs. You always said he was a good man even when he didn’t believe it. Even with all the things he’s done. Would you still agree?

John‘s eyes sting. He’d be crying if he was human, surely.

He glances at the door. The others are out - taking care of business while he watches over you. The world doesn’t stop even when you need it to desperately. It took Johnny and Kyle nearly dragging Simon away to leave you alone with him.

He takes your hands in his, guilt wrecking him. They’re so much smaller, so much warmer. He can feel your pulse in every fingertip. Surely he’s ruined any chance to fix this before they could even try. He wouldn’t blame Simon if the man decided there needed to be a change - that John needs to be removed. He wouldn’t fight it.

John crawls into bed beside you like he’s done so many times before. Nestles under your pink silken sheets - the ones you picked out for Christmas. That was years go, now. Over two. Two tortorous, draining years that felt longer than the past six hundred.

He ran for days. Weeks maybe. Tearing through the city block by block, dodging and weaving between people and buildings alike. Speaking to anyone, using up every connection and resource he ever gained under this damned dome. It took a week to get through the sewer system.

No one knew where you went.

No one heard a thing. At least, nothing they would admit to. Even under compulsion.

You were gone, just like that.

Two years go by in the blink of an eye for a vampire. Might as well be a day, a night, a handful of hours. Time in such small increments is nothing to an immortal. Decades are barely enough to measure with. Not for them, though. Every second drug on. The days were long and tense.

A fracture formed between them. Kyle retreated into himself - quiet and frayed around the edges. Sometimes John caught him with a far away look in his eye, staring at nothing. He thinks Kyle would have been crying in those moments if he could. Johnny became far too unpredictable. Ripping and tearing any lower level vampire he can find. He spent a few months hunting Frenzies in the lower city without contact.

And Simon…

Simon turned into a fucking nightmare.

After the first year, they at least hoped to find your body. After the second anniversary of your disappearance came around, they gave up. The guilt of giving up brought a whole new wave of grief on them. Johnny laid in your bed for weeks, nearly beginning to petrify as he denied any blood. John couldn’t blame him, opting to re-read your favorite books with shaking hands. Simon fished your last knitting project, eyes heavy and tired. Kyle meandered listlessly through the house, sometimes laying with Johnny but most often sequestering himself in the now empty greenhouse.

They try to fill the hole with pretty girls that look sort of like you. Never enough and they never act like you. Too busy placating to snap at them like you were so willing to do. These others are only place fillers - something to take up the space you left between them. They could never truly fill it, though. It was far too great. A chasm that continues to swallow the four of them whole.

He’s so tired. The others were, too. Kate handled business well enough but their involvement was still required. Each issue and event weighing on them more and more. Kingpins of the city and they’ve been nearly ruined by the loss of a single girl. A single, human girl. None of it mattered in the face of what they lost.

John looks up, the pin-drop silence in the room bringing his attention back to the present.

And there you are.

Like Lazarus returned. An angel bathed in low, red light. Your hair spills around your shoulders framing that face he knows so well, one he’s held more times than he can count. A face that made him pray to a god he does not believe in every day to get back. Just once. Those unmistakable pearls grace your neck, the ruby latch glinting as you twist your neck and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be your Companion tonight.” You say so softly. Almost the way you used to, laid up in his bed, whispering about nothing and everything with your fingers running through his hair. Asking about the things he’s seen with such awe.

“What happened t’ Cherry?” Kyle asks faux casually. John can feel the tension in the man next to him. He’s feeling it out - always so good at that. Better at human subtleties than the rest of them. His dark eyes sparkle, though, with a light John hasn’t seen in so long. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You slide the tray onto the table. You look the same. You sound the same. There’s a few new scars, some scratches here and there. A wariness in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Damage done to your skin that could only come from the lower city air.

Where have you been?

You shift nervously. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” John says far too quickly, smiling despite himself. It might not even be you. Maybe a doppelganger. A distant relative. A clone is more plausible. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” And oh, John is sure his dead heart comes back to life. It is you. It has to be.

“Fittin’.” Johnny says, eyes raking over you. He might as well be vibrating, struggling to keep himself held back from yanking you into his hold.

They’re all measuring you up the same way he is. Feeling for anything unfamiliar. Outside of your distant, distrustful gaze with a lack of recognition that makes his chest ache, it’s you. It’s all you.

“Do you know who we are?” Simon murmurs. You’re having trouble looking at him, only meeting his gaze in small glances. Not so different from when they first met you. You and Simon have always had a certain… connection. Not that you weren’t all close - that they all didn’t love you deeply - but you and Simon had an understanding. He wonders if you can still feel it somewhere, deep down in the back of your mind.

You’re panicking a little, eyes flitting between their faces. John’s heart sinks. He feels it in the others. A deep disappointment - a turbulent melancholy- seeping into their bodies. You don’t know them. You don’t recognize a single one of them.

It’s all gone.

“It’s not a trick question.” Kyle says gently, ever one to soothe.

“No, sir.”

John’s heart breaks all over again.

A/N: My initial summary for this one was just “Fancy tripping balls on pollution while John and co. have a meltdown”

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katiascraft · 23 days ago

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“I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this. Darling, you’re the one I want” | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x Reader.

Summary: Your group of friends decided to go to Maldives for the winter holidays and the time off of some of the guys who were drivers in F1. You and Lando had been best friends for the longest time until one night you confessed your love for each other.

Now playing: “Paper rings” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +1,7k.

Warnings: insinuating a little. Mentions of sex. Pure fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: I would love to travel to Maldives one day 😍 don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were laughing so hard. Lando wanted to show you a pirouette he “learned” to do because of pierre and he failed miserably falling into the water that surrounded your cottege.

Maldives was a dream. So beautiful. And really hot.

You didn’t realized how much you needed to take a break from the world with your friends. There’s no other choice with them: you just had to have fun or you had fun anyway. You loved them all so much. You were like 20 living in the same house in the middle of the world.

Lando got out of the water and started splashing water to you and Alexa that was next to you along with Charles hugging her from behind. You three shouted and from behind Pierre and Kika threw all of you into sea water with Lando. The water was warm and cristaline. You went up out of the water to find Lando smiling at yo and he fixed your hair. You thanked him with a smile.

You were in love with him. But you never had the strength to tell him. You were a coward. You didn’t want to loose him. The feeling of losing him because you confessed your love was terrifying. You just imagined how much pain you were gonna get into. You couldn’t picture your life without him in it.

You got close to him and hugged him from behind with your legs and arms listening to the conversation he was having along all of the boy that came. His perfume was your favorite smell in the world. His sling was warm. He grabbed you by your legs and brushed his fingers gently through your skin. That sent shivers down your spine but you didn’t want to move. These moments with him were so priceless for you. You felt it was as far as this.

For people - you looked like two love birds having fun and just confessing the love for each other through the way you looked at each other. Truth was you weren’t. But at the same time you loved each other more than words could express. Or that you could express to each other. Your love was an open secret to the world.

You rested your head on his shoulder just enjoying his company and touch. The way his body felt being wrapped around your body. And just following the conversation they were having about cars and stuff.

(…)

It was late and the whole group had gone out to the restaurants on the island. Except for you lando and puerta and kika who were already asleep in their bedroom. You have prepared tea and grabbed your fav book you’re reading at the moment in your kindle. You just wanted to relax for a while in those woven beds above the sea. The sunset was present. The view was so beautiful. You took a picture to remember that moment and poured the tea from the teapot into your cup. Ready you headed to the bed that you have thrown pillows and some blankets to make it fluffier. And more comfy.

You got comfortable sipping tea from your cup. You felt so relaxed at that moment. You took a picture for Instagram. Oh well a few pictures they were. You started reading and enjoying yourself surrounded by the sound of nature and the calmness of the sea. After a few minutes you heard someone coming down the stairs of the house.

You looked and found Lando freshly showered. The smell of his aftershave made your heart race. You smiled at him. He did too.

He got comfy next to you looking at you. He was quiet. He loved watching you. Stare at you. Admire and memorize every detail. you just got comfy with him now. Rested your head on his arm and kept on reading and doing your thing. He started strolling your hair softly. You enjoyed each other’s company right there. Under the sunset. He kissed your temple and you just left your things in a safe place before coming back to him. You looked at him very closely. He smiled at you for your action. He was nervous to have you so close. He could smell your sweet perfume in 4k. See every detail and texture of your skin. You were beautiful. The most beautiful girl he has ever seen - since you were teenagers. Any other girl could compete with you. He tried to forget about you with so many girls. Trying to find what you made him feel in them. But he just couldn’t. Any of them were you. And they will never be you.

You stroke his cheek sending shivers down his spine. This was usual between you two when you were alone. And you hated yourselves for knowing everything and at the same time pretending you didn’t. You just couldn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the cheek and cuddled him. He pulled you closer to him and you just fell asleep there. At peace with each other’s company. Feeling protected by one another.

(…)

It was party night. Everyone in the house was glammed up. Some of you are already drunk. And you were one of them. Alexa prepared you a gin tonic and god it was strong. You were laughing about everything and anything. Lando was a little drunk but you won over him. He found the drunk you so cute. And you looked so hot he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He found any occasion to touch you. Whenever.

The party was at the beach and started at sunset. You got there an hour later than expected. The music was so good. People looked so beautiful. You were all drunk. You were having fun just facing and fooling around with your friends.

You couldn't stop looking at Lando and how handsome and hot he looked in that shirt. You were driving yourself crazy by thinking of multiple ways to take his shirt off. And touch him. And kiss him.

Lando was loose. He was enjoying the evening very much. He danced with you and couldn’t help but hug you sometimes. Or touch you. He wanted to take off the yellow dress you had on. That color would look terrible on other people but oh god it was your color. It made your eyes shine so brightly. Make your smile beam. And your hair shine. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips wondering what flavour of gloss did you choose to wear today.

After a while a girl came towards him and started chatting with Lando. They were talking very stimulated. You could see her intentions. And you didn’t want to admit you were oh so jealous. Lando seemed to enjoy her company. That made anxiety creep you once more in your life.

And that was the moment you knew you couldn’t keep on pretending you didn’t love him. That was it. You were gonna tell him everything. And then you could run and hide and cry if he didn’t feel the same. But you needed to say it. To scream it. You felt desperate at the thought of once more losing him to another girl. Of not being brave and own your shit.

You walked towards them and interrupted their conversation.

“Um … excuse me. Didn’t want to interrupt but Lando I really need to talk to you in private asap” you clarified just looking at him desperate. And deep into his eyes.

He freaked out a little because your voice sounded so different than usual. He tried to keep calm. He nodded. “Sorry I gotta go” he said to the girl and grabbed your hand taking you two apart from the crowded site.

You got really anxious. You were scared but you knew you had to. He deserved to know as much as you deserved to express yourself.

He looked at you, grabbing your hands into his and stroking them gently. He could feel you were anxious.

“Lando… I’m scared of what I’m about to say but I need you to know…” you were struggling to find the correct words but your nervousness wasn’t helping. He tightened his grip into your hands to give you confidence. His heart was racing like crazy. He could feel his heart palpitations into his ears.

“I like you Lando. And not like just a friend. I am… I am in love with you. I’ve been secretly in love with you for years like I really want to take your shirt off with my teeth and have sex here in front of everyone I really do not care. I want you. To me you're the most handsome, most fun, most generous, most generous, and most everything. Please just tell me you feel the same. I'm so drunk I will cry for hours. I really really like you Lan” you basically spitted all of your thoughts to him. You were drunk and that was the best way you could express yourself right now.

He heard you. He heard you pretty clear. He felt his heart skip a beat. This was a dream. He dreamed of this so many nights. He couldn’t talk so he just grabbed your face and kissed you with all of his feelings into it. He kissed you desperately. Like his life depended on it. Because in some way it did. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. The kiss was deep and steamy at some point. Your hearts were racing and you were hot and agitated.

You finally knew how his lips tasted. You could die right there. You never felt this way. You couldn’t even think straight. Words couldn’t express what you felt either. You grabbed him by his shirt pulling him closely. You didn’t want to stop kissing him. You could stay like this forever.

He pulled apart from you slowly and softly. “Y/n I love you too. I’ve always did” he whispered into your lips. Your noses brushing each other so gently. You could feel his warm breath. His hands on your face. You smiled widely.

You should’ve done it way back.

Now you two need to kiss for this whole time you couldn’t until the end of your lives.

You heard your friends clapping and chanting for you both to finally be together. That made you laugh and look at them.

You couldn’t ask for a better group of friends.

And a better guy to spend life with.

You looked once more to each other. Knowing you were about to be the best life next to each other.

Forever.

——————————————————————————————

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

#lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando #f1 x female reader #lando norris x female reader #ln4 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 drivers #f1 smut

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jolalibrary · 6 months ago

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when his eyes open

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: joel wakes and admires you and the morning.

wordcount: <600 warnings: joeticness, a little angst, a little twisty. an: dedicated to @joelscruff, who told me this was one of her favourite gifs when i asked for inspo for my first ever giflet. for info on giflet's, see @morallyinept's list here. gif credit to the wonderful, amazing @perotovar.

Before, the routine had been to simply make it through.

To survive another day in a place where crimson clings to clotted wounds, where weeds choke signs as rot consumes all that once lived.

There are names that linger on his lips. Indelibly stained, carved deep inside him. Never forgotten, each a raw wound with grief around them that throbbed incessantly. Each woven into the very fabric of his soul.

When his eyes close, a horror movie plays on repeat. Blood-soaked shirts and the crack in his voice when he shouts. The snarl in his throat when skulls shatter and bodies break. In these brutal moments, he found himself living again, in a way that's both savage and necessary, the violence a perverse affirmation of his existence.

Plagued—tormented.

Then he wakes, and the truth crashes down—it’s not a movie, but his life. A routine he trudged through for so long until he found this place. A place where sunrise doesn’t mean pack up and move. Where golden light caresses the room he’s been given, kisses the guitar that has built callouses instead of his gun. Light falls softly on things he’s crafted with his hands, hands that once only knew how to take and destroy.

Joel wakes in a room, inside of a home, that’s now his.

A younger him might have given more for the kindness shown to him. The sacrifices he made would have felt meaningful, the blood spilt a necessary price. But now, the weight of his sins, the lives he’s shattered, and the innocence long lost have left him hollow. Acts of kindness feel like a cruel jest, an echo from a life he can barely remember, a life he feels he no longer deserves. In this quiet dawn, amidst the gentle light, he is haunted by the shadows of what he’s become.

But he's tired, worn. The face that greets him in the mirror is now aged, beaten down, and scorched by the relentless elements. Not that you seem to care.

You, who, as his lashes lift and focus, he finds reading for the second time this week. Twisted away from him, the book tilted to catch the sunlight so you don’t strain your eyes. You’d traded for it, your thumb lifting the corner of the page before dragging it to the opposite side—so loud in the quiet.

Joel doesn’t need to steal a moment, but he does all the same. He’s so used to taking, after all.

He admires how the years have been a little kinder to you than they have to him. How you are a rare sweetness in a world that knows only bitterness. A thing that would have been coveted before and is now more than cherished. He appreciates you when his body doesn’t betray him, when age doesn’t force his eyes closed as his spine meets the bed. But when he can, when he’s able, he leaves marks that’ll last for days—a prickly burn on your inner thighs as you weave your fingers into the hair he’s not allowed to cut. When he holds you so tightly atop him, he knows you can trace the bruises he’s left.

You leave your own marks too. One of them from simply looking at him, showing him that smile—the one that could stop a younger man's heart.

He waits for another page to turn, eyes closing and reopening before he slides his palm over your knee.

Morning, you say.

Morning, he replies.

A new routine, one he doesn’t hate, yet it haunts him with its simplicity and its promise of a fragile peace.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #hbo joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x y/n

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gingersnap-17 · 1 year ago

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Unexpected (Sukuna x Female Reader)

Hello everyone! Okay, I know that Sukuna literally reigned terror over practically everyone when he was a human in his human form. BUT, I feel like he is just a softie towards his lover and child. So that is pretty much what I wrote today! I also tried to find the artist to give them credit for the cover art, but I couldn't' find anything. Full credit goes to the artist of course! I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: After being Sukuna's preffered concubine for almost a year now, Y/N starts to notice some changes going on with her body. She knew what this meant, and knew she had to tell Sukuna about what is going on.

Word Count: 2052

In the dark and twisted world where sorcerers and curses roamed, Y/N found herself in a peculiar and perilous situation. She was a concubine, living a life of luxury within the grand, ominous palace of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses. Sukuna was feared and loathed by all who knew of him. With his two faces, four arms, and a mouth on his stomach, he was a symbol of terror on Earth, known for his merciless cruelty.

Yet, Y/N was different. She was his favorite, though no one could ever understand why. Sukuna would often call her to his chamber, spending hours in her company. It was as if a glimmer of humanity remained buried beneath the layers of his demonic exterior. Y/N knew better than to resist her role as his favored concubine, for disobedience often meant death. But as the weeks passed, Y/N felt a strange and sudden unease.

The first sign of change came when she realized her body was not quite as predictable as it had been. The morning sickness, the fatigue, and the subtle changes to her body all pointed to one conclusion – she was with child, and the father was none other than Sukuna himself.

As she ventured into his chambers one evening, her heart pounded with anxiety. He sat on a lavish throne, crowned in arrogance. His red eyes met hers, and he noticed the worry etched across her face.

"What troubles you, my dear?" Sukuna inquired, his voice as cool and dangerous as ever.

"I... I have news, Lord Sukuna," Y/N stuttered, attempting to maintain her composure. "I am with child." Sukuna's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his monstrous features. The room seemed to grow colder as an eerie silence settled over them. Y/N couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine.

For a moment, she feared the worst, that his anger would flare up like an inferno, that he would blame her for this unexpected turn of events. But then, something unexpected happened. His lips, both the one on his face and the other on his stomach, twisted into an unsettling smile.

"You're carrying my child?" Sukuna's voice held an inexplicable mix of amusement and curiosity.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, my Lord. It is your child, a gift from our time together."

Sukuna's laughter echoed through the chamber, a haunting sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, well," he mused, "this is most intriguing. It seems fate has woven a different path for us, my dear concubine."

She couldn't fathom his reaction. What did he mean by "a different path"? Did he intend to harm her or the child? The rumors about his cruelty raced through her mind, but his next words caught her off guard.

"From this day forward," Sukuna declared, "you shall no longer be just my favored concubine. You shall be the mother of my heir, and my wife. I will get rid of the other concubines as soon as I can."

Y/N was stunned, her mind struggling to grasp the magnitude of what Sukuna had just said. Becoming his wife and the mother of his heir was a fate she could never have imagined. She had heard of the power and ruthlessness of the Cursed King, but this turn of events was beyond her wildest dreams, or nightmares.

"Lord Sukuna, I... I am honored by your decree." Y/N managed to say, her voice quivering. Her thoughts raced, and she couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this dramatic change in the notorious sorcerer.

Sukuna's demeanor shifted as he looked at her, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "You are different from the others, Y/N. You possess a unique strength that intrigues me. You've not only survived but managed to capture my heart in your own way. I am curious to see how this new chapter in our lives unfolds."

As Y/N tried to wrap her mind around the astonishing twist of fate, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. Fear still lingered in her heart, for Sukuna's reputation was not one that could be easily forgotten. His sudden declaration to make her his wife and the mother of his heir was both a blessing and a curse. She knew she had gained a measure of protection, but she also recognized that her life had become infinitely more complicated.

Over the following months, as her pregnancy progressed, Y/N's relationship with Sukuna underwent a gradual transformation. He showed a surprising tenderness and protectiveness toward her, which left her both relieved and confused. The other concubines, who had once been her rivals, were swiftly removed from the palace, their fates unknown. Sukuna's sole focus was on Y/N and their unborn child.

Not only did she recognize his change, but she noticed a change in herself towards him. She had fallen for the strange man. Obviously before she became pregnant she had some sort of feelings for him, but this was different. She felt that this could have been love. Was it even possible to love the king of curses?

As the months passed and her belly grew round with the child of Sukuna, Y/N's feelings for the Cursed King deepened. She found herself captivated not only by his power and enigmatic nature but by the glimpses of vulnerability he occasionally revealed. Despite his terrifying reputation, she saw in him a complex soul, and she couldn't help but empathize with his struggle to balance his monstrous identity with the spark of humanity that still flickered within him.

Their relationship became more than a mere arrangement of convenience. They spent hours talking, sharing their hopes and fears, and gradually, the walls that had separated them began to crumble. Y/N saw moments of gentleness in Sukuna, moments when he would softly caress her growing belly, whispering endearing words to their unborn child. She realized that, like anyone else, he longed for connection and love, something that had been denied to him for so long due to his horrifying appearance and terrifying powers.

Y/N's once-terrifying life as a concubine had turned into something unexpected and complicated. She was no longer just a plaything of the Cursed King; she had become his confidant, his companion, and now, the mother of his child. As she considered the strange turn of events, she wondered if her love for him was mutual. Did Sukuna truly care for her beyond their unborn child, or was this newfound affection merely a consequence of her pregnancy?

One fateful night, as they sat together in his chamber, Y/N decided to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind. She watched him, her heart racing, as she gathered the courage to speak. "Sukuna, I can't help but wonder about your feelings for me. This change in our relationship, it's... unexpected. Do you love me, or is this solely because of our child?"

Sukuna, the Cursed King, regarded her with his distinctive dual gaze. His red eyes bore into hers as if searching for something deep within her soul. The room was bathed in an eerie silence, broken only by the distant howling of the wind outside.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that she had never heard from him before. "Y/N, what we have is complicated. I am not like other men, and you know that. But since the moment you told me you were carrying my child, something has awakened within me. I can't deny that I feel a connection, a bond, that goes beyond mere duty or convenience."

Y/N's heart leaped at his words, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and uncertainty. She had never expected to hear such vulnerability from the feared sorcerer.

Sukuna continued, his voice softening even further. "I may not fully understand what love means, for it is a concept foreign to my nature. But I do know that I care for you deeply, Y/N, and I want to protect both you and our child. That much, I am certain of."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she heard his heartfelt confession. In that moment, she realized that the man known as the Cursed King, feared by all, had a heart that could feel, even if he struggled to comprehend it fully. She leaned in, her hand gently reaching for his, and their fingers intertwined.

"Thank you, Sukuna." she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I care for you too, and I want to be with you, not just as the mother of your child but as your partner, your confidant, and your love."

Sukuna's dual-faced smile returned, a rare and genuine one. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. "Then, my dear Y/N, let us navigate this strange and perilous world together, as partners, as parents, and perhaps one day, as lovers. If that is what we become at some point." Those words gave Y/N hope for the future with him.

As the last few months of Y/N's pregnancy approached, the bond between Y/N and Sukuna only deepened. Their love was a complex, extraordinary force that defied the dark and twisted world they inhabited. Their child was a symbol of hope, a testament to the possibility of light even in the darkest of places.

On a stormy night, Y/N went into labor, and the estate was in chaos. Sukuna, who had never witnessed such an event, stood by her side, both anxious and determined. The sound of her painful cries filled the room, which worried Sukuna as her labor progressed. He was used to the sight of death, but the sight of life happening before his eyes, made him awestruck at the beauty of labor.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N sighed in relief as the cries of a newborn filled the air, echoing through the chamber. Y/N held their child, a tiny being that was so fragile and new in the world.

She looked up at Sukuna who had stayed almost silent during the whole thing, hoping he would say something.

Sukuna, the Cursed King, gazed down at the child in Y/N's arms with a mixture of awe and tenderness. His four eyes, were fixed on the newborn, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world had disappeared, leaving only the small family in that chamber.

For all his terrifying power and monstrous appearance, Sukuna was utterly captivated by the sight of his child. He carefully reached out to hold the child, and Y/N gently handed their son to him. The baby grasped one of his father's finger with a tiny, delicate hand, and the Cursed King's lips curled into a rare and gentle smile.

"He has my extra pair of arms." Sukuna said, releasing a soft chuckle, his voice filled with wonder. “He does seem to have my hair, but he does have your face.”

Y/N watched the father and son with tears of joy in her eyes. It was a moment of profound beauty in the midst of their dark and twisted world. She had never imagined that she would be sharing such an intimate and heartwarming moment with Sukuna, the most feared sorcerer of their time.

As the hours passed, Sukuna and Y/N took turns cradling and caring for their newborn. Their love for each other and their child grew stronger with each passing moment. They named their son Kaito, signifying a new beginning, a departure from the cursed legacy of the past.

As the two raised their child overtime, Sukuna was technically a changed man… for them at least. He still killed and reigned terror as he pleased, but the second he would return home to his wife and son, he showed his deep care and genuine love (as much as he hates to admit it) to them. Sukuna might be the king of curses, but he has a special place in his heart saved for who he calls his family.

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letsbelonelytogetherr · 1 year ago

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“You're asking me what I want for breakfast and I'm telling you about how when the worst thing happened, I didn't even cry. You're handing me a receipt from the laundromat down the street and I'm passing you a bundle of letters that I wrote to God when I was fourteen and scared. You're passing me the milk after you drip it into your coffee and I'm half laughing about the psychiatrist's office and how there's actually a couch and it's made of blue tweed. You're trying to do the normal things and I am throwing up dull pieces of truth onto our kitchen table. I can't lie anymore. These are the things I've done and they're mostly sad. These are the places I've been and they're mostly awful. This life has woven itself into the notches of my spine and I hear it creak every time I stand.”

— Fortesa Latifi; Dull Pieces Of Truth

#dark academia #literature #light academia #poetry #quotes #romantic academia #poem #romance #love quotes

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chaethewriter · 2 years ago

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You're dead to me [6]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, barely proofread, i lowkey don't like this chap but it's cute, fluff and angst, silly siblings, sad Jake.

Word count: 3,1k

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Your flight back to high camp was amazing. Walking through the forest was something enchanting, out of a fairy tale, but the view from above was something so unrealistic. Colors of green, pink, and blue covered the ground beneath you, and the way the animals climbed the trees or flew just under you. You still couldn't believe where you were. You let go of the reins Neteyam told you to hold and you slightly get up from your seat, holding your body up as you tried to get a better view of everything around you. Neteyam frantically holds onto your arm, "sit down! You're going to fall!"

"As if you would let me fall, who will take care of my younger brother then?" You playfully hit him in the chest with your elbow. Lo'ak then came gliding next to the two of you, "bro! Did you already think of the excuse you're giving mom and dad by being late and bringing (Y/N) with us?" Neteyam groans in response, "I will think of something as an excuse. We are going to hide her in high camp until tomorrow morning by then." You huffed at his words, "hide me in high camp? What are you going to put me in? In a fucking woven bag?!" Lo'ak answered your question as a matter of fact, "I mean, you would easily fit in the bag?" You were ready to jump from Neteyam's Ikran right onto Loak's Ikran, ready to pounce on him. He might be your much younger brother, but you weren't afraid to fight the Na'vi right there and then. "Sis please!" Neteyam wraps his arm around your waist to pull you down, keeping you in place. Even though you were older than them, you had childish traits he thought you wouldn't have. Is this the effect of growing up early and finally feeling free? Would he get to experience that too one day?

As they approached high camp, the horns were heard through the night skies to notify the clan of a return, their return. Kiri facepalmed and looked at Neteyam, "well, there goes your plan. Ready to face the wrath?" His spine shuddered at the question, imagining the wrath of his mother if they took their sister to the clan, but they didn't have another choice now, did they? They couldn't leave you alone out in the open and you were supposed to get here tomorrow anyway, so might as well make you settle down, right? The three Ikrans land right at the opening of the mountains and your four Na'vi siblings climb off it with ease, meanwhile you struggle to get off the animal. You never rode a horse before, imagine a banshee ten times the size. Alright, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the banshees were huge compared to your human self. You huffed in embarrassment as you had a hard time getting off. You were one of the finest warriors and embarrassing yourself in front of a whole clan wasn't on your bucket list, definitely not. Neteyam held your legs as helped you down and you silently thanked him for doing so. The clan surrounded the five of you, standing in a half circle as they stared at you, either with curiosity or weariness. You felt watched, but not in a good way. You were a sky human after all, demon blood in their eyes. Neteyam stepped in front of you, half-shielding you from the prying eyes of his clan, "mawey Na'vi, mawey!" His chest puffed out as he spoke, shoulders broad. You watched him in awe. He was still a child, yet a fine warrior and respected by all. He would be such a good Olo'eyktan. The Na'vi made way as the Tsahik and her daughter passed through, moving to the front with ease as the clan parted like the red sea. You moved away from behind Neteyam, now standing right next to him as you brought your hand to your forehead, "Oel Ngati Kameie." You greeted Mo'at and Neytiri with respect once they were right in front of the crowd.

"I already expected your arrival, (Y/N) Sully." You're shocked that the Tsahik herself announced the news, just like that. The clan started whispering amongst themselves at the mention of the Olo'eyktan's last name and you felt yourself crumbling through the ground. Even Neytiri, your stepmother (?), looked surprised. You didn't know if that surprised expression was meant for the fact her mother announced it or the fact you're her mate's daughter. "I'm- thank you for having me." You bowed your head to show your gratitude, then your gaze traveled to Neytiri. She was already looking at you with those yellow eyes that had so much emotion hidden in them. You felt like she had a lot to say and you felt the same. "My people, mawey. Welcome (Y/N) Sully, daughter of the Olo'eyktan like she's one of our people. She's here to protect us from the dangerous sky demons." Mo'at had her back turned to you as she spoke to her people, emphasizing the fact that you're Jake Sully's child. If she did this to keep you safe, you are in debt to her. Yet, wouldn't something like this make it more complicated? Since you emotionally disowned him as your father? You did, right? You're getting pulled out of your thoughts by a hand harshly wrapping around your wrist. Your head turned to the person in front of you, it was Neytiri. She didn't say anything as she pulled you away from the crowd. Your breath hitched in your mask as you grew nervous, but you didn't complain. She didn't rip your head off, so she wanted to talk to you, right? Tuk looked after you as her mother pulled you away. She looked over at her big brother as she tugged his loincloth, "what is happening?" Tuk was still young, she didn't understand anything that was happening. "It's okay, Tuk! Let's get some food" Lo'ak patted her head, his hands running through her locks. Kiri nodded in agreement, taking Tuk's hand and pulling her to the fire to get their dinner. Neteyam looked after you as his mom and his sister entered their pod, hoping things wouldn't turn more complicated for you.

"Ma'am, what did you want to talk about?" You asked politely once you entered the pod, yet still tried to push her to get to the point. You still remembered how she acted when you taunted your father for questioning his parenting. Neytiri closed the flap of the entrance as she turned to you, cautiously walking over to you. Once she was close enough, she got on her knees for the height difference to not be too intimidating as she spoke, "You're my mate's daughter." You didn't know if it was a question or an extra form of confirmation, but you nodded your head yes. "And you're human." You nodded your head again. "I don't like you, you reek of demon blood." You rolled your eyes. You had to see that one coming."But tell me, child." Your head tilted to the side as you watched her in confusion. Tell her? Tell her what exactly? Neytiri could sense your confusion, so she continued explaining, "what happened, child. Tell your part." You knew it was a demand, yet you couldn't sense a lot of grudges. Her tone was stern and demanding, but not hateful. It was the voice of a wise woman, a wise mother. You decided to make yourself comfortable: taking a seat, sitting your butt on the soft woven carpets as you leaned against the wooden wall. "He was an amazing dad. He didn't see himself as it, but he tried. He tried for me and that's what made him amazing." You fiddled with your mask as you didn't know where to keep your hands, obviously nervous about telling Neytiri about all this. She nodded in understanding, taking a seat as well as she kept quiet to let you continue at your own pace. "Then he left so suddenly and he never returned. I had to hear from the people around me where he went. I waited for years and eventually gave up." Your hands were now lying in your lap as you moved your legs in a cross-legged position, much more comfortable than your last one, "until this day, I hold a grudge against him. He abandoned me, so I am giving him a taste of his own medicine." You didn't notice that your eyes were once again welling up with tears. Your left hand moved towards your mask to try and push it closer towards your face in an attempt to hide. Thank Eywa the mask wasn't transparent. Neytiri leaned towards you, even though she was very weary of you, she awkwardly extended her arm towards you to wipe your tears. Only for a few seconds as she pulled her hand away quickly, but your eyes still widened at the gesture, not knowing how to feel about all this, "you're a strong child with a strong heart, for a sky demon." She then got up and out of the pod. Now that you were finally alone, you once again got lost in your thoughts as you thought about your father.

Once Jake left to Eywa-knows-where, she turned to the backdoor of the pod, "I know you're there. All of you." Neteyam was the first to walk out with his ears flat against his head, followed by Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk. She looked at her children with a sigh as they all held a guilty yet innocent facade up. "If she's dad's daughter, our sister.. would you hate her?" Lo'ak was the first to speak up. Neteyam wanted to honestly hit him on the back of his head for asking questions like that, but he continued, "she's putting her life in danger for us, therefore she's not so bad right? Dad would have wanted you to try if she's his." Those words hit Neytiri like a truck. Even if she hated sky demons, her mate used to be one and he changed a lot in just a few weeks. Why not her? Being the adorable girl that Tuk is, she chimed into the conversation, "Mom I want to meet her! Can I meet her? Another sibling yay!" Neytiri's canines pierced through her bottom lip as she thought. She still disliked you, also because you were a sky demon. She was conflicted with her feelings, but then she thought about Jake's sad expression. She would be willing to try, for him. Just like how he always tried for her.

From the corner of his eye, Lo'ak noticed how his mother left the pod, meaning you were alone now. At the same time, a horn went off, indicating an arrival. All their heads turned to the opening of the mountain, noticing a familiar ikran about to land. Their father. The four siblings exchanged a look and Neteyam spoke up, "Kiri get some fruits for her and get her away from there. Tuk, Lo'ak, and I will take care of dad. Go!" Kiri followed his orders as she ran to get some leftovers for you to eat, meanwhile, Neteyam immediately went to his father. Lo'ak crouched down to his youngest sibling, "Okay, so don't say anything about sis (Y/N) alright? Dad can't know yet, alright?" Tuk didn't really understand what he meant, but she just nodded as a response, "yes!"

"Sister (Y/N)?" You removed your face from your knees as you were sitting with your knees to your chest, "Oh Kiri, what's wrong?" She walked towards you with a bunch of fruits in her arms, "I got these for you." You chuckled at the small gesture, "thank you so much, but I hope you know I can't eat all that." She looked at the fruits in her arms, "I mean, rather too much than not enough, right? Come on, let's go to the Tsahik." It looked like she was in a rush and you raised your eyebrows at her, "Kiri, what's up? You look tense?" You got up from the ground. "Just follow me!" She already walked out before you could answer her, leaving you all confused and lost. But you obeyed her and followed suit after her.

"My children please just let me be for tonight, I'm tired." Jake wanted to be alone right now. His heart ached in his chest and his eyes were bloodshot red as his tears were drying up. He wanted to find Mo'at and talk to her. "We want to show you something, you must come!" Neteyam never asked something like this of his dad, not since he was ten years old. So this made him feel suspicious. "Yes! Tuk made something so beautiful and she wants to show it, right Tuk!" Lo'ak made up the quickest thing he could think of, eyes gazing down at Tuk who didn't know what to say. She glanced at Neteyam who nodded, so she looked into his eyes with determination, "Yes! You must follow us!"

You sat in Mo'at's tent as Kiri cut up some fruit for you. The moment the two of you entered the tent, she knew that you needed a moment for yourself and left the tent in your hands. You sat on one of the mats as Kiri sat next to you, cutting the fruits up for you to eat. You inhaled into your oxygen mask, letting the oxygen flow through your lungs before you removed the mask, took a piece of freshly cut fruit and popped it in your mouth, reattaching the mask to your mouth to gasp. Kiri watched you in awe as you chewed your food, "that's honestly so cool." She quickly finished up and put her hunter's knife back on her hip. "Eat well and rest up, alright? You got a long day ahead of you tomorrow." "Goodnight and thank you" the two of you exchanged a smile as she left the tent. You continued eating your pieces of fruit in peace, listening to the sound of the clan talking as their laughs filled the air. You popped a fruit in your mouth before reattaching your mask, smiling as you knew you made a good decision. They deserved to be protected.

"What is up with the three of you?" Jake grew frustrated at his children. They were standing in the pod for at least twenty minutes as the three rambled about the most bullshit subjects. "Do you know that I made this flower crown?" "Yes, you told me last week, Tuk." He tried once again to exit the pod, but Neteyam jumped in front of it as he scratched the back of his head, looking at Lo'ak for any other excuse. He was the best at pulling bullshit out of his ass after all. But also Lo'ak was quiet as his ears were pressed firmly against his head. "Well then, if you have nothing to say anymore. I have somewhere to be." His two sons stood there in defeat as they let their dad through, but then Tuk grabbed onto her father's hand, "no you can't!! (Y/N) will be upset if we let you go to her!!" Lo'ak immediately put his hand over Tuk's mouth as Neteyam coughed through that sentence, but unfortunately for them Jake already heard it. To check if he indeed heard that correctly, he crouched down to meet Tuk's gaze, "Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, remove that hand from your sister. Tuk, what did you say?" Her eyes were now also pressed against her head, knowing she said the wrong thing while trying to help her brothers, "uhm.. I said.." she felt overwhelmed as her dad continued to pressure her into telling, making her lips quiver. That was the point when Lo'ak had enough, "you are a terrible father you know that?!" The young Na'vi exploded as he yelled into his father's face. "You abandoned (Y/N) in the most terrible way possible! And now you suddenly crave forgiveness?! You need to earn that! You can't just go around yelling your 'sorries' while sobbing and not do anything?!" His fists were balled as his ears perked up, his tail standing tall, "she has a right to be upset and instead of sulking around you need to talk to her without the need to use your excuses!" And off he went. If he was a cartoon, the steam would have been leaving his ears. He needed to cool off. Neteyam watched his dad's expression falter, knowing Lo'ak was right with every word he said. He silently told Tuk to come with him, as he raised Tuk in his arms, holding her against his hip. "Did I do something wrong?" "No sweetheart, this needed to be done." And the two left the pod, leaving Jake all on his own as he stood still like a statue, painful breaths leaving his lips. He thought it was impossible, but more tears rolled down. Then he remembered Tuk's words. You're here, his daughter is here.

And he knew exactly where to check.

Jake moved from healer's tent to healer's tent. He knew that if you were hiding somewhere, it was somewhere in this area, the healing tents. He swiftly moved from tent to tent in search of your small frame. He eventually got to the biggest tent right in the middle, Mo'ats tent. He ripped the flap open and there you were, sleeping peacefully with the mask on your face to keep you alive. The skin under your eyes were stained with dried tears and a sob left his lips. "My baby.." he moved inside and closed to flap. He knew you didn't want to see him, especially if you woke up, but Lo'ak was right. He needed to try with all his might now, not with only his excuses and words, but also with his actions to show you that he cared for you, like a father. He quietly sat down next you, taking your small hand in his. You moved a bit in your sleep, making Jake tense in his movements, but then you stopped as you rolled a bit closer towards him, towards the warmth you felt. A genuine smile finally plastered his face, he felt at peace.

For now, he decided to enjoy this moment,

not knowing if it would be the last or not.

A/N: another update!! Hope you enjoyed!! And thank you so much for the followers, almost at 2k is a huge achievement! Tell me what you thought of this part. <3 now I'm gonna go ahead and work on my novella fr.

Taglist in the comments!!

#dad!jake sully #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad! jake sully #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #sully family x reader #sully family #neteyam #neteyam x reader

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naffeclipse · 2 months ago

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Charm Brought It Back Pt. 2

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Whoo! The darling @jackofallrabbits has all my thanks for the continuation of the DCA Hocus Pocus AU! The boys want every piece of the historian reader, and they have no time to lose! The sun is rising, and they must prepare the ceremony, and you realize that your dear friend Michael has arrived at the witches' home. Very poor timing, on his part. Enjoy the flirts and curses!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, disturbing imagery, and fear.

———

The witch carries you across the room, clasping you tightly within a cage of his claws. You’re frozen in his embrace. His towering height and lithe, long limbs make you feel incredibly small, like a mouse before a hungry cat. His extra set of arms disappears into the shadow of his dark cape. How did he summon them so effortlessly? You tilt your head back to gaze up at Eclipse’s face, the eldest brother of the hanged brothers. They should still be dead—they were for almost four hundred years.

His face is inhuman. The markings and color stain his visage in a midnight-red crescent, and a blackened shadow swallows it. His eyes, bright yellow and predatory, glance down at you. A grin splits his lower face with wicked teeth. He runs his tongue over his bone-white fangs.

Your stomach flip-flips within you.

Candlelight flickers ominous over the colonial home as the cauldron continues to bubble in the fireplace. The other two, Sun and Moon, watch you. Their wide eyes gleam in the firelight: one of pale pools of feverish desire and the other glint in scarlet, roiling with appetite.

You cling tighter to Eclipse’s shoulder. A childish desire to bury your face in the crook of his shoulder almost takes hold of you.

“Where are you taking me?” you whisper into Eclipse’s cape.

“To the parlor,” his voice is soft as dusk, and the vibrations through his chest sink into you with a gentle rumble. “The main hall is hardly a place to hold a ceremony.”

Your eyes widen. He strides past the tables with the many candles aflame in a thick, waxy cluster. His claws flex against your shoulder and around your thigh.

“What ceremony?” your voice climbs into a squeaky pitch.

A chuckle echoes behind Eclipse’s shoulder. You turn your head to catch Sun and Moon following behind, and the latter’s lips curl into a sinister smile as his shoulders shake with amusement—as if he finds you utterly adorable.

“Little mouse, there’s nothing to fear,” Moon soothes, almost in a sing-song voice.

“It will be wonderful,” Sun clasps his hands together. Eagerness streaks through his face like falling stars at sunrise. “You’ll see, sunshine.”

A thickness coats your throat. When Eclipse asked you to stay, did you agree to something far more sinister? Do they intend to use your soul or your life to grant them greater power or something else just as nefarious?

“Wait.” You tremble. “Wait.”

“Little comet, we still need you,” Eclipse says firmly but gently. His yellow eyes narrow in the slightest, glancing at the black ribbons on his wrists. “The bells will ring for us at dawn unless we perform the ceremony. You must be part of it. You must speak the vows.”

Your heart scampers within your rib cage.

“Wait,” you say again, panic slithering up your spine. He continues onward.

Eclipse easily unlatches an almost hidden door in the back of the main hall while balancing you in his arms. Cobwebs tear apart as it swings open and he enters a smaller but no less intricate room. A window overlooks part of the road cutting through the thick forest. A few shelves are covered in dusty bottles of glass and woven baskets. Ancient and dried fronds, stems, thorns, and petals are stored on wooden tables.

In the corner of your vision, the white rabbit darts inside the room. The one that spoke with a woman’s voice. She bounds across the space, knocking into a small stand that topples over a jar of powder. Sun curses, his voice growling demonically. The claws holding you tense as Eclipse glowers. You shiver under sharp talons pricking into your sweater.

Moon leaps forward and cuts the rabbit off in her destructive path. His eyes, glinting with bloodlust, follow her like a hound eager to tear apart a fox. He steps across the room, into her path, and forces her to correct her race. Her hind legs kick out. Her fluffy body arches smoothly through the air but she lands too close to the door and clips her front foreleg. She topples over, sliding across the hard floor and back into the main room.

With a flick of his wrist and a dark murmur, Moon casts the door shut without laying a finger upon it. It slams close, rattling the walls and causing you to jump in Eclipse’s arms.

“It’s alright, little comet,” Eclipse purrs.

“We now have privacy,” Moon declares with a rasp. He eyes the door with a branding glare as if daring the rabbit to intervene again.

A faint scratching is heard at the bottom of the door. You clutch your hands into small balls of anxiety.

“I’ll rid us of the little beast after the ceremony,” Sun promises as he steps closer, laying a hand upon your arm. “As for you, my little ray of sunshine, we must get you ready.”

“With haste,” Eclipse speaks, and his brothers listen. You snap your head from one witch to the other. Gently, Eclipse sets you back on your feet. You sway, clutching your chest and twisting your fingers into the knitwork of your sweater.

“This is all happening fast,” you say, breathless. The room spins slightly in your exhilarated state. You start to inch away, back to the door with the soft sound of claws gouging into it.

“We apologize, mouse,” Moon whispers as he steps to a black wood cabinet and pries open one low door. “But necessity calls for it.”

“When we have the luxury of time,” Eclipse speaks while approaching a small table where a stack of books resides. His black claws draw slowly down the spines, “We will have a proper ceremony, with all the decorations you desire and a feast that could gorge a village.”

A shudder falls down your back. The chill sinking into your bones is numbing, and fear creeps deeper into your mind, plucking at every wild and frantic thought. Are they going to cook you up and eat you? Are they going to cast a spell to turn you into a toad? This wasn’t part of the fabled story of their return, was it?

You’re not certain you want to find out any more. Are your questions worth your life? They’re being so cryptid, so rushed.

You shuffle further back, away from the focused witches and their enchantments. What are they capable of? If only you could make them stop for a moment and answer you.

“Sunshine, darling, where are you going?” Hands slip down your arms and over your wrists.

A gasp falls from your mouth, quiet and quick. The hands, pale and yellow, with scarlet ribbons tying golden bells to his wrists, lift your hands into the air. You’re not so different from a little ballerina figurine being posed, forced to dance endlessly in a music box.

“I’m not sure I want to stay,” you breathe, frightened. The rate of your heart picks up in tempo, banging like a drum against your sternum.

He leans over your shoulder. His wicked smile fills the corner of your vision. Eyes, pale and gray like mist, hold you captive.

“There’s so much we can show you,” he says. He trails the tips of his claws down your sleeves, and the layer of separation causes your eyelids to flutter. “There’s so much we can do for you. What would you like, my poppet?”

You’re locked in his spell. Did he cast magic or is it simply his touch? Your arms stay in the air as his hands fall down your sides, rubbing slowly over your ribcage before settling on your waist.

“I want to know.” You stare ahead at Eclipse and Moon as they set a blackwood altar in the center of the room, before the window. “I want to know everything about you and your lives.”

Sun’s teeth graze the curve of your shoulder. His breath is warm against the side of your neck, and the air rattles out of your throat.

“You will have it all,” he answers, and whisks you off your feet in a spin. The room blurs before he stops you, hands holding your own as you’re locked in a dance with the witch. His cape shifts over his shoulder, revealing the deep opening of his flowy, white shirt. Your cheeks burn. Flustered, you jerk your head up, tearing your eyes away, and almost become ablaze as you find his cheeky smile.

“I do mean all,” he winks, coquettish and wicked.

You balk.

He takes your hand and presses it to his chest, right above where his heart would be. His skin is smooth and pale, split into two colors of yellow and off-white down the middle of his torso. You feel a strange hum instead. Not a beat, but a constant buzz of energy. Magic, perhaps.

His footwork guides you around the room in a sweeping circle. As he twirls you, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm above your head, you catch a glimpse of old and age-stained pages fluttering open. Eclipse sets the book on the altar. He bows over it, his eyes roaming over the archaic writings.

Beside him, Moon holds a silvery veil in his arms. He murmurs something to his elder brother, who dips his head in agreement.

You almost stumble as another shock of fright seizes you.

“What is that?” you ask as Sun reclaims you, pulling you flush against his torso—your middle bubbles at the contact.

He simpers with a low hum.

His mouth opens but before he can speak, bright headlights cut into the room from the window. The diamond-patterned panes slice the room into shapes of light and shadow, and you inhale sharply.

A car. Who’s here? The owner of the property?

“What is that?” Moon hisses, his hood falling deeper over his face as he slinks into an alcove of shadows.

“It’s like the sun.” Eclipse lifts his arm to shield his eyes, peering around the blinding high beams.

“No.” Sun’s brow narrows. His arms lower around you, tightening around your waist until you gasp. “It’s unnatural.”

You peek over Sun’s shoulder, pushing up on your tiptoes to see a familiar build of the vehicle just behind the lights. Michael’s car.

What is he doing here? Did he suspect you would come here alone, against his advice?

What will the witches do when they realize your friend is here?

Your gut clenches. You have to warn him. He has to stay away before they try to throw him into their cauldron or turn him into a fox.

A shiver falls down your back and down to your toes. You turn your head to find Eclipse’s wide eyes cutting into you, and you freeze. He couldn’t know it’s your friend, could he?

“We have an unwelcome visitor,” Eclipse declares. The corners of his mouth tug downwards and he promptly slaps the book close with a heavy, dusty thud. “Brothers, what shall we do with him?”

“Let’s cast him into a carrot and feed him to the rabbit,” Moon suggests.

“No, no, I was of the mind that we could make a new rug out of his skin,” Sun muses, his fingers stroking the small of your back, much to your terror.

Michael’s voice rips through the house. Muffled by the door, his shouts turn quick, frantic. You clamp your mouth shut. A horror so cold slips into your veins, and you tremble. He can’t be here.

Eclipse lifts his hand, a hum filling his throat as he stares down the door. You cry out a soft, “Please, don’t!”

His wide yellow eyes turn back to you, surprised. The next moment, the jarring thud hits the wood of the door and cracks it by the wrought-iron handle. Splinters fly outwards.

Michael shouts your name, then commands, “Don’t make any vows!”

Your mind turns blank. What?

A snarl rips from Moon’s mouth. You flinch, the sound right at your shoulder as you realize the hooded brother has joined you and Sun. His clawed hand falls to your shoulder, talons almost digging into your collarbone.

“Who is that?” Moon’s scarlet eyes flash in demand. “How does he know?”

Another kick flies into the door. The entire house shudders as the wood buckles and a boot chops through it. Immediately, you watch a familiar hand snake its way inside and throw open the mangled frame of the door. In the threshold stands your friend.

“Michael!” You stare, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes widened upon the scene. His dark jacket catches splinters of wood and his unruly hair is extra ruffled from the effort of breaking the door down. Immediately, a white rabbit darts inside. Michael lands on the witches and their snarling, teeth-bared expressions before finding you. His fists clench at his sides.

“Get away!” He dips a hand into his jacket pocket and hurls a handful of small, dried lavender petals.

As if struck with a blade or bullet, the witches all recoil as the flowers rain down. Sun’s and Moon’s hands disappear from you. Backing away, Eclipse almost stumbles into the altar before he rights himself. A hiss, furious and demonic, roll off his tongue. You flinch. Lavender flowers litter the floor.

The white rabbit rushes for you, stopping only to stand on her hind legs and press a foot to your shin. Her green eyes shine with desperation. “Stop standing there and run!”

There’s no thought but of terror. You reach down and scoop up the rabbit just as Michael steps towards you. He grabs your arm and half dragging, half guiding you through the witch’s house, the three of you rush for the exit.

“Little comet!” Eclipse cries. His voice tugs on your heart, but you twist and refuse to be pulled back into his orbit.

A growl follows from Moon, and a mumbling of something wicked and furious slips from Sun’s mouth, but you can’t look back. Through the candlelit main room and out the door, Michael races. His grip almost crushes your elbow.

“I told you not to come here! I told you not to come here without me!” Michael boils. You shrink slightly as he reaches for the passenger side door, uncaring for the rabbit you clutch against your sweater.

“I didn’t—I didn’t know,” you say quietly, defenselessly.

The rest of your rebuttal doesn’t leave your mouth before a familiar and haunting voice shouts, amplified like a poltergeist screeching into your ear. Michael immediately forces you to duck, pushing your shoulder down until you’re crouched behind the car, him protecting you with his own body. Gravel shifts underneath your shoes.

Michael’s car begins to groan. You lift your head tentatively, then gape. The frame of the vehicle begins to twist and rust, curling at the edges and darkening with burnt-orange marks. You hear a strange, hissing sound, then realize the tire you’re hunched beside is leaking air. As the car withers, glass cracks then pops. You yelp under a shower of shards but Michael’s jacket shields you from the sharp edges. The rabbit in your arms struggles for a moment.

“We have to keep moving! Go to the cemetery,” she demands.

“Right,” Michael mutters. His eyes land on the rabbit you shield in your arms, and his expression only shifts in the slightest at the human voice emerging from the rabbit’s mouth.

Likewise, she stares back at Michael. You pet her fluffy white fur as your fingers tremble. Her hide is soft and her body is warm and comforting.

“You’re an Afton, aren’t you?” she says softly, almost as if she were seeing an old friend.

Your brow furrows. How could she possibly know his last name? Is she a witch too?

“I am.” Michael stares down at her, his grip shifting as he looks forlorn to his car and then back to the house. His mouth twists in a grimace. “I read about you in my ancestor’s journal. You’re Vanessa. I thought… I hoped it wasn’t true.”

“Vanessa?” you echo in your whiplash confusion.

The rabbit’s white ear flops back slightly before she presses a foot to your chest.

“We can’t linger.” Her green eyes flash to you, scathing as she remarks. “The witches want the virgin for their ceremony. We can’t let them complete it.”

Michael’s grip tightens upon you, and you make a sound of discomfort. His nostrils flare, his breath running harsh and heated. You’ve never seen Michael so upset, so close to violence.

“What is going on?” you gasp, clutching Vanessa tighter to your pounding heart.

“I’ll explain later.” Michael moves away, shaking glass from his jacket and jumping to his feet. He surveys the house. You can hear footsteps, curses, and something sweeping the floor. “Follow me. Run as fast as you can.”

“Michael—” you start but he’s already pulling you back to your feet. Vanessa leaps from your arms. She bounds across the road and into the tree line. Michael follows the white rabbit, and you try to catch your breath as the darkness becomes absolute as you try to keep pace.

You have to trust him. He and the talking rabbit. You follow, your feet pounding over pavement and then dirt and leaves. Branches scratch at your sleeves; you’ve long forsaken your poor sweater to being snagged and ruined.

Laughter cracks overhead like black lightning. The echo isn’t too far away, and you shudder at the thought of what spells will allow them to catch you. Witchy howls of both amusement and anger snake through the half-dead canopy of trees. The midnight air hangs heavy. Michael bursts through the treeline to an open field of dead grass with you hot on his heels before you spy what he’s running you toward.

An old wrought fence spans the length of a reclusive cemetery. It’s ancient, by the shape and crumbling aspect of a few of the headstones you spy on within the space. Your mind races to date the burial ground but Michael urges you forward just as a breeze cuts overhead.

You turn your eyes skywards just as Michael finds the corner of the overgrown and neglected corner of the graveyard property. A streak of movement interrupts the constellations of the night sky, and you almost stumble in dawning horror.

Flying just above the near leafless and dark trees are the witches. Brooms, elegantly carved and sleek, carry them effortlessly in the air. Their capes and cloaks billow like black manes to dark beasts behind them, and claws clutch tightly at their flying vessels. Teeth sharp, eyes glinting, their gazes meet yours. Eclipse. Sun. Moon.

Under their harrowing eyes, you feel no more than a mouse running from a cat’s pounce.

“Keep going,” Vanessa urges. Her white form dashes onwards, but she comes to a sharp halt and turns back, ears pricked.

Two stone pillars, cracked and faded from years of standing as sentinels mark the entrance to the burial ground. Michael ushers you into the cemetery. For one desperate moment, you wish you could study the history of this place, find out its name, who lies here, but you are torn from your brief musings.

“I know you.” Eclipse’s voice carries over the field. His black cap settles onto his shoulders as he sinks in the air to hover just above the threshold of the graveyard. “Your kind are all the same, witch hunter.”

Michael stands between you and the witch. His gaze is hard, unyielding. You clutch at his jacket, fearing the lack of barriers.

“What did he call you?” you breathe out. “Michael.”

He huffs at Eclipse as Sun and Moon settle on his flanks. Moon turns his hungry eyes upon you, glinting like blood. Sun strums the staff of his broom. His claws catch on starlight.

Eclipse tilts his head and bares his fangs in a taunting smile. “Do you really think you can keep our lovely little virgin from us?”

You shiver violently. What do they want?

“I’ll watch all three of you return to dust and ashes,” he promises. Vanessa slips against your ankle, pressing close as if she were a guard dog instead of a rabbit.

All three of the witches burst into laughter, wicked and harsh before they rise and fly over the gate, deeper into the cemetery.

Michael pushes you further down an unmarked and overgrown path. “It’s alright. They can’t set foot here. I’ll take care of them.”

“Wait,” you gasp. You stumble as Michael urges you onward. “Wait, don’t hurt them!”

“They’re witches,” he snarls so viciously, it makes you jump. He stops, finding a row of headstones with tall and web-cracked faces. “You have no idea how dangerous they truly are. I will explain everything once they’re gone. Stay here. Vanessa?”

The rabbit hops up beside you. Michael again pushes you down by the shoulders until you curl up in the shadow of a colonial headstone. He stands over you, glancing this way and that to the sky. A few large and overgrown trees cut into the skyline through the burial grounds.

Vanessa noses her way onto your lap. You open your arms and she hops on, her small feet pressing on your jeans.

“Listen to him,” she speaks sternly. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“But—how? Michael? Where are you going?” you call, your voice cracking, but he’s already rushing away from the grave you’re hunkered near. He rushes into a flat, open plot of land filled with weeds and dead grass. Michael looks to the midnight sky.

You peer over the headstone. Vanessa hits your shoulder until you slink back down, but you catch a glimpse of Eclipse emerging from behind a black, dead tree and sailing through the air. He bows low upon his broom, eagerly stalking Michael. Your friend withdraws a cylinder from his jacket pocket. Popping it open, Michael quickly sprinkles something white around him—salt.

Your heart climbs into your throat. You long to call out, to beg Eclipse to spare him, but Michael whips out what appears to be an old charm made of leather. Upon it are scratched archaic symbols you have never once glimpsed before in your historical studies. A few small bones dangle from where the leather is tied with cord.

Your eyes widen as Michael holds it high. Eclipse stops, leaning back and tilting the broom away until he comes to hover. Then, he laughs. Michael remains unmoved, though his brow furrows in the slightest.

A disgusted sound leaves Vanessa’s voice.

With a point of Eclipse’s finger, the charm ignites into flames. Michael yelps, dropping it to the ground and clutching at his hand, no doubt burned by the spontaneous combustion.

“Little mouse, where are you hiding?” A low voice calls, rasping out like a lover searching through the dark. Moon.

You stiffen. Vanessa’s ears pin flat against her skull. You press your back against the headstone, hiding yourself in its shadow. A soft breeze touches your hair, tugging strands across your face.

“We can play so many games when it’s only us.” Moon’s broom appears just a row down, scanning the fallen leaves and grave markers. He perches low, his shoulders shifting under his cloak like a tiger ready to leap upon prey. “Come on out. Let me take you home.”

Your blood runs cold. The ghost of his hands is still upon you, and you wonder if it would be so terrible to return with them. They would leave Michael and Vanessa alone, wouldn’t they?

Moon slips slowly through the air, his broom black as night and silent, and his head lifts. He inhales deeply. Under the brim of his hood, his eyelids flutter.

Then his entire head snaps to where you hide. You squeak in fright.

“There you are.” His jaws split into a ravenous grin as he reaches out a hand, flying over a gravestone just to where you kneel on the ground.

“No!” Michael shouts. “Get back!”

You jerk your head to him and watch as he steps away from the salt he just spilled.

“Michael, don’t!” Vanessa warns a moment too late.

Eclipse sneers. Extending his hand, he speaks. His voice becomes of tongues, lapping and overtaking, but mostly devilish. The air turns sharp and tangy, and the wind picks up, twisting leaves around Michael’s feet. His eyes widened at his mistake.

A flash of horror cuts through you just as Eclipse hurls out a curse.

Michael drops to the ground and begins writhing. You can only catch glimpses of him between rocky headstones, his body twisting and his flesh turning dark and rancid. His body convulses.

A scream tears out of your lungs. You jump to your feet, clutching a hand over your mouth as you witness Michael suffer. Eclipse’s eyes immediately snap at you. Close beside you, a hand brushes your sleeve, cool and blue. Moon. You can’t move.

“Oh, how I’ve yearned to curse your ancestor.” Eclipse leans low, lording over Michael’s writhing form with little more than a delighted glint in his gaze. “He forced my brothers and I upon the gallows. He let us hang slowly. We convulsed and gagged for air, and then we died.”

Eclipse leans closer, hanging over Michael in a taunt. “This is the least I can bestow upon you. Never fear, there is far more punishment to be delivered.”

You’re rooted to the spot. Ice water flows in your veins.

“Come here,” Moon murmurs close beside you. His hand begins to circle your wrist.

“Don’t let him take you!” Vanessa’s voice cuts through the hazy terror fogging your mind, and you jerk back to alertness. You shake off Moon’s hand. His sharp breath of frustration follows as you take off over the graveyard towards Michael.

“Stop it! Whatever you’re doing to him, stop!” you cry out, reaching one hand out. You’re not sure who—Eclipse or Michael.

Eclipse straightens upon his broom. His expression brightens into a pleased, unholy smile.

“Little comet,” he purrs, opening his arms.

“Eclipse, please—gah!” Arms grab you from behind. You hear Vanessa’s voice calling out, furious and demanding, but your feet leave the ground and in a heartbeat, you’re airborne.

“Sunshine, there you are!” The cheerful voice falls over you. Sun continues, “The wretched rabbit is getting her fur all over you! I never did like her, not even as a vermin.”

Large hands maneuver over you, pulling you onto his lap and balancing you in his hold while the broom rides faster, racing over the cemetery and away from everyone else. You gasp. You immediately twist and cling tightly to his shoulders. His hands surround you. His palms rub slowly along your back.

“I’ve got you now,” he declares. His breath, warm and misty, tickles your cheek. “One would think a person would be lonely and bored watching our home for all of these years, but that was what she did when she was mortal at her master’s request. So really, isn’t our curse just a lovely gift for her?”

“Sun!” You tremble. The wind tears at your clothes. You watch the ground become a blur underneath you, and a sickness stirs. “Please, set me down.”

“Not yet, sunshine.” The air changes, and the broom gains speed, pressing you deeper against his chest. “I want you for only a moment. You can say ‘I do’ can’t you? I’ll do the rest.”

“What—wait, wait,” your fingernails dig into the fabric of his cape hanging over his shoulders. The flight is far too fast and you feel far too vulnerable, seated upon his legs as your only insurance you won’t fall to your death.

“Although,” Sun’s fingertips slip under your chin and tilt your face up, “it’s not fair that Eclipse kissed you and I haven’t. We can steal one before the ceremony, can’t we?”

Your tongue becomes heavy in your mouth. You can say little, caught in the torrent of the breakneck speed of the broom as well as the Sun’s sultry eyes devouring you whole. He lowers his mouth to your neck. His other hand caresses your thigh, fingertips touching your flesh with reverent want. Heat waterfalls into your middle. He lowers himself to your shoulder and grazes his teeth against your neck.

You inhale, your breath rattling at the touch of a warm and wet tongue dragging over the tips of your collarbones in the hollow of your throat.

“One kiss,” he half pleads, half demands. His lips brush your jawline in their climb upwards.

“Too fast,” you utter. The world spins and blackness swoops in on your vision.

“I can go slow,” he assures, but when he lifts his head, his smile drops from his lips. “Sunshine!”

The world tilts, and you think of very little as hands grasp at you, but the broom rocks and you slide out of Sun’s hold as a curse rips from his throat. A wretched call rattles your darkening visible, and then, you’re falling.

Your eyelids flutter, and you hardly have a second to scream before a second pair of arms catch you and pull you against a cool chest.

“You buffoon!” Moon snarls right beside your ear. “You dropped our virgin!”

A numbness clings to your limbs. You’re still reeling, slumped in his lap as he rides on his broom at a much safer speed.

“I would not have let death take away our chance at happiness and life and love,” Sun shoots back, not unlike a sibling retort in an argument.

“Go help Eclipse deal with the vermin!” Moon demands in a low growl. Sun snarls something back, but his voice fades in the distance.

You feel the wind shift, slowing down until you’re left to hover in the air. Eyes closed against Moon’s chest, you breathe rapidly. Your shaking hands press tight to his white shirt.

“I will keep you safe,” he murmurs softly into your air. “Step here, little mouse. This mausoleum wasn’t blessed, and it lies outside of the cemetery's boundaries.”

“Okay,” you murmur listlessly. You lift your head, trying to stop the spinning from within. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn but you feel dead grass underneath your shoes as Moon holds you up on your feet. His broom lowers gently to the ground and falls still as if there were no magic to the black wood staff at all.

“Breathe.” He moves you slowly, carefully pressing your back to the solid brick of a small, gray mausoleum. “Apologies for my brother. He is eager to make you our bride.”

Perhaps it only houses a small family. What is their history? Your brain churns over senselessly while the oxygen returns to your head.

Did he say bride?

His hands find your shoulders and pin you in place. Chest heaving, you gaze up at the witch now hovering over you. There is no escape. You smell midnight and something herbal and sharp upon him.

“The vows,” he says. His eyes hold you captive. “You can say the vows to marry us.”

“Marry?” You’re breathless, but you ask all the same, “Why am I marrying you?”

“To have us,” he says, low and husky. He presses closer, caging you with his body and holding you hostage against the cool stones at your back. “You will know everything soon. There is so little time—the witch hunter and the rabbit are trying to spoil everything. Little mouse, look at me.”

You try to avert your gaze, turning your cheek, but his command causes you to buckle.

“I will begin the vows.” Moon presses in closely. His chest is flush with your own, and you fear he can sense the wild fluttering of your heartbeat. You are not cool and suave, and you are still falling, falling, falling.

“Will you take me to be your husband?”

“Moon,” you whisper. “I… I… I…”

His teeth flash. Then, he leans in, pressing close to your ear. A soft flick of his tongue against your cheek draws out a breath from you, just before he begins nibbling on the soft flesh of your earlobe. You gasp. Your hands find him, clinging tightly as flutters begin in your middle.

He releases your ear from his teeth but his mouth remains pressed close to the shell of it.

“Will you take me, so I will obey, serve, love, honor, and keep you in sickness and in health?”

Your knees sink deeper but he refuses to let you slip out of his grasp. His claw hooks the collar of your sweater and stretches it, exposing your shoulder to the starlight.

His mouth lowers there. The press of his lips is soft and cool like a stone smoothed by a river. Your stomach burns with a flame you cannot name. He slowly opens his jaws, first licking your sensitive flesh until goosebumps run down your arms, then ever so delicately pressing his teeth into your shoulder. The tease of fang marks. The promise of more. He does not break the skin, but you mewl under his controlled bite.

He releases you. His hand cups your cheek as he straightens.

“And forsaking all others,” he rasps, “keep you only unto me and my brothers, so long as we both shall live?”

Your bottom lips tremble from emotion. Confusion spins you.

Can you say ‘I do?’ Should you?

Moon softly caresses your cheek with his thumb. His eyes are gentle like pools in the starlight.

“I swear to love and cherish you,” his voice softens.

Your fingers curl around his wrists. He lowers himself to you, and your eyes flutter as his lips brush against yours—

“Get away, witch!”

Your eyes flash open. Moon’s gaze narrows into slits as he turns his head, pressing harder against you and trapping you against the mausoleum until you squirm.

“Michael?” you gasp, peering over Moon’s shoulder, only to choke on your breath.

Over the slight hill from the true cemetery, a creature shambles. Purple flesh clings to bones, arms extended. Shuffling over the gnarled, dead grass, you watch as flesh splits and hangs by threads across his cheeks, exposing his molars. His nose is little more than a nasal bridge and two dark holes. His hair is dark and greasy, and his eyes are sunken, barely left save for black orbs and a single pinprick of light in each, like a lone flame of candlelight.

“What did Eclipse do to you?” You feel faint. “No, no, no, change him back! Moon, please!”

“No need,” Moon steps forward to face your zombified friend. You almost drop to the ground when Moon’s hands leave you. A cold fury radiates around the witch’s cloak.

Bounding over the top of the hill, Vanessa appears. Her white fur is now smeared with dirt and her breaths are sharp and quick. She hops over to you.

“Get up! Michael’s lavenders won’t keep the other two back for long!” Vanessa pushes against your leg, her tiny bunny body doing little to bring strength back to your limbs.

“Michael,” you whisper, clutching your mouth where the witch almost kissed you. “Eclipse has to take away the curse. He has to.”

“He won’t.” Vanessa’s eyes are dark, and hard. “We have to go.”

Your chest is hollow and your head swims. You watch Moon approach Michael in swift, sure steps. Michael’s arms are stiff and crooked, but his rotten fingers curl into a fist. Moon strikes and gouges his claws into Michael’s throat. You watch in muted horror as Moon rips away purple flesh and sinew. A rancid smell spills into the air. You gag, then scream out Michael’s name. The pale, bony column of his throat is exposed.

“You’re interrupting my wedding,” Moon hisses slowly at Michael before lifting his other hand.

Unphased, Michael throws a punch at the witch, and it hits with a burst of lavender petals. A screech drawls out of Moon. He falls backward. You hear the faintest sounds of Moon’s wretched snarls as Michael then awkwardly runs. His leg drags at the shin as if it were broken. You realize it is. Moon howls, clawing at the petals and trying to remove them from his person.

The witch calls out your name. You look back. His red eyes are furious, then desperate as Michael cuts in between the two of you. He brings his good foot down hard on Moon’s broomstick, and it snaps.

Moon screeches and writhes on the dried grass.

“Go,” Michael croaks. You stare at his gaping open neck but he takes you by the arms and hauls you back up to your feet. The scent of death is thick. “Now!”

You stumble, tears filling your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry. I’ll make them change you back.”

“Just run,” Michael huffs, half decayed and struggling. “We have to get to town. We have to lose them. They only have until sunrise.”

Sunrise.

And a ceremony they wish to perform.

#naff's writing commissions #hehe i had so much writing these witchy boys being just their best (worse) selves!#they just want to do a ceremony :)))#hocus pocus au my beloved #witch!eclipse #witch!sun #witch!moon #charm brought it back #naff writing

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pretzel-box · 1 month ago

Text

MDNI | TW: Body Horror, Detailed Graphic Description of Gore. Mention of Needles

Tags: Established Relationship, Devotion, Obsession, TW Tags above

Words: 2,2k

Sebastian Solace could hear your faint breathing in the silence, another form of melody that graced his ears. It was calming and invited him to pause from the burden of the daily life and dream instead. He was sure, your presence alone is like a bright shimmer at the edge of his void world, not blinding but so unbelievable radiant, a glow that pulls him towards your existence like the moon that beckons the tides.

His gaze lingers a bit longer than intended and yet not long enough to satisfy that hunger in his soul. He traced the curve of your form, with a fleeting glance, as you sit at the desk, lost in the pages that stretched out before you. Each turn of the paper is a soft whisper, a delicate flutter that harmonizes with the quiet rhythm of your breath. You are unaware, absorbed in the world between the lines, stories and memories, yet your every movement feels choreographed by the stars themselves—effortless, graceful, like a long lost dream.

Sebastian watches, mesmerized by the way your fingers brush the edges of the book, gentle as if you hold something precious. The faint light spills across your skin, casting a soft halo that wraps around you, an ethereal glow that seems to exist for his eyes alone. In the stillness, you are his celestial body, his guiding star, unknowingly illuminating the vast, shadowed corners of his heart.

Even the way you tilt your head, lost in thought, feels like the subtle pull of gravity, drawing him closer, though he remains in the quiet distance. He wonders if you can feel the way the air shifts around him, how it hums with the silent longing he tries to contain deep inside him. You are his solace, his steady beacon in a sea of darkness, and though you are unaware of his gaze, every part of you seems to call to him, softly and irresistibly.

The way your voice wrapped around his name sent a shiver down his spine, a sensation as delicate as the brush of sunlight after a long storm. "Oh, Sebastian," you had said, and it was as if the very air he breathed had shifted, softened, warmed. There was a tenderness in your words, a gentleness that seemed to cradle him, filling the empty spaces inside his chest.

Your voice, like the wind, swept through the quiet room, curling around him in invisible tendrils, soothing, comforting, and undeniably real. If sound could embrace, then surely this was the closest he'd ever come to feeling human warmth drenched in love. It enveloped him, like the gentle embrace of arms he longed to know. Each syllable lingered in the air, thick with sweetness, as though the very essence of your being flowed through the sound, leaving a trail of honey in its wake.

"Dreaming as always," you teased, your words lilting in a way that felt like a dance. "You surely got your head in the clouds." And oh, how right you were. He was far beyond the realm of mortals, his thoughts soaring high, lost among the stars you unknowingly filled his world with. His heart, caught in the sheer comfort of your presence, was suspended somewhere between the heavens and earth, weightless, adrift. You were not just the pull that grounded him, but the entire sky he yearned to float within, a cosmic force that kept him both dreaming and awake at the very same time.

He smiled faintly, helpless under your spell, for every word you spoke was like stardust falling gently into his soul, filling the dark spaces with light. You had no idea of the gravity you held over him, how your voice alone shaped his universe, a melody that kept him tethered to you, even as his mind wandered through galaxies made entirely of you.

Time passed, yet not a single day saw Sebastian’s love fade or waver. It flowed endlessly, like the ceaseless currents of the ocean, drenching you with his quiet, unwavering devotion. His love became a part of him, woven into the very fabric of his being, shaping every thought and action. He was ready to forsake even the simplest of pleasures, content to immerse himself entirely in the depths of your existence. Every movement, every breath, every word he spoke seemed to carry your name, a silent vow of his love that coursed through him like water through the veins of the sea.

"Hold still," he mumbled softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, soothing and gentle. There was no command in it, just a quiet reminder as he held the sharp silver needle between his large, grey fingers. The metal gleamed faintly in the light of his glowing lure, casting soft reflections across the water. He carefully threaded a piece of red string through the needle’s eye, makeshift and fragile, yet it was all he had. The first aid kits he’d scavenged from the Blacksite over time had long run dry, leaving him with no choice but to use whatever he could find.

Your arm lay before him, a deep gash marring the skin, crimson blood flowing down in slow rivulets, like rain sliding down a windowpane. It pooled on the floor below, dark and heavy in the water. Sebastian’s chest tightened as he worked with quiet precision, his fingers moving deftly, though the sight of your blood filled him with a deep ache.

He wished for better tools, for a world where you would never be hurt, where his hands wouldn't have to stitch your wounds with makeshift threads. But this was the Blacksite, where even tenderness had to survive in the cold, unforgiving depths.

His focus was entirely on you, though he remained silent. He didn’t want you to feel the weight of his worry, the way his heart clenched with every drop of blood that spilled. His touch was steady, careful, as if you were more precious than anything else in this forsaken place. And to him, you were.

Painter’s digital face flickered on the nearby navipath screen, his expression shifting to something indescribable—an emotion too complex for mere pixels to convey, especially on this tiny screen next to the door. He observed Sebastian with a silent intensity, studying the careful way his grey fingers moved as he worked on you. His glowing eyes flickered, tracing the delicate thread being pulled through decaying skin, before his gaze settled on you—on what was left of you.

Sebastian had become a creature of instinct, driven by something darker, something primal. He had torn through the dark halls of the Blacksite with a violence so raw, so brutal, that it left no room for mercy. Mere Limbs were shredded, layers of soft flesh ripped apart as if it were nothing more than paper beneath his hands. Deep crimson blood had flowed like rivers, drenching the cold metallic floors in a sea of red. The stench of rotting bodies clung to the air, thick and suffocating. He had bathed the Blacksite in death, and yet it was never enough.

He needed more.

Your body, once divine, had begun to rot so long ago. The soft skin of your face, once untouched by time, had long since withered away. Maggots crawled through what remained, eating away at your remaining existing flesh that had shriveled up and lost its radiant color, but Sebastian couldn't see it. Or perhaps he refused to. His eyes, dark and hollow in that shade of blue, only saw the memory of you—the beauty you once held, the light you once gave him. He couldn't bear to lose it.

So, he had followed in Urbanshade’s footsteps. He had learned, in the most twisted way, to preserve you. Piece by piece, he replaced what decayed, ripping parts from the bodies he’d slaughtered, stitching them together with thread, with force, with desperation so solid that it became the foundation of his delusion. He practiced, over and over, perfecting the art of sewing until murder became a ritual, a divine act of art in his mind in the name of creation.

Sebastian Solace had turned the Blacksite into his own cathedral of carnage, a place where death and love were inseparable. He had twisted his devotion into something monstrous, into a grotesque form of art where your body, patched and stitched together from the remains of his victims, was his only masterpiece. His love for you had become a relentless hunger, one that consumed him as completely as it had consumed the bodies he tore apart to keep you whole.

And still, he sat by your side, gently stitching, as if he were mending something sacred.

„Sebastian. They are gone.“

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on you, taking in your once delicate features, trying to grasp at the fading remnants of what you had been. But the longer he bathed in your presence, the more your appearance twisted and warped, a grotesque distortion of the memory he clung to. The rosy tint that had once colored your cheeks was gone, replaced by the sickly pallor of decaying flesh. Your skin, that soft, precious surface he had adored, was now peeling, hanging in ragged strips from your bones, exposing raw, festering meat underneath.

His heart quickened, the rhythm erratic as his mind scrambled for answers that weren't there. Where was the gentle glow in your eyes, the light that had once held him captive? Instead, hollow, sunken sockets stared back at him, their emptiness filled only with the dull sheen of rot. The stench of death clung to you, thick and nauseating, wrapping itself around him, filling his lungs with each breath until the taste of it settled heavy on his tongue.

The skin he had so tenderly sewn was slipping, the stitches frayed and torn, unable to hold together the decomposing mass that had once been you. His hands twitched, instinctively reaching for the needle and thread, desperate to fix it, to make you whole again. But no matter how many times he stitched, how many bodies he tore apart to replace the rotting parts, it was never enough. Your flesh, his precious masterpiece, was slipping away from him.

He could see the maggots now, squirming and writhing beneath the layers of your skin, feasting on what remained. The sight turned his stomach, but he couldn’t look away. He needed to save you—needed to preserve what little of you was left. Yet, the more he tried, the more your body melted into something unrecognizable, a grotesque nightmare that mocked his every attempt at salvation.

He broke like glass and died inside from a pain that couldn't be described with words. In the endless blue eyes were a deep reflection of total confusion as all traces of emotional warmth has left his body. Seconds passed, then minutes and somehow he wasn't sure if life really continued in that moment.

“I tried to eat them,” Sebastian whispered, his voice hollow, as if the confession carried no weight anymore, just a haunting echo in the stagnant air. He hovered above the floor, eyes tracing the dark puddle of blood mixed with filthy water beneath him. His reflection stared back, twisted and ghostly in a liquid that wasn’t even yours.

“After they died... I tried to eat their flesh to preserve them,” he continued, almost as if speaking to himself, his words barely audible. His gaze remained fixed on the pool as if searching for something—an answer, perhaps, or absolution. “I started with their neck... I remember, they loved it when I kissed their neck.”

His hand drifted to his mouth, his voice trembling, though his face remained eerily calm. “I sunk my teeth into the cold flesh... tasted the first drop of blood. I pulled at it, gently tearing away the skin, chewing it like it was some delicate meal. But all I tasted was metal—cold, bitter metal.”

His fingers twitched, reaching out to stroke the grotesque, rotting leg of the decaying mass that sat slumped in the chair, a body that barely resembled what it once had been. Painter, from his place on the screen, watched in silent horror as Sebastian caressed the flesh with disturbing tenderness, as if even now he could find traces of the beauty he once loved.

“It wasn’t like them," he muttered, his voice growing softer, more distant. "It wasn’t what they were. All I could taste was death. Cold, tasteless, soulless death.”

His hand trembled as it slid down the decayed limb, his eyes glazed over, lost in the memory. “But I kept eating... trying to find them in the flesh, in the blood. I devoured piece after piece, convinced that somewhere in the rot, they still existed. And then I woke up.”

His voice cracked, the weight of his confession finally settling in. “And I realized, I had tainted their beauty.”

He paused, staring at the ruin before him, his body still, his mind racing. “I wanted them back. So I began sewing. Stitching them together piece by piece. Everything I ate, I replaced. Everything I destroyed, I repaired. I cut away what was lost, what had withered. And everything that was them... everything that had been theirs... I loved.”

His fingers traced the jagged edges of the sewn flesh, a twisted mockery of the love he once held for you. In his mind, he had preserved you, kept you alive, bound to him through his grotesque ritual. But in the quiet shadows of the Blacksite, all that remained was a macabre testament to his obsession—a reflection of the madness that had consumed him.

And Painter realized, Sebastian is still utterly in love with you.

#roblox pressure #sebastian solace #pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader #tw:gore #tw: blood #tw: needles #tw: body horror

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visbabygirl · 22 days ago

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖘 𝖆 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌

summary — your new to the whole 'sex' thing and when your cousin's hen party strolls into a sex store, life gets a whole new meaning - storeclerk!rhea au. pt.2

warnings — smut, inexperienced!reader/experienced!rhea, oral, fingering. men/minors dni

wc — 9.2k?

an - the long awaited part 2! sorry it's taken so long guys!

"so you're the girl rhea's been tellin' us about," the tall boy smirked at you from behind the counter.

"shut up, damian," rhea slapped his arm as a blush came to her own cheeks, making you giggle again. you extended your hand to him, unsurprised at his rough handshake.

"damian." he smiled.

"nice to meet you."

"bout time you bagged a nice girl, hermosa," he elbowed the girl next to him as she clocked out on the computer.

"oh my god, please stop talking," she shook her head in embarrassment before rounding the counter with her things, smiling at you, "you ready?"

you nodded eagerly and followed her out of the store and down the sidewalk, curious as to which bar you would end up going to. each one was slightly different, but for the most part, they were all the same from what she remembered from ariana's bachelorette party.

"any specific bar you wanted to go to?" rhea asked as you made your way down the sidewalk.

"not really. i didn't particularly enjoy any of them last weekend," you admitted honestly.

"how come?"

"it's just not really fun being the responsible one in a group of drunk bridesmaids that you don't even consider as friends," you shrugged with a sigh.

"well, there's one up here that's my favorite. i'm gonna make sure you have a good time tonight, okay?" rhea smirked, "i owe it to you after my creepy approach to asking you out."

"yo be fair, i came back to the store earlier this week cause i wanted to see you, so… i guess we both have a few stalker-ish tendencies," you blushed furiously at your confession.

"at least i'm not the only creepy one," rhea chuckled before grabbing onto your elbow, pulling you to the side, "whoa, watch out."

you yelped a little when you were tugged, but rhea had saved you from walking straight through a puddle of vomit. "ugh gross. thanks," you turned to face her with a grateful smile, a chill running down your spine when the taller girl's hand trailed from your elbow down your forearm until your hands were woven together.

"no problem," rhea smirked, hiding her small victorious grin from you. god bless whatever wasted person stumbled out of that bar. "it's not too much farther."

"okay," you smiled with a shaky breath. only you would be this nervous about holding hands with a girl. it wasn't a big deal. rhea didn't seem to think it was, since she just kept her eyes straight ahead and didn't seem to be having an internal freak out. but if it wasn't a big deal, why was your heart beating a mile a minute?

before you knew it, your hand was empty as rhea opened the door for you, a gracious smile on her face as she ushered you in first.

"thank you," you grinned shyly, stepping into the dimly lit bar. the music wasn't too loud and it wasn't too crowded. but you waited for rhea's lead. your hand itched to be in hers again, and like the mind-reader you were sure she was, rhea took your hand to lead you over to the row of bar stools. you sat down in one carefully, straightening your back and crossing one leg over the other as rhea flagged down the bartender, giving you time to glance up at the chalkboard menu on the back wall. you weren't sure what was going to happen tonight, but you didn't want to get too drunk. you just wanted to loosen up a little.

"hey, rhea," the bartender greeted her when he came over, wiping down the space in front of them, "the usual?"

"the usual for me," she nodded with a smile before turning to you, "see something you wanna get?"

"um, can i just get something small where you can't really taste the alcohol, please?" you smiled, a bit embarrassed. you didn't mind drinking, you were just picky. not to mention alcoholism ran in your family. the bartender nodded and walked away after checking your id, leaving the two of you in your own little world. "so… you come here enough to have a usual?" you laughed nervously as you turned your head to face the dark-haired woman beside you.

"i work here, actually," rhea chuckled, "only every now and then when they need the extra help, though." she watched as you nodded and traced your fingertip along the marble wooden counter nervously, placing your hand up on the surface beside rhea's. "did you have class today?"

"just a morning class," you shrugged.

"do you go to nyu?" you nodded, "what are you studying?"

"psychology. with a minor in child development."

"do you wanna be a child psychologist or something?"

"exactly that," you nodded.

"that's so cool.iI don't think i could handle that. i don't mind listening to people vent, but trying to help them through their problems… just seems like too much responsibility for me. especially for kids. what made you wanna do that?"

"you know that saying 'be the person you needed when you were younger'?" rhea nodded, "i saw that quote somewhere online when i was in high school, still wondering what i wanted to do for college. and the whole child psychology thing just… clicked, i guess. i feel like it would be a very rewarding career."

"yeah, totally. it takes a special kind of person to wanna devote their life to helping kids," rhea subtly ran her pinky along the side of your hand.

your breath caught in your throat as a shiver ran down her spine. "are you in college?" you asked, your voice breaking a bit with nerves, watching as rhea shook her head.

"nah. the whole college thing never seemed right for me. it's way out of my budget, and what i wanna do doesn't really require a degree anyways," she chuckled, thanking the man behind the bar when he dropped off their drinks.

"any idea what this is?" you asked her, looking at the fruity looking drink in the old fashioned glass.

"looks like a vodka sunrise. literally just orange juice and grenadine with a little vodka. it's not strong at all," she shook her head, watching as you swirled it around with her straw before taking a sip, "good?"

"really good, actually. Sorry, i'm kind of picky when it comes to drinks. i'm not a big fan of the taste of alcohol," you smiled, resting your head in your hand.

"i don't judge," rhea chuckled, sipping at her beer.

"so you just work, then?" you cleared your throat, getting back into their conversation.

"pretty much. i do a bit of freelance photography every now and then. weddings, concerts, senior photoshoots, that kind of thing."

"that must be fun. you must be really good if people trust you enough to take pictures of their weddings," you sipped at your drink again, "what's your favorite thing to take pictures of?"

"depends on my mood, i guess. sometimes i just feel like going to the roof of my apartment and taking pictures of the skyline at sunset. i love working with people and letting them be models for a few hours. but weddings are probably my favorite," rhea smiled, picking up her drink and standing up from her stool, gesturing for you to follow.

"why do you say that?" you asked, following her to a table along the wall towards the back corner, slipping into the booth seat beside her.

"i dunno. i haven't really thought about it, honestly. It's probably just the environment. there's just something about weddings and capturing the look on a guy's face when he sees his fiancée start walking down the aisle, or photographing a first dance…. ugh, it just gives me that warm fuzzy feeling, y'know?"

you nodded as that exact same warm fuzzy feeling took over you. maybe it was the alcohol going to your head already. maybe it was the look on rhea's face when she talked so passionately about her hobby.

"but what about you? what do you like to do when you're not at school?"

you blushed as the attention was put back on you, trying to think of what you did in your free time. "i like to draw, i guess. i'm not that great at it, but i enjoy it."

"i'm sure you're amazing," rhea grinned, "do you have pictures of anything you've drawn?"

biting your lip, you nodded and reached for your phone, scrolling through your camera roll for one of the things you'd drawn recently. it was a copy of the portrait of yourself and your mother, taken a few nights before she'd died. you never really shared your art with anyone, but despite your nervousness, you felt comfortable with rhea. pursing your lips into a tight line, you handed your phone over to her, sitting anxiously in your seat as you waited on her reaction.

"holy shit, you drew this?" rhea gaped, glancing between you and the phone, "you didn't trace this or anything?"

"all freehand," you blushed.

"who's the woman? she's cute," rhea chuckled, zooming in on the details.

"that's my mother."

"I see where you get your good looks from," she smirked, making your blush turn a deeper shade of pink.

you wanted to tell her about your mom, about what had happened to her back in high school nearly ten years ago. but the last thing you wanted to do was put a damper on the night like that. you felt awkward enough already.

"you're really talented. that's amazing. if you hadn't told me it was a drawing, i would have thought it was a black and white photo at first glance," rhea chuckled, handing your phone back to you.

"thank you… do you have any of your photos on your phone?"

"all my best work is on my blog," rhea shook her head. "but…that one on the wall right over there," she pointed across the bar to a large framed photograph of the blue boat house, the sun setting behind it. "i took that."

"that's beautiful," you smiled, looking at the photo.

"i guess you could say i've got an eye for beauty," she shrugged with a slight smile, placing her hand gently on top of yours.

you swallowed thickly, slowly turning to face the confident woman beside you. you tried to think of something, anything to say back to her, but everything you could think of made you cringe internally. flirting wasn't exactly your forte. defeated, you just breathed a bit of a laugh and took another sip of your drink with your free hand, trying to ignore how heavily your heart was beating.

"you're not used to compliments, huh?" rhea chuckled, somehow making you feel more comfortable and nervous at the same time.

scrunching your face up uncomfortably, you lowered your shoulders with a deep breath, shaking your head. "i get them, i've just…always had a hard time believing them, i guess," you bit your lip, meeting blue eyes with your own.

"well, believe me," rhea squeezed your hand on top of hers, "it's not just some dumb pick-up line. you're a beautiful girl. fuck whoever made that hard for you to believe."

you felt like water was flooding in your ears as you stared at the serious but gentle look on rhea's face. you found no trace of insincerity in her eyes. "thank you. i think you are, too," you whispered, barely audible over the music and buzz of voices from the surrounding people. rhea squeezed the top of your hand again before leaning back against the booth, propping up her elbow and leaning her head against her hand.

"so tell me more about yourself," she smirked, sipping her beer.

"what do you want to know?"

"something that no one else knows," rhea grinned in a way that sent a chill down your spine, but in a very good way.

you had to think about that one. there were a lot of things about yourself that no one else knew. no one knew you were gay. if they did, they never brought it up to you. no one knew that you were the one who lost your pet hamster when you were eight. no one knew that the boy you dated for five months in high school used to make you feel miserable and ugly every day until you had the guts to break up with him. there were plenty of things you could choose from.

"you were right," you muttered quietly, sipping the last of your drink through your straw, "earlier when you called me a newbie."

"that doesn't count, i already pegged you for someone who hadn't been tied up before," rhea laughed, keeping her voice at a respectably low volume.

"no, i mean, i'm new to…everything."

rhea's brows furrowed in confusion until realization noticeably dawned on her. "wait , are you saying you're a virgin?" she seemed so shocked.

your face scrunched up a bit at that word. the group of girls you called your friends had tormented you with it for so long.

"don't be such a virgin," harper would tease you for not wanting to go out clubbing in high school. she always claimed that it was meant in a loving, joking way. but you always hated it, joking or not. the jokes stopped when you snapped, telling the raven-haired girl, your dreaded ex took your virginity back in high school before he moved back to adelaide with his family. and while you had hoped that the lie would keep harper off your back, she just found new ways to make you the butt of every joke within their inner circle.

"i guess so," you nodded as your eyes shined with tears of embarrassment, keeping them at bay.

"hey, it's not a big deal," rhea scooted closer to you on the bench, placing a hand on your shoulder, "i promise. i was just planning on going with the flow tonight. if something happens, cool. if it doesn't, it's not gonna make me lose interest in you. okay?" she watched with her heart clenched as you quickly wiped a tear from your cheek, nodding.

you stared at the empty glass in front of you and took a shaky breath. thankfully with the bit of alcohol in you, you were calm enough to not be completely embarrassed. but you felt all your worries melt away when rhea wrapped her arms around you in a tight, reassuring hug. you stiffened at first, not used to the affection, but you felt yourself not wanting to let go when you hugged her back. you didn't know what it was about rhea, but you felt like she could tell her anything. the woman was just so naturally approachable, you felt like you'd known her all your life and you could trust her with anything. all this time, you had been waiting for the right person. the right woman. and now here she was right in front of you, holding your hand and rubbing your back, bringing you the comfort you'd always craved. and you found yourself craving more and more.

pulling back, you looked into the warm blue eyes you were already so fond of, shivering as rhea grazed a thumb delicately over your cheek. your jaw slacked, causing your lips to part slightly as you took in the look on rhea's face. you couldn't even describe it. but under her gaze, you felt warmth spread through your body. a warmth that you could curl into, safe and happy for the rest of your life. comfort wasn't something you felt often, but you felt comfortable here with the tattooed, dark haired girl you barely knew.

but regardless of how content you felt in this moment, you still surprised yourself when she leaned in to kiss the pillowy pink lips that looked like they tasted like strawberry candy. a mousy whimper escaped you as you pushed yourself closer, needing to be closer to rhea. the woman's polished fingernails lightly scratched at your lower back under her blouse, pulling you in. you couldn't be bothered to think about anyone else in the bar right now. as far as you were concerned, you were the only ones there. running solely on instinct, you hooked a hand around the back of her neck, gently scratching at the shaved underside of rhea's hair, keeping her close until you had no choice but to pull back for air. you gasped for breath and swallowed thickly, a blush coming to your cheeks as a smirk spread to rhea's.

they sat in silence for a few moments. a stunned silence on your part. you shivered as rhea's nimble fingers tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear, trailing her fingers along the sharp line of your jaw to your chin to lift it gently. "what's on your mind, angel?"

licking your lips, you glanced down at her denim-clad lap where rhea's hand rested on your thigh, lightly playing with the frayed strands from the holes that had been manufactured into the fabric. she had a tattoo of the grim reaper on her forearm, drawn on and shaded like something from your own sketchbook. you ran your own finger against it, tracing the faded outline as she thought of what to say. what was on her mind?

"i want to… with you," you stammered quietly, biting your lip hard as you tried not to cringe at your own words. but you watched as rhea's smile grew as her hands grabbed hold of yours gently, running her thumbs over her knuckles.

"you wanna get out of here, then?" she smirked, the tone of her voice sending another chill down your spine as you nodded eagerly.

your lips were met with rhea's once more before you were being gently helped onto your feet, your hand tightly in the taller girl's safe grip. your mind was racing and you felt like you were floating in water, liquid clogging your ears as you felt light and you She remembered watching rhea talk briefly with her friend behind the counter. you remembered sitting under the florescent lights on the train, kissing the dark-haired girl shyly as pale fingers ran through your hair. you remembered key points, but it was mainly a blur between the bar and where you were now, standing in the middle of rhea's dimly lit bedroom, hands fumbling with the buckle of her studded belt.

your breathing was heavy as the dark haired girl backed you up towards the bed, lowering you down against the soft mattress. it smelled like a comforting mix of detergent and whatever perfume rhea wore. If you weren't busy tossing rhea's belt off the edge of the bed right now, you wouldn't have minded curling up in the warm softness of the comforter.

rhea's lips moved fervently against your own, leaving you breathless and pinned beneath her. a slight whimper came from your throat as the soft lips you were quickly becoming obsessed with trailed down to your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. your face was buried in the thick mane of dark hair as you felt yourself being shifted up towards the head of the bed. rhea had one hand hooked under the bend of your knee, gently easing you up the mattress until your head was rested against the pillows by the wall.

"rhea," you gasped, your voice needy and wanton before you were silenced with a gentle kiss, pale fingers cupping the side of your face. they were warm but felt cool against your hot, flushed skin. you kissed her hard, trying to release any and all apprehensions you were feeling. "please," you whined against rhea's lips, arching your back against her chest.

"please what?" you could tell she was grinning so smugly into the kiss.

"w-want- hmm," you hummed breathily, catching rhea's lips in yours again, unable to get enough.

"tell me what you want, angel," rhea tore her smirking lips away, attaching them to your neck again, kissing a hot, aimless trail against your throat.

"y-you," you gasped, lightheaded and breathless as you whimpered in her ear.

rhea continued the mind-numbing assault on your neck, scraping her teeth against your pulse point before soothing over the skin with her tongue, sending a shiver down your spine. she sat up carefully, straddling your thighs as she brought you up with her. chests flush against each other as rhea took your hands in her own, lacing your fingers together, just squeezing them reassuringly as she stared down into your dark, lust-filled eyes. the pink blush on your cheeks turned a deeper, rosy shade as you averted your eyes and flicked your tongue shyly over your lips.

"it's okay to be nervous you know," she whispered, untangling her fingers from yours to cup your cheeks again, brushing your lips together softly, "you call the shots, okay? i'll do my thing, you just do what feels right to you. but if you want me to stop, tell me to. I promise, it's okay."

you flicked your eyes back up to rhea's, seeing the genuine concern and sincerity in the deep blue orbs. uou barely knew this woman, but you felt like you could trust her with anything. she wouldn't laugh at you or make you feel like nothing. in fact, she felt like rhea had the ability to make you feel everything that your ex never could. all the pain and heartache he put you through, rhea would make you feel just the opposite.

as confident as you were trying to feel, you must have still worn apprehension on you face since rhea cupped your cheeks reassuringly again, grazing her thumbs over the soft, flushed skin before pressing a kiss to your lips once more. "i've got you, okay? you can trust me," she whispered, making your heart flutter in your chest. you'd heard the promise of trust from many people, and not one person, besides your mother, has kept their promise. but you could just feel that rhea would be the exception. you felt it in the way she looked at you and touched you.

"okay," you whispered, nodding slightly before you felt rhea's lips on yours again. you didn't think you would ever get over that feeling, not that you wanted to. "i trust you," you murmured against her lips, your heartbeat picking up speed as rhea took your hands again, guiding them to the hem of her loose tank top before letting go so you could take the reins. with a deep breath, you gripped onto the frayed hem of the tank top, lifting it up slowly as rhea pulled back and raised her arms so you could ease the shirt over her head. you already felt so overwhelmed as you took in the sight of the smooth tattoed skin than had been hiding under the loose cotton material. the lacy black bralette she had on left little to the imagination, but you just knew that once it was off, you would be left breathless once again.

"can i take this off?" the dark haired girl kissed you again, whispering in reference to the guns n' rose shirt you had on. but she made no effort to remove it after a quick nod from you. "this is only gonna work if you're verbal and honest with me, angel," she kissed you again before pulling back to look into your eyes. she tugged gently on the frayed edges, toying with the ends teasingly as she asked again, "can i take this off?"

"y-yes," you nodded again, leaning up to kiss her. your hands roamed curiously along the soft skin of rhea's sides and back as she grabbed the ends of the tank top , pushing it gently off your shoulders. you bent your neck back as the dark-haired girl sat up higher on her knees, giving herself some height over you.

rhea grazed her lips against your jaw, leaving no inch of skin untouched as she took her time memorizing the feeling of your skin against hers. she thought it was cute that the consistent blush on your face seemed to spread to the rest of your body as far as she could see, the pink contrasting with the white lace bra that would have otherwise blended with your skin.

bravely, you ran your fingers up rhea's front from the waistband of her jeans to her breasts, smirking a bit at the feeling of goosebumps rising under your touch. either rhea had sensitive skin or you really had the power to make this girl shiver. either way, you were feeling a little cocky as you pressed your hands more firmly against her chest, your fingertips toying at the edge of the lacy material as you palmed at the full breasts beneath.

"mmm, fuck," rhea grunted, deepening the already heated kiss, gliding her tongue against yours. you couldn't help but giggle, your lips curling up into a smile as you fiddled with the little plastic clasp between rhea's breasts. as confident as you had been feeling, you hesitated, pulling back from the kiss to duck your head so you could see what you were doing. "you can take it off, angel. i know you want to," the taller girl teased, flicking her tongue over your lips as you took the moment to catch her breath.

you bit your lip shyly, undoing the clasp with trembling fingers and removing the bralette with rhea's help. your teeth sank into your lip harder as you gazed over her breasts, swallowing hard. you found yourself at a loss for what to do, but rhea the mind reader took her hands in hers, guiding them back to where they had been before, pressed back against her chest. your heart pounded as you kneaded at them, getting used to the feeling of them in your hands as rhea lulled her head back with a hum of pleasure, boosting your confidence as you explored her body.

"y-you can take mine off, too," you mumbled quietly, just above a whisper, "if you want."

"do you want me to?" rhea lowered herself back to sit on your thighs again, her fingertips already teasing up and down her back near the back clasp of your bra. she smirked when you just nodded, leaning in to kiss her before resting your forehead against hers. "tell me to do it, baby. you call the shots, remember?"

your breath hitched in your throat as your jaw slacked, breathing heavily against rhea's lips that were so close and yet so far. "take it off…please," you whispered, tightening ypur hold on rhea's breasts as if you needed leverage.

"good girl," rhea smirked, her words doing something to you that she'd never felt before. it made you lose your breath and fogged your already cloudy mind as you let out the tiniest whimper, feeling rhea smirk into the kiss she planted on your lips. skilled, nimble fingers trailed tantalizingly slow up your back to where your bra rested against your skin, and before you knew it, you were helping ease the material off, leaving you just as exposed as rhea.

you lost your breath at the feeling of skin against skin. you rarely had physical contact with anyone even with clothes on, and this had you feeling like you were already having a sensory overload. it was comforting , but it sent a chill through you as you found yourself getting more aroused by the second.

rhea eased you down onto the mattress again, kissing from your lips to your neck, slowly and teasingly making her way down to your collarbone. your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. but every kiss and teasing lick rhea placed on your hot skin had you losing it all over again. your hands moved from her perfect, tattooed chest to tangle in the mane of black that was hovering over her chest, tugging gently as she scratched at her scalp.

"fuck, you're gorgeous," rhea grunted, reacting positively to your fingers in her hair as she kissed down the valley between your breasts. ahe teased you with a smirk, trailing her lips up the curves, avoiding the sensitive skin of your nipples as you writhed and whimpered weakly beneath her.

"r-rhea," you gasped, bringing a hand down from her hair to cup her cheek, subtly trying to guide her to where you wanted her.

compliant, rhea chuckled low in her throat, nuzzling her nose against the pale pink nipple at the peak of your breast, closing her lips around it. she held onto the sides of your ribs, trying to keep your from writhing, though it was nice to see you squirm in delight. "you like that?" she smirked, pulling at the pink bud with her teeth and letting go so the taut skin could snap back into place.

"y-yeah," you mewled, nodding your head.

"you want more?"

"mhmm," you must have sounded so needy and desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. your body was on fire and rhea was the ice you needed to cool it down. you cried out when the dark haired girl switched to your other breast, the suction of her lips going from gentle to firm as she pinched and toyed with the one she had just finished with. you tossed your head back against the pillows, gasping for air as you felt every suck and nibble against your sensitive skin.

it was over far too soon, and it took everything you had not to whimper in disappointment as rhea moved her lips back up to yours. you kissed her hard, needy and wanting for more from the aficionado hovering over you. "how you feeling?" rhea whispered, gingerly tucking frizzed out hair behind your ear, gazing down at you affectionately.

"really good," you panted, looking up into the beautiful eyes that were staring down into yours. reaching up, you cupped her face softly, bringing her down for a tender kiss. you were sure that you would never get sick of kissing rhea.

"mm, good," her voice was low and raspy, sending a jolt of electricity to your core as your hips jerked up involuntarily. "think you can handle more?" you bit your lip anxiously, nodding your head with doe eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts. it made rhea's own heart clench before she leaned down to kiss you again. and the kisses didn't stop there. she left chaste pecks and slow, affectionate kisses all over your neck once again leaving no inch of skin unappreciated before she moved down to your chest. she teased at your breasts again, leaving teasing bites and soothing licks on the perky pink buds on her way down.

rhea was no stranger to sex, obviously. she had a natural charisma about her that made it rather obvious that she was a girl with experience. she'd be the first to admit that she had several trysts in the past. she'd taken the virginities of several women, but she'd never felt anything like this with any of them. rhea could play a woman's body like a fiddle, but she found herself caring more about learning your body. figuring out every little thing that made you twitch with need while memorizing every freckle and birth mark on your pastel skin. it was a new feeling and she would be lying if she said it didn't scare her. but she made a promise to you, and she had never been the type to break a promise.

kissing a fiery trail down your torso, rhea eased her way down the bed, her body nestled comfortably between your thighs as she flicked her tongue teasingly into the dip of your belly button, chuckling at the reaction she got. she could feel the your abdominal muscles trembling and clenching with each kiss that she pressed along the waistband of your jeans.

"hey, look at me," she whispered, reaching for one of your hands, tugging gently to get your attention. she stilled her movements until you werre perched up on your elbows, glancing down at her curiously. "tell me if I'm going too fast, okay?"

your eyes shimmered with a glint of adoration as you nodded, biting down on your lip when rhea's skilled fingers reached for the button of your jeans and popped it open. "okay," you whispered, nodding and flicking your tongue over your lips. you could feel your mouth going dry.

with a nod in return, rhea placed a slow kiss to the heated skin below the button of your jeans, teasingly dragging her fingertips under the denim until they were hooked into the sides. she tugged at the material tantalizingly slow as you lifted your hips, propping yourself up on shaky legs to give her a hand. if you weren't blushing before, you certainly were now knowing that your arousal was probably embarrassingly obvious through your white cotton panties.

sitting up, rhea slowly peeled the skin-tight jeans off of your slim legs, dropping them over the edge of the bed as she just took in the sight of you, wet and wanting against the plum colored comforter. humming quietly, she ran her fingers up the soft skin of your legs, scratching lightly at your inner thighs as she crept closer to your aching center. she could practically feel the heat radiating from your core, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't leave her mouth watering. you shivered under her touch when rhea walked her fingers from your inner thigh to the waistband of your underwear. she purposefully avoided your center, giggling when you whined and arched her hips up.

"somethin' you want?" she smirked, rubbing her palm over your flat, quivering stomach.

"stop teasing me, p-please," your brows knit together as you whimpered, arching up again, wanting to feel rhea's touch in the one place you hadn't yet.

"i'm just taking my time with you," the dark haired girl smirked, feigning innocence.

"yeah right," you panted, a light chuckle coming from your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows again.

rhea leaned over you, placing herself between your thighs once again before placing a slow, sensual kiss to your lips, easing you back down onto the comforter. lips tied together in a string of searing kisses as rhea ran her hand up and down your bare side, keeping herself propped up with the other. she traced the lines of your ribs and kneaded at your breast before slowly massaging her way down your torso once more. you held her face in your trembling fingers, sliding your tongue against hers as rhea gave her warm shivers all over.

it seemed like an eternity to you, waiting for rhea's fingers to finally reach the apex of your thighs. and when they did, it was well worth the wait. even through the damp cotton of your panties, you felt like you could come right then and there. your body was on fire and you knew that rhea was only just beginning. it was only the first touch and you had no idea what was in store.

"rhea," you mewled against her lips, your jaw dropping with a gasp as the taller girl palmed your center, giving you the friction you desperately needed. your hips bucked up to meet her touch as she cupped you through the ruined fabric, the heel of her palm rubbing just right against your throbbing clit.

"you're so wet already," rhea hummed, smirking against your lips as she noticed the material dampen even further at her words. meanwhile, you just whimpered into the feverish kiss a blush of embarrassment took over your face once more.

tearing her lips from yours, she slid her tongue along your hot skin, the air conditioning making you shiver as rhea made her descent down your body again. she did as she had with your jeans, kissing a line along the waistband. but while you expected her to take them off next, you were surprised to feel her start to kiss over the pristine white cotton and lace that covered your hips. rhea really knew how to make you feel good and special, even if she was a terrible tease, you appreciated the fact that she was taking her time, going slow with you to warm you up and give you time to adjust. but nothing could prepare you for the jolt of warm electricity that shot through your body when she felt rhea's lips over your clothed clit, lightly sucking through the cotton.

"w-wow," you panted, unconsciously reaching up to grope at your own breasts as the dark haired girl took hold of your legs, bending them up with one draped over her shoulder. your heart was racing more than ever as you felt rhea's hot breath on the warm, wet cotton that covered you.

"god, i can't wait to taste you," rhea whispered, breathing against you as she hooked her finger onto the side of the material, pulling it aside to expose her smooth, rosy pink folds. she couldn't even bring herself to smirk at how you appeared to quiver at her words, only able to focus on trying not to dive right in and devour you until you weren't able to speak. she held herself back, taking her time in leaning in to flick her tongue against your clit, keeping her eyes up to watch your reaction. she held her hands on your hips, keeping you grounded as best she could as your hips jerked up at the sensation.

"this okay?" she whispered, pulling herself away from you only briefly while she waited for an answer, bringing a hand up to rub your clit in circles under her thumb. but you just mewled in response, nodding your head as your heel dug into rhea's shoulder blade. "talk to me, baby, tell me if i should keep going," she mumbled, sitting up on her knees to strip off her own jeans.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to feel embarrassed in how exposed you were. but you couldn't help but close your legs now that rhea wasn't placed between them as if would shield you from potential judgment or embarrassment.

"angel?" rhea's concerned voice sent a shiver down your spine and you could feel her shift up the bed beside you, "hey…baby, look at me." she ran a comforting hand up and down your arm, propping herself up on her elbow, "what's wrong? do you wanna stop?"

"no! no, not at all, it's just…" you trailed off, shaking your head and biting your lip, "embarrassing."

rhea glanced over your face as you averted your eyes, biting her lip before leaning in to kiss you softer than ever before. "you're so fucking beautiful, baby, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. i know it's new and different for you, i totally get that. if you wanna stop or take a break just say the word, okay?" she reached for your chin, holding it gently between her fingers.

"i don't want to stop," you whispered, biting your lip anxiously. your body was still on fire and you were honestly rather upset with yourself for causing this stand-still. "please…"

the dark-haired girl smiled warmly and kissed you again. "i'm gonna take care of you, baby girl, don't you worry," she mumbled against your lips, chuckling at your tiny whimper. she kept her lips on yours, rubbing a hand against your chest before sliding it between your thighs, sliding her fingers through your wet, swollen folds. you shivered as rhea coated her fingers in your arousal, nearly passing out on the spot when the dark haired girl brought those fingers to her lips, sucking the gloss off with a pleased hum that made you weak in the knees.

as if that and the look on rhea's face weren't bad enough, the fact that she leaned in to let you taste yourself on her tongue made you feel like you were floating. your head was spinning with need and you knew it wouldn't stop until you got that release you knew rhea was going to give you.

tearing her lips away, rhea brought her fingers back down to the apex of your thighs as she nipped at your earlobe, chuckling low in her throat as you brought your trembling hands up to cradle one of her breasts bravely. she could feel you getting wetter by the second and she knew she wouldn't last much longer without a proper taste.

with one last slow kiss to your slack lips, rhea laid you back down against the pillows, sliding down your body until she was comfortably nestled between your legs again. she draped one leg over her shoulder again, gently pushing the other one further to the side so the rosy pink flower petals could bloom open before her. her mouth watered as she felt your thighs trembling around her. keeping her eyes on the you above her, she leaned in to flick her tongue lightly against your clit, smirking when her hips bucked. she traced the line of your slit with the tip of her tongue, just barely touching your clit again as you whimpered, trying to squirm through rhea's grip on your hips and thighs.

"r-rhea," you panted, blindly reaching down to grasp one of her hands, feeling like you would float away if you didn't.

"Iive got you, baby, just enjoy," rhea smiled against your folds, placing a gentle reassuring kiss to the spot above your clit before suckling it between her lips. you gasped at the feeling of the sensitive bundle of nerves in rhea's mouth, being laved over by her skilled tongue.

you gripped hard at her hand, your hips rocking into her mouth to the rhythm of rhea's gentle suckling. you were so sensitive, you could feel every bumpy taste bud on her tongue. every breath the dark haired girl took through her nose might as well have been a harsh gust of wind. her tongue lapped at your slit expertly, hot and wet against the your slick skin. "f-fuck," you gasped, raising a hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the moans of pleasure that were escaping you.

"you can be loud, darlin'. tell me how you're feeling," rhea took a hand from her hips to reach up for your arm in an attempt to pull your hand from your mouth, "how are you feeling, baby? am o making you feel good?"

"mmhm," you nodded weakly, your voice sounded so pitiful, "s- so good, i w-want more."

rhea just smirked, sucking your clit between your lips again, a bit more harshly this time. "mmm," she hummed against you, sending vibrations through your body, "good girl." her level of cockiness grew as she tasted the effect of her words, sliding her tongue against your hot, throbbing entrance.

"rhea," you whined, becoming more bold and vocal as the minutes went by, "s-say more things i-like that, p-please." you were practically begging at this point, finding the warm wave of arousal that shot through you at rhea's praise too addicting to deny.

"like what, baby?" the dark haired girl grinned devilishly, bringing a hand up to trace your slit with a fingertip as she kissed around your inner thigh, "like how you're being such a brave girl for me? or how amazing you taste on my tongue?" she held in a chuckle when she felt you shiver as you became impossibly more wet under her touch. "things like that?" she asked, biting her lip as she tickled the underside of your clit with the gentle tip of her finger.

"y-yeah," you nodded, your face twisting in pleasure as you rocked your hips into rhea's simple touch, wanting more. rhea teased your entrance with a single finger sliding it inside only slightly to test the waters as she dragged and flicked her warm tongue against your clit, knowing you were enjoying it. her finger snaked and inched in farther, taking her time so you could adjust. she could feel your walls clenching tightly around the single slim finger, seeming to pull it in more as rhea bit her lip in anticipation. "you feeling good, baby? you want more?" she practically cooed, stroking your inner walls slowly as she placed a second finger at your entrance, not inserting it until she had your permission.

"more p-please," your back arched up desperately, trying to push yourself further against rhea's fingers, "please, rhea. i want more." you never imagined yourself in such a position, and you certainly never imagined yourself being so vocal. but rhea seemed to like it, and god, you loved getting what you wanted. with a high pitched squeal, you bucked your hips up as rhea slid a second finger inside, nearly losing your breath when she curled them up. "th-that feels -ah!" you gasped as the pads of rhea's fingers stroked against a certain spot that had you seeing stars, "oh my god."

rhea relished the sound of your gasps and whimpers, giving herself a mental pat on the back as she felt your arousal leak into her palm from the stimulation on your g-spot. "you're doing so good, baby girl," she whispered, bringing her lips back down to suck your clit into her mouth again, flicking her tongue over the bud quickly as her fingers picked up a bit of speed, "so good."

it was driving you crazy in the best possible way. you felt lightheaded as you tried to control your breathing. but it was hard to control when every flick of rhea's tongue and fingers sent you into overdrive. you weren't sure you were going to last much longer. all you were sure of was that this was so much better than the toy that brought them together in the first place.

propping yourself up on an elbow, your fingers reached down to tangle in the dark strands, raking rhea's hair back so you could watch. you didn't think anything could be better than how the taller girl was making you feel. but to your surprise, the sight of rhea doing what she did so well heightened your pleasure more than you thought possible. just looking into her lustful eyes as she lapped and sucked on your clit had you quaking.

"i want you to come for me. can you do that for me, angel?" rhea asked low in her throat. she kissed soothingly over your thighs, being slow and gentle despite her fingers picking up speed, rubbing against you diligently, "come on, good girl, come for me."

you arched your back again, your hips bucking up into rhea's touch, losing rhythm as rhea sped up. you could feel your own wetness coating your skin, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care or be embarrassed like you normally would be. your breathing became more erratic as your chest heaved. you tried to push yourself further against rhea's expert touch. it was all becoming too much. with rhea's fingers inside you, her kisses and licks against your clit and quivering thighs, her hot breath against you, you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

"r-rheaa," you whined, writhing into her touch as you felt yourself approaching the edge quickly.

"let it go for me, baby, come on," rhea hummed against you, sucking hard on your clit again.

you tugged at her dark hair, pulling her closer as you finally let go. you released a high-pitched cry, unable to hold back as rhea guided you through your orgasm. your hips jerked wildly as you lost all control of your body. even with rhea's tight grip on you, you felt like you would fly off the bed. you tossed and turned as best you could as you rode out your high, never wanting the feeling to end. your cries and moans turned into pathetic whimpers and sighs as you came down. rhea's fingers slowed to a stop inside you, pulling them out carefully, leaving you feeling empty. but she kept her tongue lapping soothingly against your aching folds, cleaning you up in the most nurturing manner as you twitched uncontrollably.

staring up at the ceiling, you tried your hardest to catch your breath, barely feeling rhea moving around beneath you. your whole body felt like jell-o and you had a feeling that it would be a while before you could even move your legs again. kisses were being placed onto your neck and chin before you knew it and it took what little strength you had left to turn your head enough to catch rhea's arousal-covered lips in your own, kissing her breathlessly.

rhea just smiled against your lips and brought a hand up to the side of your face, gently tucking damp strands of hair behind your ear as she kissed you slowly. "you okay?" she whispered, stroking your cheek with her thumb, tangling her legs with yours as she turned onto her side.

"mmhm," you hummed, swallowing thickly as you curled into rhea's arms, trying to hide your yawn in the curve of her neck and pouting at the chuckle rhea gave you in response, pulling back to look at you, "what?"

"you're cute," the dark haired girl shook her head with a grin, kissing you slowly.

the familiar itch of a blush tickled your cheeks as you hid your face again. you wanted to make rhea feel as good as you just had. you just needed a minute to gain back the feeling in your limbs. but your heart dropped when you felt rhea pulling away from you, getting out of the bed. your anxiety was back, telling you that the girl who just blew you away was going to tell you to leave. biting your lip, you didn't question rhea's actions. you just sat up slowly, awkwardly quiet as you wrapped a nearby blanket around you so you could reach for your clothes, your back turned to rhea so the dark haired girl wouldn't see the embarrassment all over your face.

"what are you doing?" her voice made you flinch a bit, despite how gentle her words were. turning your head, you saw rhea back in her loose tank top, holding a grey t-shirt in her hand as she stood confused at the side of the bed.

"i- i thought you would want me to leave…" you bit your lip, holding the blanket firmly to your chest.

"no, i was just grabbing something for you to sleep in…if you wanted to stay, that is," rhea shook her head, holding out the t-shirt to you. she didn't usually let people sleep over, but you were different. she still wasn't sure how or why, but she knew that she didn't want you to leave so soon.

with a shy smile, you nodded, reaching for the shirt and slipping it over your head, inhaling the scent of rhea that clung to it. "thanks," you muttered, following her lead as you got under the covers and laid down against the pillows, "wh-what about you, though?"

"i can wait," rhea shrugged with a smirk, leaning over to kiss you again, "tonight was about you. and fuck, you were amazing."

"so were you," you giggled shyly, "i didn't think feeling like…that…was possible."

"you deserve it," rhea smirked against your lips, moving down to place a line of comforting kisses against your neck, "het some sleep, angel. not to toot my own horn, but i know you're exhausted." She chuckled a bit into your skin as you smiled against the shell of her ear.

"thank you," you yawned, not bothering to hide it as you laid your head down, falling asleep almost instantly with rhea's hands tracing random patterns on your lower back under the t-shirt.

#mami rhea #rhea ripley #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #wwe raw #wwe smackdown

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verbenaa · 10 months ago

Text

so that i may dream tonight

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

It was a special torture to be unable to touch him, you decide. You want nothing more than to brush your fingers through his curls as you come, to caress the delicate point at the top of his ears, feel the smoothness of his skin on your fingertips.

It feels absolutely filthy, to be tied up like this, your pleasure left to Astarion’s will as you are powerless to simply lay in wait for whatever he has in store.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life!

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 9.1k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: body worship, massage, blow jobs, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, light bdsm, vampire bites, discussion of safe words, vaginal sex, vampire sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, soft dom astarion, TAILOR ASTARION

𝑎/𝑛: I'm back with round 2 baby and somehow its 2k words longer lol. ANYWAYS, this is incredibly indulgent and warm and sexy and INTIMATE. I'm literally screaming. I truly don't know how this ended up so long but oH WELL. anyway, I hope you enjoy reading! below is the a03 link too if you'd prefer to read over there!

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

The water is warm against your skin as you lean back against the edge of the wooden tub, hair arranged in a loose pile barely contained with haphazardly placed gold pins as you recline, your eyes wandering up to greet the carved beams of the ceiling that sit resolutely above you.

It had been a decidedly long day, working deep within the walls of the city beside Wyll, who it had been altogether wonderful to see again after such an extended period. You still weren’t entirely sure why the two of you had been summoned together to help manage Guild politics of all things, but you suppose that this was simply the nature of your semi-recent and highly publicized acts of heroism.

The tension had built up in your body throughout it all, leaving you more ready for the respite of your home than usual. It had been quite some time since you had spent so many hours in the daylight, the warmth of the sun on your skin never unwelcome, but a rarity you were no longer so familiar with. The deep, velvety blue that marked the night sky had long since become associated with your waking hours, the twinkling stars a welcome companion from their place high above your head.

Your mind wanders aimlessly through a myriad of thoughts, barely focusing on one before jumping quickly to the next faster than you can keep up with. With a deep sigh, you attempt to center yourself, though anything that even closely resembled the act of meditation wasn’t your strong suit. You manage to keep it up for a minute before giving up with a roll of your eyes as you instead move to stare blandly at a botanical tapestry hanging on the wall across from you, the calming greens of woven plants blending into one another.

You lose yourself to your musings once again, going over your day and what was to come, trying to make sense of it all, mind drifting from thought to thought as you luxuriate in the lavender scented water Astarion had so kindly readied for you.

Time passes, though you aren’t quite sure how long, the water losing its steam and the soothing heat finally subsiding, drawing you away from your imaginings and you reluctantly find yourself back in the present with a long-suffering sigh. Your head raises from its resting place on the side of the tub, the stretch of your spine drawing an appreciate groan from you as you sit upright.

“All that work for a hot bath and you’re already done?” You turn to glance over your shoulder at Astarion from where he rests indolently on the bed, clad only in a pair of loose silk pants and book held aloft in an elegant hand, looking for all the world a king presiding over an invisible court as the sheer canopy that surrounds the bed blows lightly in a breeze from the open window.

“Apologies to any sore muscles hurt in the act of carrying buckets of water.” You flash him a wink as you roll your head from side to side, stiff muscles protesting the motions.

“Shall I try a more…aggressive approach towards reheating, love?” He holds a hand up, ready to set spark with the inherent elven magic that runs through his veins, a incredibly familiar devious smile on his lips. It was terribly easy to forget he had such skills sometimes, when those hands seemed so much more well-suited for tasks of a more cunning nature.

“I’d rather you not accidentally turn our only tub to cinders, if you don’t mind.” Your raise a brow and fix a look back at him, daring him to try such an act.

“Suit yourself, darling.” He sends a smirk your direction as you turn back to face forward in the bath, his eyes never straying from your form as he watches stray droplets of water make trails down the exposed skin of your neck.

In a last ditch effort to prolong your bath, you push your body under the water until only your head remains above, intent to grasp at the last vestiges of warmth the water will offer before you move to stand.

The water sluices off your form as you emerge, dripping over the fullness of your breasts and rushing down your belly in smooth rivulets that fall back into the swirling bath below. Steam rolls off your limbs as your body meets the coolness of the air, skin still tender from the heat as you make to step out of the tub and onto a small stool, grabbing at a folded towel left nearby. Limb by limb, you make to gently pat at the wetness clinging to you, the tiny beads of water like little crystals decorating your skin, before settling the towel to rest over the top of the partition screen.

You make your way over herringbone floors on raised toes, trying to avoid any stray drops from falling onto the wood beneath your feet. Only a moment passes before you finally feel the soft weave of a rug against your feet as you find yourself at your destination.

The shared dressing table sits in front of the bed, wood worn with years of use as a collection of multicolored jars and vials of oils rest on a painted tray strategically placed to hide the worst of the wear. A silver hairbrush rests beside the tray, carefully maintained with no sign of tarnish on the intricate design of the handle, clearly well loved through the years.

The air is refreshing against the your warmed skin as you reach for a small glass vial at random, the viscous amber of the oil inside swishing from side to side as you bring it to your hand. You uncork it with familiar motions and pour the scented oil into the palm of your hand, careful not to spill any onto the patterned rug beneath your feet.

With small, sweeping motions you rub the oil into your skin, mindful to try to reach every inch you can, the scent of bergamot and jasmine (one of Astarion’s curations, surely) filling the room with an easy and familiar warmth. You pay no mind to anything other than your self-care, allowing your focus to settle wholly on the act and nothing more.

Astarion is near silent as he rises from the bed behind you, moving with ethereal grace towards your naked form. You don’t take notice of his presence until he is upon you, the feeling of his cool, muscular arms wrapping around your waist from behind causing a noise of surprise to tumble from your lips.

The feeling of his cool skin against the warmth of your own makes you jump, nipples hardening and gooseflesh rising on your arms as his hands brush against your belly in affection. His angular jaw comes to rest on your shoulder, nose skimming the elegant column of your neck as he presses in close.

“Need any help, darling?” The words brush against the shell of your ear, his lips touching your skin with every word uttered as the hands wrapped around your waist tighten to bring you even closer to his own form.

“Well, if you’re offering, how could I say no?” You relax into the embrace of your lover, his hands sweeping up and down the flesh of your stomach before finding their way to your tense shoulders.

His hands are a balm on your skin as he rubs the remaining oil into your skin in soothing circles, fingers lightly massaging at your sore muscles. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as your eyes close at the sensation of his hands on you, reveling in his attentions with a contented hum.

“Why such a bad day, dearest?” Astarion’s question is genuine as he glances up from your skin to glimpse your expression as he waits for your reply.

“Hm, not quite so bad as long. I think I’m out of practice at this whole hero thing.” Your words are a sigh as his hands work at the muscles of your shoulders, thumbs digging in to release the tension sitting heavily there.

“I don’t blame you. A day with Wyll’s tireless chivalry would push me to my limits as well.” You snort in response at his supposed honestly, though frankly you are inclined to think he might actually like Wyll for his eternal kindness, but you know he’d never admit such a thing out loud.

Astarion gathers more oil in the center of his palms before his hands continue, moving from your shoulders to your arms and onward, to the curve of your lower back and around the circle of your hips; careful to never press hard enough to cause pain but with enough pressure to relieve your tired body. His thumbs press into the muscles with precision, you body becoming more lax with every pass of his hands.

Astarion lowers to his knees behind you when he is satisfied with his progress, hands skating over your rear as they make their way down your legs, nothing less than reverence in the motions as he smooths his hands down and then back up the skin of your thighs and calves, intent to touch every inch of skin available to him.

The movement of his hands on your legs, brushing high on your thighs brings a subtle heat alighting inside you, barely a flicker, but just enough for the feeling of arousal to start deep inside much to your slight embarrassment for hoping such innocent touches would turn into more.

There’s a sudden shift in his touches, you realize, Astarion’s motions transitioning from methodical to subtle teasing with every pass, daring to go a little higher on every turn up your thighs before darting back down again to more neutral territory. You shift slightly at the feeling, wishing for more but refusing to acknowledge the urge to push your thighs together to ease the slow growing ache.

Astarion must take notice, you think, so close to the warm center of your body, must be able to smell the soft embers marking the start of your arousal. His hands finally stop their ministrations, moving instead to grasp around the bones of your hips as he presses a single kiss to the base of your spine, before pressing another right above it. Slowly he begins to rise, kiss by kiss, as he follows the line of your spine from your hips upwards; lips moving to touch the back of your waist, the space between your shoulder blades, the base of your neck.

His lips are as cold as winter air yet they feel like a brand with every press against the column of your spine, stoking the fire deep inside your core with startling ease.

He raises back up to his full height, his hands draped around your waist once more as he leans in to press a kiss against your cheek, drawing hypnotic patterns against your lower belly knowingly. You lean back into his kiss, head tilting, and rest your body back against his own. As you put your weight into his safe embrace, you feel a familiar hardness pressing lightly against the bare skin of your ass, covered by the same luxurious silk as the pants he wears low on his hips.

Your lips curl, victorious at your discovery and you bring your hands to cover his own where they rest on your stomach before drawing one up along the sinew of his arm to instead press against to the solid expanse of his abs.

Daringly, you move the hand lower, fingers dancing over the dip of his hips to brush against the subtle erection pressing against his silken pants. Astarion’s body bucks into your own at your touch, the hands around your waist suddenly gripping harder as you continue your exploration.

“If those hands of yours keep wandering, you’ll leave me no choice but to tie them up, darling.” His words are teasing, a gleam of affection in his claret eyes as his head moves low to nip playfully at your throat.

You quirk your brow at such a delicious idea, and with a purposeful motion your hand presses harder against him, finger tracing the curve of his cock with mock innocence.

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, it’s a very poor one.” You lean your head to the side, giving more room for his lips to move against.

Astarion lets out a disappointed sigh, one hand sliding up from your stomach to palm at your breast, squeezing lightly as he runs a thumb over the nipple in response to your shameless disobedience. His other hand travels lower, fingers brushing past your stomach to reach between your legs and glide through the wetness he finds there as he lets out an audible tsk, the beginnings of your arousal decorating his fingers as a low moan escapes your lips.

“You just never learn, do you?” You gasp at glide of the oil on his fingers against your skin as Astarion weighs your breast in his palm with one hand, the other pressing lightly against your clit, your back arching at the sensation. Your pleasure lasts but a moment, Astarion’s hands moving back to hold at your waist once more, and you whimper at the loss.

He walks the few short steps backwards towards the bed, pulling you in tow until his knees meet the soft edge of the mattress and he lets himself fall backward, taking you with him.

Your bodies land to rest upon the blankets with a soft bounce, Astarion’s arms still around you as a small laugh bubbles up from your throat. It only takes a second for you to quickly turn in his arms, pressing your naked breasts against his bare chest as your eyes meet his own in mirth.

His hands never leave your waist, fingers dancing up the curve of your spine as your legs find their place on either side of his hips. You let your body melt into his own, quick to begin to press kisses into the expanse of his chest below you. Your lips make their way towards his neck as you push yourself up to straddle him, his hands falling to rest on your thighs where they bracket his hips.

The growing wet of your core presses against his lower stomach and the feeling of your arousal on his skin does not escape his notice. With a feline smile, the hands on your thighs make their way back to your waist and with the lightest of pressure, Astarion encourages you to move your hips.

Your breath catches at the feeling as you move to work with him, his hands guiding you back and forth to grind yourself against his chiseled stomach as the hands on his chest steady your movements. Astarion’s eyes meet your own as he helps you along, each slow brush of your clit against his skin has your pleasure building, your lips falling open as your desire multiplies.

Astarion moves a hand up your body as your hips find their cadence against him, only stopping when he reaches the curve of your breast, brushing a finger lightly along the full bottom of it as your hips undulate against him.

“You’re so very beautiful like this.” His eyes are molten with mounting desire as he watches you move back and forth on his body, your nipples pebbling under his touch and your wetness growing with every pass along him.

“I could say the same to you,” You hips move with seductive grace, gliding across him. “It’s quite a treat to have such a beautiful man like yourself beneath me.”

Astarion brings his wandering hand back to your empty hip before drawing it farther down to press against the place where your slick glistens against his pale skin. He draws a finger through the dew he finds on his abdomen, gathering it on a fingertip before pressing it into his mouth to lick at your arousal.

“Delicious, as always.” His eyes are the deepest of garnet, sensuous as they meet your own.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight, empty core clenching with want as an idea forms in your mind, one that promises certain pleasure to you both. Swiftly, you lift yourself off his chest to slide lower, your dripping folds brushing against the silk covering his cock, darkening the fabric before you continue down until your knees touch the ground before the bed. Your sudden change of position has Astarion leaning up onto his elbows, watching you intently as your hands run up and down his covered thighs.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You meet his eyes, a coquettish smile on your lips as your hands move higher, brushing dangerously close to his hardness. You lean your head in and lick lightly against a slight dampness you see on the silk, eyes never leaving his as Astarion’s hips jump and a sigh breaks from his lips.

“Do you want me to?” Your question is genuine as you move your head away from his erection, giving him space to answer as your eyes gaze at his elegant features, waiting for his blessing.

“Do your worst, darling.” His lips take on their trademark roguish grin in response to the sly one now decorating your own. The sight of you on your knees before him is always a welcome one, and he would be remiss to deny such a gift of pleasure from you.

Astarion moves to sit, intent on not missing a single moment as he helps you free his hardened cock from the silk of his pants in a flurry of movement before they are discarded onto the floor, soon to be forgotten entirely.

“It would be my honor.” The words leave your lips moments before they press against his newly uncovered heat, searing kisses moving against the vein running from the crown to the base of him. You lick greedily at the precome leaking from the tip before laving your tongue along the head of his cock, a hand coming to brush lightly against the base before your fist closes around him.

You feel his hands in your hair, nimble fingers finding the golden pins barely holding your hair up before throwing them to the side with surprising accuracy, until they’ve all but disappeared under furniture never to be found again. Your hair falls in a messy curtain around your face, Astarion quick to brush through the errant locks as your mouth works him.

Astarion lets you move at your own pace, basking in the feel of your soft lips and clever tongue working around his cock in fluid motions as the moans that fall from his lips spur you on, urging you to take him deeper, to love him harder. Your hand helps your actions, making sure to keep contact where your mouth cannot easily reach, eager to bring him to the brink.

You hollow your cheeks as you suck at his cock, his eyes closing in pleasure as the hands in your hair tighten in time with his moans. You break off his length with a pop, taking in a lungful of air before you lavish his erection with your tongue, the same hand still massaging him at the base.

There were few things better than this, you can’t help but think as your tongue flicks at the head of his cock again, the feeling of bringing Astarion to the brink of pleasure with your mouth as he loses himself to the feeling nothing less than exhilarating.

You lips wrap around him once more, taking him as deep inside your mouth as you can manage, the tip of cock near the entrance to your throat as you gag slightly, eyes watering in response. Your head moves back and forth as you take him as deep as you can manage, intent on tasting his come, until you feel the hand in your hair moving.

Fingers caress your cheek, brushing against the tears staining your skin as you hear Astarion speaking, your mouth slowing to a stop.

“Enough, darling,” his words are strained with effort, Astarion barely managing to hold back from coming on your tongue as he speaks them.

You break away from him the minute you hear the words, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his cock remaining as you bring your eyes to look up at him in question. Astarion groans at the sight, breathing heavily.

You feel his hand come to rest around your upper arm, curling around the lithe muscle there as he gently pulls you up to stand in front of his seated form. Astarion’s breathing is heavy as he looks you up and down before pulling you into his lap, your knees resting on either side of his own as his hands touch everywhere they can, your own coming up to cup his cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Your fingers brush against the planes of his face as it rests in your warm hands.

“Oh, I’ve never been better darling,” he leans into a palm, head tilting with the motion. “I’m just not ready to be done with you yet.”

His admission has heat surging in your belly with anticipation, a smile on your lips as you lean in to press them to his own. Astarion responds in kind, the hands on your body pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip in a bid of entry.

You open your mouth to him, his tongue caressing your own as your lips move against each other’s, the kiss passionate as you pour you love and desire into it. Astarion breaks the kiss first, hands squeezing at your hips as he gestures with his chin towards the plush pillows sitting at the head of the bed.

“Up you go, my sweet.”

You are quick to react, getting out of his lap and moving your body up the bed as his eyes follow you, your oiled skin brushing against the linens as you make to lay your head upon a pillow resting there, the crochet trim tickling at your nape. You arrange yourself with ease, hoping to look as though you were the picture of obeisance as you wait for him to follow.

Astarion gets up from his place at the foot of the bed and pauses, his gaze running over your body as you lay there in wait for him, perfectly poised in the middle of your shared bed. Your skin glows with the leftover hint of oil still remaining, the shine of it reflecting in the moonlight that dances in through the intricately paneled windows, tracery-like shapes reflected onto the floor the same color silver as his hair.

With that thought Astarion moves away, footsteps taking him instead to his bedside table, pulling open the carved wood front to search for something within. You resist the urge to peek, content instead to wait for him to show you whatever it is he searches so intently for. Finally, Astarion seems to find the item of his fancy and he rises to his full height with the treasure in hand.

It’s a length of delicate pink satiny ribbon; clearly brought here from his studio, perhaps the leftover from some long-finished project. But maybe, maybe, he had been waiting for a very specific opportunity to arise, and the idea that he had envisioned such a thing brings a fresh wave of heat to your center. You can only hope he is willing to make good on his earlier threat and use such a beautiful material.

“Do you trust me?” The thick ribbon dangles in curls from his elegant fingers, the candlelight illuminating the highlights of the satin a luminous hue.

“With my life.” Your response is quick, slipping from your lips with ease as you gaze at the figure he cuts, moonlight coming in the window in silvered beams illuminating the lines of his body.

Your move your arms up to rest around your head where it lays on the pillow, wrists delicately crossed above your hair like a halo as you follow Astarion’s form as he moves toward where you lay waiting.

The bed dips down where he kneels upon it as he swings a leg over you, his body hovering over your hips as he leans forward to grasp at your wrists. Astarion works quickly, clever fingers moving faster than you can follow. You don’t take your eyes off his face, intent to watch the thoughts as they cross his features. Within moments, he has finished as fast as he started, moving off of you to stand instead at the foot of the bed to watch as you test the bindings. There is give in the ribbon, naturally, you know Astarion would never bind you so tightly you couldn’t truly move or escape unless you were to ask for such a thing. The lack of motion, the ability to truly be unable to do much of anything with your hands or arms is a sensation that feels as strange as it does alluring.

Astarion looks down at you, examining his work as his eyes move to take in every inch of you, from the sight of your hands bound together with that demure pink satin tied in a neat, tidy bow and thoroughly secured to one of the carved freesias that decorate the wooden headboard to the way your body lays waiting for him in loving submission. You are a vision for his eyes only, the sheer image of you like this is sure to be burned into his mind for eternity, something he will see in his dreams for a millennia to come.

“Now, what ever am I to do with such a pretty, lovely thing like yourself?” The way Astarion’s eyes travel over your form makes your thighs rub together on instinct, his heated gaze ratcheting up your arousal as you force yourself to let your legs fall open for him to see the evidence of your anticipation.

He moves to kneel on the bed at your feet, eyes glued to the sight of the damp clinging to your center. Gingerly, you reach out a bare foot and rest it against the center of his chest, toes daintily pressing into the bare skin there, eager for any connection with him you can get.

Astarion eyes move to glance at your offering and he wastes no time, a hand coming to grab at the foot resting on his sternum, fingers quick to trace the delicate arch with a light touch. He leans his head to press a kiss to the top of your foot before moving further up your leg, pressing kisses to your ankle, your calf, the space behind you knee.

“You look terribly lovely like this, darling, all tied up and at my mercy.”

His kisses continue their exploration, light brushes of his lips touching your thigh, the gentle softness of your stomach, the valley between your breasts before ending their journey against your neck. Astarion’s body rests between your open thighs as his lips caress the skin of your neck, his cock hot against your lower stomach. Your arms shake against their bonds, aching for the ability to touch him where he lays against you.

“Did you come up with your word, darling?” His voice is a whisper against your neck, his tongue licking at the places where his fangs have left scars as you recall words from a prior conversation. An exchange of words, he had said, to let each other know our comfort level.

You nod your head, wrists flexing slightly against the ribbons as you try to hide a teasing smile, unable to resist such an opportunity to fluster him with your answer despite the headiness you feel. “Blingdenstone Blush.”

Astarion scoffs at your choice, head coming up from your neck to shoot a look your way, noticing your poorly hidden smile with the raise of a brow.

“Could you pick anything more terrible?”

“Well, initially I was going to go with Bullywug Trumpet but it doesn’t quite roll of the tongue, now does it?” Astarion rolls his eyes at this, mouth curling up with distaste as he mutters something along the lines of unbelievable or is normalcy truly so much to ask for? under his breath.

“I am very open to discussing other word choices though, if you so desire. After all, there are so many mushrooms we could choose from.” Your smile is sly as you raise your eyebrows in amusement.

“Is a discussion on mycological nomenclature really what you want to be talking about while I have you all trussed up and ready to be devoured, darling?” Astarion’s hips grind into your own, driving home his point with little delicacy.

“Fine, you make a fair argument. Please do continue your previous exploits, sir.” A brief look flits over Astarion’s face at your use of such a word, gone as fast as it comes. The slight twitch of his cock against your skin, however, is far more telling.

“Hmm? Sir? Should I be looking to expand my vocabulary or—“ You move against your bonds to roll your hips back against your own in response, though Astarion is quick to cut you off when his mouth lowers to your breast, tongue circling the nipple, silencing any further conversation from you.

“That’s enough out of that clever mouth of yours for now, sweetest.” He rests his head against your breast, nipple damp as his eyes find your own.

“Sunmelon,” The word is a sigh on your lips. “We can go with that.”

“Consider it sorted, my love,” He presses a light peck at the swell he lays his head on before continuing. “Now, forget about your day, darling, and let me make you feel good.”

Astarion seals his words with a kiss to the space where your heart beats in your chest before moving to capture the nipple resting below, his tongue circling the peak with precision.

The motion has your back arching, pressing closer into his waiting mouth, and Astarion does not relent as he alternates between flicks of his tongue and closing his lips around to suck. Your hips jump at the sensation, fresh heat rushing to fill the space between your thighs.

Astarion moves his attentions to your neglected breast, as thorough in his ministrations with it as he was its twin as a hand comes up to brush against the damp nipple recently abandoned. He is resolute in his actions, paying no mind to your rolling hips searching for stimulation.

The feeling of his cock resting against the skin of your stomach is maddening when you want its heat so badly to fill you, Astarion’s motions against your breasts driving you higher and higher with every pass of his tongue. His hands trace down the contours of your body reverently as his mouth continues its exploration at your chest, hands moving to wrap around your arched back to grab at the flesh of your rear.

He aligns his hips with your own as his hand squeeze at your ass, his cock pressing against your folds as he grinds at your center, drawing a ragged moan from both your lips. The dual stimulation of his lips on your breasts and his hardness against your weeping cunt feels euphoric, breathy whimpers escaping with every brush of him.

With a pop, Astarion breaks away from your nipple, his lips making their way north towards to mouth at the column of your throat. He kisses everywhere he can, his lips tracing the red of the blood in your veins as his hips continue their slow roll.

He licks a stripe up a vein to press his lips against your ear, tickling the lobe with his tongue, the eroticism of the touch bringing a shiver to your naked form.

“You’re absolutely perfect.” Astarion’s words are reverent, lips pressing soft kisses to the spot behind your ear as you whimper at the sheer adoration in his voice. Your hands writhe against their bonds, aching to touch him, to run fingers across the lines of shoulders and to bury them in his silver curls.

His hands leave the skin of your rear, fingertips pressing in as he drags them up the expanse of your back before settling them to rest on your hips as his tongue licks down your neck before changing course to press kisses down to your chest.

Slowly, Astarion makes his way down your body, kissing as he goes, every touch alighting your body with fire. His lips trace the skin below your belly button as his hands move to spread your thighs apart, settling his body between your open legs.

Astarion mimics your earlier action, pillowing his head innocently on the plushness of your thigh as he glances up at you from his place between your spread legs, a finger running up and down the skin there absentmindedly as he takes in the sight of you from this new angle; your dewy folds, the softness and warmth of your body, the light pink of the ribbon wrapped around your wrists practically iridescent in the dim light.

“As pretty as a painting.” Astarion sighs, adoration spilling from his lips, as the finger drawing lines makes its way up to run through your wetness in a barely there caress, collecting the arousal on a fingertip before moving to press lightly against your entrance. His finger brushes light circles, tracing the ring of muscles before dipping inside your heat. The warmth of your body draws a hiss from Astarion as he pushes that finger deeper, meeting no resistance as it sinks in to the knuckle, your moans filling the room.

He watches, entranced, as his finger disappears inside you before he draws it back out, bringing a second finger to join as they plunge back in. Your entrance weeps with the movement of his fingers, the coolness of the skin against the heat of your body only serving to contrast the feeling more. Your legs fall open farther the deeper Astarion’s fingers go, the dive of them in and out driving you closer to your orgasm.

Your moans are pure sin as they fall from your lips, the sight of Astarion between your legs, as he watches his fingers slowly disappear inside your body with such intent drive you higher towards your completion.

It feels absolutely filthy, to be tied up like this, your pleasure left to Astarion’s will as you are powerless to simply lay in wait for whatever he has in store. The feeling is intoxicating, more than any wine could ever hope to be. You certainly never expected that being denied the ability to touch would put your other senses on high alert, the scent of your own arousal evident in the air of the room, the sound of your wetness loud to your ears with every movement of his fingers.

Astarion’s eyes flash to yours in the same instant his fingers start move faster, beginning to piston in and out of you faster. With every plunge in, Astarion crooks his fingers just so, perfectly placed every time to brush against that sweet spot deep inside. Your cunt clenches around him, intent to draw him in, to keep him there, as your orgasm draws nearer and nearer.

The precipice of your orgasm is right in front of you, the warmth coursing through your veins in its nearness and you begin to let yourself fall into the feeling of it, Astarion driving you closer and closer towards your high until you feel the sudden emptiness of his fingers leaving you, ripping away the pleasure that was so closely awaiting you and your orgasm disappearing into the ether. Your mouth falls open in a cry, head tilting up from its place on the pillow to look down upon him in utter surprise as he rests between your legs.

“You know, I never did repay you from the other day in the studio. Surely you remember denying me my orgasm, hm?” The words are sly, brimming with confidence as you whine at the loss of his ministrations.

Astarion’s fingers press into your waiting body once more when he is confident your orgasm has disappeared, your sensitive cunt still weeping, curling inside to press against your g-spot. His fingers don’t leave your body this time, instead staying seated firmly inside you where he can manipulate them to curl into the area over and over again. Your pleasure ratchets back up faster than you can follow, your head thrown back against the pillow in ecstasy, eyes closed as your lashes dust against your flushed cheeks.

Astarion leans his head in towards your waiting core, pressing soft kisses to the area around your clit, careful to never touch it all the while he remains intent on breaking you apart on his fingers.

He never stops the motions deep inside, curling with ruthless efficacy to leave you hanging on the precipice as his lips begin to work their way back up your body until they meet your lips.

Your eyes open as he presses his mouth to yours, blinking through the slow haze of pleasure building as his forehead comes to rest against your own.

“Word, darling?” Astarion fingers never slow, but his eyes are clear as they gaze into your own.

“I’m alright, I promise.” Your words put him at ease as you raise your head slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, your hips rolling against his hand. Astarion returns the gesture, kissing at the high point of your face before moving down the softness of your cheek to your neck, finally stopping to rest his head against your collarbone.

“Good, because I’m not done yet.” He punctuates his words by stopping his fingers, keeping them warm deep inside your body but no longer allowing them motion, cutting off the burning pleasure you were once again so close to. You keen at the loss, bucking your hips in an attempt to regain it, willing to fuck yourself on his fingers if that was what it took. Astarion doesn’t give you the chance, pulling his fingers from your body to press them against your clit instead.

Your breath comes in shaky moans, body desperate for the chance to finally come. Astarion doesn’t relent in his quest though as he brings you to the peak once more with his fingers moving against your clit, giving your poor core a break as his lips press against your bare skin anywhere they can. He licks at your nipples, nips at the dip of your waist with his fangs, kisses the juncture where hip meets thigh. Always so good, beyond good, but never enough to bring you careening over the edge as his fingers diligently press at the pearl between your thighs, Astarion careful to halt when he notices you moving too close to your orgasm.

Your breath comes in uneven moans, your mind delirious with pleasure, both given and denied, when at long last Astarion’s lips and hands leave your body, their absence stark.

With elegant movements, Astarion moves back from your body, intent to simply watch you from his place near your feet, his pale skin like carved marble as he settles back to rest on his heels against the soft plush mattress as he watches you, his gaze considering.

Your skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat setting your skin aglow along every dip and curve of your body with a beautiful softness only echoed by that rosy pink ribbon still lovingly tied around your wrists. Your body writhes under his observation, the way he takes in every inch of your form in its fucked-out state with the otherworldly crimson of his eyes making your breath catch in your lungs.

His cock bobs between his thighs, tip weeping with precome as his eyes continue their perusal. He brings the hand that had been inside you so many times now up to wrap around his shaft as he pumps himself, spreading the leaking wetness down his length as his fist works himself up and down in slow motions.

Your body shakes with pent-up pleasure, skin flushed with being brought to the brink but denied your release time and time again.

“Now, my dear, I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

Pink tinges your cheeks at having to say the words you know he wants to hear, your body writhing with incompletion as you rub your thighs together while you think of how to possibly voice your desires out loud.

“Use your words, darling.” Astarion urges you with a glance as his hands move to spread your legs once more, pushing them wide as he looks at the glistening mess between your thighs, poised like a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

“I…I want you to make me come. Please.” You lick your lips and pull slightly against the ribbons around your wrists, breathing deep.

“You’ll have to give me more than that, sweet thing.” His smile is wicked as his thumbs rub circles on the skin of your thighs.

“I want you to lick my cunt. Fuck me with your fingers, a-and your cock. Drink from me.” Your words rush out on an exhale as you grant him the information he so dearly wants, the blood rushing through your body coloring the skin of your cheeks and chest even darker as the admission pours from your lips, hips rolling in a desperate bid for release.

Astarion’s hold on your thighs tightens at your words, more beads of precome decorating his cock as it bobs in response to your request.

“Good things come to those who ask for them.” And with those words, Astarion lowers his head towards your waiting body, licking a stripe from your aching core to your clit.

His mouth laves at your folds, tongue running through from your entrance to your clit over and over again, never focusing on any particular place for long, your pleasure ticking up with every brush.

Your body is so sensitive like this, the prior denial of your pleasure making every movement of his mouth seem more intense than usual, the sheer touch of his tongue on your most intimate areas making your hips jump. He laps at your clit with broad stokes, tongue flattened against the small bead before moving down to lick around your entrance before dipping inside to taste.

Astarion continues like this, pressing his tongue deep with practiced motions, whorling against your walls before exiting again to ring around the area, your moans spurring on his attentions.

He moves up to work your clit with precise flicks of his tongue, never breaking his rhythm as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, sliding in with ease. Astarion pumps his fingers, once, twice, before curling them to press against your g-spot once more. You teeter on the edge, Astarion masterful as he conducts your pleasure with mouth and fingers.

Astarion’s tongue darts down from your clit to run against the place where his fingers enter you, the sensation of both his tongue and fingers on your entrance drawing a harsh cry from your lips as he laps eagerly. Your arms jerk against the ribbon as your thighs begin to shake, every lick and push of his fingers making up for any pleasure previously denied.

“That’s it, darling. Come for me.” His words are adoring as he speaks them against your center before returning to lick, your eyes rolling back at the vibrations of his mouth against you as his words make you clench harder around him.

He separates his fingers inside of you as his tongue continues to lick, scissoring them wide, as he stretches the walls of your cunt as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. The burn of the stretch is minute, any discomfort replaced by the addition of his tongue pushing in deep in the space made by his spread fingers. His tongue thrusts in time with his fingers, and you are powerless but to follow your body as you finally crest over the edge, his words ringing in your ears as you come on his fingers and tongue.

Your orgasm washes over you with a rarely felt intensity, your body spasming with pleasure as Astarion works you through it, not relenting in his mission. White-hot heat rolls over you, body and mind, as you cry out, the pleasure denied to you coming back tenfold as you ride the wave of your orgasm.

Body shaking, you slowly come back to yourself, taking in lungfuls of air as your body finally relaxes, arms falling to rest on the pillow as your eyes open blearily.

“Dear Gods, Astarion.” You breathe out the words on a laugh as you look down at Astarion between your legs, fingers still massaging inside you softly as his head moves to press kisses to the skin of your thigh.

“We still have a few more requests to cross off your list, darling.” He licks at the flesh of your inner thigh, nose nuzzling the spot as his eyes meet your own.

“By all means, please drink your fill.” Your let the tension leave your legs as you open them wider for Astarion as he searches for a place to feed.

His fangs pierce the skin of your upper thigh, so close to the sensitive junction where your leg meets your hip. The pain is a familiar hot prick as his fangs enter your flesh, but the satisfaction you feel from the pull of his lips sucking erases any thoughts of pain that cross your mind. He drinks at your lifeblood, intent to get his fill and enjoy sating his hunger.

He hums against your skin as he drinks, the sound setting you ablaze with need once more as you watch him from his place between your thighs, the red of the blood on the white of skin stark and beautiful.

Astarion takes one last pull, dragging the last bit of blood into his mouth before he retracts his fangs, moving to lick at the bloody wounds left there on your leg. He swallows the remaining blood as it enters his mouth before propping himself up on his elbows to glance up at you, tongue moving to lick at a stray drop of your blood making its way down from his lip.

He is beyond beautiful, the sight of his tongue licking at the stripe of your blood on his face driving pleasure straight to your empty cunt and you feel tired of waiting for it to be filled once more. You roll your hips slightly at the thought.

“Will you fuck me? Please?” You lick at your lips, asking as kindly as you know how, pulling at the binds on your wrists.

Astarion doesn’t answer you, instead leaning in once to lick at your slit, gathering your leftover cum to blend with your blood on his tongue as you whimper, skin still sensitive. The taste is intoxicating, Astarion moaning into your cunt at the piquancy of your essences.

Astarion’s mouth leaves your center as he moves to sit, grabbing at your legs as you wrap them around his hips, drawing him closer. Taking his cock in hand, he lines himself up with your core before beginning to push in.

He teases at first, short thrusts that never bury anything more than the head of his cock in your entrance, your slick coating him.

“Gods, you’re soaked.” He throws his head back as he finally relents to his desire, pushing the rest of his hardness inside your waiting body, moving further and further until he bottoms out, dragging moans from both of your lips at the feeling. He sits like this for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness of him before he rocks with slow, deep motions, the head of his cock brushing against your walls feels like bliss as you move your hips in a rhythm to match his own.

A hand on your hip makes its way down the skin of your thigh, Astarion lifting your leg to prop it up over his forearm as he begins to pump in and out of you with smooth thrusts, your thighs opening up to him.

Your lower back lifts to accommodate the change of balance with your leg now being held, Astarion’s other hand anchoring itself to your other as it wraps around his hip. He moves to his knees, his thrusts speeding up as you are content to let him set the tempo.

Astarion moves fast and hard, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your moans mix together as they fill the room with their sweetness, the sound of your lovemaking only adding to the pleasure building inside both you as you move towards your mutual releases.

“Astarion, please, I need to touch you,” the words are a desperate whine as they leave your lips and Astarion is quick to acquiesce to your request, arm letting your leg fall as he leans over your body to pull at the bow adorning your wrists to free them from their binding. Without wasting a second, your hands find their way around his neck and your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, his thrusts never stopping their cadence as you run your freed fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. Your hips move to meet his own in frenzied thrusts, trying to match his pace with every press of his cock deep inside you.

Without warning he flips you both and you suddenly find yourself sitting on his cock, the new position drawing a surprised moan from you lips as Astarion lays beneath you, curls splayed against the plush quilt.

“Are you sure, love?” You gasp out the words as his hands find your hips again and he begins dragging you up and down his cock in smooth movements. His cock is deep like this, hitting places inside you with an intensity that drags you both closer. It had been some time since you had the opportunity to ride his cock like this, to watch him laying below your hips as you work him from above.

“Yes, gods please,” Astarion begs, the words only serving to ratchet your pleasure higher at the fever of his words, willing to do practically anything for him when he asks like that. His hips piston up in you, faster now, as you move your own up and down, body easily matching his like this as you settle your hands on his chest to help you balance.

Astarion’s pupils are practically blown out, your own mirroring his as you ride his cock, the slap of skin on skin with each thrust absolutely sinful. His thrusts are fast, quick and hard, his rhythm difficult to follow as he loses himself in the feeling of your body, the sight of you on top of him, breasts bouncing with every thrust and your head thrown back with your hair cascading around you.

His hands grasp at your hips, fingertips pressing hard enough to bruise as his own orgasm approaches, your own not far behind as you both give yourself over to the feeling and let your bodies dictate their own pleasure. Every thrust has his cock driving cries from your lips, breathy moans falling from his own as you finally feel Astarion lose control beneath you, his cock pulsing as his eyes close, spilling his come deep inside your cunt.

His frantic thrusts have him pressing against your spot relentlessly, and the sight of him as his orgasm washes over him, the feel of his come filling you sends you over the edge with him, grinding down on his cock as you ride the wave of your own completion, vision practically whiting out as a mixture of come leaks from where you are joined onto his skin.

Astarion’s body slowly relaxes below yours, grip on your hips softening as he helps you ride him as you come. He watches you as you finish, and while he’s never been the religious sort, Astarion is certain the vision of you working his cock as you orgasm is nothing short of divinity at work. Finally, your hips slow their motions, your body practically collapsing against his own as you work on regaining your breath in between pressing kisses to his chest.

“Well. That was quite the ride, wasn’t it?” His expression is open, contentment obvious on his features as his fingers draw up and down your sides. His cock softens inside you as you smile against his skin, pushing up slightly to roll off of his chest and settle into the cool skin of his side. Your combined spend leaks onto the linens below you but you pay it no mind as Astarion reaches for your wrists, checking for any possible injury before pressing kisses to the slightly reddened skin where the ribbon had lay.

“It’s certainly my favorite one, at the very least.” You relax into his touch at his chuckle, your head cushioned on a muscled shoulder as you let him pepper your wrists with kisses. The two of you delight in the moment, happily basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, neither making to leave the bed.

You’re the first to break the moment, sitting up beside Astarion as you stretch, pressing your shoulders back to stretch along your spine. You turn to look at him with a smile on your face, crossing your legs in front of you as your head tilts to the side, observing him.

“You know, if this is going to be the response I get every time I happen to have a ‘bad’ day, I will gladly arrange for more of them.” Your smile turns mischievous, reaching out to walk your fingers up his chest.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you?” Astarion gasps in mock shock, reaching to grab at the fingers on his chest, bringing them to his lips to nip at the tip of one.

“What can I say? I did learn from the best, after all.” You shrug, leaning forward as his tongue licks at your fingers, squirming slightly as he reaches out to grab you around the waist. Astarion pulls you back into his arms, rolling the two of you playfully as he kisses your lips, threads of your joined laughter echoing out into the night.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #i'm riding the wave of these delusions and i've never felt better #my writing

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moominsuki · 5 months ago

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✎ᝰ NAGUMO YOICHI ; — 18:04. heartbreaks are best served raw. cold. wet.

࿄ ! warnings - bruh none except juicy angst. exes to ?friends /. note i have been having nagumo brain rot and it’s taking over my life. pls help. pls enjoy. ofc there will be more. no proofreads ok byeee

“you still owe me, by the way.”

sighing, you throw your keys into the straw woven coaster on top of your shoe rack. of course he was strewn all over your couch, bare feet on your cushions, head resting on the arm rest, tv flashing in jest.

you roll your eyes. “sometimes, i have half a mind to tell my elderly neighbour that no, they’re not just seeing things when they keep telling me a big, lanky idiot keeps breaking into my home after i leave.”

nagumo gasps, hand grasping his chest through his loose shirt. “idiot? words hurt, y’know.”

you kick off your shoes, jacket and blazer - in that exact order - before wandering off into the kitchen, ignoring the dramatic cries emanating from your living room.

it’s not uncommon for nagumo to just show up in your house, uninvited, eating all your food and making a mess of all your things. you remember the first time it happened, almost a year ago. he had stumbled into your bedroom window, all bloodied and bruised and your reaction time was terrible to say the least, because while you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, his figure stepped into your peripheral and you threw the phone square at his already bruised jaw.

in apology, you had tidied him up and made him dinner… though now you wish you hadn’t shown him mercy back then, because he just kept. showing. up. you suppose he’s not just to blame. you’re ignoring the fact that you both hadn’t seen each other in over 7 years (after your messy exit of the JAA and an even more messy breakup) and now that he’s back in your life (back used in negative fashion) you just can’t seem to get rid of the him.

nor do you have the heart to tell him to get lost.

nagumo ceases his whining, yelling after you. “by the way, what’s for dinner? i saw some chicken in your fridge so…”

your eye twitches. “…so what?”

“so…i was thinking you might want to use that… to make dinner.”

you make a loud noise in disbelief, practically throwing the fridge door off of its hinges, “i’m not making you dinner?! gramps next door said he saw you come in 4 hours ago! and you didn’t think to come in and make dinner?!”

it’s quiet for a moment, but you hear the rustling of clothes and the movement of feet, so you turn to lean against the kitchen counter expectantly. the dark haired man peers his head round the corner, sheepish.

“y/n? are you mad at me?”

“no. i just think you’re stupid. oh, and i pretty sure you live to bother me.”

dark puppy eyes bore into yours as he steps into the vicinity. “the first part’s not true in the slightest but the second is pretty much on the nose. though, i’m not bothering you. you like that i’m here.”

“what’s this now?”

nagumo steps closer into your personal space, tattooed arms on either side of you as you look up and away from him.

“47 times. that’s how many times i’ve shown up here. in typical y/n fashion, you’ll complain and act like you’re annoyed, but i don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away.” nagumo ponders for a moment, finger on his chin. “now that i think about it, you haven’t. not once.”

you’re speechless. you’re not sure what to say and when you open your mouth, nothing wants to come out. truthfully, the man has read you like an open book, flicking through the pages languidly, hands bruising the spine. he’s smiling like it’s the truest thing he’s ever said - the only thing he’s been right about when it comes to how you feel.

pride is a very funny thing. if things were different, you’d grab his face and kiss him till he would shut up - well, that’s what you used to do… before, you know… you know. but this is humiliating, at least to you. even after all this time… you’ve let it get too far.

you huff, pushing his arm from beside you and you stand by a miscellaneous cupboard, turned away from nagumo, arms wrapped around yourself. “well, for starters, you’re wrong. forgive me for trying to be a good friend and helping someone out.”

“someone? that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” the playful lilt stays lingering in his tone and it makes your heart simmer.

“… i think you should go, nagumo.”

silence sits between the two of you. nagumo looks at the back of your head. he sighs.

“if that’s what you want. see you around, y/n.”

he exits, quiet as never. he’s never quiet or silent when he lumbers around your home, sweeping and lingering. he’s probably already left your home in similar fashion. the fact makes you grab your own face and groan.

you don’t think you can be normal about him. maybe it’s for the best.

#nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi #nagumo angst #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days #nagumo Drabble #bye I hate this dpmo #anything to procrastinate #will there be a part 2 oh most def #✎𓂃⊹ monologue💬 .ᐟ‍。°˖⌕#very very self indulgent like #i have been eating nagumo in my sleep

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beensbaee · 5 months ago

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𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

summary; when y/n is told she's to be mated to toruk makto's eldest son - she refuses to let her future be decided for her. she believed he felt the same way for her, until her life is in danger and she realizes she was wrong. that eywa is always right, when it comes to her children.

word count; 3.4k

A CHANGE OF HEART

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Mother, please tell me this is not my punishment!" she whispered harshly, her hand desperately pulling her mothers arm as the woman sighed impatiently

"Yes, it is Y/n." she replied, turning to Neytiri who stood a few mere feet from them. Her own arm was locked around her own son as she gently pushed him forward with eyes that dared him to even try to protest

The two mothers acknowledged each other with strained smiles as Y/n felt her anger dancing on the edge of absolutely exploding

It wasn't her fault, is what she wanted to say as Neytiri handed her the thin dagger and explained their punishment in detail that had Y/n gritting her teeth together to keep herself from saying something she'd regret

Y/n's mother then handed Neteyam a woven basket, filled with enough fruits to last them the few hours they were being forced to endure together

"All you two do is fight, argue, and yell. I hope you know this is meant to help you only. The clan simply cannot be surrounded with this. Do you two understand?" Y/n's mother snapped as Neteyam nodded his head quickly, a small frown on his face as he kept his eyes on the ground

Her mother nodded satisfied, before turning to her own daughter with a look that could kill.

"And you Y/n? Did you hear me?" Her sharp voice called out as Y/n shifted on her feet uncomfortably

Y/n's mother was known for her strong personality. Her bravery was something alarming as she was always ready for battle. Her current battle however, was getting these two teens to get along. She certainly had Neteyam's teeth clattering, but Y/n only looked at her mother with sad eyes

"Yes mother." She said, careful not to anger her anymore

"Good. Go." She said. Though her tone remained the same - sharp as ever, her eyes were gentle as she bid the two teens goodbye

The two mothers walked together closely as they left, their children however, kept a healthy distance between them as they began their trek through the forest

Y/n's eyes stayed on the two women until they were out of sight. The second they were, she turned the weapon Neytiri had given her at Neteyam so swiftly that he barely had any time to react

Already confident in himself she was going to do something like this, he pulled out his own knife that he'd kept hidden on himself

Surprised, she tilted her head with a cocky smile

"Didn't know I was that predictable, Neteyam."

The way she said his name had him scoffing as he held his knife tighter in his hand. Y/n wasn't worried at all, because she knew he wouldn't fight her unless she made the first move

"Don't say my name like that." He practically growled as she let out a taunting grin that had his knuckles paling with how hard he was digging his fingers into his weapon

"We are meant to stay together for the next few hours, yes? Get along and become the bestest of friends, right? Well, I say we go our own separate ways and be convincing enough for them to believe we spent these hours together. Ok?" She asked, finally lowering the knife just the slightest bit to let him know she was going to be civil for this single conversation

Neteyam's eyes remained on her. He stared at her like he was contemplating between life and death as she let out a sigh

"Or, you know, we could fight to the death to settle this feud once and for all?" She said with a wicked grin that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew she wasn't joking. Not even a little bit with that comment. He imagined her laughing if she did manage to stab him, and he shook his head to get rid of the horrifying possibility

"We are going our separate ways. Don't even try any surprise attacks. I am not in the mood." He said, walking past her carefully as she discreetly moved her leg in front of his path to trip him

He caught the small movement, eyes moving down as he stared at her foot. He blinked before looking back at her, his eyes displaying absolutely no hint of amusement as she slowly pulled her foot back

"Worth a shot." She mumbled

He scoffed, grabbing a single fruit from the basket her mother had given them before walking away

She picked up a fruit as well before turning around and beginning her own journey, deep into the beautiful forests of Pandora.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The day Mo'at had announced Y/n and Neteyam as mates was the day she watched her life be thrown completely off axis and thrown into a world she didn't understand

A vision was what she'd called it, pushing her in front of a boy she didn't even know and declaring him her soulmate

She hissed when Mo'at said this, unable to control her hate for the new word as she understood its meaning

Her soulmate. She was convinced that there had been a mistake, but Eywa does not make mistakes was the only response she got.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Y/n moved through the forest carelessly. She was happy for the small time of solitude she'd been granted with this punishment as she skipped through the forest

She spent time playing with the small creatures she encountered on her journey, drinking from rivers she came upon before she settled herself against a nearby tree and began crafting

She wove the leaves she'd found together expertly, humming to herself as she smiled at her talent to create such unique pieces

It was a thin head piece, made with the fallen leaves and vines she found in her path

She adjusted the piece on her head, peering her face into a small nearby pond to look at her reflection. Pleased with the view she was met with, she sighed as she wondered what to do next.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tired, and she'd be lying even more if she said the tree she was laying against wasn't comfortable. The gentle slopes of the bark serving as the perfect place for her to rest her figure against

She sat there for a while, simply closing her eyes and letting her body relax. Eventually, her mind wondered and thought of what Neteyam was doing in that same moment before she shook her head and let out a hiss for allowing herself to think of him at all

He had never been unkind to her. At least not until she was unkind to him.

She remembered the night Mo'at sat them in her tent and told them of their future together

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

His eyes were on Y/n the entire conversation, only moving away when she'd look up

He could see the tears that so badly wanted to break through - the realization in her eyes as she understood her future was being decided for her

Neteyam could feel his heart grow heavy as he realized how much he hated himself for putting the girl through so much pain. He loved his life in the spot light as being apart of Toruk Makto's family - but sometimes, the responsibilities would weigh him down to the point where he questioned if he'd ever get up

She wouldn't look at him. Refused to, and she left quietly after Mo'at dismissed them. He tried reaching out for her arm to try and say something to comfort her as she exited the tent, but drew back as she latched herself onto her mother

"Ma- I don't even know him."

He remembered her voice so clearly - the confusion and sadness as her mother held her hand firmly, kissing the girls head gently and whispering encouraging words to her as they walked away

They didn't know he had followed her outside, and he felt numb as he turned to his mother

She had a knowing look in her eyes as she spoke to him gently

"Don't think we expect anything from you now, Neteyam. But in the future, you will grow onto each other. Remember, Eywa does not make mistakes. Believe me, son."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Just a few moments" She mumbled to no in particular as she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back and allowing herself to fall asleep

It was a stupid mistake, really. Falling asleep in the middle of the forest and having no way of making sure she'd awake in time. But she didn't care as sleep overtook her body and mind.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Eclipse neared, and Neteyam sighed as he lifted himself from the patch of grass he'd been resting on

He didn't have anything to hunt with, and he realized only after he was too far into the forest. He'd spent most of the time simply wandering in thought, which was not something he did often

He thought of her. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop the thoughts and ideas of the two of them truly being happy from flooding his mind.

She was hurt. And Eywa, he wanted to heal her so badly. He wanted to tell her he saw her clearly, he saw her pain and sacrifices and the brave face she put on for everyone. But, his own pride was keeping him from uttering a single word.

He stood at their meeting spot for a few minutes. Then ten. And then, half an hour had passed.

She wasn't here. Her initial absence wasn't alarming at all, as he assumed she'd take her sweet time to come. But as the sky became darker, he realized something was wrong.

She'd never cut it this close, to the point where she'd risk her mother finding out they'd gone their separate ways when they were supposed to be together

His fear was something small, but it rocketed into full blown panic in an instant as he realized something must have happened to her

At this time, the larger predators would begin to emerge underneath Pandora's dark sky, and she was still somewhere in the forest

His footsteps were fast as he ran through the forest, calling out her name and ears rising to hear any possible sign of her

He cursed to himself, realizing how immature he was for agreeing to go separate ways. He should've refused and just stayed with her - obviously with some distance to ensure she wouldn't try any tricks on her - but he shouldn't have left.

His voice turned desperate as he couldn't find her - not even a trace.

The possibilities were endless - she could be hurt, stuck somewhere-

And then he saw her. Sleeping, against a tree without a care in the world with something hanging from her hair

He felt his heart physically stutter in his chest as he realized she was ok. He gritted his teeth, attempting to keep himself from losing his shit

She acted so carelessly, like she didn't even care if she lived or not. He hated how she had no regard for how dangerous the things she did were.

He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. He didn't know when he'd even allowed himself to get so worked up over anyone, but he tried to calm his heart as he let his mind accept the fact that his mate was fine, more then fine as she slept peacefully

He was absolutely sure he was going to yell at her like never before for the near heart attack she'd given him and how reckless she'd been until he heard a deep rumble

The sound had his heart drumming in his chest as he whipped around and looked for the source of the sound

The Thanator paced slowly, it's bright eyes shining in the dark as its head dipped down and chewed at something. The small creature had been gutted by it's teeth, bits hanging from it's mouth as it chewed mercilessly. He watched it's fangs peak through its menacing mouth as it emitted another low growl

It was one of the many larger creatures he feared running into. He believed he'd find Y/n in time, but it looks like he was wrong.

The girl still laid unmoving, besides her chest which rose and fell slowly.

If the Thanator's eyes found her sleeping there... He didn't let himself think any further as his feet moved quietly, his eyes blown wide in panic as he tried to figure out what to do. And fast.

Neteyam held the knife in his hand as he crept behind the trees slowly, his footsteps silent as he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He kept looking at the Thanator, who he was sure could hear his heartbeat. The knife in his hands felt silly compared to the thick skin and pure size of the creature

He was behind the large tree Y/n laid against, moss lining its side as vines hung low from the branches, hiding Neteyam's moving figure from the Thanator

He moved his hands forward as slowly as possible, placing one hand around her stomach and the other around her arms

He pulled her slowly, desperate to get her out of the animal's line of sight and behind the tree. His hands were sweating as he struggled to adjust his grip on her.

She stirred slightly, but she surprisingly, and thankfully, did not wake as he pulled her entire body away from the front of the tree and laid her behind it and out of view

He quickly looked back at the Thanator, confirming it hadn't noticed them before he wrapped his arms around her and picked up Y/n's sleeping figure with ease

It would be better if she was awake to escape, but he was sure if he woke her now she'd make some sort of commotion that would catch the attention of the unknowing animal that lurked

He held her close to him, her eyes finally fluttering open as she took in his face. Realizing she was in his arms, she moved her hands to push him off before she caught the look in his eyes

Dread. Pure dread.

After seeing her awake, he gently put her down. She swayed slightly, confused and still half asleep as he put a finger on her lips - telling her to be quiet

Normally, she would've smacked his hand away. But she was too tired and instead she lazily turned her head to see what he was looking at

A single Thanator stood, watching them with eyes so bright and filled entirely with hunger that it had her back straightening in a second

She suddenly didn't feel so tired anymore as terror consumed the feeling of every limb in her body

But that wasn't why he was so scared she realized, as she took in the entire pack of Thanators that trailed behind it, their predetorial gazes latched onto the two na'vi like a child to a toy

"Eywa...I fall asleep for two minutes." She mumbled, but Neteyam didn't miss the hitch in her voice as she said the words

"Hours. Two hours." He gritted out as she sighed

"Oops?" She said, her feet slowly taking a step back as the Thanator put one foot forward slowly, like it was trying to keep them unaware of the attack that it had planned

"When I say to, we run. Don't even try to separate when running. Understand?" He said slowly, his body unmoving but prepared to run as she moved her hands to secure the leaf crown on her head

"Fine." She whispered harshly. He watched her secure the head piece on her and tried his best not to swat her hand away from it. He was irritated she was focusing on her hair of all things instead of her life. She truly left him speechless sometimes with the way she acted

The leading Thanator led out a growl that sounded awfully hungry, and Neteyam's voice was in her ear as he pulled her backwards and away

"GO!"

The teens were fast no doubt, and some of the strongest in their clan. Their feet hit the forest floor hard as they ran with speed that was something to be applauded. The sound of the pounding steps of the herd behind them only encouraging them to go faster

Panting, they jumped over any obstacle in their path. Rocks, tree trunks, logs, vines, boulders - anything and everything.

They were in perfect sync - well, until Y/n's headpiece fell

She let out a yelp, trying to catch the flying piece as it fell behind her - but her fingertips barely brushed it as it fell from her hands

He turned around at the sound of her voice, watching her jump behind a tree and disappear in seconds

He let out his own yell of frustration before following behind her, panting, he watched the herd run past their hiding spot. They had no idea the two na'vi weren't in front of them anymore

They had managed to lose them, remarkably, but that wasn't his priority anymore. It was Y/n's behavior, but as he turned to her, she was already moving. Crouching on the ground, she crawled around while looking for something

Neteyam took a deep breath, before turning to her with the meanest look she'd ever seen

Mentally preparing herself, she let out a sigh as she turned to him with a bored expression

"Great Mother - What is wrong with you? You fall asleep in the middle of the forest, manage to catch the attention of an entire herd - get chased by them and -"

"Ah!" She exclaimed, picking up her fallen headpiece with a satisfied smile. She let out a laugh as she observed it was perfectly fine, not a single leaf out of place!

He grabbed her arm, yanking her up as she stumbled

"We leave. Now." He said, his voice so angry, she didn't even protest

She frowned as he held her hand firmly, not even giving her the chance to try and go her own way

They walked silently, careful of their surroundings. Eventually, his deathly grip on her softened as he held her hand more comfortably

For once, she regretted how she treated him.

He was so stressed. She could see it in his eyes, the fright she'd given him wasn't small. She'd seen all of his emotions as they grew up together closely. She'd seen him angry, sad, happy - but she'd never, not even once, seen him so upset.

He kept looking around, eyes tired but filled with alert as he made sure no other creature tried to attack them

She looked down at their hands, interlocked so lovingly that it made her turn her face away with a frown

She looked at her other hand, which held her head piece. As she stared at it, she realized why it had fallen off while they were running. It was too big.

Then she turned to him. She stared at him so intensely that he couldn't ignore it, turning to her with brows pulled together expectedly

"Huh." She said. His head did seem a little bit bigger then hers

"What?" He asked annoyed as she stopped walking. She gently removed her hand from his. He looked confused and tried reaching for it again. But, she got on her toes and placed her prized possession on his head

It was the perfect size. Framing his face so perfectly that she couldn't help but let a small smile break through. A real smile.

He stood completely still. It seemed like he had stopped breathing as the only thing that moved were his eyes as he watched her silently

"I can't believe how perfectly it fits you, Neteyam. And I must say, it looks a little bit better on your head instead of mine." She said in the same teasing voice that would never fail to have his heart beat faster

He looked so beautiful. He glowed in the moonlight, but it was nothing compared to the look in his eyes.

He gently touched the piece on his head, a crooked smile growing on his face at her rare show of kindness towards him

"Did you just give this to me, willingly?" He asked

He couldn't even be mad anymore. Not even if he tried to, as every bit of anger and confusion of fear was killed by her small yet radiant smile

"Maybe." She said playfully as she grabbed his hand and continued their walk

He followed her, but made sure to stay a single step behind her so she wouldn't see how quickly his small smile transformed into the biggest grin ever

He could feel her change of heart with the way her fingers brushed over his knuckles as she held his hand. He saw her change of heart with the way she told Neytiri that their punishment went smoothly, that he was civil. He saw her change of heart with the way she adjusted the headpiece one last time on his head when their mothers weren't looking. How she'd given him one last glance as she left with her mother, her hand moving as she performed the gesture that he'd only imagined her doing in his day-dreams

I see you

She grinned at the shock he was unable to hide, laughing as she left with her mother and left him smiling for the rest of the night. Her laugh found its way into his dreams, and she was the sole thing on his mind, like always.

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