#yes this is almost a wicked reference

[fletchingsandstars]

Apparently I have two blorbo types

Deeply traumatized man, usually with dark hair, who’s bad at emotions but really just wants to feel safe/loved again

Blonde

[novaursa]

Twin Fires

- Summary: Both you and Aegon have no problem expressing your desires openly and torment everybody in the Red Keep.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 665

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You sit on the chair beside Aegon, your hand resting lightly on his arm. The room is filled with the dull murmur of the small council meeting, the voices of the Lords Tyland, Larys, Jasper, Otto, and Grand Maester Orwyle blending into an almost rhythmic drone. You can see Aegon's eyes glazing over as his mind drifts away from the discussions of grain supplies and tax levies. You know exactly where his thoughts have gone.

Aegon shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. He can't stop thinking about the night before, the way your skin felt against his, the warmth of your breath on his neck. The council's voices fade into the background as he remembers the way you gasped his name, the look in your eyes as he pulled you closer. His lips twitch into a small, satisfied smile.

"Your Grace," Otto's sharp voice cuts through Aegon's reverie. "Would you care to join us in the present? We were discussing the matter of the Dornish threat on our southern border."

Aegon blinks, attempting to pull himself back to the present. "Yes, yes, of course," he says, though he has no idea what Otto was talking about. His mind is still on you, on the way your hair spread out across the pillows, the way you whispered his name.

Otto's eyes narrow. "It seems your thoughts are elsewhere, Your Grace. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us on what is so captivating."

Aegon feels the eyes of the council on him, but he can't help the smirk that forms on his lips. "Just thinking about my Queen," he says, his voice low and suggestive. "Last night was... eventful."

You feel your cheeks heat at the memory and the implication of his words. The council members shift uncomfortably in their seats, while Otto's face turns a deep shade of red.

"Your Grace," Otto says through gritted teeth, "perhaps now is not the time for such... reflections."

Aegon laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, come now, Otto. Surely even you can appreciate the joys of marriage."

Tyland coughs, trying to hide a smile behind his hand, while Larys's eyes gleam with amusement. Jasper seems to be studying a particularly interesting spot on the table, avoiding looking at anyone.

The Grand Maester clears his throat. "Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand," he suggests diplomatically.

"Yes, let's," Otto agrees, his voice tight. "As I was saying, the Dornish—"

Aegon's thoughts drift away again, this time to the look on Otto's face when he walked in on the two of you in the gardens. Aegon had you pressed up against the stone wall, your skirts hitched up around your waist. Otto had stammered and turned bright red, backing away as quickly as he could.

"Y/N," Aegon says, turning to you with a wicked grin, "do you remember when Grandsire walked in on us?"

You can’t help but laugh softly, nodding. "Yes, I do. He looked like he was about to faint."

Otto's knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the table. "Your Grace, please," he grinds out. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"Lighten up, Otto," Aegon says, waving a hand dismissively. "A little levity never hurt anyone."

The tension in the room breaks slightly as the other council members chuckle. Otto, however, looks like he's about to explode.

"Perhaps we should adjourn for today," Aegon suggests, rising to his feet. "I believe we've accomplished quite enough."

Otto opens his mouth to protest, but Aegon is already moving, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, Y/N," he says, his voice low and intimate. "Let's continue this discussion elsewhere."

As you leave the room, you can feel the council's eyes on your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the warmth of Aegon's hand in yours, and the promise of what the rest of the day holds.

Aegon leads you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, his grip on your hand firm and possessive. The flickering torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an intimate atmosphere that sets your heart racing. The echoes of the small council meeting fade away, replaced by the anticipation of what is to come.

Instead of heading to your private chambers, Aegon pulls you toward the grand library, a place of quiet refuge and intellectual pursuit. The scent of old parchment and leather-bound tomes fills the air as you enter, the dim lighting from the candles casting a warm glow on the rows upon rows of books.

"I've been thinking about you all morning," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't wait to continue where we left off last night."

You shiver at his words, your own desire mirrored in his eyes. He leads you to a secluded corner, hidden from view by towering bookshelves. Aegon presses you against the polished wood, his hands eager as they roam your body. The library's quiet solitude only adds to the excitement, the risk of being discovered making your heart race.

But just as Aegon is about to pull you into a passionate kiss, a soft cough from behind a nearby shelf makes you both freeze. Aegon straightens, his head snapping towards the sound. Emerging from the shadows, a book in hand and expression stern, is Aemond.

"Aemond," Aegon says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I didn't expect you to be lurking in the library."

"I can see that," Aemond replies dryly, stepping into the candlelight. "Must you always be so public about your... activities, brother?"

Aegon laughs, the sound deep and unabashed. "Why not? What's the point of being king if you can't enjoy yourself?"

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly unimpressed. "There are other ways to enjoy oneself that don't involve making a spectacle."

Aegon pulls you closer, his hand slipping around your waist. "But where's the fun in that, brother? Life is too short to be so serious all the time."

You can feel the tension in the library, but there's also a hint of amusement in Aemond's gaze. He shakes his head, exasperated but not entirely unamused. "You are impossible, Aegon."

"That's why you love me," Aegon replies, grinning. "Now, if you don't mind, we were in the middle of something."

Aemond raises an eyebrow. "Clearly. But perhaps you could exercise a bit more discretion. The walls have ears, and not all of them are friendly."

Aegon waves a hand dismissively. "Let them listen. Maybe they'll learn something."

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. Aegon turns his attention back to you, his eyes dark with intent. "Shall we continue, my love?"

Aemond sighs, shaking his head again. "Very well. I'll leave you to it. But please, try to keep it down this time."

As Aemond turns to leave, Aegon can't resist one last jibe. "Don't be jealous, Aemond. You'll find your own fun one day."

Aemond pauses at the doorway, glancing back with a faint smile. "One can only hope."

The door closes behind him, and you and Aegon are alone once more. Aegon pulls you into a deep kiss, his hands eager and insistent. The interruption seems only to have fueled his desire, his need for you more urgent than ever.

"Now, where were we?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive whisper.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Right here," you reply, pulling him closer.

As the passion between you reignites, the lingering humor of Aemond's intrusion adds a layer of excitement to the encounter. The grand library might have its hidden eyes and ears, but in this moment, all that matters is the fire burning between you and your king.

Your bodies are entwined, the weight of Aegon's heated skin pressing down on yours as you both clutch desperately at each other in the dimly lit library. The scent of parchment and aged leather fills the air, mixing with the intoxicating musk of your fervent lovemaking. Aegon's platinum blond hair falls over his eyes, glistening with sweat, as he murmurs your name — Y/N — with breathless urgency.

"More, Aegon," you gasp, fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. His lips are on your neck, your shoulders, everywhere at once, as if he can never get enough of you.

"You always want more," he grins against your skin, his voice a low growl of pleasure and amusement. "And I always want to give it to you."

You arch against him, your breath catching as he moves within you, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. Your world narrows to the sensation of his body, the heat of his touch, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.

Just as the world is about to shatter into a million pieces of ecstasy, the library door slams open with a thunderous crash. "Aegon! Y/N!" Dowager Queen Alicent's voice rings out, sharp and furious.

Aegon jolts, startled, and the sudden motion pushes him deeper into you, causing you both to cry out in unexpected bliss. The impact sends you both stumbling backward into a massive bookshelf. There's a moment of stunned silence before the entire row of shelves begins to topple like dominos, books cascading to the floor in a chaotic storm of paper and bindings.

As the dust settles, you find yourself pinned beneath Aegon, both of you as naked as the day you were born. His violet eyes are wide with a mix of shock and lingering desire, but there's a hint of laughter in them too. You can't help but chuckle softly, the absurdity of the situation taking hold again.

Alicent stands there, her face a mask of fury, flanked by a pale and trembling Grand Maester Orwyle, who looks like he's about to collapse. His precious tomes from the Citadel lie scattered and crushed around you.

"Mother," Aegon starts, still half-laughing, "I didn't hear you knock."

"Knock?" Alicent's voice rises in pitch, her hands clenching at her sides. "You have no sense of shame or propriety! Look at you both!"

You glance at Aegon, then back at your mother, feeling no shame whatsoever. "We were...occupied," you say with a coy smile.

Aegon shifts slightly, still positioned rather intimately, and you can't help but stifle a giggle. "We were, indeed," he agrees, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Alicent throws her hands up in exasperation. "Occupied! In the library! Grand Maester Orwyle has important matters to discuss, and you are here...doing this!"

Orwyle makes a strangled noise, his eyes darting to the ruined books. "My...my tomes..."

Aegon looks around, still atop you, and shrugs. "They can be replaced, Orwyle. Unlike my dear sister-wife, who I cannot get enough of."

You can't help but laugh, reaching up to pull him down for a quick kiss. "Flatterer," you murmur against his lips.

Alicent's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "Enough! Both of you! Get up and get dressed this instant!"

With exaggerated slowness, Aegon finally rolls off you, standing and offering you a hand up. You take it, rising gracefully despite the chaos around you. Neither of you bothers to cover yourselves, reveling in your mother's discomfort.

As you both dress leisurely, Alicent mutters angrily under her breath, and Orwyle looks like he's aged a decade in mere minutes. The library is a mess, but to you and Aegon, it's just another amusing chapter in your reign as King and Queen.

Once clothed, Aegon winks at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Shall we continue this...discussion later once more, my love?"

You return his smile, feeling the heat already rising again between you. "Oh, absolutely, Your Grace. I can't wait."

Alicent groans, turning away with a huff. "Seven save me," she mutters, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Despite her anger, even she can't deny the unbreakable bond you share with Aegon.

You and Aegon stride through the open doors of the library, a sea of wide-eyed servants parting before you. Whispers and shocked glances follow your every step, but you and Aegon remain completely unaffected, wearing expressions of amused indifference. The thrill of your recent encounter still lingers, and you can feel Aegon's hand subtly brushing against yours, a promise of more to come.

"Well," Aegon muses loudly, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Since the library is no longer an option, how about the throne room next?"

You hear a gasp from a cluster of maids, their faces a mix of scandal and fascination. Just as you are about to reply with a cheeky retort, Alicent's voice rings out from the library, where she is still consulting with Orwyle. "Aegon! Y/N! I swear by the Seven, if you even think about it, you'll both be confined to your chambers for a month!"

Aegon grins, leaning close to whisper in your ear. "I think she's bluffing. The throne room would be quite the statement, don't you think?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Perhaps another time, Aegon. We should at least pretend to heed her warnings once in a while."

He sighs dramatically but nods, his arm slipping around your waist as you continue down the hall. "Very well, my Queen. For now."

The next morning, the sun filters through the windows of the council chamber, casting a warm glow over the ancient stone walls. Alicent paces back and forth, her brow furrowed in frustration. Across from her, Otto Hightower sits at a polished wooden table, his expression calm but concerned.

"Alicent," he begins, his tone measured, "we need to address the behavior of the twins. This...scandalous display cannot continue. It undermines their authority and brings dishonor to the throne."

Alicent stops pacing, turning to face her father. "Believe me, Father, I am well aware. Yesterday's debacle in the library was just the latest in a long line of their...indiscretions."

Otto sighs, folding his hands on the table. "We must find a way to curb their impulses. Aegon and Y/N's bond is undeniably strong, but it is also causing disruptions. The court is buzzing with rumors, and the smallfolk are beginning to talk."

Alicent nods, her frustration evident. "I've tried talking to them, scolding them, threatening them with confinement, but nothing seems to work. They simply don't care."

Otto leans back in his chair, considering. "Perhaps we need a different approach. Something more...persuasive. Have you considered involving the High Septon? His influence could carry weight, even with those as headstrong as Aegon and Y/N."

Alicent's eyes widen slightly at the suggestion. "The High Septon? Are we really at that point, Father?"

Otto nods solemnly. "If we are to maintain order and respect, we must consider all options. Aegon is King, and Y/N is Queen, but they must learn that their actions have consequences beyond their own pleasure."

Alicent sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Very well. I will arrange a meeting with the High Septon. Perhaps he can impress upon them the seriousness of their duties."

Otto reaches out to place a reassuring hand on her arm. "It is for the best, Alicent. For the realm, and for them. They must learn to balance their love with their responsibilities."

As Alicent nods, determined but weary, you and Aegon lounge in your chambers, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place. Wrapped in each other's arms, you share a lazy, contented morning, your laughter and whispered promises a stark contrast to the serious discussions unfolding elsewhere in the Red Keep.

Aegon presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "What do you think Mother and Grandsire are plotting now?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No doubt some scheme to rein us in. But we have each other, Aegon. Whatever they plan, we'll face it."

He smiles, a slow, lazy grin that makes your heart flutter. "Always, my love. Always."

[girlboybug]

Haunted

“my wicked tongue, where will it be, i know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me.”

or the one where it’s halloween at saltburn and you and farleigh ditch the party downstairs to celebrate with a little weed in your bedroom.

what’s playing 🎧: haunted by beyoncé

pairing : farleigh start x fem!reader (afab bodied)

*UNEDITED*

word count : 6k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, virgin!reader, bi coded! reader, heavy petting, grinding and dry humping, oral f!receiving, mentions of fingering, mentions of blowjobs, little bit of tip sucking oops, handjobs, light hair pulling, boob worship, sub coded farleigh for two seconds, smidge of overstimulation

TRIGGER WARNINGS : both reader and farleigh are high when they engage in the sexual activity but it’s all consensual they’re both equally high, ummmmmmmm hints of slut shaming in the beginning by farleigh but it’s not fr fr bc his ass is mother slut let’s be honest

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY FROM ME TO YOU :3!

a/n : comments rlly motivate me so if you enjoyed this plz lmk down in the comments <3

venetia and felix are nowhere to be found amidst the neon mess of bodies that inhabit every orifice of what was once an almost eerily quiet and empty corridor just this morning.

leaving you to be doomed to a fate of enduring a poorly put together semblance of…you think frankenstein, having a one sided conversation with you. “can i get you another drink?” he asks over the booming music and for the first time in the entire interaction you smile a genuine smile, nodding with urgency. “god yes—please,” you respond eagerly, handing him back your cup. he takes it with an undeserving great sense of pride, and you exhale with relief once he disappears from your line of vision, hoping he loses you in the crowd.

“interesting costume choice,” a familiar, annoying, voice comments behind you. without even turning around yet, you find yourself rolling your eyes. you give him a once over and scoff. his fangs protrude from his smile, and you wish it looked cartoonish and stupid, but alas, he unfortunately looks good. really good. but over your dead body would you ever admit that.

fake blood is dribbled from the corners of his mouth and two neat dots rest near his pulse on the side of his neck. a brow rises and crinkles your forehead, aiding in the faux judgment you cast upon him.

“rich coming from the guy who’s wearing the most generic costume known to man.” you retort back, subconsciously withholding a level of snideness. you like the build of veiled insults you two toss back and forth, it’s never fun if you start off too strong. you enjoy the way you both ease into it. it’s a flow you’ve both unknowingly created for each other.

his head shifts to the side when he rolls his eyes and exhales under his breath, and your heart falters just a little lower within your ribcage when you see a bright red kiss stain on his jaw.

“it’s in reference to bram stoker’s dracula, a classic piece of literature, but you?” his eyes flicker over you, a little upward curve growing in the corner of his mouth. “i thought you’d be better than defaulting to a sexy version of marie antoinette.” he folds his arms over his chest, peering down at you, unbeknownst to the excitement that bubbles in the depths of his chest as he awaits whatever response you’re brewing in your head to bite back with.

heat plants itself like a seed in the pit of your stomach and extends its branches through your chest and fans over your cheeks at his observation. a hefty cloud of pride quickly replacing it when his words ring through your head again.

he thinks i look sexy?

“i’m not a sexy marie antoinette. i’m just the normal version of her.” you reply with a sense of smugness, seemingly stealing his. a panicked look of ‘oh fuck’ flashes across his face, and he tries to save face, to seem cool and collected. but you didn’t miss it for one second. and you’ll be damned if you let go of the one time farleigh let himself falter in front of you.

“i meant slutty.” he replies cooly, and you nod, a stupid grin on your face that he wishes he could wipe off. “you called me sexy.” your grin only grows and he’s already rolling

his eyes once more. “i know no one compliments you like you wish they would, so anything that remotely sounds like one is enough for you to latch onto, but i promise,” he steps forward and leans his neck downward towards you, not bothering to bend down to meet your height. “i meant slutty.”

a rush of something you don’t want to distinguish floods the shoreline of your lower stomach and trickles heat between your inner thighs at the way he speaks to you, but you hide it, barely allowing yourself to even acknowledge it. “the biggest slut i know calling someone else slutty, that’s rich,” you internally groan, knowing your reply wasn’t as witty as you’d intended.

before farleigh can verbally retaliate, your name is called out and you recognize who it belongs to; your charming frankenstein. you panic for a moment, dreading being back in conversation with him and you glance up at farleigh, hurriedly switching your bodies around, successfully shielding yourself with his stature.

he’s confused for a moment before realizing what you’re using him for. he laughs and you smack his back, hushing him. while you hide behind him you take the fleeting moments you have to outline his broad shoulders with your eyes, and how they trail into a slim little waist. his perfectly tailored suit hugs him just right, and it makes your throat get a little tight. you never took the time to notice farleigh’s physique, rather opting to semi-playfully belittle him. you find hints of regret in that.

he turns back around to face you and you snap back into the present, not the paused moment in which saltburn was empty and all that occupied it was you and farleigh and his broad back and small waist. “coast is clear.” he says, switching his weight onto one foot. “frankenstein? really?” he seems unimpressed, almost… irritated? you’re unsure.

you grumble and smooth down the invisible wrinkles in your corset. “don’t start.” but he does anyway.

“didn’t know that was your type.”

“what?”

“somewhat stupid looking, bumbling.”

“what’s it matter to you?” you ask, wondering how far he’ll go with his dissertation on why the guy he has zero knowledge on is an idiot. “it doesn’t. it’s just getting a bit sad seeing that the only people who are interested in you are so…lacking.”

you suck on your teeth and nod, shrugging before you reply. “least i’m not fucking my teachers.” he heartily laughs, sticking his tongue in the bottom corner of his lip. “and yet, they all still trump your sorry excuses of flings.”

you open your mouth to correct him but you shut yourself up before you embarrass yourself. instead you just shake your head dismissively.

you perk up when you remember a little secret pick me up you’ve been hiding. you reach into your cleavage, unaware of the way the sight stirs something inside of farleigh. you pull out the joint you tucked away for safe keeping, waving it with an offering smile. “wanna share?” you ask and he chuckles in shock at the proposition. “weed? you’re a pothead now?” you sigh annoyedly and glare up at him. “you wanna share or not? quick before i change my mind.” he smirks and nods, eyeing the joint then you. “i’ll oblige.”

he follows you to your room, holding your waist to wade through the pool of people, with you flush against him. you ignore the way his hands mold around your waist, his long fingers curled across your dress, and you especially ignore how you can feel his rings through the thin material of your dress. definitely not wondering how they’d feel on your bare skin.

no, definitely not.

—

you lean against the open window of your bedroom with the joint, not wanting to taint the air with the stench, knowing elspeth’s keen nose would immediately clock it the moment she walks into your room.

farleigh coughs a lot more than you would’ve expected him to and it makes you beam with a feeling of superiority. “you smoke like half a pack of cigarettes every day, how on earth is this making you cough so hard?” you snicker, handing him a water bottle you keep by your bed.

he glares at you, taking a hefty swig from your bottle, setting it down before extending his hand back out for the joint, determined to prove a point. “forgive me for not being used to smoking weed, unlike you, you addict,” he mutters through an exhale of smoke.

you actually guffaw at his snippy little reply, for once in shock of something he has to say. “me? an addict? weed is probably the most harmless drug like—ever, whereas you, keep a keychain of literal cocaine on you almost at all times.”

he hates that he happens to have exactly what you just said on his person in this very moment. he tucks it away into his pocket and huffs. “i just do it socially, you’re probably up here all the time smoking alone like a loser by the window,” he has an infuriating self satisfied smirk when he speaks to you and you laugh sardonically, nodding along.

“well,” you say, taking in a hit, and letting it gently fan over his face when you exhale. “no one’s forcing you to engage in something apparently so below you,” you motion towards the door with a lazy jab of your head. “doors that way if you’re not enjoying yourself.”

he remains unfaltered in your cloud of smoke, letting it envelope him. he breathes it in, leaning against the windowsill. “do you want me to leave?”

“i always do.” you don’t miss a beat, a look that tells him you don’t really mean it is thinly covered with a fake smile, eliciting a chuckle from him through pursed lips.

“i don’t believe you.” he murmurs when he inches back toward you, plucking the joint from your fingers. he takes another hit, it’s smoother, he’s more in control of it, and something flutters inside you seeing the way he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke out the window.

“you’re insufferable,” you say hushedly, gently. he chuckles quietly, handing you the joint. “and yet you keep me around anyway.”

“not by choice.”

—

as the night rages on, the joint you both share dwindles down into a dull roach. you crush the bud into your porcelain ashtray, tucking it away and beneath your nightstand.

your legs feel a little wobbly, your body has significantly loosened up and your center of gravity feels a bit off, but you feel good, and it seems farleigh feels the same. his eyes are low and hooded, they look a little red — it’s cute, kind of endearing too but you keep that to yourself like a bashful secret. his face and overall demeanor seems to be relaxed as well, a lot more loosened up than he was just an hour prior.

you smile at him, and there’s nothing hidden under the action, there’s no cover up for anything. you’re just happy to be with him in a moment like this. and he returns it to you, full sentiment and all, filling you with a sense of contentment. “feel nice?” you ask breathily, collapsing onto your bed. he joins you, plopping down beside you when he replies. “mmhm. i like it,” he says, his voice sounding a bit rougher from the smoke, like he’s on the edge of a rasp.

you shuffle around to lay on your side, your palm supporting the weight of your head, settling into a comfortable position. he copies your actions, switching around on his side to properly face you.

he looks beautiful with the way the moon creeps in through your parted window, the pale light complements the highlights in his curls and makes them look golden; he looks golden. but when your eyes fall on the taunting red kiss splayed on his jaw, everything turns back to copper.

“who gave you this?” you question him quietly, sadly. like it physically hurts you to ask him. your fingers hover just above the lipstick stain, unable to get yourself to touch it. in your induced state you’ve convinced yourself that if you were to ever touch farleigh’s face, it won’t be in the spot someone else tarnished with their own touch first.

“why?” he answers your question with another question and you huff under your breath, your filter too worn out from the weed to hide your frustration behind a poker face. “why can’t i ask?” you push a little further and he snickers lazily. “why do you wanna know?” he counters and you roll your heavy eyes, letting yourself fall onto your back once more.

he scoots closer to you, angling his neck to look downward at you, and he pouts with faux concern. “you jealous?” he asks, perking up and leaning towards you with a beaming smirk. you scoff, swallowing the lump in your throat as you turn to look away. the proximity of your faces is too much to bear, but not for him, his index and thumb guide you right back by your chin to face him. he keeps your gaze on him in place, his wide palm cupping your cheek. your skin tingles under the coldness from his rings.

now you know what it feels like, you think to yourself.

“tell me which one it is,” he says through a hushed exhale, leaning on his elbow, his eyes still angled down at you challengingly. “are you jealous of me, because — why wouldn’t you be,” he hums, his fingers ghosting over your temple.

and when he speaks again, you find that he’s moved in a lot closer now. “or of whoever left it?” his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to answer him.

your mouth goes even dryer than you thought it could, and you’re unsure of what to say, what to think, and between the lack of space between both of your lips and the questions he’s asking, you’re left frazzled. scrambling for something, anything to say.

you’re not sure how to reply, you’re shocked he even asked that to begin with, and now it’s your turn to visibly falter in front of him. he looks at you expectantly, and a little part of him feels as though he’s won some mini challenge in your ongoing battle to embarrass the other. but there’s a different type of smugness in his small victory, perhaps a confirmation on something he’d been wondering about for awhile.

“i’m not jealous of either of you,” your voice falls upon a faint breath and his brows push together, nodding patronizingly. “oh i’m sure.” he pushes a little harder on your buttons, waiting for when you finally do something about it.

“why would i be jealous of someone who gets with just anybody?” you add, sitting up on your elbows, unintentionally leaning in closer, engaging him in the push and pull. he follows your flow in motion, inching in closer, just a little, keeping the space between you both minimal. he laughs softly from the center of his belly, flicking a brow up. “versus what? someone who doesn’t get with anyone? sounds boring.” he adds, tilting his head, your noses brushing against each other’s. “boring is better than whatever you bring back home at night.” his chuckle falls across your lips at your response, and you find yourself parting your lips to breathe him in.

“are you admitting to having a non-existent sex life? i’d say i’m shocked but i’m not,” he replies, his voice at the tail-end of a whisper. a hazy, knowing smile begins to rise in the corner of his lips.

you take in a deep breath, smoothing out the duvet beneath your palms as you reply without a second thought to what you’re confessing to. “i’d rather get none than contract every std ever by fucking everyone who roams the halls at oxford,”

farleigh laughs initially, taking your playful jab before he pauses and looks at you a bit more seriously. a little too serious for your liking. it makes you burn up and inwardly panic. did you say something wrong? go too far?

“but you’ve had sex before…right?” he asks to clarify, sitting up a little straighter now. the burning sensation in your cheeks only heightens now. “um,” you’re once again left wondering how to reply but your pause acts as his answer alone. he sits all the way up now and you groan when you begin to hear the gears in his head shifting.

he says your name like he’s awestruck and you grab a pillow, pretending to suffocate yourself with it. he tosses it off of you and pulls you up to look at him. “you’ve really never…done it?” he asks again, unbelieving to this revelation. normally he’d find this to be a jackpot, chock full of new material to use against you. but right now he’s in too much disbelief to act on any of it.

“no,” you huff, avoiding his stare. “why not?” he asks, lowering his voice in a softer tone this time. “dunno,” you shrug. “no one really caught my eye enough to actually want to do it, and then you know college rolled around and i was just too busy for it.”

he half scoffs half laughs but it all stems from shock. “it’s impossible to be too busy for sex,” he opposes seriously, and you laugh dryly.

“yeah for you, but i actually care about my grades,” he shakes his head, shooing any topic of academics away. “yeah yeah whatever,” he waves you off, as if he’s clearing the air for his next round of questions. “you’ve at least kissed someone right—“ you’re shutting him up with a pillow thrown against his chest and he laughs, pushing it out of the way. ”of course i have farleigh, don’t be stupid,” you laugh, embarrassment still blooming in the depths of your chest.

“i had to check!” he says defensively and your embarrassment grows when you realize he really was genuinely asking, meaning it’s plausible that no one’s ever kissed you.

god.

you bury your face in the pillow that acted as your weapon just seconds ago, unable to face him.

his laughter rings pleasantly in your ears, his hands prying you away from the pillow, wanting to see you. “have you done…anything at all?” he asks, like it’s sensitive information he’s pulling from you. he’s gentler when he questions you, easing you into the topic. you nod, biting on your thumbnail as you recollect your sparse experiences.

“tell me about them,” he says, leaning back on both elbows, still turned to face you. you rest on your stomach, your forearms supporting your weight, situating yourself to share your run ins with fleeting intimacy. “well, it was freshman year back at oxford, some guy i think his name was theo—“

“theo wright?”

“uh yeah i think so—“

“well there’s your first mistake.” he says matter of factly, his words dying down towards the end when he sees your irritated expression.

“can i finish please?” you glare and he laughs, nodding. “is what you probably asked him right?” you stifle the laugh that almost slips out, opting to narrow your eyes at him annoyedly instead. “shush.” you huff.

“anyways, i’m not sure, i think it may have been at some dumb welcoming freshman’s party and we went upstairs and we kissed in some guy’s bed and he rubbed my inner thigh for like 5 minutes, completely under the impression he was touching my clit.” you can barely make it through the description of your time with theo without farleigh doubling over and laughing, nudging your arm with his head.

“oh my god that’s good,” he exhales at the end of his laughter, pretending to wipe a tear from the corners of his eyes. “you poor thing,” he sighs, patting your cheek. “and did you say anything? like…guide him to the right direction maybe?” you shake your head dejectedly. “no. i had to pretend to cum so he would stop.” you admit, the regret from that night pinging through you.

farleigh coos at you apologetically, stifling a laugh in the process, “poor baby,” he hums, patting your cheek. his ringed pinky casts away an imaginary strand of hair, finding any excuse there is to be near you, to touch you.

you melt under his touch, fighting the urge to lean into it. “that’s the closest thing you’ve had to a hook up?” he asks, fully focused on you, making you a bit nervous from all his attention being directed at you. there’s no audience to perform your shared act for, it’s just you and him, and you think you like this change of pace.

you shake your head, laying back against the headboard, resting your legs across farleigh’s, to which he welcomes without hesitation, throwing an arm over them casually.

“i had one more. it was with noa…” you trail off, a bit shyer expressing this particular experience. farleigh however is nowhere near shy, the word is nowhere near his vocabulary, instead his interest has been piqued and it’s visible in the way his ears just about perk. “wait, girl noa or boy noah—uh keaton or deacon?”

you’re silent for a moment, letting the muffled thrum of music fill the air before you speak again. “keaton.”

he laughs, shocked but impressed, his tongue poking the hollow curve of his cheek as he nods. “noa keaton, interesting...” he repeats back, mostly to himself, somewhat in awe.

“don’t be weird about it,” you groan and he shakes his head, rubbing your calf comfortingly. “no no i’m not i just wasn’t expecting that. good for you though,” he winks at you and you’re rolling your eyes.

“yeah. anyways she um…she fingered me in the library,” a fluttery feeling lines your stomach at the memory and farleigh catches onto your pauses, noticing a more positive physical reaction when you mention her. “yeah? was it good?” he asks lowly, his voice huskier than it was a moment ago and you nod, leaning your head against the cold wooden headboard. “it was—thankfully; she actually knew what to do, you know?” he nods, chuckling. “makes sense. did you get to finish that time?” he asks as if he’s actually concerned, and the way his hand keeps running up and down your legs makes you feel as if he just might be.

you’re not used to discussing such topics with farleigh, it’s unfamiliar and his bluntness and shamelessness in being open with how curious he is as to whether or not someone has made you cum is catching you off guard, but most concerningly, it’s making you ache. “no,” you finally answer, sighing sadly. “almost did. but we also almost got caught and then you know, she dropped out. haven’t heard from her since.”

you expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. he takes a moment of silence and it acts as yet another surprise tonight; farleigh is capable of being quiet.

“so you haven’t had any experiences worth writing home about then, huh?” he verges on a whisper, his voice cradling the sides of your face, guiding your eyes back to his. you nod and he hums in tune to something similar of patronizing. “let alone any real ones,” he adds, his thumb swirling over your knee. you shrug lightly, anxiously fiddling with the ruffles at the skirt of your dress.

“do you want one?” he asks, his eyes keeping you still in place and you gasp silently, swallowing thickly. “want what?” you manage to reply, your nerves blanketing over you. “a good experience.” he answers lowly.

you stare at him for a second, unsure if he’s really just said what he said, but in the case that he did, you nod like you’ve been entranced by a siren song. but with the way farleigh looks at you when he speaks, with such an intensity and power that never allows you to look away, you feel as though you might as well have been.

he smiles at your agreement, sliding his hand down to your ankle and tugging you towards him. you gasp, yelping with low volume as you slide down your bed. he pulls you in close, climbing further into your bed until he’s on top of you.

his hooded eyes peer down at you, drinking you all in, so beautiful and pliable beneath him. he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, running along it and smearing your lipstick across your chin. he dips between your lips, smirking to himself when you kiss the pad of it.

he pulls away leaning downward until his nose nudges yours. “tell me i can kiss you,” he tells you, his words fanning out against your lips, and you nearly moan from the proximity itself. “i want you to kiss me.” you whisper back and you sweat you see a smile on his lips before they’re on yours.

you moan with relief, embarrassingly desperate to have farleigh on you. you’re chest to chest, lips interlocked with his cock pressed up against your clothed crotch, grinding lightly.

he groans in your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip as if it were secreting nectar. he’s starved from the weed consumption, and all those months of this incessant back and forth you two shared is all coming back full force. you can feel it in how hard he kisses you and the hunger that lies underneath it all.

his hand travels from the back of your knee, gliding over your leg and up your thigh, squeezing your hip when his hand finds purchase there. he ruts into you in waves, breaking apart from your lips, much to your dismay, to kiss and nip at your neck, rinsing you of the disappointment from the momentary lack of closeness.

“farleigh,” you breath out, your knees locking him in on either side of his hips, pushing up to meet his grinding motions. “what baby?” he mumbles, raspy and heavy and it makes your clit throb. “feels s’good,” you sigh lazily, arching your back into his chest. he chuckles, his ego rising with every little moan you give him.

“better than what theo did?” he asks, pushing his bulge right up against your clit, and you whimper, nodding stupidly. his signet ring tickles you through your thin panty hose when he inches closer between your thighs. your breath stops in the middle of your throat as he nears your cunt. “can i touch?” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours. you moan under your breath, nodding. “please?” you beg, heavy eyes of yours gazing at him from beneath your eyelashes, lips pouted desperately.

he doesn’t make you ask again, he’ll save that for another endeavor he hopes you two will indulge in again. for now he’ll give you what you want without making you work for it. at least, too hard.

he rubs you through your panty hose, sucking in a sharp breath. “fuckin’ soaked through baby,” he groans, kissing you hard.

the wind in your lungs has abandoned you, the air in the room playing cat and mouse with you amid your struggle to keep up. farleigh’s touches making the feat all the more increasingly difficult. he sends you one last kiss on your lips, sponging one to your chin, then down your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts.

“can i take this off?” he murmurs, his chin just beneath your sternum, fingers toying with the laces of your corset. you rest on your elbows, looking down at him, the way he peers up at you alone could convince you to commit the most heinous crimes. you nod, reaching down to untie them, but he’s quick to stop you. “let me do it,” he says, grasping your wrists. you swallow thickly, glancing at how his large hand easily holds both your wrists with ease.

he takes his time unlacing your corset, wanting to savor this juncture in time. he’s slower than you thought he’d be, treating you like a ribbon wrapped present, if he’s too rough it may all fall apart and honestly you fear that you might if he doesn’t move any faster.

“farleigh,” you whine, sitting back up. “hurry up or it stays on,” you nearly growl and he laughs, tugging everything undone with one harsh tug, opening your corset and baring your breasts. you gasp, instinctively covering yourself. he shakes his head, tsking you when he pulls your arms away. “thought you wanted me to hurry up?” he bites back just a little, playfully, pulling a glare from you. he doesn’t care, he’s already lowering himself back between your thighs, holding you by your calves to spread you open.

he grips your calf, the other squeezing your thigh, using them to keep you wide open for him. his hands are warm and firm around your flesh, and his tongue is wet and hot against your clothed cunt.

the small act alone propels you into hedonism, reminding you of how good pleasure can be, how all consuming it is, and in this moment it feels as though farleigh is the only one who can provide any relief for the burning engine grinding in the pit of your stomach, aching to be satiated.

“farleigh,” you whine, throwing your head back when he mouths at your cunt, his tongue burns through your thin layers but it’s not enough, you want his tongue to brand itself right up against your clit.

your desires and needs are caught through your drawn out breaths, tugging at the air in jagged gasps. he reads through all your little sounds, and without any coherent words needed, he digs a nail into your pale pantyhose, ripping them in the crotch and pushing your panties to the side, burying his tongue right where you need it to be, searing your soaked flesh with every broad flick of the wet muscle.

you gasp almost like it hurts, but it’s quite the opposite. he laps you up and devours your cunt like he’s trying to reach your heart, grappling around your legs and gripping your hips to keep you in place, starved for something sweet. his eyes that have held you inside silent conversations amidst a gathering of people are now shut, tucked away behind his eyelids and long lashes, too focused on the way you taste and how he can’t seem to get enough of you.

he’s never been this hungry before, and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s the simple fact he’s fantasized about this more often than he’d like to admit. on more than just a singular off handed occasion, his hand has slipped beneath his boxers, jaw clenched, eyebrows drawn together and teeth gritted, almost begrudgingly to the act itself.

but he always gives in.

the fantasy is always the same, it’s prompted by whatever stupid argument you two found yourselves in, and he shuts you up with his mouth latched onto your cunt, erasing any quips or snarkiness left in you and replacing them with the sounds of you struggling to barely even moan his name. and now that it’s real, he can’t just stop now, he wants to prolong this moment for as long as he can.

his nose swipes across your clit, pulling a drawn out moan from the depths of your chest, and you shudder, trying to find something to hold onto for security, but farleigh’s a step ahead of you, eagerly offering his hands for you to take. you do so, desperately, lacing your fingers together and whimpering when he takes in a dull quick breath before pouring himself into your cunt, flicking his tongue right there, and moaning to himself at the way you just melt into him.

you roll your hips into his mouth sporadically, with no real rhythm, your body reacting with violent jerks as if his tongue were electric, and he takes it all in stride, squeezing your hands lovingly.

and when he sucks on your clit, it’s too much, you can’t take it, it pulls you into a state of thick molasses, gleaming and aureate, only to settle into the center of your stomach, pushing inward and arching you forward into pure ember, sizzling through you until it reaches your fingertips.

you can hardly hear or feel yourself breathe, everything’s buzzing and muffled, honey coats your skin and encases you in its sweetness.

you can’t help the twitching in your hips and lower stomach, whimpering in pleasured agony when you come back to earth and feel farleigh’s mouth still on you, moaning to himself and toying with your clit between his lips.

you’re untangling your fingers, and he grunts when you try to squirm away from his mouth, but he’s not having it, gently smacking your hipbone, silently chastising you.

you whine, taking in hefty gasps, it’s starting to hurt but in a way you can’t say is bad. it’s just so overwhelming, it makes you burn from the inside out and you can’t stop the thin stream of tears that escape from your heavy eyes. your bare breasts heave in the thick air, your mouth is parted with a choppy flow of pleadings with farleigh.

he slowly relents, planting one last firm kiss against your clit, peppering smaller ones across your hips and lower tummy, making his way back up to you. “hi,” he smiles as if he wasn’t just tongue deep inside your cunt. he swipes away the streaks of mascara tinted tears from your eyes, laughing breathily at the sight of your lack of coherence. “hi,” you exhale, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. his eyes shut when he leans into you, taking your lips in his. the taste of you is heavy on his tongue, heat fanning across your cheeks when you realize that bittersweet taste in his mouth is you.

your hand rests on his chest, slowly slipping lower and lower until you reach his bulge, palming him with fervor but maintaining some form of sensuality, albeit fueled with a sense of rushed desperation. you break apart from his lips and his head tilts forward, chasing after your kiss. you sponge a kiss against the corner of his lips, angling a downcast tilt towards his cock, mouth agape and eager to take him in. but he’s holding your jaw, stopping you and bringing you back to meet his gaze.

your eyebrows knit together with almost a betrayed curiosity. “why not?” you ask, almost naively, and he shakes his head, his thumb gently swiping across your bottom lip. “you don’t have to do that baby,” he promises, his voice left as a rich rasp from the smoke, and god he sounds so sexy, you want nothing more than to have his cock down your throat.

“i know i don’t have to, i want to,” you just about cross your heart and hope to die, to emphasize the genuine desire you have to suck him off.

“another time, i don’t want you to rush into something you’re not ready for,” he says softly, unintentionally sounding patronizing. it rubs you the wrong way, letting in a flood of embarrassment into your chest.

you scoff, hiding your insecurity with annoyance, folding your arms with a quiet huff. “i can handle it farleigh, if you think i’ll be bad just be honest and don’t hide behind fake reasons.”

he rolls his eyes, a faint smile on his lips betrays his act of annoyance. “you and your pride,” he mutters under his breath, a veil of adoration lacing through it.

“don’t be a brat,” he murmurs with a luster of playfulness, “i just don’t want to overwhelm you with too much too soon,”

you frown, moving away strands of hair from his face, sighing. “is this okay then? too much?” you whisper hotly in his ear, leaning up into him. you reach beneath his dress pants and boxers, wrapping your hand around the thickness of him and hiding your surprise at how big he feels in your palm, and how you can barely wrap around him with your fingers.

he falters above you, groaning in the crook of your neck with whimpers of please’s. you take this opportunity to guide him a little further on his side, lightly pushing him onto his back. you tuck yourself into his side, his arm pulling you in and holding you close.

you shove his pants down just enough to fully free his cock. arousal thrums all along your cunt once he’s freed from his pants. a twinge of gratefulness is in your gaze when you look back at farleigh’s low eyes. taking him down your throat admittedly would’ve been a difficult feat and you’re relieved he stopped you from doing so.

however you won’t admit to that, instead you wrap your hand around him, dragging your thumb around his tip, giggling when he winces with pleasure, curling into you.

you rest your chin on the top of his head, whimpering above him when he takes one of your nipples between his lips, swirling his tongue around them as you jerk him off.

“fuck,” he bucks his hips into the warm curl of your palm, running his fingers across your ribs, tugging you in closer towards him. he moans your name like its a saving grace into the valley of your breasts, inhaling your sweet perfume deeply. “does that feel good?” you ask softly, genuinely, and he groans, nodding.

“j-just, squeeze me right there,” he swallows hard, wrapping his large hand around yours when you travel a little further up his cock. you nod attentively, taking note of everything he likes. “tell me what else makes you feel good,” you murmur through kisses, planting them across his cheekbone. he fucking whimpers into your dampening flesh and your clit throbs at the sound.

“i like when you touch me right here,” he admits breathlessly, guiding your thumb to his tip. you nod, taking longer strokes, tightening your slickened grip and glazing over his sensitive tip.

“just like that, fuck,” he groans, panting heavily at the rhythm you’ve developed together. “you’re so cute like this,” you giggle lightly in his ear, teeth grazing his ear teasingly. you pump your wrist a little faster, feeling cocky at the way he falls apart in your hold, completely and utterly at your mercy.

he can’t help the way he tries to fuck your hand, grinding his hips desperately, neck bared for you when he throws his head back. you slide your arm a little further underneath his neck, cradling him close to your side, using your free hand to scratch at his scalp. his hips jerk and he moans, leaning into your gentle touches.

your eyes fall onto the wretched kiss stain on his skin once again, clenching your jaw. you smear it off of him, the flare up of jealousy sanctioning something in you to start dragging your wrist up and down a little faster, squeezing him a little tighter. pride rises within you when you see how receptive he is to it, trembling in the confines of beneath your wings.

you kiss the top of his head as he defaults right back into the sanctuary of your chest. his stubble tickles your skin, and you grow fond of the sensation. your poor hole clenches around nothing when your eyes peer down to see his cock weep in your hand, precum leaking and dribbling down your knuckles, agonizing over the same desire you possess.

the wet sound eliciting from your hand and his cock makes you ache, and you wonder what the tip of his cock would feel like rubbing against your clit. skin to skin. with each drag of your hand over him, you start to feel the familiar throb of desire settle back inside you, wishing your hand was your cunt taking him in. feeling each vein you feel right now but inside you, feeling his fat tip prod and hit right where your fingers could never reach. your fantasizing shows through the way you continue to jerk him off, growing hungrier and hungrier with each stroke.

“baby,” he groans into the thick air, as he lays helplessly beside you. “i wanna see you cum,” you whisper in his ear, unintentionally cushioning his face with your breasts and the act alone almost has him cumming in your hand.

he grips your lower back, burying his face in your chest, his body going rigid and firm, his cock twitching in your hold. “shit i think i’m— fuck baby tell me i can cum,” he begs, pressing needy kisses across your chest. you nod, pulling at the back of his curls forcing him to look at you. “you can cum for me farleigh,” you coo softly, lips pressed to the shell of his ear, your warm breath tickling his skin, and it’s all he needs to let go.

he can’t stop his eyes from falling shut in a tight pinch. his body locks up, his mouth parts open to pant in the air, his neck still displayed for your teeth to sink into, hips sporadically fucking into your pumping wrist.

you quickly release him, ducking down to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. you fight against the smile that wavers in your lips, feeling cocky over being the reason why he’s gasping loudly, whining your name as his cock twitches in your mouth.

you shut your eyes when he cums on your tongue, pleasantly surprised at the taste. he cums more than you would’ve expected but you take it all, eager to please him.

you gently lap at his tip, pushing your forearm on his stomach when he convulses from the sensitivity. “f-fuck, baby,” he breathes out, pulling you back up to him. he brings you down to his lips, guiding you onto your back when he kisses you.

it’s his turn to taste himself on your tongue and the thought of his cum gracing your mouth has his softening cock giving one last twitch. his hands run up and down your sides, savoring your skin and praying his hands and fingers memorize each curve and indent. “you’re so hot,” he whispers against your lips. you peck him, feeling warm. “i know.” he smiles, pecking you back.

he collapses beside you, straightening out the charm from your necklace back to the center of your collarbones and despite everything that transpired between you two, the small action still makes you feel flushed.

“would it be okay if i slept with you in your bed tonight?” he asks quietly, anxiously. you nod, turning to look at him with a delicate smile that tells him you’re more than happy to have him stay with you. “i’d be upset if you didn’t.”

relief floods him, in return allowing him to abide by his instincts to scoot closer towards you. he curls into your side completely, long limbs overtaking you and intertwining you two until you feel like you’re one.

“night.” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, unsure if he’s still allowed to plant a kiss there. you’re too sleepy to notice, content enough with being in his arms. “goodnight,” you repeat back softly, pulling the blankets over your bodies.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites

Love Bites, Chapter 6 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Word Count: 9,455

Warnings: 18+, last night alive vibes, Astarion's memory gaps, being gentle with each other, Astarion anticipates being used but is not, vampire bite, mentions of Astarion's sexual abuse (non-con oral), therapeutic talking, reader is protective of Astarion, Astarion's bad at vocalizing his emotions, love confessions, anxiety, putting each other in danger

18+ Warnings: consensual sex, explicit smut, touching, easing into intimacy, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), vaginal sex, consent & check-ins, loving sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

Note: Astarion does talk at length about the sexual abuse he's been through (not a lot of it is detailed), so please take care of yourselves as usual and don't read if you're not comfortable!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion clung to your arm the entire walk back to your house. You leaned into him, at first surprised by the lack of body heat but seeming to enjoy his grip on you nonetheless. Instinctively, you put your arm through his and rested your head against his shoulder. He hesitantly placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and you hummed happily. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to him. 

Astarion hesitated, wanting to return the sentiment but unsure if he should; he had spent the past two hundred years—or most of them, at least—not remembering you. But when you looked up at him with a soft smile, the words tumbled out, an absolute necessity to say, “I missed you, too. Even if I didn’t know it, I…I did.”

You smiled at him, soft and gentle, like you knew exactly what he was referring to, like you knew he had felt a hollow absence for all these years he hadn’t realized was there until you filled it again. 

There was a glint in your eye that Astarion was pleased to recognize. He bent just enough to let you kiss his cheek. The two of you both smiled the minute your lips touched his skin. 

You gave directions as the two of you walked, telling him when to turn and which way, until you came to a stop at a door. It was illuminated by a golden lamp, spilling over its lovely emerald green paint. The color was like a burst of life against Astarion’s eyes, vibrant against the blacks and greys of his Darkvision. 

The door did not hold the same familiarity as you did. He glanced at you as you unlooped your arms and slid a key into the lock. “Is this…where we lived?”

“No,” you said, glancing back at him. “Your parents still live in that house. Our bedroom’s untouched, though. The bed still unmade, curtains still closed… It’s as it was when you left for work that morning.”

Pain split through his heart. “My parents are still alive?” You stopped, almost shocked, and turned to him with your mouth slightly open. Before you could speak, he barreled on, “They still live in the same house?”

You glanced up at the sky, likely trying to gauge how much time you had left. You pushed the door open and gently guided him inside as you answered, “Yes. They found it too painful to leave. Your… Your mother said leaving it would feel like selling all that was left of you to a stranger.” You were quiet for a moment. You began lighting the wicks of candles, revealing a kitchen. “I still go back sometimes. To sit in our room. Every so often I sit on the roof like we used to. And, uh…your parents don’t know this, but I’ve been slowly sneaking away pieces of your clothes. It’s…comforting to have them near me, even if I’m terrified that by wearing them too long I’ll lose your scent.”

Astarion felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His family was alive. His family was alive, had been these past two hundred years, and they still loved him. “My mother…” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

You paused in your lighting. “Asty? Are you alright?”

His lower lip trembled. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t know they were still… Do they miss me?”

You came over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “They miss you very much, darling. There hasn’t been a day when your mother has not spoken of you, or a day that your father has not stared at your painting.” You looked up at him. “There has not been a day where any of us do not wish to change what happened that day. To prevent you from going to work. To get you home faster. To convince you to take a different route home. Anything to keep you alive and with us.”

I’m still loved. They love me.

He bit his lower lip. “I wish I could see them again.”

“Perhaps one day you will,” you said. “Perhaps we’ll find a way out.”

Astarion smiled bitterly. “Cazador will take that optimism from you.”

You studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to argue. But instead you just gave him your hand and whispered to him, “Come with me, love.”

A nervousness filled his chest. “I don’t want to do this to you… I don’t want to lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead together. Your thumbs smoothing over his cheeks comforted him in a way he never remembered feeling before—but surely you must have done this a thousand times, with the practiced way you touched him. “You aren’t losing me. And you aren’t the one hurting me, darling. It’s your master who has done this to us both.”

Astarion shuddered. “Don’t speak of him. Not here. Not when we’re about to…” He bit his lip. “Not when I can have you again.”

You nodded and kissed his forehead. He leaned into it, some of the tension in his shoulders draining away. “I won’t.” You began walking him out of the kitchen, leading him up a set of stairs. “This way, love.”

Nervous in a way he didn’t ever remember being, Astarion followed you up the stairs. He glanced around the humble dwelling you had made your home—covered in paintings and tapestries and knickknacks that made it homey and welcoming—safe. It felt lived in, contrary to many of the homes of nobility he had found himself in time and time again. It wasn’t something he would have ever designed himself, at least not as he was now, but he liked it anyway. 

The door to your bedroom was open. It was a cozy, open room that felt familiar enough for him to pause at the threshold.

You noticed. “I may have designed it to be similar to our old bedroom. It was comforting.”

Astarion’s eyes scanned the room: a large bed in the middle, covered in soft blankets and piled with pillows, a circular rug underneath it, a mirror on the wall next to your wardrobe. Your desk was covered with paints and powders and pieces of jewelry similar to what you wore now. 

“I like it,” he said quietly. “I… We lived in a place like this?”

You nodded, sitting in the chair at your desk. He watched you take off your jewelry and take your hair down. “Our bedroom had a different color scheme and it was a little bit bigger. We had a washroom connected to it and two wardrobes—yours was bigger than mine. And we had a balcony we used to sit on late at night. But we shared a desk and I wore your clothes more often than I wore mine.” You smiled at him. “You used to tease me that if you couldn’t find one of your shirts, it was either in my wardrobe or on my body.”

You stood and closed the curtains of the two windows that let moonlight stream into the room. Darkness fell for a moment and Astarion watched your dim figure move to one side of the bed. You struck a match and an oil lamp flared to life. 

“Simpler than magic,” you explained. Then the two of you stared at each other. 

Astarion didn’t know where to start. He knew how to manipulate his victims into bed with him nearly every night. He knew what to say, how to move, when to smile, when to make the approach. But with you in front of him, suddenly all his best tricks seemed useless. 

You cocked your head to the side, noticing his hesitation. “Astarion?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered. 

“Then let me?” you suggested. He nodded. 

You removed your apron and draped it over the back of the chair. You reached around behind you and loosened the strings of your corset, slipping it off after a moment. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but the movement still made Astarion’s throat tighten. Somehow, your movements—unpracticed for two hundred years—were more alluring than the nobles Cazador made him bed or the unfortunate virgins tripping over themselves to have him. 

It’s because it’s you, he knew. You weren’t just alluring—you were comforting. His body was strangely present, strangely here, as you undressed for him. 

You pulled off your skirt and left yourself in a poet shirt similar to the one Astarion himself had worn until it fell apart and then sewn back together time and time again. You glanced up at him for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Astarion nodded eagerly, taking a step closer to you. So you pulled the shirt up over your head and stood before him.

Your undergarments were made of delicate lace. Automatically, Astarion reached out to touch them—touch you—then hesitated, looking into your eyes, suddenly afraid his instinct had been wrong.

But you only stepped forward and guided his hand to the fabric covering your chest. His touch seemed to arrest you for a moment before you stuttered out, “You gave them to me. The set was an anniversary gift. Somehow I knew when I dressed this morning I wanted this piece of you close to me.”

Warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach—arousal, actual arousal, not the response he had forced himself to have when his victims got naked. He felt himself stir in his leathers.

Astarion let his fingers trail over the edge of the lace. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breaths coming in heaves. “Well, I…had good taste.”

You touched his chest, fingers trailing over the gold embroidery of his doublet. “You still do, darling.” You let out a heavy, pleased sigh. “Oh, gods, Astarion, please. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he breathed desperately, leaning into you. “Yes.”

You stood on your tiptoes; he bent down. As your lips touched, his arms looped around your waist and settled there, holding you against him. Your lips were soft, gentle, welcoming. You let him take the next step instead of forcing it. It was a kindness he wasn’t sure you knew was a kindness. 

He sucked your lower lip between his. You whined softly and then tried to pull away, clearly embarrassed by your need for him, but it brought a smile to his face. He chased your lips and brought one hand to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you back to him. He kissed you again, softly at first, then licked your lip, asking for more. You obliged him with a slight smile of your own. 

Your tongues slid together, both of you careful of his fangs. After all these years, Astarion had gotten good at hiding them, even during a kiss—but he didn’t feel the need to hide them from you, only keep your tongue away from them.

One of your hands slid into his hair. He tensed momentarily, bracing for an unrelenting tug, but you only scratched his scalp with your nails. He relaxed against you, falling deeper into the kiss. 

When you parted, it was slow, both of you reluctant to part from each other. Your chest was heaving, your breasts straining pleasantly against the delicate lace. Astarion’s eyes dropped to the sight, mesmerized for several moments. Then he looked back up at you with a smile on your face. 

“I missed you,” you breathed. “I’ve missed that.” You toyed with his collar absentmindedly. But your eyes were fixed on his, clear and resolute, some concern clouding your blown pupils. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “More than alright. You… You’re so gentle with me.”

“Is that what you want?” 

Quickly, he nodded again, almost desperate this time. He didn’t really want to explain the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, but judging from the heartbreak he saw in yours, you had guessed his reasoning. 

“Then gentle we will be,” you promised. “Soft. Sweet. Slow. Like our old mornings.” Your fingers found the clasps of his doublet. “May I…?”

“You may,” he said, unbearably happy that you had asked. The feeling grew stronger as you carefully undid each clasp, rather than ripping them apart so fast and so hard that he had to fix them when the night was over. He reached up to help you undress him. 

You took the time to ask him before you removed any clothes. You took the time to admire him as skin was revealed. You took the time to kiss him when he hesitantly asked for it. You took the time to wait when you saw his uncertainty, holding him and stroking his hair. 

Is this what it feels like to be loved? 

When Astarion was left standing in only his boxers, you gently led him to the bed. You hooked your fingers into his waistband and met his eyes. Before you could even ask, he whispered, “Pull them off.”

You smiled at him and did so, your touch still light. You spared his half-hard cock only a glance as you stood back up and met his gaze. Astarion could still see the want in your eyes. But instead of doing what you wanted with him, you turned and said over your shoulder, “Would you like to take mine off?”

“Yes,” he whispered, lifting his hands to undo the clasps of your bra. He slipped the straps off your shoulders after you turned back around to him. He let himself admire your breasts as they were exposed before he dropped his hands to your hips and removed your panties in one graceful move that seemed to surprise you. 

“You were always good, but you’re better at this than I remembered,” you said by way of explanation, your cheeks turning pink. “You were always so shy when you undressed me, no matter how many times you had been inside me.”

For some reason, he felt guilty. “I’m sorry I changed.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Not for that. We’ve all changed. We would have changed whether you had died or not.” Your gaze drifted back down his body appreciatively, then to his cock. 

Skin crawling with self-consciousness, familiar from times having to improvise to explain away the struggle to get hard (especially without being able to explain how little blood he actually had in his body), but stronger now that it was you looking at the weakness that took away from the one thing he was good for, Astarion explained, truthfully for the first time, “I can’t get hard right away, not without blood and…and he starves us. Once we actually start, I can do more, but—”

You put your finger to his lips and lay on the bed. “Will it hurt?”

Astarion blinked at you. “What?”

“Your bite. Will it hurt?”

For a moment, it didn’t process what you meant. Then— “You want me to feed from you?”

You nodded. “I’m more than willing to work you up myself if you’d prefer, but…I’ll admit I’m curious. Besides…you finally have someone who knows what you are and loves you anyway. Bite me. Feed the only time you can.”

Astarion stepped closer to the bed, his hunger rearing its head. “Are you sure you want me to?”

You nodded and gestured him closer to you and, after a single moment’s deliberation that ended with the sole thought of, Fuck it!, Astarion crawled over you. You smiled up at him with a fond amazement. He grinned. “You’ve seen this view before, haven’t you?”

“Often,” you said. “I dreamt of this nearly every night. It’s almost hard to believe you’re right here… I half-suspect I’ll wake up in the morning and none of this will have happened.”

Astarion bent and began peppering your neck with soft kisses. Your blood smelled sweet, pumping through your veins with strength. “Believe me, darling, this is very, very real…”

You craned your neck, exposing the column of your throat to him. Astarion pressed his nose to your pulse point and breathed in deeply. He moaned, his whole body shuddering. You put your hand back in his hair, scratching softly. “Please…” you whispered, and all of Astarion’s restraint snapped.

He drew back enough to bare his fangs and sink them into your throat. You gasped sharply. He would have asked if you were alright if your blood did not suddenly fill his mouth, sweet and tangy and heavy all at once. He swallowed and instantly felt the difference. Bugs and rats were enough to keep him functional, surviving—this was enough to let him live. 

The next few pulls of blood had you whimpering pleasantly and warmth filling his body. Strength returned to his muscles with every mouthful and his chest began to move with the illusion of breathing. He became aware of the throbbing need in his cock and began grinding on your thigh. Your responding gasp quickly became a moan and your arms tightened around him.

Somehow, Astarion knew the exact moment that you had become equals again; he had taken half your blood and any more would kill you. In fact, any more and he would be too drunk on it to stop himself from killing you. 

Drain her. Drink her dry and go back to Cazador with enough strength to escape him.

The thought terrified him. He pulled away from you quickly, your blood dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He licked the open wounds of your neck clean of blood before he sat back and stared down at you.

You were paler than you had been when he started, but your eyes fluttered open and you reached up weakly to wipe the thin trail of blood away from the corner of his mouth. You offered him your thumb and he sucked it into his mouth without thinking, licking the blood from your skin. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing a hand through your hair.

You nodded. “A little woozy, but I’ll live.”

Astarion decided not to tell you how close you had come to not living. “What did it feel like?”

You paused, thinking. Eventually, you said, “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…intimate. Magical. It was ecstasy in a form I’ve never felt before. Pain that turned into pleasure. I felt…connected with you more wholly than ever before. We always said we were one when we had sex, but that…that was being one.” You met his gaze again and breathed out one word: “Wonderful.”

Astarion couldn’t help it; he kissed you needily, pressing his entire body to yours. You responded willingly, even when the kiss turned into a tight hug that allowed him to hide his face in your shoulder so you wouldn’t see his tears. 

Eventually, you tapped his shoulder. “Sit on the edge of the bed, darling.”

A tingle of anticipation raced up Astarion’s spine—clearly his body remembered what you were going to do, even if he did not. You slid to your knees and spread his legs apart far enough to get between them. He tried to hide his shock; you wanted to pleasure him? Time and time he had been forced onto his knees and made to take a cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it for him… In fact, you were probably the last person to have done it, years and years ago.

“Darling, you don’t have to—”

You looked up at him. “Do you want me to?”

His chest tightened. “Yes,” he whispered.

You smiled slightly. “Then let me pleasure you, Asty.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his chest heaving with phantom breaths as he watched you lean in. You kissed the base of his cock and a quiet whine escaped him. You dragged your tongue up his length and kissed his tip before you took him into your mouth. He threw his head back, groaning. His eyes fluttered as you sucked gently, licking the underside of his cock every so often. Occasionally you popped off of him to kiss up and down his length and the sensitive area around it.

“Look at me,” you breathed. He did as you asked and you went back down on him, holding eye contact with him. He whimpered and bit his lower lip, muffling the sound. You made a face. “Let me hear you, Astarion.”

His answer was a whine as you licked a stripe along the underside of him. He brought his hand to your head and held you as you licked and kissed him. It didn’t take long for him to give into the pleasure; he began to mumble in Elvish to you until the words couldn’t roll off his tongue anymore and began coming out as moans, both low- and high-pitched. Some part of Astarion was deeply embarrassed by his sounds—but he knew now if he tried to hide them, you’d stop, and, gods above, that was the last thing he wanted. But you didn’t let up again and before he could stop himself or even warn you, he was cumming down your throat. 

And you let him. You pulled off of him only when you were sure he was spent. He flopped onto his back, panting heavily. A thrill went up his spine as he watched you swallow his spend, crawling up on his body to join him on the bed.

“That was… Hells, that was good,” he groaned as you laid next to him, getting perfectly cozy against his blood-warmed body. “How did you…?”

“You taught me,” you reminded him with a laugh. “How else did you think I knew exactly what you liked?”

“You could just have really good instincts,” he said, rolling onto his side to kiss you. He cradled you in his arms, holding you as tightly against his body as he could. You melted into his hug readily.

You pulled away for a moment and just stared at him, your eyes peering into his like you could see his soul. A little nervous, Astarion just watched you, taking in the way your eyes roamed over his face and how your lips easily came up into a happy, satisfied smile.

“What?” he whispered when the love on your face was almost too much to bear.

“Nothing,” you said. Then you shook your head. “Well, it’s not nothing. I…never thought I’d see your face again. Not really, not outside of my dreams. So I’m just… I’m glad to have you back.” You reached up and trailed your fingers across his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch. 

Slowly, Astarion began to return the favor, running his fingers across your body. He watched the way you shuddered beneath his touch, paid attention to when you giggled, noticed when your eyes fluttered shut and your body relaxed. He felt like he was learning how you ticked, but there was something about every movement you made that was almost painfully familiar. He had done this to you before, likely thousands of times, and had enjoyed squeezing your hips in his hands and groping your breasts and kissing every available inch of your skin.

“How many times?” he breathed against your sternum, pausing as he kissed down your body. You hummed and he clarified: “How many times did we do this?”

Your eyes were closed, your face the picture of contentment. “You mean the sex or the touching?”

“Touching.”

“Every night,” you answered. “Every night before we went to bed, whether we were naked or not, whether we had sex or not, we would do this. We’d cuddle and kiss and caress each other until one of us fell into trance or sleep, whatever we decided to do that night.”

“Gods,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t realize it, but I missed it. I think.”

You hesitated for a moment. Then you whispered, “I thought you did this every night.”

“Almost every night,” he corrected. “And…never like this. Never soft. Never gentle. Never…loving. It’s always rough and demanding, brutal.” He glanced at you, expecting criticism, but your face was open. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy that he slept with other people, nor anger that he was complaining about getting laid nightly when you had spent the years alone. So he continued. “I wake up sore and sometimes bleeding in places I didn’t know I could bleed from.”

You curled your arms around him protectively. “Oh, Asty… Love, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for you,” you insisted. 

Disagreement coiled in Astarion’s belly, but he didn’t voice it, instead laying his head against your chest. He sighed happily when you began to scratch your fingers through his scalp. He remained like that for a few minutes before the words began to tumble out of him, slowly at first, then gaining momentum and—to his surprise—anger.

“It’s not always…random people from taverns. Sometimes he’ll…assign me victims. I’ll be sent to them. Nobles, mostly, who he wants for his thralls. Sometimes he sends them back out into the world to do his bidding, not keeping them the way he keeps me or my siblings, or draining them into dry, mummified corpses like most of the people I bring back for him. But if I don’t bring them back in the single night he gives me— Well. I’d be scarred horribly if vampires didn’t heal quickly, and even then, I don’t heal as quickly as I should so sometimes I go out the next night still wrapped in dirty cloth for bandages, bleeding through them, expected to bring home yet another meal.” 

Astarion paused long enough for you to have a quick interjection. “You have siblings?” 

“Of a sort. There are six others. Six spawn he made to do his bidding.”

“And are you all expected to…fetch your victims the same way?”

Astarion shook his head. “No. Yousen’s a gnome, for gods’ sake, who’s going to sleep with a gnome and not a handsome creature such as myself?”

You rolled your eyes. “There are plenty of people who find gnomes attractive, even if you don’t,” you chastised. 

He sighed. “But you get my point. He made his spawn from people with…different talents, so to speak, to bring in his meals. But if we fail, we all get treated the same way. Beaten. Bitten. Used. He…he does it to me more than the others. I’m his favorite to torture.”

“You mentioned that,” you murmured, touching his ear gently. His cock twitched with pleasure and he gasped. You froze. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Just— Just for a moment…please.”

Immediately, before he had even finished speaking, you removed your hand from his ear. “Alright.”

Surprise flooded his body. No one had ever listened to him before. No one had ever taken his ‘no’ to be a no. They always kept doing what hurt him, what he hated, what made his skin crawl with disgust and hate and fear. 

But you…listened. You more than listened, you stopped.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “It’s just— I…I’m not quite ready to do anything else yet. There’s so much I want to say because I’ve never been able to before and I don’t… I don’t want to ruin the moment, but…”

“But trying to push through will ruin it anyway for you,” you said, understanding him immediately. “That’s alright. Just keep talking, my love, and I will listen to everything.”

Oh, gods above, you understood him. Astarion felt the strong urge to cry until he had no tears left, all out of relief. Instead, he kept talking.

“He hosts grand, lavish parties from time to time. On those nights, we spawn are forced to pose as his…servants. It’s almost a relief to have a break, but then…then there’s the afterparties. And I’m his entertainment at the afterparties. They’re more…orgies than parties by then and I’m at the center of it all, dressed however he wants me for the night, which is sometimes nothing. He lets the partygoers use me however they wish. He orders them to, in fact. It hurts and hurts and hurts until it suddenly doesn’t because I can’t feel anything anymore.” His tears dripped onto your skin. You cooed softly, trying to comfort him, but you said nothing to stop him, so he kept going. “It’s not just the parties, either. It’s… Well, it’s like this. I’m his favorite to torture, and I’m his favorite to…to use.” 

You made a sound of both sympathy and rage. “Asty…”

Your whisper was lost in his continued tirade. “Whenever he wants, I’m there and I’m meant to do whatever he wants me to do and let him do everything he can to me. The others all know. They know I’m Cazador’s plaything and they think I get…special treatment for it. They don’t see how much it hurts, they don’t see that I suffer every night, because I don’t suffer like they do. No, no, I get to have sex! I get one of life’s simple pleasures while he beats them! So how is it fair that I complain?” Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shining with tears. “How is it fair that I complain?”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly. “It’s not. Darling, none of this is on you. Your master is…a leech. Yes, he’s a leech, taking what does not belong to him, forcing misery upon you. Astarion, please listen to me, honey. I mean it. This is not your fault. He is sowing dissent amongst all of you on purpose because it is the only way he can control you. If you all were to band together—”

“We’re his thralls, he can control us anyway,” Astarion snapped. “Anything he wants us to do, we do. It’s why I haven’t been able to stop him from—” He fell silent and buried his face in your chest, an unreasonable shame burrowing in his chest. He knew it was unreasonable; he knew you were at least somewhat right. He had no control over his life, and yet… The shame was there anyway. “Poetry. That’s what he said he carved into me. That’s the scar on my back.”

Automatically, your hand drifted from his hair to his shoulder. Before touching the scar you asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It hurt then, when he had to correct his mistakes because I couldn’t keep still enough.”

“Can I touch it?”

He nodded slowly and braced himself. But your touch was gentle and soothing. Your fingers ghosted across the raised marks and you peeked over his shoulder at it.

“It’s written in Infernal,” you murmured. “Last I checked, that’s not exactly the language of poets.”

Astarion raised his head. “Really? I…I didn’t know. What does it say?”

You shrugged. “I can recognize it, but I can’t read it.”

Astarion sighed and fell back against your chest. 

“What do you want to do?” you whispered to him.

“Hold me,” he breathed.

So you wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly to your body, his head against your chest, his own arms coming around your waist. You held each other in silence for quite a while. Your hand began to scratch his scalp and a gentle sound that was close to a purr escaped him. After a few moments, your hand went back to his ear. When he didn’t protest, you began rubbing his ear lightly.

A soft moan escaped Astarion’s lips. He looked up at you, his hips already beginning to grind into the mattress. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you reminded him. “You are more than just sex.”

“I want to,” he whispered, the statement true for the first time in nearly two centuries. “It’s… It’s you, of course I want to.”

You whimpered quietly at the words and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “Only if you’re sure, honey.”

“I’m sure,” he promised. 

It didn’t take long for the heat in his body to rebuild. You caressed every sensitive spot on his body with care and intimate knowledge of who he was: his ears, the nape of his neck, his Adonis belt, his nipples. You touched him with a reverence that felt almost like worship and made his entire body tremble with need. You suckled on his nipples until he moaned loudly and ripped himself away from you to do the same to you. 

Very quickly you learned to give him control. He hovered above you, sucking hickies into your neck and chest, happily leaving little bites on your tits as he went.

“You can draw blood,” you whispered to him in the middle of a bite and he moaned delightedly, letting his fangs scratch your skin until you bled and licking up the crimson droplets. He met your gaze as he let his tongue linger on a deeper cut and found you looking down at him fondly, toying with one of his curls between your fingers. 

Astarion adjusted to slip a hand between your bodies. He cupped your exposed cunt and grinned at the sight of your head going back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

“I’ve barely touched you, darling,” he teased. 

“And I’ve waited two hundred years for this,” you reminded him. “Any touch is enough, but, hells, please put your fingers inside of me.”

“Needy,” he joked, but did as you asked, spreading your pussy to drag his fingers up your slit. He placed his slick fingers on your clit and began to rub gentle circles. You gasped, your body arching up into his. He chuckled and moved up to kiss you sweetly. His tongue against yours was a balm to the both of you; you calmed down enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders and he felt any lingering doubts slip away. 

You were his. You had always been his. You were not just another victim, you were the woman he loved, the woman he had been so devoted to that he was going to marry you. You were not using him like the others.

You seemed to read his thoughts and filled in the last possibility, murmuring against his soft lips, “I love you, Astarion.”

He moaned into your mouth. A single tear slipped past his closed eyelid and fell on your cheek. 

“I love you,” you whispered again. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”

Astarion slipped two fingers into you, curling them deep inside you. You arched into him again, moaning obscenely. He giggled again; if just two fingers could make you this happy, what would you do when you felt his cock inside you again?

He pumped his fingers slowly until your hips bucked into his hand, wordlessly asking for more. He picked up the pace until you began panting. He watched you grow closer and closer to the edge, your body writhing, your eyebrows pinching together, your mouth falling open to let out delicious moans. He was almost tempted to just let you finish on his fingers, but… 

Gods, he wanted to taste you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You whined his name, pitifully, already begging, already asking, “Why did you stop?”

Astarion’s answer was not verbal. Grinning, he dropped to his knees quickly and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. He yanked you to the edge, letting your legs dangle over his shoulders, and leaned in. You held eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your clit. Then a second. Then a third. By the time he got to the fourth kiss and latched his lips around your sensitive nub, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your hand twisting into his hair but not pulling.

He began to suck gently, letting the pressure drive you wild. He licked your clit slowly, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, feeling you grow very, very wet against his chin. He dropped a little lower to tongue at your entrance, the taste of your arousal pulling a moan from deep in his chest. You gasped at the vibration, your hips rutting against his face. He chuckled into you and slid his tongue inside you, lapping at your cunt. You were delicious in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He knew that his heightened senses meant that he could smell every bit of your arousal, every emotion inside of you, every liquid in your body—but he had not expected your lust to be infused with your love for him. 

It was a new feeling, a new taste. He liked it. 

Astarion reached up and coated his hand in your dripping arousal. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking slowly, allowing himself to enjoy it, feeling the heady rush of blood to completely harden his cock. His hips rocked gently, the pace increasing when he glanced up at you and found you smiling as you panted, your breasts heaving. 

He released himself to bring his hand back up to your cunt. He sunk his fingers into your wet entrance and returned to sucking on your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking, and he grinned against your slick skin. 

“Cum for me,” he whispered against you, loud enough for you to hear his command. “Let me taste you. Cum on my face, darling.”

You clenched around his fingers, moaning the loudest you had all night. There was a fresh rush of wetness and the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you grew louder. Astarion slipped his fingers out of you and his tongue back into your cunt to taste you as your orgasm ripped through you. He put his thumb on your clit and started rubbing.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut as he tasted your cum. You were sweet, absolutely divine, your ecstasy meant entirely for him. He groaned into your pussy and your legs wrapped around his head, helping to bury him in your slick entrance. He giggled, more than happy to stay there longer and keep licking your cum out of you.

He tapped your thigh when he was done and you put your shaking legs back to the floor. He got to his feet and crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. You moaned into his mouth, then made a sound of surprise.

“Do you taste yourself on my tongue?” he whispered, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Good.” He kissed you again, grinding on your thigh to ease the throbbing in his cock. You groaned at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck. You broke away from his mouth to pepper his face in tiny, loving kisses.

An overwhelming fondness filled him and he pulled away from you enough to meet your gaze. You trailed your fingertips over his cheekbone and then to his ear, rubbing gently again. He hummed happily and opened his eyes to see your face as he whispered, “I love you, too.”

You stopped, your eyes widening, your lips parting. Gods, you were beautiful. “Do you really mean—?”

“Yes,” he breathed quickly and bent down to kiss you again. You hummed into his mouth, pulling his body down onto yours. He paused in his grinding, wanting to be against you more than he wanted the friction.

“I love you,” both of you said at the same time, then burst into little giggles. You nuzzled into each other, Astarion’s cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn’t seem to drop. Then you kissed him and pulled his lower lip between your teeth. You tugged slightly.

Astarion pulled back and then glanced down your body to where his cock rested on your stomach. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, sweet girl.”

You did as he asked without a second thought and he settled between your legs. He guided himself against your entrance, notching the head of his cock there. He looked up at you again and you nodded. He smiled softly, kissed you once, and then looked back down to watch himself sink into you.

Astarion moved slowly, careful not to hurt you, well aware that you hadn’t been fucked in two hundred years. You sucked in a deep breath, keeping your eyes on him as he pushed into you. Astarion let out a low groan as you squeezed around him, already a tight fit, your warmth and wetness enveloping him. When he bottomed out, you released your breath, your head falling back against the pillows. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’m alright. Gods… You feel…right. It’s…it’s almost as if it were yesterday you made love to me for the last time.”

He bent down enough to kiss your forehead. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make love to you?”

“Please,” you whispered. 

Astarion began to move. He started with shallow thrusts, trying to allow you time to adjust and get used to the feeling, watching the pleasure on your face as he did. He held himself up with one hand and let the other slide up and down your side comfortingly.

Eventually, you turned your head to kiss his wrist. “More,” you said quietly. When he raised his eyebrow, prompting you, your already flushed cheeks turned scarlet and you amended, “Deeper.”

“Good girl,” he said and let his next thrust bring his pelvis to yours. Both of you moaned into each other. Your breaths came faster as he began to hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, sure to never go too hard. Then you whispered, “Harder, Asty,” and all restraint left his limbs. 

Astarion lifted your leg to get a better angle and began pounding into you relentlessly, grunting with every thrust. Your moans became punctuated and he slowed down briefly to let you get some air.

Your response was to throw both legs around his hips, tug him down to you, and breathe into his ear, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing, darling.”

Astarion moaned happily and hurried back into his fast pace. You pulled him into a bruising kiss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Can I touch your back?” you whispered and he nodded quickly. 

“Scratch at me all you want, sweetness,” he replied and your blush darkened.

You settled your hands on his upper back, your nails digging in just slightly as you held onto him. You crossed your ankles at the small of his back and let him drill into you.

Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed into each other as you made out messily, the sound of your spit-slicked kisses drowned out by the rhythmic smacking of your hips into each other. You felt a soreness begin to build, pleasant and familiar and distinctly Astarion.

For his part, Astarion was pleasantly surprised at how present he was. He found himself electing to keep his eyes open to see the ecstasy wash over your face when he wasn’t kissing you and he smiled at every moan, every “Oh gods” you let out, every cry of his name that left your lips. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and his cock throbbed inside of you. He nuzzled into your neck, kissing softly and nipping gently, not taking blood from you this time. He tongued over the bite he left earlier, licking the dried residue of your blood, but the wound had since closed. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “And I am so sorry that I have been gone.”

You kissed his cheek briefly. “I love you, too.”

Astarion groaned into your neck, then pushed himself back up, fucking into your pussy wildly. “You feel so godsdamn good,” he panted, grinning down at you. “I haven’t felt this way in…a very long time.”

You gently squeezed his hips with your legs and reached up to cup his face. “I’ve missed how perfect you feel,” you said. “How you always hit the right spots.” You moaned as he did exactly that, your entire body tensing, preparing for your orgasm.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Very,” you breathed. 

He brushed your hair from your face. “Cum whenever you’re ready, darling. I want to feel you spasm around me.”

You whimpered. “Oh, Asty,” you moaned. You relaxed into the mattress. “Go a little harder and I’ll be there.”

He did as you asked, pounding into you fast and hard and just a little bit rough. He reached down to put his fingers on your clit and you let out a shriek, clenching tightly around him. He gasped, his cock twitching at the stimulation. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came around him, his name lost somewhere in your shrieks of pleasure. The fresh slickness of your cum surrounded him and he glanced down to find a ring of white on his cock, getting thicker and brighter by the second.

The grunts that fell from Astarion’s mouth were rougher, louder. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open again.

“Darling—” he gasped, his entire body trembling with exertion as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm. “I’m— I’m gonna cum, oh gods, where do you— Where do you want it?”

There was a soft look on your face as you whispered, “Inside. Inside like the last time you ever fucked me.”

Astarion groaned, the reveal bringing tears to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tear drop from his lashes. Your thumb came up to his face and wiped gently at his eye. He whimpered, leaning into your touch.

“Cum for me, honey,” you whispered, softly cupping his cheek.

Astarion whined and kissed your palm, burying himself to the hilt. He moaned loudly, tilting his head back, and it quickly became a series of high-pitched whimpers as ecstasy washed through his body. He trembled, holding himself up until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of you, panting harshly.

You held him close, soothing him with quiet hushes and soft whispers of how wonderful he had done for you. You kissed the top of his head, running your hand through his curls, murmuring your love to him with a smile on your face. 

Eventually, Astarion pulled out of you. You whimpered and he whispered a soft apology. He sat back to watch his seed drip out of you. Fascinated, he gently swiped his fingers through your mixed releases. You shuddered. He held his fingers up to your mouth. You quirked an eyebrow at him at first, then opened your mouth and let him slide his fingers between your lips. Dutifully, you licked them clean.

“I guess we’ve never done that before, huh?” he joked, laying back down on you. He kissed you sweetly, enjoying the taste of you and him together on his tongue. 

You shook your head. “Nope. You only came inside me for one night.” He raised an eyebrow and you explained carefully, “I’d been tracking my cycle so I knew you could cum inside me without us getting pregnant too early. We wanted to wait until after our wedding to start trying for a baby.”

Astarion’s heart nearly broke. “We…we wanted a family.”

You nodded, smiling in a way that made Astarion feel like you knew the pain twisting in his chest at the moment. “We’d told your parents we wanted one the night before you died. They were…ecstatic. You know, I’m almost surprised they didn’t push us to move the wedding up so we could start faster.”

He laughed, more a huff than anything with how exhausted he was. “I take it they didn’t know about us taking the risk of finishing inside you?”

You grinned. “Well… We didn’t tell them, exactly, but I’m guessing they figured it out with how loud you made me scream that night.”

Astarion smirked. “Was it louder than you just were?”

“Oh, much louder,” you said, somehow teasing and serious at the same time. “I thought the entire neighborhood could hear you making me scream.”

“So I’ve always been good at sex, then?”

You shrugged. “Not…exactly. The first few times were a little…subpar in comparison to what our sex life became, the sex we just had. But because it was you, because it was so new…we still enjoyed it.”

The two of you shuffled to lay on your sides, facing each other. You snuggled against his chest and Astarion held you tightly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of your face. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “And I see why I loved you then. You are…perfect. Considerate. Gentle. You don’t…push for things I don’t want to do. You just know what I like, even after all this time… I had thought I had changed, but…”

“You did change,” you said. “But not so much that I don’t recognize the man underneath all your disguises, all your layers. You are, deep down, still my Astarion.”

He curled more tightly around you. “I like being yours.”

You kissed his nose. “I like it, too.”

The pair of you lapsed into comfortable silence. Astarion listened to your breathing and your steady heartbeat, watching your chest rise and fall against his, moving as if he was also breathing. 

You were so comfortable with him… So vulnerable. You trusted him with your exposed neck, with your bare body, with your love. Hells, how he wished he could remember what he had done to earn that trust. How he wished he could keep your trust.

Some time later, you mumbled into his skin, “It’s two hours until dawn, my love.”

Fear crept back into Astarion’s mind. “I know.”

“We should get going soon.”

He held you just a little tighter. “Not— Not quite yet, darling. Let me hold you for a few minutes more.”

You smiled knowingly against his chest and Astarion wondered how many mornings he had refused to get up, electing instead for a few more minutes in bed with you, your limbs tangled and the sheets just barely covering your lower halves. “Alright.”

Astarion pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head. His mind began to spin with the beginnings of half-baked plans. The two of you could run, leave now and get as far away as possible. He could simply not go back, he could hide here with you until night fell again and then the two of you could leave. He could bring you back to Cazador with a plan, with a way to kill him or escape him or both in mind.

Every plan fell short. Nothing would work. Cazador had too many eyes in the city to disappear this quickly. 

We’d never escape alive. And while Astarion was certain that death—true death—would be a relief in comparison to the past two hundred years, he wasn’t willing to force that on you.

He glanced at you, still tucked into his arm, a peaceful look on your face. He tried to capture the image in his mind for a few moments, then stirred and gently slipped out from underneath you. He stood and slowly put his clothes back on.

You watched him do so, sitting up on your arms to grin at him. “Now that’s a sight that never gets old.”

Astarion frowned. “Me putting clothes back on?”

You nodded, reaching for your dress. Astarion helped you get it over your head. “It reminds me of our early mornings when you’d get ready for work and I’d watch you primp and preen until you were perfect.” You adjusted your dress, then looked up at him. “Here—let me fix your hair, I messed it up when I put my hands in it.”

Astarion watched your face, your expression twisted into concentration, your tongue poking out just slightly, as you carded your fingers through his curls and arranged them. When you were satisfied, you stepped back.

“There, good as new,” you said and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”

Astarion clenched his jaw. “Are you? Are you sure you want to do this? I…I really shouldn’t do this, darling, I should just take the punishment—”

“No,” you said firmly. “I will never forgive myself if I know you’re out there, getting hurt, because I wouldn’t go with you.”

“Darling—”

“Take me to him,” you insisted. “Don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

Still, Astarion bit his lip so hard he tasted his blood. “But isn’t that what we should do? I’d be protecting you—”

“I would be putting you in danger, Asty,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “Please. Please do this and we will find a way out of this, alright? Even if it’s a last-ditch, desperate attempt to run—we’ll do something. I promise you, love.”

It won’t be enough. It will never be enough. But Astarion didn’t want to dash your hopes; naive as it was, it was relieving to see hope after two hundred years without it. It almost convinced him that you would be the lucky soul to escape Cazador’s bite, his eternal punishment. 

Astarion offered you his hand. “Are you ready, darling?”

You nodded, slipping your hand into his. “Ready.”

Before you left, you extinguished the lamps like normal and locked your door behind you like it was any other outing. You slipped the key into a hidden pocket in your dress Astarion hadn’t realized was even there. He admired the stitchwork as you walked hand-in-hand down the street. Despite the anxiety wriggling away in his stomach, Astarion let himself enjoy the feeling of walking with you, touching you, enjoying the last few moments of the night air with you. 

The Szarr residence loomed ahead far too quickly, the palace towers casting a horrible shadow across the road leading up to it. Astarion glanced at you as the pair of you passed into the shadows.

“Last chance to back out, darling,” he said quietly. “I can always circle back to an alleyway and drag some poor soul out—”

“No, Asty,” you said gently. “If that was a real option, you would have already done it.”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright. But—darling?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for what might happen in there, what he’ll do to you.”

You smiled at him. “You don’t have to be sorry, honey, it’s not your fault. Nothing he does to me is your fault.”

“I brought you here,” he insisted. “I brought you here knowing what you’ll have to go through. I could just take the beating, but… I don’t want to, so I’m letting you suffer like I should.”

For the first time, Astarion saw a glimmer of doubt in your eyes. Your steps faltered and he felt the shudder that passed through your body. You licked your dry lips.

“What’s he going to do?”

A painful first bite. Drink you dry. Bury you. Make you dig your way out of your coffin. Trap you in chains the minute you’re free of the dirt. Whip you until you bleed and then lick your wounds. Astarion’s experience flashed through his head. But the fear on your face… He couldn’t tell you any of that, could he?

“Terrible things,” Astarion said gravely. It came out far darker than he intended and he knew what a terrifying sight he was: weak light in his hair, his red eyes glowing in the shadows, his fangs flashing in the dark with every word. You shrank away from him, stopping in your tracks, and inched out of the shadows. 

“Astarion, I—”

Fear gripped his undead heart, tainted his vision, thrummed in his veins. Astarion hissed and lunged, grabbing your arm with a vice-like grip. “Come on,” he insisted, just slightly aware of the growl in his voice. You resisted for just a moment, but Astarion was stronger than you were; it only took a tug to pull you back into the shadow of the tower. 

Servants of Cazador’s opened the doors for Astarion when they recognized him. They couldn’t hide their shock that he was dragging a victim in, his facade of the perfect lover dropped, and something clicked inside him.

It’s not Cazador who scares her; it’s me.

Astarion nearly let go of you. Then he felt the eyes of his siblings boring into him, all six waiting in a clustered group, and he knew Cazador was near. There was no escape for you now.

Astarion tightened his grip on you and dragged you into the palace’s shadows. He watched your feet cross the threshold, damning you eternally. The door slammed shut.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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[dawnbreakersgaze]

All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡

Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well

Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.

That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.

At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.

But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.

"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.

You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.

You'd come to eat those words later.

The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"

Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.

Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.

When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.

Oh no.

Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.

Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.

And yet

4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.

Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.

This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.

So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.

The kitties had forsaken you.

It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.

Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.

Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.

Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.

You and your games would be the death of him, surly.

Round 6 is where his empire fell.

Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.

"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.

Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.

"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"

Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.

Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.

Wait, in battle?

This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.

"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.

It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.

With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.

Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.

Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.

His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??

He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?

The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.

Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.

"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.

You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.

Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.

"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ A DIFFERENT NAME. ❞

…what they (endearingly) call you.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, keegan p russ

WARNINGS: suggestive + mild nsfw. mild. also implied fem!reader for keegan’s part

NOTE/S: i love keegan so fucking much i want to plant my face between his legs and mash my face into his lap

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ For a while, nothing. The progression is your callsign, to your last name, and then to your first name, and then it kind of stops there, because that’s a lot.

✦ At some point, probably when you two are casually working together — not on the field but just back at base, maybe you’re doing chores or something of the like — maybe he’s feeling a little sappy, or maybe he’s just a little tired, but either way, he’s not gatekeeping his words. He’s not watching himself.

✦ You pass him a mug of tea, and he takes it with a grunt and “thanks, love.”

✦ Absolute fucking silence.

✦ He stumbles into a short apology, and you almost fall over yourself trying to tell him that it’s okay and actually it’s really endearing and you really like being called that. He actually argues against you, cites safety as one of the reasons that he can’t call you that and get used to calling you that — and then, at some point, he runs out of rebuttals and all that’s left is the fact that you want him to keep calling you that.

✦ It takes him a long time to get comfortable with it, but over time, “love” becomes his new nickname of choice for you. At some point, he seems to say it more than he addresses you by your actual name. In public, he doesn’t usually call for you by name, and if he does, it’s your last name or maybe your first name. In private, he eventually almost solely refers to you as love. He also does it excessively. “G’morning, love. You tired, love? That one’s yours, love.” Et cetera.

★ JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

✦ Because he’s the way he is, chances are you’re being called by a nickname more than you’re being called by your name. And not necessarily, like, lovey-dovey ones.

✦ He’ll call you by your callsign on missions, right? And then you get back to base afterward and you’re both still sweaty and gross and he’ll come over and clap you on the back and go “that’s how it’s fuckin’ done, sugartits!” and you get to respond in kind by calling him whatever stupid nickname you can think of. “Dickweed” makes him laugh.

✦ At some point in the relationship, though, you guys don’t just fuck around 24/7. To be clear, the stupid nicknames are always going to stick around and the entire base knows that the two of you seem to be in a headlock over who can come up with the worse one, but as time goes on, there are genuine sweet ones thrown in.

✦ “Baby” is his favorite. Horrendously basic considering that he mashes words up for the most abhorrent nicknames he can make up, but he seems to like the simple shortness of it. It slips off of his tongue so nicely and it seems like, while his stupid nicknames make him laugh, “baby” makes him smile like an idiot.

✦ He’s most prone to using it in private (it’s deliciously low and gravelly when he’s got his eyes lidded and mouth curved into a wicked smirk and he’s knelt so casually between your legs) or in public. Especially if it’s a night where everyone is training or gaming. Any sort of situation in which you can beat someone else, he’s calling you by it. “Get ‘im, baby!” “Fuck ‘im up, baby.” Things like that. If/when you win in sparring matches or poker or whatever the fuck else, he’s very prone to celebrating on your behalf and referring to you as “my fuckin’ baby/girl/boy”.

★ KEEGAN P RUSS.

✦ this man could call me whatever the fuck he wants and i’d go weak in the knees. he could call me shitbrains in that sexy fucking voice of his and id be like yes yes shitbrains is me that’s me can I choke on your dick sir can i gargle your balls can i

✦ He really likes to call you by your last name. He makes a point out of using it as much as he can. If you have a callsign, he usually disregards it and just continues to call you by your last name. If you ask him about it, he’ll play dumb. and he’ll be biting back a smirk and then you’ll get on your knees and suck him off cause why haven’t you started doing that already

✦ Eventually, though, he might feel inclined to tease you. He’s obviously not opposed to doing the dirty work for the Ghosts — he’ll climb through sewers, stake out in muddy creeks, et cetera. If you make a comment about those environments to him, he’s prone to laughing at you and then, god damn the man, he’ll tease. “Not good enough for you, princess?”

✦ You sort of freeze up. He notices your hesitation and briefly thinks it’s because he’s possibly incurred a friendly fight but no, it’s because of that fucking name. Keegan’s blessed with the ability to fluster you very easily and so him calling you fucking princess has you sort of stumbling over yourself.

✦ He tortures you with it. Tortures you. He calls you princess or doll (because both make you sound little and weak, and he loves trying to get under your skin) when there are other people almost within earshot. He knows they can’t hear him — he’s insanely perceptive. You don’t know that, though, and so when you’re gearing up for a mission and he stoops down on his walk by and tells you that “you got a smudge on your cheek, princess”, he almost cackles upon your eyes going wide and your response being to immediately scold him for it. He’ll keep it coolly professional on public comms, but he’s tormenting you with it when you’re face-to-face or on a channel exclusive to the two of you.

✦ He tortures you with it in the best way. He does. Because he’s calling you princess while you two are working and he’s calling you princess when he’s looking to get a rise out of you but he’s also calling you princess when he’s got you bound so expertly in his private barracks and he’s also calling you princess when you’re straddling him in the driver’s seat of one of the repossessed armored cars and—

✦ LORD

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

THE 141 RESPONDING TO READER'S CRAVINGS (pregnant or not) SUSPICIOUSLY BUT STILL GETTING THEM WHAT THEY WANT cuz they love them 😭😭

Hehe, absolutely! I did this one just as pregnant readers cravings if that's okay! I've heard of some really interesting ones to say the least🤣

141's + König's Reactions To Pregnant Readers Cravings

Warnings: mentions of gagging, urge to throw up

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon awoke to an empty bed, groaning as he stretched his arms out to find your side of the bed cold. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched before swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

His brows furrowed slightly as he could smell the aroma of tomato sauce in the air. It was 8 am, what were you up to downstairs?

He made his way down to the kitchen and found you singing along your favorite song, cooking away at the stove.

"...babe?" He asked, approaching you slowly. "What, uh, what are you making?"

"Have you ever seen the movie ELF? With Will Farrell? That scene where he makes the spaghetti? It just sounded really good." You turned to him with a wide smile, as you giggled maniacally.

Simon swallowed thickly, slightly terrified at what was unfolding in front of him. He'd be lying, though, if he said he didn't find the sight of you adorable. You had a raging bedhead, your makeup still slightly smudged from yesterday, and were draped in one of his shirts, which practically dwarved you despite your growing belly.

He watched as you struggled with the pasta and chuckled slightly before making his way over to you, placing his hands on your waist as he kissed your forehead. "Need help?"

"Yes! Oh, that'd be great. The sauce is almost done. Can you get the syrup and the candy from the pantry?" You turned to him with a smile, and there was no way in hell Simon could ever say no to you.

He did as he was asked and felt his insides churn slightly as he watched you throw all of the ingredients together on the plate.

"Darn bottle won't open!" You huffed in frustration, prompting Simon to come to the rescue. "Thanks, Si. Once it's opened, can you pour it all over the pasta?"

"You want...syrup all over the pasta?" He suddenly realized you were being quite serious about the reference to the Christmas movie. "I uh.. okay."

He felt bile rise in his throat as he poured the syrup all over the pasta and tomato sauce, and it took everything in him not to puke as he watched you scarf it down. "It's SO good, Simon!"

"Sweetheart, I love you, but that looks dreadful." He chuckled, patting you on the head. "I'll go to the store and buy some TUMS, lord knows you'll need it later."

He gave a kiss to your head before grabbing his keys, stopping when you called out to him, waiving a small piece of paper. "Wait! I have a list. Can you get me these?"

"God, you're lucky I love you." He rolled his eyes playfully as he pressed a kiss to your lips. "Oh blood hell, that tastes horrid."

He grabbed the piece of paper and had to bite back a laugh as he looked at what was on the list. "Hot sauce? Ice cream? Tuna? Do I want to know?"

"Probably best not to ask."

John Price-

"Babe, I was going to order us some dinner, what did you want?" Your husband, John, called from the other room.

"I'm actually okay! Order for yourself. Found my new favorite snack." You shouted back, digging into the food in front of you.

Confused, given that you never turned down the chance to order food, John made his way into the kitchen, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you.

You were perched on the counter, 5 months pregnant, and in your lap was a carton of ice cream, with a jar of pickles right next to you. He watched as you scooped at the ice cream with one of the pickles in your hand.

John had to practice wicked self-restraint, as he tried desperately to not puke. "Love. Are you eating pickles... and ice cream?"

You nodded your head vigorously before biting off a chunk of pickle and spooning ice cream into your mouth seconds after. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a content sigh.

"Who knew! That pickles and ice cream would be SUCH a good combination?" You exclaimed, a wide smile on your face. "You should try it!"

"Oh. No, that's all you love. Wouldn't want to take it from you." He replied, trying to be polite. Though he found the idea utterly repulsive, he didn't want to make you feel bad about what you were craving.

John watched on, horrified, as you downed nearly the entire carton of ice cream and at least a half dozen pickles. How you weren't getting sick from it, he'd never know.

"Do you know if we have peanut butter?" You asked, turning to your husband with a hopeful gaze.

John blinked a few times before realizing you were talking to him. "Oh, yeah. Let me uh, grab it for you."

He reached in the cabinet next to you and slid you the jar of peanut butter. You grabbed at it and methodically dipped the pickle you were holding into the peanut butter. This time, Price couldn't hide the look of disgust on his face.

"Oh my God, this is incredible. I don't know why I didn't try this before!"

"I can think of quite a few reasons why a perfectly sane person wouldn't try it." He chuckled, and quickly dodged as you threw the spoon at him.

"Hey, Mister! You know better than to rile up a person when they are pregnant! It's not good for the baby!" You said playfully, as you flicked pickle juice at your husband. "Anyways, go ahead and order whatever you want!"

"Oh, sweetheart, my appetite is long gone."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Hey, when you're out... could you possibly get pickles... and jelly?" You approached your husband shyly as you twirled your hair between your fingers. You'd had this craving for weeks, and it was getting to the point where you could no longer ignore it.

Johnny stiffled a laugh before offering a mock salute. "No idea what you'll do with those, but sure thing. I'll be back soon."

~

You met Johnny at the door when he returned, and were quick to grab the bag from his hands and sprint to the kitchen. You tore through the bag to grab the jar of pickles, and the jelly, and made quick work of spending the jelly all across the pickle.

"So, you going to make a peanut butter and jelly sandy? I didn't know if we had bread so I bought it... I bought..." Johnny's words trailed off as his eyes landed on you, practically inhaling the jelly covered pickle.

You turned to him with a sheepish gaze as you swallowed the remainder of your concoction. "What?"

"You just...ate pickles and jelly?" He asked, his brows raising.

"Look, it sounds gross, but I promise you, it tastes amazing. Try it!" You held up the second jellied pickle to him with a proud smile.

Johnny shook his head, chuckling and against his better judgment, grabbed the pickle from you, and took a bite.

"Not.. Not terrible." He said, coughing slightly. "Have you heard of dipping chips in honey though? Heard that's a weird craving but am tempted to try it if you're down, we've got the ingredients for it."

From that moment on, Johnny helped you with any pregnancy craving you had, and even encouraged some of them. He'd find various combinations on social media and would try them along with you.

The two of you even made it a game to see who could come up with the tastiest, weirdest combination. Surprisingly, Johnny won nearly every time.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Hey, babeeee?" You called out to your husband, Kyle, who was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

"Yeah love, what's up?" Kyle asked, looking over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon.

"Could you possibly put a glob of Nutella on the side with my plate of bacon?" You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how Kyle would react to the unusual request.

"Sure, but what did you need it for? I don't have any toast made."

"I uh...dipping the bacon in it sounded rather good, so I wanted to try it."

"Well that's a new one, don't think I've heard that one before." Kyle chuckled.

He finished up cooking and put together a small plate of bacon and Nutella for you. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how you possibly could've come up with this concoction. To say he was curious of how it would taste, was an understatement.

He walked over to you with a smile and handed you the plate, laughing softly as you did a small happy dance. "One plate of bacon and Nutella for my love."

"Oh, it smells heavenly, thanks, Ky!" You dug right into the food, groaning loudly as it tasted even better than you thought it would. "Kyle, you have to take a bite. I know it looks gross, but it's so good."

Kyle couldn't help himself. The giant smile on your face had you looking adorable, and he'd do anything to make you happy. He walked over and took one of the slices of bacon before dipping it in the Nutella.

"Holy shit. This is so delicious, babe." His eyes lit up as the flavor exploded on his tongue. He grabbed another slice of bacon and used it to scoop up a large bit of the hazelnut spread.

You giggled as you moved the plate to the middle of the table, and gestured to the seat next to you.

Needless to say, the two of you spent the better part of that morning eating Nutella and bacon, not that either of you were complaining.

König-

"Maus, what's all this in the cart?" König asked as he watched you throw yet another thing into your overflowing shopping cart.

"Oh! I'm just super hungry. I had a few things I wanted to try out." You gave him an elated glance before barreling down another aisle to grab another ingredient.

König chuckled to himself before looking down at the array of ingredients in the cart. You had everything from hot sauce to ice cream to oranges. He swallowed thickly as he remembered reading something in one of the pregnancy books he bought about the weird cravings those who were pregnant got.

You both made it home about an hour later, and he watched as you bolted inside, with one of the bags tucked firmly in your arms. He followed behind you and nearly gagged when he watched you grab the bottle of hot sauce and the jar of peanut butter. Surely... you weren't going to..

"Kö, can you get me a spoon?" You asked sweetly as you opened the ingredients in front of you.

König stood there for a moment, unable to process what was happening before he shook himself. He walked over slowly, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and handing it to you hesitantly. He watched as you snatched it from his hands, got a spoonful of peanut butter, and drizzled a decent bit of hot sauce on top.

You put the spoonful in your mouth and licked the entire spoon clean, moaning as you absorbed the taste. You put the spoon back in the peanut butter, before repeating the process with the hot sauce. "This is just what I needed."

"It...it tastes good?" König asked, bewildered. In his life, he'd seen people eat some pretty weird shit, but this easily took the cake.

"Oh gosh, it so does. Try it?" You asked, beaming as you turned to him. He gulped audibly as he approached you, taking the outstretched spoon.

You watched him with a hopeful gaze, as he took a tiny bit of the concoction on the spoon. He did his best to keep a straight face as he processed the taste and was trying not to gag as he desperately did not want to hurt your feelings.

He cleared his throat a few times before darting over to the fridge to grab a drink. He grabbed the first beverage he could find and downed it. "Maus.."

You gave a small giggle as you watched your husband's struggles. "Not a fan?"

"Oh, no, it was.. it was good. I'm just very thirsty." He gasped out as he finished the last of his drink. "Perhaps, I could make you a better snack though? I don't know how filling this will be for you."

"What kind of snack did you have in mind?"

König gave a hearty chuckle. "Well considering we bought half the store today, I'm sure I could come up with something."

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

[aquagirl1978]

To Love a Sinner - William Rex x Reader (Ikemen Villains)

A/N: Happy Birthday, William! My first entry for An Invitation to Crown, hosted by @judejazza

Pairing: William Rex x Reader

Prompt: linked fingers

Word Count: 1006

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; established relationship; reader is afab; piv; fingering; reader is referred to as "good girl"

A sin is nothing more than a sin.

It was very easy to love William. Yes, he was a sinner, and you accepted that, but he was so much more than just that. He was kind and compassionate to a fault, and he helped you find your true voice. With each sin he committed, you found yourself falling deeper in love with him, falling deeper into the darkness that was his world.

“What do you want for your birthday, Will?” you asked as you gazed up at a pair of adoring eyes. 

“I want what I want every day.” His eyes narrowed, and his smile widened, sending heat rushing through your body. Your cheeks already warm, you looked away; one look at his beautiful face, and you’d be lured into his wicked ways.

“Oh, please don't be shy, my dear sweet robin.” He pressed his palm gently against your cheek; your face tilted towards him as you leaned into his touch, your lips quivering as they searched for his. 

He dipped his face to yours, soft lips barely brushed against yours in what dared to be a kiss, his whispered words warm on your skin.

“Tell me what you want.”

Words escaped you as you let out a shuddering sigh. The look of pure, unbridled lust in Will’s eyes as he gazed down upon you was almost too much to bear.

“What do you desire?” he asked again. His body was gracefully poised over yours, close enough to feel his heat radiating through his clothes. His hand curled around yours, threading his fingers through yours.

“Kiss me,” you requested breathlessly, knowing this would only be the beginning of a night of sinful pleasure.

The tender expression that washed over his face told you precisely how happy he was to hear you express your wishes. He pressed his smile against yours, happily granting your desire. As your eyes drifted closed, the sweet scent of roses filled your lungs and Will deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

Your hands moved on their own accord; your fingers, finding the buttons on his shirt, began to clumsily unbutton them, one by one. Will let out a sound, deep and beautiful, once you undid enough buttons to slide his shirt down his shoulder.

Your hand, now on his bare skin, continued to push his shirt away, exposing his back. Breathing him in, savoring the sweet taste of strawberries still lingering on his tongue, you pressed your palm against his flesh, pulling him closer to you. 

Crimson nails crawled up your thigh, pushing the silky material of your skirt out of his way, his fingers pressing into your sensitive skin. A pleased grin graced his handsome face as his hand traveled up your leg until he found your most sensitive spot. You dug your nails into his back, your hands sliding across the wide expanse of fair skin, not caring if you left any marks, gasping when he slid a finger inside you.

He broke the kiss, gently pulling away from you. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his blood-red eyes mesmerizing as his thumb stroked your clit, this single touch making you forget everything but him. 

“I want you, Will.” Your voice was soft as you whispered words only for his ears. “I want all of you.”

“Then that is what you shall have.” He shifted his body, his face still close to yours, your legs spreading for him. He slid two fingers inside, slowly stretching you, enjoying the lewd sounds he elicited from your lips. 

You let out a small whimper when he removed his hand, your body immediately craving his. He quickly removed his belt and undid his pants, freeing his erection.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me,” he said as he guided his tip inside you. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your moans as he pushed inside, slowly stretching your walls. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, his grin wicked as he held your hand in his, bracing himself as he began to rock his body against yours. A maelstrom of emotions brewed in your belly as you allowed yourself to freely indulge in this sinful pleasure. Will filled you with a pleasure so great it could only be good, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. A reminder that he liked to see your adorable face, and you liked to see his. Sliding his hand down your thigh, he guided your leg around his waist, allowing him to penetrate you deeper, your lustful moans melodious to his ear.

“Close your eyes and come for me,” he whispered into your ear, his hand sliding between your legs. Once he found your sensitive spot, his long fingers teased you, coaxing your soft, sweet sounds until you came undone in his hands. “Good girl, just like that,” he praised; you squeezed his hand as your trembling body succumbed to the pleasure he provided, his body soon joining yours in a state of absolute bliss.

You held his head close to your chest, your heart still beating wildly while night's embrace calmed you both. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” you asked quietly, your fingers combing his messy hair. He looked up at you, his crimson gaze tender as he looked at you with adoration. 

“Yes.” He flicked his eyes up to meet yours, his thumb traced light circles on the inside of your wrist, your hands still clasped together. “Maybe my best yet.”

One look at the radiant smile he flashed you, and you knew he had carved this moment on his heart.

“I love you, Will.” You squeezed his hand, not ready to let go. Not today, not any day. 

He pulled your joined hands to his lips and brushed a chaste kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, too,” he whispered back.

One day, the sinner would have to pay for his sins. But that day wasn’t today. And until that day came, you were going to love your sinner until his very last breath.

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee

@kookie-my-little-sunshine @pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381

@judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia

@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings

[lumierexfics]

Hi! Would you be comfortable doing "your hands are cold" + praise kink mixtober prompt for Ithaqua? Some fluff and smut if you get what I mean ^^

● LIVESTREAM NAME : You lay upon my pillow, you open like a flower

description log : Being forced to pick up mushrooms goes unexpectedly wrong in the ‘deadly’ woods.

USERS : Nightwatch (Ithaqua), Reader

❗️❗️CONTENT WARNINGS : MDNI 18+, Praise Kink, Canon-ish lore, Accusations/references to demons, Hitting someone with a basket, Smut, Implied Established yet hidden relationship, and Implied Murder.❗️❗️

A failed harvest for the village and your body ached from standing in the snow. Desperately trying to warm them on the remnants of the burnt wood that still held embers. It would be a sore miracle if the Norwell family hadn’t accused you of being the next blasphemous witch but the others in the servants quarters thought otherwise; believing that you were a demon reincarnate.

Unfortunately, you had been sent to gather these mysterious mushrooms that specifically grew in the deadly woods that had taken the lives of many villagers.

“Lord/Lady [Name],” you muttered to yourself. “Isn’t it far too late to scavenge these mushrooms?”

Your hands tightly wrapped around your forearms, trembling with each step. The cold airbrushed into your thin clothes while stepping through the snow covered terrain, tightly clutching the empty basket while another trembling hand held a lantern.

Your eyes looked down to where these supposed mushrooms were supposed to be at only to see that someone must’ve plucked them before you were forced to get them. Whistling wind flew past your ears as you begrudgingly made your way back but right when you turned around to see a fellow villager.

“Cursed blood,” they cried. “Scavenging for your wicked remedies that aid you while the village suffers!”

“I was only ordered to scavenge these mushrooms!” You struggled to wriggle out of their grasp. “You must have confused me! I have done nothing wrong!”

“Wrong?” They scoffed, grip tightened and seemingly pulled your arm forward, causing you to drop your lantern. “Everyone knows that you’re fornicating with the beast that lives in these woods.”

Hearing the sizzle of the candle slowly dying out. Yet somehow you managed to swing your hand that held the empty basket; repeatedly on their head till they managed to loosen their grip.

The crunching underneath your shoes seemed to sound louder and louder with each step and your lungs ached with each breath. Whistling wind grew harsher and harsher with each step till your legs tightened, utterly refusing to move causing you to fall into the fresh snow. Your body ached almost becoming one with the snow while new snow had quickly fallen onto your body; the sound of a scream seemed so far away while the crunching of snow grew closer and closer. It was true that you had laid in the same bed with the ‘beast’ that lived in snow covered woods but he had been so gentle with you.

You slowly came to feel the warmth of a freshly burnt firewood and the familiar embrace of him, Ithaqua. He always wore his mask but you didn’t mind it. Your face was buried in his chest while yours and his body were interwoven with each other; fitting perfectly to each other. His mask was slightly lifted up to reveal his lips as his hands cupped yours, desperately trying to warm them.

“Your hands are still cold,” he said.

He blew his breath into the cocoon of his hands that held yours.

“Ithaqua,” you murmured, softly.

Ithaqua’s mask rubbed on your cheek and his hands caressed your face.

“Would you like to be more warm, my sweet?” He asked, his voice held a familiar tone of desire. “I can bring warmth to your frozen body if you desire it.”

“Yes.” You answered him, clearing your throat to sound more louder.

You could tell that he was smiling from underneath his mask. You barely noticed that you both were in your underwear as his chest was now touching your back while his hands carefully separated your trembling legs; just as he did many times before. His hand glided over your underwear, playfully rubbing your moist crotch and his fingertips teetered on your inner thighs causing a soft gasp erupt from your throat.

“Come on, my sweet,” he whispered. “I don’t cover your mouth then I won’t know how to warm you up.”

Ithaqua watched you slowly move your hand off of your lips as his hands caressed your body with such gentleness while carefully parting your legs open once more after they had shut.

“My sweet,” he whispered, softly. “So magnificent for me.”

He carefully himself nuzzled between your legs, your eyes watered; feeling him. As his warm hands continued to wipe away the tears that dribbled down your eyes while soft praises were whispered in your ears.

“Look at how good you’re taking me, my sweet,” he whispered, kissing on your neck.

He continued to watch you unravel even more; such beauty in pleasure. Ithaqua’s hands remained on your hips, helping your tired hips to match his overwhelming pace that unraveled you further down in the spiral of pleasure. He continued his pace as he long forgot the amount of rounds you’ve both had been through, hearing your voice almost strangled but it still remained as a melody to him while the only noise echoing through the small cottage; wet smacking and the soft crackling of firewood. He held your hands, expecting them to feel cold but finally they were now warm.

“Your hands are still cold, my sweet,” he lied.

[jeguluses]

✶ tunnel vision ✶

for @jeguluskinktoberr day 15 : masturbation ✰ 995 words ; t4t mutual masturbation ; first time fluff ; praise

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 HERE | nsfw

They’re house sitting for James’ parents when Regulus suggests it.

“What?” James asks, almost spitting out his butterbeer. They had been in the middle of their yearly Practical Magic rewatch.

Suddenly, the younger man seems defensive. “It was just an idea,” he says, pouting.

“No, I was just making sure I heard you correctly,” James assures him, mopping up the bit of his beverage that dribbled out of his mouth with a napkin. “Is that really something you want?”

“Are you kidding? It sounds hot as fuck, don’t be ridiculous.”

And James has to agree. The idea of touching himself with Regulus watching him, touching himself for James, the idea was intoxicating. Truth be told, he was already getting a bit wet at just the thought.

“Okay. Let’s do it,” James says, eyes blazing with determination.

So, that’s how they end up in James' childhood bed, pantsless and facing each other. They’d made out a bit before taking some of their clothing on and with that and his imagination, James was properly aroused. The knowledge that Regulus can surely tell, with the moisture gathering at his entrance and on display with his boyfriend, only has him feeling hotter.

“You look so gorgeous, James. Will you touch yourself for me? Please, baby.”

James thighs clench at the request and he trails his fingers down to his labia. He whimpers as he sinks his digits into the warm folds, playing with his opening.

“Wow,” Regulus breathes, moving his own hand in response. He places his entire hand over his cunt and uses all of his fingers to stimulate his cock and his hole. There’s a wet, vulgar noise to match his slick movement and it’s that sound that gets James off more than the visual.

Though, the visual is otherworldly.

James slides two of his fingers to his cock, inching his hips forward so that his knees are touching Regulus, making him swallow dryly in arousal. He circles the engorged nerves, crying out at the touch on his sensitive cunt.

“Yes!” Regulus shouts. “You sound so pretty. Look even prettier.”

“Regulus!” James sobs.

“I know, James. I know,” Regulus coos, his fingers moving faster. “You gonna fingerfuck yourself for me? Make that pretty cunt come all over your own hands while I watch?”

This time, it’s Regulus who moves closer, wrapping a leg around James. Regulus' thigh now rests over his own and James can’t help but reach out to touch the warm skin. He digs his fingers into the flesh and sinks the two fingers playing with his clit into his drooling hole.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Feels so good, Regulus.”

“Love the way you sound, saying my name like that. I could come from your voice alone.”

It’s all James can do to continue to emit the most desperate sounds as he steadily pumps his fingers in and out of his cunt. He can’t take his eyes off Regulus' own fingers, he’s got three of them now rapidly flying over his own moistened cock. Regulus has hardly been quiet either.

“Can’t wait to get my hands on you,” he is saying now. “Want to learn how to touch you, make you come.” He’s much more vocal than he is outside of the bedroom and James is not complaining.

“Please.” James has figured out the proper angle to ride his fingers as he rubs his clit at the same time. He knows he’s close, his thighs shaking against Regulus' and his breath coming in heaving pants.

Regulus watches James hungrily, even licking his lips occasionally. James wants to kiss him but doesn’t have the finesse to do it while he continues to get himself off. He thinks of the wicked tongue his boyfriend possesses and how it feels entwined with his, aware of the way his moans pick up pitch.

Regulus hips have started to twitch infrequently as he works his hand diligently and James thinks finds it unfairly sexy. “Are you going to come for me, baby?” Regulus asks.

“Unfair,” James whines, referring to the rare pet name use. “I want to see you go first.”

“Yeah?” Regulus exhales. “Fuck, come here.”

James is enveloped in Regulus' hold as he’s brought into a passionate kiss. Somehow, James' hand never leaves from the space between his thighs and neither does Regulus'. The younger man moans into his mouth deliciously as he comes, groaning into James' mouth and scratching his nails down the back of his neck.

“Oh,” James whimpers, “I’m—” is all he can get out before he’s following his boyfriend over the edge. He locks eyes with Regulus and the feeling is overwhelming, the sky is falling and the streets are flooding. James is heaving, now, lightheaded as Regulus whispers sweet words into his chest.

Regulus' arms come to wrap around James’ figure, holding him close as he pets his hair. “You did so good. You were perfect. Love you so much.”

James' insides are warm with the afterglow and the affection. Regulus hardly says the words and when he does, it never fails to make James feel special. It’s not that the older man doesn’t feel loved by Regulus. The man shows James every day how much he cares for him. He’s always looking out for James, making sure he is taking care of himself and telling him how attractive he finds him. Regulus is always holding onto James tightly and kissing him tenderly, like it might be the last time.

Every time James had pictured being intimate with someone for the first time, he had always imagined that he would feel embarrassed afterwards; ashamed of his body and dissatisfied with the experience. But instead, James just feels extraordinarily special and sexy.

“Did you like it, darling?” Regulus asks sweetly, pulling James down on top of him to allow the older man to lay on him.

“The best, my love. I love you, too.”

And the pair fell in love, still naked and satiated.

[sonotkari]

On Top

Mo Jihye x Fem Reader

[ Synopsis ]

Jihye loves saving her favorites for last, and the strawberry on top of her shortcake was not an exception.

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.2k berry berry short

[ a/n ]

Yes I said I was gonna be on hiatus but ended up finishing this draft that's been collecting dust TT it's been a while since I actually did not run away from my drafts and the typical "written in a short period" so heads up (why do I always give heads up these days... oh well) See you guys, never /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

To sweet souls who love strawberries, dis for u bae <3

Jihye took a bite of her strawberry shortcake with a satisfied hum, a small smile appearing in sight as you too, followed and took a piece of your chocolate cake, savoring the sweet taste spreading, satisfying your taste buds.

What felt like a forever-lasting week had finally come to an end, and you and Jihye had both been on a tight schedule for so long now, making it hard to find the time to spend some quality time together.

Upcoming tasks and projects every 2 days, and Jihye starting her part-time job at the newly opened cafe by your apartment, made it hard for you to match both timings.

When you were back from uni, Jihye was already off to work, and by the time she was home, you'd be already in your dreams. When Jihye woke up, you were already off to uni, and by the time you got home, she was off to work and it felt like a never-ending saga.

So it still feels almost unreal that you and Jihye were sitting comfortably at the corner of a small cafe, cakes, and cups of hot lattes served in front of two while chattering your hearts out, catching up on the things you had missed.

"Do you eat it first, or save it for last?"

You gazed up to see your girlfriend grinning at you as she let the fork sink in and cut a piece of the cake on her plate.

"Hm?? What are you referring to, Ji?"

"The strawberry on top, silly" 

Your eyes shifted at the big red strawberry placed perfectly on Jihye's shortcake. You then remember a funny little memory of how you committed a bit of a harmless crime by stealing one of Jihye's strawberries back in high school, where the girl would drag you out to every cafe to "investigate" which had the most scrumptious cake in town.

Somehow, you were never fond of strawberry shortcakes. The cream was kinda too sweet, maybe even kinda mushy...? Not knowing specifically why you never got fond of the cake, you wouldn't even try and order it for yourself unless someone insists on giving you a piece.

But Jihye's strawberry shortcake?

The urge to see how she'd look shocked after taking that big red strawberry and how she'd pout like a half-crying puppy was just coming and you couldn't help but swiftly stab the poor berry and quickly take a bite while looking at Jihye, a wicked teasing smile creeping across your face as you do so.

It sank in well that you committed one heavy crime as soon as you saw her actually pout like a lost puppy who just got dumped in the streets. One typical story, but oh why you look at her face. As much as you found it adorable, it was heart-wrenching at the same time.

But it all soon wrapped up well at the end when Jihye had hummed happily, diddle daddling her way out of the cafe with the small white box in her hand, another perfect shortcake sitting inside which you bought for her to pay for the sin you just committed a while ago. 

Recreating that same teasing smile, you raised your fork from the chocolate cake and smirked at Jihye. 

"Is that an invitation?" 

"Ah-" 

Slowly pulling her plate closer, Jihye looked at you with a side longing stare before the both of you burst out giggles and chuckles. You endearingly took glances at your girlfriend happily munching her cake, trying to avoid the center where the so-called "perfect strawberry" was sitting.

Jihye had always saved her strawberry for last, every time she would have a shortcake. It doesn't only apply to that but mostly everything she eats, she saves favorites for last. 

"Saving it for last makes the happy feeling last longer" 

Just like a catchphrase, you remembered how Jihye used to always say that phrase every time you both would go eat, and you were there looking at the girl with her lips curved into a big big smile while savoring the last bit of her food.

As much as the girl was always good with her appetite for food, making it was also one of a million things she had skills with. 

==========

That one time when Jihye had a pretty high fever and felt too unwell to do things, you stepped in for her and did the work around the house. You were capable of what you needed to do to take care of your poor sick girlfriend. Except for one small thing. 

Cooking. 

Your cooking method never changed since you started learning back when you were little.

No instructions, no recipe to follow, no measuring of any sort of kind, just imagination. 

So it wasn't surprising when Jihye woke up to go and get a refill of water in her glass and saw you rushing here and there to the kitchen with a not-so-tidy table and sizzling noise coming from the pot (which is the not-good way of a sizzling sound) 

"You doin' good there Y/nnie??"

"Oh- uhm, hi Ji...!!" 

"Did your "imagination cooking tactics" not work this time??" 

You were trying to make her a rice porridge and in some way (which Jihye will never know where, how, or why) you failed to do so. So now it was her turn to step in and do the mixing and stirring while you were by her side looking a bit guilty that you made Jihye do all that while she was sick.

"I'm not wife material at all" 

"uh- what??" 

A soft chuckle couldn't be helped to escape Jihye's lips seeing you sigh as you repeated your words. 

"Y/n, you literally did everything you could for me today. If it wasn't for you I think I wouldn't even be here standing" 

Jihye says so and takes a spoonful of hot rice porridge, giving it a few blows before carrying the spoon by your mouth as you gladly open up to taste the best porridge you've ever tasted (even this to was meant for Jihye herself) and at the same time wondering how that mess you made a while ago turned into this five star Michelin. 

"Besides" 

She murmurs, gently wiping off the corner of your mouth before smiling softly again. 

"You're wife material to me and that's all that matters, no?"

==========

After some time of recalling nostalgic memories, you look up to see Jihye having her last bite of the cake, but one thing on her plate catches your eye.

"Really saving it for the very last huh??" 

After Jihye took a bite, she looked down at the neatly preserved strawberry before smiling. 

"Mhm. Saving it for last makes the happy feeling last longer"

She says so and takes the strawberry with her fork. But unexpectedly, she held out the fork in front of you. Taking turns looking at Jihye and the strawberry right in front of you confusingly, Jihye giggled at your questioning state before she spoke up.

"Giving my happiness to my dear girlfriend"

"Oh? I thought that was your most prized possession tho??"

You teasingly smirked a bit before outing a chuckle.

"Well, I guess I just love you so so much. So much more than the strawberry on top"

Somehow, you were never fond of strawberry shortcakes. But Jihye's strawberry shortcake? Specifically, the strawberry on top? Well, that might be your favorite one in the whole wide world. 

I act. made a rice porridge and ate it while writing this lmao

[coolseabird]

Every Literary Reference Gale Makes When Selected in BG3 (That I Could Find)

"Oh, what a tangled Weave we web!" -

A play on words referencing the famous quote, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive," from Sir Walter Scott's poem "Marmion."

"What fools these mortals be." -

A quote from William Shakespeare's play "A Midsummer Night's Dream," spoken by the character Puck.

"All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it." -

A reference to the famous Shakespearean line, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players," from "As You Like It."

"No rest for the wicked" -

A phrase that originates from the Bible Isaiah 48:22 There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked.

"To hold the world in the palm of one's hand" -

I believe this is a reference to this part of the poem Auguries of Innocence by William Blake: To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.

"'Doth thy mirror crack?' Apparently not." -

I was so sure this was a quote from some Shakespearean play but nope lol. This is a Waterdhavian phrase that was mentioned in a DnD companion book at some point.

"Seek and you shall find me." -

From the bible. Specifically Matthew 7:7–8 Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.

The path less travelled. -

A reference to Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken," which includes the line, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by."

"Creator. Destroyer." -

This is a reference to the Lord Krishna's words in the Bhagavad Gita. O Arjuna, I am the creator, maintainer and destroyer of all created objects, such as the sky. Of all knowledge I am knowledge of the self, and in logical debate I am vāda, the philosophical principle that asserts the conclusive truth.

"A rough tempest I will raise" -

I found the explanation behind this quote from a reddit post: "Shakespeare - Tempest, - this is a mash-up of two quotes: In Act V, Scene 1, Prospero uses the phrasing "when first I raised the Tempest". In the same scene, he recites a soliloquy about the great works of magic he has accomplished, before finally renouncing magic altogether: " … But this rough magic I here abjure" https://www.reddit.com/r/BaldursGate3/comments/17uher2/literary_references_in_gales_selection_remarks/ (this person came to the same conclusions as me for many of the prior quotes but I only used their post for this one haha)

I almost certainly missed a few! If there are any others please feel free to reblog and add them!

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Pass me the — thing.”

“The thing.”

“Yes. The one.”

Hunk’s amusement is evident. “Here’s the thing about capital-T Things, Pidge Podge.”

She makes a face. Ugh, not him too. The annoying nicknames Lance comes up with always seem to end up in other people’s vocabularies. It’s the worst. (They don’t even make sense, either. Her name comes from Pascha, her Hebrew name, because she was tiny even when she was a baby. And Matt is ridiculous. But Lance’s names come from nowhere!)

(…She supposes she’ll allow it, though. Occasionally. Because she’s the best ever, basically, and endlessly benevolent.)

“Things in concept are referential,” Hunk continues, snickering to himself as he dodged her blind kick. “Ergo, you need to reference them. Specifically. Outside of your own brain.”

She makes a noise of frustration, tilting her head in the direction of the scrap pile on Hunk’s work table. “The thing! Shiny! With the— blegh!” She is Focused right now, alright. There are Processes happening in her brain. Words are secondary.

“I’m just going to ignore you now.”

“No! The thing! The thing that looks like a dreidel!”

“There we go,” he says emphatically. She scowls at him. He grins brightly. She holds her glare for a whopping three seconds, which is frankly record-breaking, so. Point to her. “That’s a referential Thing.”

He scoops up the piece and tosses it at her. She catches it without looking (which is wicked cool and something she will subtly mention next time she watches Allura drop something) and sets it on the table top beside her, finishing up a tricky solder. Leaning back to admire her handiwork, which is, indeed, quite handy, her gaze keeps getting pulled to the little part.

“You know, it really does look like a dreidel.” She picks it up by the stem, flicking the little acorn-shaped object and watching it spin. It works like one, too.

Hunk hums. After a few moments, curious at the air newly lacking the sounds of her tinkering, he looks over at her. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“…What day is it on Earth, do you think?”

Pidge shrugs. “We left in late May. Been a few months, at least.”

“Lance has a watch.”

“Course he does. ‘Cause he’s a big ol’ nerd geek loser.”

Hunk snorts. “Indeed.”

At the same time, without either of them having to say a word, they scramble to their feet, abandoning their projects and rushing out the workroom door.

“Pool?” Hunk asks.

“Nah, training room. He was in the pool this morning.”

Neither of them is particularly fast, but after months of Shiro’s training they can handle their own. They don’t, sprint, per se, because that would be embarrassing and Lance would be all dorky and pleased about it (can’t have that), but they…hustle. Hustle would be the right word. There’s some hastiness about, some purpose to their step.

As they run past the kitchen and finally turn down the corridor to get to the training room, a door opens on the left and someone walks out. Hunk grabs the back of Pidge’s sweater (totally not Keith’s grey hoodie that she stole) to keep her from crashing straight into them.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says, smiling brightly. “We were just looking for you!”

Lance, predictably, gets all dorky and pleased about it.

“Well, Lancey-Lance is at your service,” he preens, brushing fake dust off his shoulders. “Of course I am happy to offer my services to such —”

“Why’d you come outta Keith’s room?” Pidge interrupts, squinting.

She’s pretty sure that’s Keith’s room, anyway. The door on the left has a dent on it from when Lance tripped and brained himself on it in their first week of space.

Curiously — oh so curiously — Lance turns a violent shade of red and cringes with his whole entire body.

“Whaaat,” he says, voice cracking so many times she actually winces in reflective sympathy. He laughs nervously. “That’s not — I’m not — Keith isn’t —”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, then coughs, then doesn’t bother. Pidge can actually feel the heat pouring off of him, which is so humiliating that she almost decides to be merciful.

“Is Keith also in there?” she says instead, because fuck that.

Lance looks at the floor like he’s considering swan diving onto it. “What did you guys need me for again?” he asks, loudly.

Hunk, too soft from years of close proximity to Lance, takes pity. “We need your watch, dude. What day is it on Earth?”

Lance’s dark eyes go a bit sad, like they always do when someone mentions the E-word. But it’s gone before Pidge can so much as register it, really, and then he’s glancing down at his dork ass bright blue Moana watch and saying, “One twenty-six on December 7th.”

Pidge cheers. Hunk grins.

“Clear your schedule!” Pidge shouts, pumping her fists. “Hanukkah starts in a few hours!”

———

“An…oil…feast?”

“Yeah!” Pidge says enthusiastically. Allura leans forward, intrigued — she loves stories from Earth. Anything from Earth fascinates her, really. “Thousands of years ago, Jews — my people culturally and religiously — had just freed themselves from the cruel rule of a kingdom that resided over them. They wanted to purify the Temple — that’s where practicing Jews go to pray — so they were burning holy oil. But there was only one bottle of sacred oil, which was upsetting, since that would only burn for one night. But miraculously, the oil kept burning for eight nights!”

Allura gasps. “But how?”

Pidge shrugs. “Religious Jews believe it was a miracle from God, who is our holy deity. Whether or not you’re religious though, Hanukkah is celebrated at the end of every year to commemorate Jewish resilience and hope. The oil is our physical way of celebrating, ‘cause it burned for eight days exactly — as long as it takes to make more oil.”

“And so we get to celebrate by eating delicious fried food,” Lance adds, fist-pumping. He grins at Pidge’s raised eyebrows. “My sister-in-law is Jewish, so my neice and nephew are too. We celebrate Hanukkah every year and it rocks.”

Pidge can feel her smile lighting up her body. There are bigger celebrations, and more religiously important ones, but Hanukkah is so much fun. She hasn’t celebrated in too long — it came and went last year before she even noticed, too wrapped up in finding her brother. And the year before that, her and Mom couldn’t…not without Dad and Matt. They couldn’t celebrate with just the two of them, they spent most evenings in their own rooms.

Shiro’s steady hand comes to rest on her shoulder, squeezing gently. She glances up to find him smiling sadly at her, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“We’ll light a candle for each of them,” he murmurs into her hair. “Colleen, too.”

“Is that what’s done?” Coran inquires softly. “Candles lit, in remembrance?”

Pidge hums, leaning back into Shiro. He holds steady, hand staying fast on her shoulder. Keith flashes her one of his quick smiles, small and comforting.

“Yeah. Eight candles, in something called a menorah. One for each night, one for each intention.” She meets Coran’s eyes first, then Allura’s, her own expression determined. “We’ll light a candle for Altea, too.”

“I would like that,” whispers Allura, swallowing.

“I can make the menorah,” Hunk offers, “if you and Lance want to help. Lance has a good eye for design.”

Pidge takes a couple more moments in Shiro’s embrace, soaking up some of his strength. No one interrupts her. Once she feels like she can stand straight again, like her family is tucked neatly where they usually are in the centre of her heart rather than spilling out all over the place, she stands, patting Shiro’s hand as it falls away, and steps towards her friends.

“Yes, let’s do. We’ll need a few things, actually, to get ready. Keith, you think you can paint the right symbols on the dreidel if I describe them to you?”

He nods. “Yep. I’ll draw ‘em out first, it shouldn’t take long. I think I’ve seen them before, anyway.”

“Cool. Allura, Coran, you wanna put up some decorations? Lance can help you out.”

All three enthusiastically agree, rushing off to make do.

“Shiro —” She falters. “Uh, dude, maybe steer clear of the kitchen. Wanna help with the menorah since Lance is on decorations? Then Hunk’ll have more time to cook.”

Shiro pouts, as he always does when he’s teased about his cursed kitchen tendencies, but the twitch of his smile gives him away.

“I guess,” he laments. “I’m sure I could fry latkes without burning the castle down.”

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk shudder in unison.

“Yeah, right,” Keith says. “You remember when you set a pot of water on fire, Hazard Boy? Because I do.”

———

For people who have no idea what they’re doing, the decorations end up looking really nice.

Everything does, actually. By the time Lance’s watch hits six — the time they have all collectively decided will be sundown based on absolutely nothing — everything is prepped and ready to go. Keith got the characters down after a couple tries, and the dreidel looks like any other one Pidge has used before. Lance had, from what Pidge picked up from Allura’s grumbling, channeled his inner festivity dictator to ensure all decorations were as lovely as possible with their limited materials. Of course the menorah Hunk and Pidge created looks beautifully intricate, one of the more gorgeous things Pidge has ever seen even with all the wonky mismatched candles.

“Okay,” Hunk says, clapping his hands together. “If you guys want to set up the table, Lance and I will be finished plating the food shortly. I dunno about you guys, but I’ve been smelling fried food for a couple hours now, and I need to eat.”

“Please,” Pidge groans, because she’s been smelling it too and boy is Hunk ever a head chef.

Everyone rushes to get the table set as quickly as possible. Pidge makes sure to put Lance’s favourite cup (that he has a hissy fit if anyone else so much as looks at, even though it is practically identical to ever other cup except one tiny chip one the bottom that he loves for some reason) next to the chair closest to the door, where Keith always sits, because she has not forgotten the Earlier Incident. If all goes well then something embarrassing will happen for her to witness, which is all she can ask for, really.

“Can someone who is not Allura come help me bring food over?” Hunk calls from the kitchen as Pidge places the last fork. “No offense, Princess, but I watched you and Lance walk into the same door this morning and I’d rather our hard work not end up splatted and inedible on the floor.”

“Offense taken,” says Allura darkly, and Lance’ whining echoes all the way to where they’re standing.

Keith meets Pidge’s eye and snickers.

“I got it, Hunk,” he calls, jogging over to them.

“Absolutely not!” Lance screeches. “There is no way I will allow Mullet to be entrusted with something I am not allowed to —”

He cuts himself off with a loud shriek. Whether Keith finally pinched him quiet or Lance is just shrieking for drama’s sake Pidge will never know, but moments later the red paladin is striding out of the kitchen, heaping bowl in one hand, batting Lance away with the other.

“If you drop that I’ll kill you both,” Hunk promises, setting the heaping plate he’s holding down on the table.

Thankfully, nothing gets dropped (although does it ever come close). Everyone is accounted for and seated and nothing has gone to waste, and Pidge’s stomach is growling.

“Got a little bit of everything,” Hunk says. “Classic latkes, kugel, and sufganiyot. And you mentioned the zippoli and arancini your Nonna used to make, Pidge, so I made some of that too. And Lance made lots of masitas and plátanos.”

“Hope that’s okay,” Lance says, face kind of scrunched. “I know it���s not traditional, but we had it on Hanukkah, and I thought —”

Pidge grins at him. “Looks great, man.”

Everyone takes turns passing food around and loading up their plate. Pidge takes four zippoli. She regrets nothing. She has had none in several years and this looks perfect.

Before anyone starts, all eyes turn to Pidge, so she squeezes her eyes shut and remembers her mother’s blessing: “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam shehakol niyah bidvaro.” She opens her eyes again. “Dig in, everybody.”

No one needs to be told twice. For a while the castle is even shockingly silent, everyone too busy shoving their faces. Keith chokes on latke. Shiro laughs at him until the red on his face is from more than a lack of oxygen.

“I love human food,” gushes Allura, inhaling more plátanos. “You guys got to eat like this every day?”

“Unless you lived with someone who regular fucks up ramen noodles,” Keith says pointedly, dodging Shiro’s under-the-table-kick.

“I think Numbers Two and Three might just be talented in the kitchen,” Coran responds. Both Hunk and Lance beam at the praise.

After dinner — and lordy it does not take long to polish it off — they clear the plates away, tidying up the table, as Pidge sets out the menorah. She carefully sets out the candles they have gathered, arranging and re-arranging the order. When she’s satisfied, she picks up the smallest candle, thin green stripes running up its sides, and places it in the space at the far right. She picks up the shamash — choosing the thickest and tallest one — and accepts the lighter Keith offers her. Once it is flaming, she holds it outwards, and begins to softly recite the blessings she memorized so long ago:

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higiyanu laz'man hazeh.”

She says the words slowly, carefully, allowing herself to feel the shape of them on her tongue. They are familiar. They are heavy. They get caught in her throat, tangled, and stay there until tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, softening the way out. Her voice shakes, but she feels her own strength spreading through her like the heat of the shamesh candle.

“Make it home to me, Matt,” she whispers, as she lights the first candle.

———

“Okay, there is no fucking way.”

Pidge cackles at Keith’s indignant protest, accepting Lance’s sharp high-five and dragging in the entire pot of tokens again.

The two of them are absolutely fucking killing it. Their token piles are high. Keith has had to begrudgingly ask Lance for a loan no less than six times. Everyone else is dangerously low, except for Coran, who’s doing alright.

Pidge thinks this is righteous. As the two youngest, she and Lance should be winning by birthright, basically.

“Suck it, Kogane,” she says gleefully. She flicks a token at him. “Take some charity.”

Keith scowls at her, but takes the token because he is too broke not to. It is greatly amusing.

Ha! Loser.

The game shouldn’t last as long as it does, but somehow it keeps going for hours. Pidge suspects Shiro has several dozen tokens up his sleeve and is cheating. Allura may also be using alchemy to make more tokens appear. Either way, Pidge and Lance’s hordes are steadily increasing, and the menorah has long since been blown out, and the food has settled in everyone’s stomach, and Pidge’s head keeps drooping.

“Think it’s just you and me, Pidge-Podge,” Lance says softly. Someone tucks her hair behind her ear, she’s not sure who. Her eyes might be closed. “What say you we call it a tie, huh?”

“There’s no tie in dreidel,” she argues. “We gotta finish.”

“I’m thinking we play again tomorrow,” Coran suggests. “I’m sure when you’re fully awake you can destroy Number Four much more efficiently.”

“Hey,” says Number Four in question, indignantly.

Pidge manages a smile. Keith sticks his tongue out back at her, and the next thing she knows there are arms around her waist and she’s airborne. She buries her face in a strong shoulder and pretends, secretly, it’s her father, even though she knows it’s not.

“Say goodnight, dork,” whispers Shiro. He pauses, adjusting slightly. “Oof.”

“You’re getting old,” says Keith gleefully.

“Respect your elders,” hisses Lance, accompanied by a swift punch to Keith’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Keith complains, but interestingly he only pouts at Lance instead of maiming him. “It’s Shiro! He’s not even an elder, he’s six! You —”

“Goodnight, Pidge,” say Hunk and Allura, loudly.

Pidge smiles. Her voice is half-buried in Shiro’s shirt. “Night.”

She doesn’t remember the walk to her room, but she feels it when she’s laid down, when blankets are fluffed over her and a kiss is pressed to her forehead.

“Sleep well, Katie,” whispers a voice, and the cool metal of the fingers brushing her hair are soothing. “Love you, kiddo. Happy Hanukkah.”

She falls asleep the the click of her door closing and a warmth burning hot in her heart.

[bwabys-scenarios]

🎄Fixer Upper🎄

Pt 29

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 28

part 29.5

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! There is a lot of smut in this chapter, and the next few chapters will be a flashback to the Chimera Ant Arc!

⚠️warning⚠️: there is a sex scene in this chapter, virginity loss, creampie, oral(reader receiving), fingering, boob sucking

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

If you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

The week was taking forever to pass by, Kurapika becoming more antsy by the day. Killua watched as the blonde nearly tripped staring at (Name) as she passed by.

“Jesus Christ man, I know you’re like head over heels in love with her, but can you at least watch where you’re going? You nearly spilt coffee on my Minecraft creeper slippers.”

Alluka giggled, circling the blonde. “You like (Naamee), you like (Naaamee)!”

The blonde turned bright red, trying to quiet the girl as (Name) turned back around. “Hmm? What were you saying Alluka?”

Killua patted Alluka’s shoulder, giving her a look. “Oh… nothing, big sis.”

Incidents like this happened nearly daily. Kurapika couldn’t help swooning every time she walked by, and sighing like a wife whose husband left for war when she left.

“She’s only been gone for 15 minutes, Kurapika.”

The blonde huffed. He had just been peeking out the window and Killua felt the need to tease him. “I just miss her, is that a crime?”

“No, but being a clingy loser is.”

(Name) got back a few minutes later, carrying a few grocery bags. She was immediately greeted by Kurapika, who took the bags and hovered around her like a lovesick puppy. “Did you miss me that much, Pika?”

She gave his cheek a peck as she put away the nutmeg and cookie mix. Kurapika had been by her side at all times for the past few days, wanting to cuddle, kiss, or hold hands as much as possible. It was like he was making up for lost time.

After putting up the groceries, (Name) was pulled towards the couch so he could “discuss their Christmas plans”. In reality, it was an excuse for him to lay his head in her lap while she talked and played with his hair.

“(Name)…”

She combed through his hair with her fingers, humming softly. “Yes, Pika?”

Kurapika glanced at the newly set up Christmas tree, its branches still bare. He stayed quiet for a second before speaking, his voice now softer, almost sounding nostalgic. “The Kurta… we didn’t celebrate Christmas, but… we still had similar traditions during the winter.”

(Name)’s eyes widened, her hands pausing before resuming. Kurapika almost never brought up his clan unless it was in reference to his revenge, so she was a little surprised. “What traditions were they?”

“… we would decorate the trees in our village. Each family had their own tree to grow and take care of throughout the year, and during winter we would decorate it with jewelry and handmade ornaments. When… I discovered the massacre, not only had they killed my family, they burned down our homes and trees. It’s stupid, but… when I searched the rubble of my home after burying the dead, seeing my childhood ornaments burnt to a crisp made me cry. It was something I never thought I would lose, I took the little things for granted.”

(Name) cupped his cheek gently. As he spoke, Kurapika’s eyes began to water, before tears freely fell.

“It’s not stupid, Pika. That was something important to you, a hint of normalcy that you never thought would be ripped away. It’s okay to be upset with it, small things like that made up your life.”

Kurapika leaned into her touch, allowing her to comfort him with her warmth. “Pika… you know, we could make ornaments together… if you wanted.”

He let out a shaky sigh, turning to bury his face into her stomach. “That… would be wonderful, (Name).”

She smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of his head. “We’ll pick up the supplies when we go in our date this Saturday.”

‘Our date…’

He nuzzled against her, his arms wrapping around her waist to gently squeeze the fat of her hips. “Sounds like a plan…”

It felt like being in the Hunter Exam again. He was so soft and sweet with her, wanting to snuggle and cuddle with her every second he could. Although they still struggled with kissing due to their shyness, hugs and cuddles were becoming common place.

Before they knew it, the day of their date had come. The entire day, Kurapika paced around, taking an extra long shower. After he got out, he dressed himself in a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop so he could get some work done. It was only 12 pm, their date was supposed to be at 5 pm.

“Ah, where are my shoes…”

Kurapika looked up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow as he watched (Name) pull on an ugly Christmas sweater over a tanktop. “Our date isn’t until 5 pm, why are you getting ready? Are you going somewhere?”

The blonde had grown even more attached than he had been during the Hunter Exam, wanting to be near her or at least know where she was at all times.

“That’s none of your business.”

Kurapika turned to see Killua wearing a matching Christmas sweater, carrying Cornbread the cat in one arm, and a cat carrier holding Meatloaf in the other. By the looks of his scratched up hand, Kurapika knew Killua probably attempted to carry Meatloaf by hand the first go around.

“Are… are the cats wearing sweaters too?”

“Yeah, and what of it? It’s cold.”

(Name) rolled his eyes at Killua’s sassy remark. “We’re going to take pictures at the mall with the cats.”

Kurapika nodded slowly, starting at Meatloaf as she growled in the carrier. “Uh huh…”

He turned to (Name) looking a little shy. “Can I come?”

“Oh hell no! This is a mother and son trip, no deadbeats allowed!”

“Killua!”

She folded her arms at the boy, frowning. “I know you’ve been excited for this, but there’s no reason he can’t tag along. You should be nice baby, it’s almost Christmas.”

Killua cursed under his breath, mumbling something about Kurapika ruining things before he sighed. “Whatever, but he can’t cling to you the whole time. It’s annoying.”

Kurapika glanced down to his arm wrapped around (Name)’s waist, and reluctantly pulled it away. “… I don’t… I don’t cling to her.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.”

(Name) held onto Kurapika’s hand, smiling softly. “I don’t mind it, Kurapika. I like that you want to be close to me.”

His cheeks erupted into a blush, and he could only nod, lightly squeezing her hand as they walked to the car.

Killua and (Name) sat for pictures, Cornbread in Killua’s lap and Meatloaf in (Name)’s. They both smiled, though Meatloaf spat and hissed at both Killua and the photographer. “Aww, these pictures are going to be so cute!”

Kurapika watched from behind the camera, peeking at the two. (Name) seemed so happy, and Kurapika found the way she held Meatloaf in her arms like a newborn baby quite cute.

“Can I… get in one of these pictures?”

Killua seemed personally offended by Kurapika’s question, scrunching up his face. “Um… are you a mother or a son to anyone here? No? Yeah, get back behind the camera. You might break the lens.”

(Name) gasped, pinching Killua’s cheek. “Killua, that’s way too mean, even for you! Come here Pika, I’ll take a picture with you.”

Killua grumbled, holding his cheek as he walked away with the cats. Kurapika raced towards (Name) quickly sitting next to her and pulling her close for a picture.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, taking the chance to lightly squish her hips before resting his hands on her stomach.

After the photos, the group got them developed and made their way home. “Aww, Killua, Meatloaf was looking at you in this one!”

“I think she wanted to eat me.”

(Name) glanced back at the cat, grimacing as it growled at Kurapika from its carrier. “Well… she’s got her muzzle on. You’re… probably safe.”

To be safe, (Name) carried Meatloaf in, cooing softly as she helped her out of the carrier. The cat purred in her arms, kneading at her Christmas sweater. “There, there, sweetheart. I know, it was a stressful day wasn’t it?”

She placed Meatloaf on the floor, Kurapika stepping out of the cat’s way. Over the past few months, he learned to avoid the cat to keep the peace.

They still had a few hours left until their date, so Kurapika locked himself in his room to get ready.

———————

“Oh… is that what you’re wearing?”

Kurapika frowned as Leorio inspected his clothes with a raised eyebrow. “I want to look nice, this is our first real date.”

“Yeah, but you’re going Christmas shopping, not ballroom dancing.”

The blonde had put on the tailored suit he got when shopping with Leorio and (Name) last week. “Haha, real funny. She said I looked handsome in this.”

“Kurapika, she thinks you look handsome in anything. I saw her blush when you came home covered in blood.”

A blush spread over Kurapika’s cheeks. “Really? I… think she looks gorgeous in anything. Or nothing.”

“Dude. Killua is right there.”

Killua stood by the door, holding his overnight bag with a horrified look on his face. He wordlessly backed away and walked back towards his room. They could hear Alluka questioning him about his disturbed expression.

“Ahh… I didn’t see him there.”

“Clearly.”

The blonde combed his hair, looking at himself in the mirror. Since he’d been living with (Name), the dark circles under his eyes had grown smaller, and his hair was much softer and healthier. Although it was still long, she’s given him a trim last month to get rid of any split ends.

Kurapika was still insecure, though. He was awfully pale, and still thinner than he was “supposed” to be. His old suit hadn’t only been torn and bloody, it had also been slightly baggy on him. He was still trying to take better care of himself, and (Name) sure was helping by making sure he ate three scare meals a day, along with snacks. He had gained a few pounds, finally able to wear some of his clothes without them sagging as badly.

He didn’t think he looked very handsome, but the memory of (Name)’s words made his face flush again. Maybe it was okay if he struggled to see his own self worth. He had her. That was enough, right?

The blonde stepped out of his room, standing in the living room. “(Name), I’m ready.”

“Coming!”

He heard the jingling of her keychains as she came running downstairs, the smell of her perfume the second thing he noticed.

The third thing he noticed was that she was wearing the cardigan she wore during the Hunter Exam and a pair of jeans.

(Name) was smiling as she reached the final step, although she looked a little confused at his formal getup. “Pika, sweetheart, you do know we’re going shopping, right? Wouldn’t you rather be comfortable?”

He blushed, looking down at himself. Kurapika could imagine getting sweaty, or having sore feet after wearing his nice shoes all day. “Yeah, you’re right (Name)…”

Kurapika sulked back to his bedroom, (Name) following behind. He only noticed when he turned to close the door, seeing her standing right in front of him. “(N-Name)? What-“

She shushed him, sitting him on the bed. “I’ll find you something to wear, okay? Just sit there looking pretty for me.”

His face turned bright red as she rummage through his closet, the blonde unable to speak. His cock grew hard at her compliments, and he cursed his body for being so sensitive when it came to her.

“Hmm…”

She took out a light, peach colored sweater and some gray jeans. “This with your coat should be good. Come here…”

She stood in front of him, cupping his cheeks teasingly before moving her hands down to his tie, undoing it. Kurapika felt his entire body heat up, the bulge in his pants growing. “W-what are you doing!?”

“I’m helping you get ready for our date, Pika. I have to make sure you’re nice and comfortable, don’t I?”

As she spoke, she began unbuttoning his shirt, her hands slipping beneath the white fabric to caress his chest. “Oh, angel…”

His voice was soft and affectionate, with a tinge of lust underlying his words. Kurapika’s hands met hers, holding them gently. “If I let you do that, we may not make it to our date. I won’t be able to control myself.”

With a kiss to her forehead, Kurapika sent her away. “Wait for me outside, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

(Name) waited for him in the van, her cheeks warm and a fond smile on her face. ‘Maybe… he really does like me.’

————————

The two arrived at the mall right on time. Kurapika ran to open her door for her, his cheeks a soft pink as he helped her out. “Oh, what a gentleman. Thank you, Pika.”

He looked away, keeping a soft grip on her hand. “… you’re welcome, (Name).”

The mall was crowded more than usual, but not as bad as when they went on their midnight trip last week. Even so, Kurapika kept a protective arm around her waist as they walked through the mall.

“So, where should we start first?”

(Name) hummed, pulling out her shopping list. “Well, why don’t we start with getting the supplies to make ornaments?”

Kurapika paused, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over his body. “That’s… a great place to start.”

Kurapika guided her through the crowds of people to where they needed to go. (Name) looked around at the rows of Christmas decorations and ornaments, finally spotting some plain white and clear ornaments. “Ooo, we can paint these and place glitter or little objects in the clear ones!”

She held them up, giggling. Kurapika nodded, picking up a pack of clay and paint. “I’d like to hand make some as well… my people were artisanal, when we went into the outside world, we sold textiles and pottery, along with paintings.”

(Name) nodded, placing everything in the basket. “Okay, now just to get some glitter and other little things…”

Kurapika couldn’t help but feel excited about what the future held. He couldn’t wait to make ornaments again and have memories that he could build up again.

“Mmm… next is a big gift for Alluka…”

The spent a few hours shopping before they settled down to eat some cheap fast food at the food court. As Kurapika bit into his burger, he realized just how different the date Illumi and (Name) had to theirs.

Illumi took her to a fancy restaurant where they ate expensive food and wore nice clothes, while Kurapika and (Name) were dressed in jeans and sweaters as they wolfed down burgers and French Fries.

For a moment he almost felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe Illumi was better than him?

Then he saw (Name) smile and laugh, her eyes twinkling. She didn’t look at Illumi like that once during their date, and upon further reflection, Kurapika realized she looked pretty uncomfortable the entire time.

Now, with Kurapika, she smiled brightly and giggled, her chubby cheeks warm. She was happy to spend time with him, no matter where it was or what they were doing.

“You’re really cute, (Name). I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing your laugh.”

She blushed, giving him that pretty smile of hers. “I could say the same about you, Pika. Hearing you laugh makes me feel so happy.”

He was caught off guard with how sincerely she stated that, causing his cheeks to redden. “O-oh… I… want you to be happy all the time, I guess I’ll try to laugh more often.”

The two looked at each other for a moment before they both bursted out in laughter, having to bend over and hold their stomachs. “P-Pika please, my tummy hurts, haha!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

She wiped a tear from her eye, leaning back in her chair. Kurapika thought she looked gorgeous like this, her face warm from laughter and her eyes bright. If he was being honest, he would find her beautiful in any circumstance, she was his angel, the one he loved more than anything.

“Mmm… I think we got everything on the list. How about we grab some hot chocolate and cookies then head home?”

“That sounds good to me, angel.”

As they picked up their hot chocolate and cookies, Kurapika quirked an eyebrow at (Name), peeling into the bag. “You only got enough for the two of us. You usually get some for Killua and Alluka too.”

(Name) smiled, grabbing the bag before holding onto his hand with her free one, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They went to stay with Leorio for the night. It’s just going to be us at the house.”

A chill went down his spine, and he was sure she noticed the he gulped as his cheek turned red again. “Is that so?”

She nodded, tugging him towards the mom van. “Mhm, just us. We can watch some Christmas movies and snuggle on the couch with no interruptions! Killua usually would come sit between us like some kind of chaperone!”

She said this with a playful huff. “It’s weird, he acts like you’re going to pounce on me or something.”

‘Ah, he’s not wrong to think that, honestly…’ Kurapika thought, looking away. The bulge in his pants had returned, and he was just glad to be wearing an oversized sweater.

‘The thing I said during the fall get together probably didn’t help anything…’

They got into the mom van and drove home, sipping on their hot chocolate and snacking on cookies.

———————

Kurapika carried in most of (Name)’s shopping bags, insisting that she just get the Christmas movie started while he placed them in her closet upstairs. When he came back downstairs, she was heading up. “I’m going to change into my pajamas! The movie is already starting, so you can get changed and we can meet back up!”

The blonde nodded, watching her hips as she ran up the stairs, tripping on the same step she always did. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

After getting into comfortable pajamas, the two sat on the couch together, a few feet apart. They were both nervous, the energy a bit different than it had been the other times they’d been together.

After about 10 minutes into the movie, (Name) scooted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. Kurapika felt his heart pounding. She smelt so good, like hot chocolate and vanilla, along with her usual fruity perfume. It made him feel soft, and before he realized it, he had wrapped an arm around her to bring her closer.

“Mmm…”

He nearly whimpered when he felt her bury her face into his shoulder, her soft warm breath tickling his neck. “Pika…”

She planted a little kiss on his shoulder, her chubby cheek resting against him. “Can I… sit in your lap?”

Kurapika’s brain short circuited upon hearing her request, his face heating up to the point his entire face was now red. (Name) took his silence as him being uncomfortable with the question, and immediately pulled back. “N-never mind, I didn’t men’s t-“

She yelped when the blonde pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her plush frame. He rested his flustered face on her shoulder, trying to calm his breathing. “Please… just let me hold you. Stay…”

(Name) relaxed, returning the embrace. Her plump thighs were on either sides of his, her knees resting on the couch. He nearly shivered when she finally sat down completely, his hands falling to her hips to keep her in place.

It took Kurapika a moment to calm himself down, and when he did he looked up to see her gazing at him in a way that made his heart race. It was pure adoration and love, something he hadn’t experienced since he was a child. “(Name)…”

He cupped her cheek, his other hand lightly squeezing her hip. “You’re… everything to me.”

Her breath hitched, and they began leaning into each other. “Pika…”

When their lips met, he couldn’t help put pull her flush against him, feeling her breasts squish against his chest. “Mmm…”

His hands began to wander to her ass. Kurapika gave it a quick squeeze, making (Name) yelp. He took this as a chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers. She tasted sweet, like the hot chocolate and cookies they had earlier.

She could feel his bulge pressing into her, and she even lightly rocked her hips against him, causing him to moan into the kiss. His hands shot to her hips, helping to guide her over his bulge.

When they pulled away to breathe, his hands moved to her shirt, yanking it off. He nearly choked when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, her soft breasts now on full display for him. “(Name)…”

He glanced up at her, the blondes eyes widening in surprise when she guided his hands to her chest, placing them over her ample breasts. “Please.”

Kurapika took in a shaky breath as he gave her breasts a light squeeze, his hands trembling lightly in excitement. They were softer than he could have ever imagined, and fit in his hands perfectly, almost like she was made just for him.

His thumbs brushed over his nipples, the blonde neatly shuddering when he felt them harden under his gentle touch. The little whimper that left her lips was enough to encourage the shy Kurta to continue.

He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, so before he knew it he was leaning forward to press his lips into her breast, his tongue lapping at her nipple. “M-Mmph, Pika!”

Her face was hot, and she could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs as he looked up at her with those scarlet eyes, his mouth latching around her nipple. His tongue danced around her sensitive nipple, his other hand lightly pinching and tweaking the other. “Gorgeous… you’re beautiful…”

After releasing her breast with a soft “pop” from his mouth, he moved to sucking on her neck, giving her little bites and licks. By the time he was done, (Name) was a panting mess and her neck was covered in love bites and hickeys. Kurapika was also feeling the heat, and he was sure she could feel his bulge pressing into her clothed pussy.

“I want you, (Name)…”

He stared up at her, his eyes a brilliant shade of scarlet, the unique shade only she got to see. No one else got to see Kurapika’s eyes like that, they only turned that specific shade when he was looking at the one he loved.

“I… I want you too, Pika… I need you.”

He had been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that he finally had her in his arms, the blonde almost get overwhelmed.

Kurapika had hurt her, more than once, and he never would have thought he would have a second chance at this thing called love, especially not with her. He didn’t deserve her, not one bit, but he was determined to have her. Maybe he was being selfish by loving her, but in that moment he didn’t care. Her body was pressed against his, and he wanted her more than anything.

He scooped her up in her arms, smiling a little when her thighs wrapped around his waist. “My room or yours?”

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, humming softly. “Doesn’t matter…”

Kurapika squeezed her thighs when she began nipping at his neck, her soft lips brushing against his jaw as he walked upstairs. “A-angel, please, ah!”

He bit his lip when she nibbled on his ear. The blonde hurried up the stairs, his body trembling from her kisses and nibbles.

He figured her room would be more familiar and therefore more comfortable for her, so he passed his room and made his way to hers,

The door was kicked open, and the two fell onto the bed, their lips meeting again in a flurry of kisses. He couldn’t keep his tongue out of her mouth, not when she tasted so sweet and felt so good.

He blushed when he felt her tugging at his shirt. Kurapika knew sex meant getting naked, but he couldn’t help but hesitate. He wasn’t exactly the most confident in his appearance, but with one look at (Name)’s lust filled eyes he was tearing off his shirt in a hurry, quickly moving to unbutton his pants.

She pulled him back in for another kiss, pulling his hips into hers, letting his clothed cock run against her clothed pussy. “F-fuck (Name)…”

He groaned, holding onto her hips as he moved against her. “Need these off, now…”

He yanked down her pants with shaky hands, making her whine softly when her soaked panties were exposed to him. She hid her face away in embarrassment and tried to close her legs, but he pried her thighs open.

Kurapika couldn’t speak, his heart running a millions miles a minute. He was so close to her wet heat that he could smell her arousal. His actions had caused this. His.

It was enough to make his cock twitch in excitement at what was to come. “Need it…”

His voice was hoarse, like a man that had been wandering through the desert for years on end. “Pika…”

She blushed as his thumbs hooked under her panties, giving him a little nod when he looked up at her. With her approval, he pulled them down, his breath hitching at the sight before him.

She was soaking wet, her pussy drooling, all because of him. He leans down, his face hovering above her cunt as she peeked at him through her hands. Feeling a surge of confidence, he met her eye as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss into her pussy, his tongue flicking out to lick her clit.

Her eyelashes fluttered as her hips rose to meet his lips, a whine leaving her lips. She was shy and needy, all in one, and Kurapika wasn’t the type to tease, especially when he wanted this just as much as she did.

Without further ado, he buried his face into her cunt, his mind going fuzzy when he got a good taste of her. “Mmm, mm…”

He was losing himself, letting out a moan when he felt her thighs squish his face.

“Ahh!”

Her hands shot out to tangle themselves in his hair, causing him took look up at her with hazy, pussy drunk eyes. Kurapika kept his tongue on her clit, remembering how she masturbated when he watched her.

She let out a whiny moan when he inserted a finger into her. The blonde’s eyes widened at just how tight she was. He’d done his research and knew that virgins were tight, but there was only so much a book could prepare him for. It didn’t prepare him for the way she bucked her hips into his face, of the way his body reacted to the taste of her pussy and the sound of her mewling moans.

“Pika, I’m mmph- close!”

He glanced back up at her, seeing just how hot her face was. She was looking down at him with half lidded eyes, her lips parted to pant in pleasure.

He wasn’t experienced at eating pussy, but (Name) was already so close to cumming. It made his chest swell with pride, and he added another finger to get her even closer to the edge, curling them just like Leorio said to.

This made her call out his name, her walls tightening around his fingers. “P-Pika, cumming!”

He could feel precum oozing from his tip as he lapped up her cum. In the future, he would take a lot more time between her legs, but right now, he needed her desperately.

Kurapika wiped his mouth before moving up her body to get a good look at her post-orgasm face. It was quite the sight to behold, and he was amazed that he was able to cause it.

“You taste amazing…”

She blushed, burying her face in his shoulder. He could tell she was a bit nervous at what was to come by the way her thighs tremble around his hips. “(Name)…”

He cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear that fell down her cheek. Kurapika felt his heart drop. Had he been too pushy? Was she crying because of him? Seeing her cry made his protective instincts flare up, and he was quick to attempt to soothe her.

“We don’t have to keep going if you’re scared, (Name). I’ll stop the second you tell me to, angel.”

She shook her head, her hands going to his boxers to lightly tug at them. “N-no, I want you… I’m just nervous.”

He laughed, resting his forehead against hers. “Me too.”

They shared a smile before Kurapika kissed her again. It was a lot gentler this time, with light caresses and touches as their lips locked. He wanted her to feel safe and loved. Kurapika loved her more than anything after all, and he wanted their first time together to be special. He couldn’t say he loved her through words yet, but maybe he could say it through his actions.

“You’re gorgeous…” he said softly, his hands running over the sides of her body, past her chubby tummy and plump hips, resting on her plush thighs. Her soft flesh turned him on more than he cared to admit.

With a few more tugs, his underwear was off, and (Name) caught a glimpse of his cock for the first time. She had jerked him off before, but hadn’t actually see it since his dick since it was in his underwear, but now it was on full display for her.

He seemed nervous when she stared, only relaxing when she reached out to touch it. His breath hitched, a groan leaving his lips as she stroked him lightly. “Pretty…”

His cheeks flushed at the compliment, and he quickly but gently pushed her hand away. “I-If you keep that I’m going to cum…”

She giggled, pulling him forward his tip brushed against her folds. “Then let’s get started, Pika. Just… be gentle, please…”

He nodded quickly, his fingers interlocking with hers as he looked down. Kurapika bit his lip as his cock prodded at her pussy, the feeling of her juices coating his tip enough to make him cum. It was all he could do to hold back, the blonde glancing up at her again for permission as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

“Are you ready, (Name)?”

She nodded, kissing his cheek. “I am… I’ve wanted this for so long…”

Kurapika stared down at her with those scarlet eyes of his, his cheeks a dark red. “I need you… I’ve needed you my whole life.”

He touched her forehead to his as his cock sunk into her inch by inch. He didn’t mind that she was gripping his hand too hard or that she was whining softly. “I know, angel… shh…”

Whne tears of pain beaded in her eyes, he kissed them away, pushing his own pleasure away to tend to her. Even though she was squeezing his cock so deliciously, he pushed in slowly. He wanted to pound into her, to watch her breasts bounce as he fucked into her, but he wouldn’t. Not tonight.

When he bottomed out, he kept a hand on her tummy, pressing kisses into her neck and cheeks. “F-fuck… doing so good, angel.”

His inexperience was starting to show with the way his chest rose and fell, a soft panting leaving his lips. “M-Mmph, (Name)…”

It was arousing to see how his body was reacting to hers, the way she watched his eyes get hazy and his cheeks go red. Those scarlet eyes were proof of how strongly he was feeling, and she wanted to believe it wasn’t just lust. “Pika…”

The both leaned into each other, their noses brushing against each others tenderly. “I love you…”

This was said tenderly, her voice soft as she looked up at him. He felt his eyes widen and she could feel his cock twitch inside of her. She said she loved him before, and even though he’d heard her say it in a romantic way before, this felt different. She loved him, in the way lovers do. Sexually, romantically, all of it, she wanted him in every way she could have him. It made him want to cry, he had never been loved in this way before.

To be desired and needed in such a way was something Kurapika never though he would experience, and the blonde choked up, tears falling down his cheeks. “(Name)… oh angel…”

Kurapika peppered kisses along her neck and jaw, his fingers sinking into the fat of her thighs. “Pretty… so pretty…”

She whimpered, pulling his attention back to her face. With a light bucking of her hips, she signaled exactly what she wanted.

He took a deep before lightly pulling out before pushing back in, the mewl that left her lips making his hips stutter. Kurapika wanted to hear that pretty sound over and over, so he began thrusting in and out, keeping his hand over her tummy.

That thought he’d been trying to push away came back to his mind as her pussy clenched around him. The image of her with a little baby bump, smiling and laughing as held each other close. It was enough to make precum leak into her from his needy cock.

‘W-wanna… wanna…’

He moved faster, holding her legs over his shoulders as his instinct took over. Kurapika watched as his cock sunk into her, biting his lip.

‘Wanna get her pregnant…’

“Pika.. f-fuck, gonna-!”

He shuddered, feeling her walls flutter around him. “M-me too, angel… let’s cum together…”

Kurapika didn’t want it to end so soon, but he knew they wouldn’t last long with them both being inexperienced virgins, so he let go, the last thought he had before cumming being the desire to impregnate her.

His eyes squeezed shut and he groaned, pounding into her pussy as they came together. She whimpered at the filling of his cum filling her up, painting her walls white. Even after he finished cumming, it took him a moment to stop. Thrusting in and out of her felt so fucking good, he never wanted to stop, but he knew he had to. One look at her exhausted face was enough to calm his racing heart.

The blonde gave her a tired smile, leaning down to kiss all over her face before he pulled out. He wanted to stay inside of her, his instincts telling him to plug her up so his seed could stay inside of her, but his need for comfort and snuggles outweighed that.

He laid on his side and pulled her to his chest, his body feeling hot and tired, but good at the same time. The room smelled of sex and (Name)’s signature perfume, making him relax.

As his mind cleared of his post-orgasm haze, his mind drifted back to the thoughts of getting her pregnant. He came inside her, that meant it was a possibility, wasn’t it? The more he thought of it, the more his heartbeat picked up. He couldn’t think of anyone better to rebuild the Kurta clan with.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt her tremble in his arms, the blonde picking up the unease and fear in her aura.

When he felt her chest begin to shake with sobs, he pulled her closer, his hands shaking as he cupped her cheeks. “Angel, what’s wrong? Was I too rough? Are you hurt?”

A chill ran down his back when she clung to him, her face burying itself in his chest. This wasn’t an embrace, this was a desperate attempt to keep him close to her. “Please… please don’t leave me… I’ll do anything you want, just don’t leave me again…”

It only took him a moment to realize why she was so upset, and his blood ran cold to think this was all his fault. He had traumatized her to the point she was terrified that once he had his way with her, he’d abandoned her, like she was nothing.

Had he really been so cruel that she believed he would use her body then abandon her? Kurapika held onto her so tightly it was almost painful.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Tears welled up in his eyes. He’d done this, he made the love of his life tremble in fear at the thought of him leaving her again.

All he could do was whisper apologies into her ear as he rocked her, trying his best to soothe and comfort (Name). “I can’t… I can’t live without you, Pika… promise me… promise me you’ll never leave me again…”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes a bit puffy from crying. He paused, his hand reaching up to wipe away her tears.

Was he really okay with staying with her? He didn’t want to become soft, to lose his anger and hatred, and if he stayed with her that might happen.

Kurapika brought her in closer to pepper her face in kisses, unable to stop as tears fell down his own cheeks. He loved her, but his mission would always come first.

“… I promise.”

She finally relaxed, laying her head on his chest. “Mmm… I’m so happy, Pika… I want…”

Her eyelids began to droop, her hands playing with his hair. “I want to stay… with you forever…”

As she fell asleep in his arms, Kurapika hoped that he would be able to keep that promise. A sinking feeling in his chest told him that if he didn’t, there would be no second chances, just heartache.

———————

(Name) woke up early the next morning, giggling to herself when Kurapika grumbled at her attempts to move. “Stay…”

His face was buried in her neck, his hand reaching around her to trail down her tummy to her pussy. She squirmed a little, feeling his cock slip between her thighs. “Pika, what do you mmph~! Think you’re doing?”

Kurapika kissed along her neck, gently sucking on her most sensitive spots. “It’s warm…”

She let out a shaky breath when he pushed into her wet cunt, feeling his fingers rub at her clit as he thrusted in and out lazily, his hot breath on her neck. “So good… you feel so good…”

His free hand groped at her chest, as if he just couldn’t touch her enough. Kurapika wanted his hands all over her, to touch and kiss every inch of her body. She whimpered, lightly watching her back, turning her head to capture his lips in a sloppy kiss.

It didn’t take long for them to cum, the blonde groaning in her mouth as she filled him up. “That’s my angel… such a good girl…”

He hummed in contentment, nuzzling his face into her neck before pulling her closer. “All mine…”

She squirmed a little, giving his cheek a quick peck before she wiggled away. He began to whine again, but she stopped him with a gentle boop to his nose. “Killua, Alluka, and Leorio will be here within an hour. Leorio’s staying over to decorate ornaments for us, so we both have to be showered and dressed before they get here.”

Kurapika pouted at her, his face falling onto her lap. “Just five more minutes… it feels nice to be snugged up with you…”

She smiled softly, gently brushing his hair out of his face. “I’d like that too, Pika, but not right now. How about…”

She hummed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “How about we snuggle up and watch Christmas movies with everyone later? How does that sound?”

Although he would prefer to snuggle with her alone, he wouldn’t turn her affections down. “I’m okay with that…”

The two separated, much to Kurapika’s annoyance. All he wanted to do was be stuck to her side like glue, but she was busy. He felt a little bad and a bit hypocritical due to calling her a stalker in York New all those years ago. Now he was following her around like a lovesick puppy… he was whipped.

After they both showered and dressed, Kurapika helped (Name) set out the Christmas ornament decorating station. Kurapika even had his own space for molding clay, along with tools and paint. He seemed about ready to dig in, but refrained from doing so until the others got there.

It was nearly noon by the time the others got there. Leorio came holding two boxes of pizza, smiling. “Hey sunshine, I brought lunch.”

“Oh, thank you Leorio!”

She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a peck on his cheek, causing the blonde to huff in annoyance. Kurapika didn’t like how affectionate she was with other men, despite the fact he hadn’t even asked her to be his girlfriend yet. He seemed to believe she already belonged to him.

Killua looked at Kurapika, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like the satisfied, love-dovey look on Kurapika’s face one bit. It made him… suspicious. Especially after Kurapika’s words during the fall get together…

As the group gathered around the table to start eating, Killua pulled Kurapika aside. “Kurapika.”

Kurapika blinked. It wasn’t often Killua used his actual name, so he looked at him. “… yes, Killua?”

“… don’t get her pregnant.”

And with that, Killua walked away to eat with the others, leaving Kurapika a blushing, stuttering mess.

———————

“If you use this tool, you can create a nice texture…”

“Ooh, Pika that’s so neat!”

Kurapika had (Name) perched in his lap, his hands on hers as he helped her mold the clay into little Christmas themed shapes, like gingerbread cookies and trees. The entire group was having so much fun, with Alluka and Nanika switching out to paint their own little glass ornaments.

“You’re a natural, (Name). My father would have loved to have your help with his work.”

(Name) felt her face warm up, melting at the heartfelt compliment. Kurapika mentioned his family less than he mentioned his clan, so it was a compliment of the highest honor.

“Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun! You said your mom taught you how to sew, right? I bet they would have kept me busy!”

Kurapika laughed at that, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, I bet they would have loved you.”

He gave her shoulder a kiss before moving the clay over to a baking sheet. “Alright, angel. Let’s get these to the oven. After, we can paint them together.”

She stood up then helped him stand, giggling when he leaned against her. “You may have to carry me (Name), I think my legs fell asleep…” he purred, his cheek nuzzling against hers.

“Oh really? Maybe you won’t be able to come see the Christmas light with us then~”

Kurapika grumbled, standing up on his own. “You’re no fun, (Name).”

She laughed, bumping her hip against his. “Mmm, maybe, but I know my stuff. Come on…”

After decorating ornaments, they decorated the tree with them. Leorio was kind enough to place the star at the top, the group looking on in wonder as they saw the fully decorated tree.

“It’s really nice…” Kurapika said, pulling (Name) close to him. He had a soft, nostalgic smile on his face, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“It is, I’m glad you got to do this with us, Kurapika.”

The two shared a kiss, causing Killua to gag and Alluka to “ooo”. Leorio laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay lovebirds, we should go see the lights soon, it’s dark out.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, already.”

The group separated, getting dressed for the occasion. Kurapika sighed dreamily as (Name) walked down in a simple Christmas sweater and jeans. Honestly she could walk down in a potato sack and he’d still get flustered, she looked good in pretty much anything she wore.

“Oh wow, you look nice Pika!”

She looked over his nice red turtleneck and black slacks, nodding in approval. “You look cute yourself, (Name).”

She beamed at him, grabbing the arm he offered with a laugh. “Aren’t you a charmer? Let’s get the cat warmed up, it’s freezing out there!”

The group rode in the car to see the Christmas lights, munching on cookies and hot chocolate (Name) prepared before they left. “These are good, mama!”

Nanika was present at the moment, munching on a cookie. Killua seemed to be pouting over this. “Why does Alluka get more cookies? It’s not fair!”

“Well, Alluka has Nanika with her, it’s only fair they both get the same as everyone else!”

“Mom, they share the same vessel! It’s-“

Nanika buried her face in (Name)’s chest, whining. “Big brother is being mean to me…”

Killua started stuttering out an apology as Nanika and (Name) giggled. Kurapika glanced at them through the rearview mirror, his cheeks a soft pink.

“Take the next left, and it should be right there.”

Leorio was looking at his phone, calling out directions to Kurapika. The tall man had some spiked hot chocolate before he left and (Name) didn’t like driving long distances, so that left Kurapika behind the wheel.

He put the car into park outside of the the place, glancing around at the lights with a wonderstruck face. Kurapika had heard about Christmas lights before, and he even helped Leorio put some up at (Name)’s house a week ago, but he’d never seen anything like this.

Pairo had always wanted to see the big parks full of lights after he read about it in a book.

“Even with my failing vision, I’d still be able to see the lights! We should go see them someday, Kurapika!”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll take you one day!”

“Will you hold my hand so I don’t trip?”

“Haha, I’m sure I will have found you a doctor to help your condition by then, but I’ll still hold you hand. You’re a bit clumsy regardless.”

“Hehe, I guess I am!”

Kurapika stayed frozen near the gate, a hand over his heart as memories of old broken promises plagued his mind.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a hand taking his own, giving him a light squeeze. “Are you alright, Pika?”

Kurapika smiled, letting the tears fall down his cheeks. “Yeah… yeah I’m fine. I just… remembered that I had promised Pairo I’d take him to see the Christmas lights one day. I… never got to.”

(Name) pulled him a little closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. “… you carry him in your heart, Kurapika. He’s here with us, even if he isn’t physically. Can’t you feel it?”

The blonde paused, his eyes going wide. There was a certain feeling in the air, nostalgic and familiar. “I do… I do feel it.”

She smiled, laughing when he hugged her a little tighter. “I think… he’s happy I have you now.”

The others watched with smiles on their faces, even Killua. As they walked into the park, Kurapika felt truly at peace for the first time since he lost his clan. It felt like his friend was right next to him, experiencing each new sight Kurapika did. If there was an afterlife like Kurapika believed, he hopes Pairo could see all the sweet parts of life through his eyes.

Alluka and Killua played in the snow as Kurapika and (Name) gazed at the lights in wonder. “Oh wow, these ones are linked to a radio station! They blink in time with the music!”

They walked through a tunnel of lights, pausing to look at each other. To Kurapika, (Name)’s figure lit up by the soft lights above made her look beautiful. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, each part of her had his heart thumping away madly.

He leaned in for a kiss, cupping her cheeks, but stoped short when her phone buzzed in her pocket. The both seemed irritated by the interruption, but Kurapika gave her a patient smile. “Go ahead, I’ll still be here.”

(Name) giggles, walking away to take the call. He waited, watching as her face fell.

She walked back a moment later, looking simultaneously pissed and worried. “Is something wrong, angel?”

The woman groaned, leaning against him. “My boss called, he said there’s a natural disaster that needs clean up and rescue efforts, and he needs me to into work. My nen is very useful when it comes to both healing others and getting rid of debris.”

Kurapika pulled her in closer, his face scrunching up. “… how long will you be gone?”

“About a week, which means I’ll be home a few days before Christmas Eve. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind helping others, but it sucks going into work during the Christmas season… but…”

She texted Leorio, who said he would call her a taxi. “I have to remember that these people are experiencing these natural disasters during the holidays. My family is happy and safer, theirs aren’t.”

Kurapika was always surprised by her unending compassion and care for complete strangers. He nodded, cupping her cheek tenderly. “Do you want me to come with you? I don’t want you to go alone a-“

“No, I need someone that can stay at the house. Leorio has classes so he can’t always be around to help, you’ll need to take care of the kids while I’m gone.”

Kurapika frowned at that, but he couldn’t help feeling a small iota of pride at her trust in him. Killua was her baby, something she made clear, so to put him in Kurapika’s care meant she thought he was worthy enough.

“I won’t even have time to pack, I’ll just have to wear my work uniform and buy clothes there…”

She began walking towards the gate, texting numerous people on her phone as Kurapika followed. “You’re leaving now? I was hoping we’d have more time together…”

The knowledge that she’d be leaving for an entire week was starting to sink in, making the blonde feel extra clingy and needy. He held onto her hand, bringing it to her lips to kiss it. “I’ll miss you…”

She turned back to smile, embracing him as tight as she could manage. “I’ll miss you too, Pika. I love you…”

She gave his lips a soft peck, waiting a moment before sighing softly. “… I’ll see you next week then, take care.”

His face dropped as she turned, a soft look of sadness taking just his features. He could tell she was a little upset he hadn’t said he loved her back. Kurapika couldn’t blame her, not one bit. He wanted to say it, he wanted to scream it from the rooftops that she was only one for him, but he just couldn’t.

It wasn’t good, and would hurt them both later on if he couldn’t man up and say it.

The blonde sighed, watching her get in the taxi before he turned to join the others, the spark of excitement over the Christmas lights gone.

At the time, he didn’t realize that she was that spark, that person that allowed him to feel childlike wonder again.

And he might end up taking that effect she had on him for granted.

———————

The week (Name) was gone was hell for Kurapika. The kids misbehaved, the cats kept getting into trouble, and Leorio was too busy with college to help him most of the time.

But most of all, the thing that hurt Kurapika the most was the debilitating loneliness he felt with (Name)’s absence. He had gotten so used to her presence, that he could barely function when she wasn’t around. He stumbled through his routine, waking up early to feed the kids, working to find clues about the scarlet eyes or phantom troupe on his laptop, making lunch, going back to work, making dinner, then passing out after.

“You’re like a soggy cat!” Alluka said, watching as Kurapika slumped on the couch, his laptop on the coffee table. “You miss (Name) so much that you haven’t smiled or laughed once since she’s been gone! Not even at my puppet show.”

“Your puppet show was about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.”

“I thought it was hilarious!” Killua chimed in, jumping over the couch to sit down next to Kurapika. “But she’s right, it hasn’t even been fun to tease you lately.”

Kurapika frowned at that, shutting his laptop. “It’s really none of your business how I feel. She’s important to me, of course I wouldn’t be frolicking around when she’s gone.”

Killua raised an eyebrow at the blonde. “Hey, she’s important to me too, but I can function on my own. I know she’ll be fine.”

“But what if she isn’t? Have you ever had someone you loved die? I worry that she could be in horrible danger every day…”

Killua went quiet, staring at Kurapika as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “… she’ll be fine. I… I know she will be. She promised me she would never…”

He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes staring at the floor as Kurapika looked up from his laptop. “She promised you what?”

Killua shook his head and grabbed Alluka’s hand. “Nothing. Let’s go, we need to clean up our rooms before mom gets home.”

Kurapika had a sinking feeling that whatever Killua was talking about had something to do with the Chimera Ant Incident.

He would find out what happened eventually, but at what cost? Now, he didn’t know just how much damage the truth would cause.

They say curiosity killed the cat, and Kurapika had always been the curious type.

————————

It was 3 days before Christmas Eve, and (Name) was supposed to be home at any minute. There had been radio silence on her end the past two days, filling Kurapika with worry.

“What if she got hurt? Someone could have taken her phone and used it to say she’s fine before throwing it away!”

“Kurapika, she sent us a picture of herself two days ago.”

“… it could have been edited.”

Killua groaned, rolling his eyes. “She’s fine, blondie. You worry too much, she’s going to feel smothered by you.”

A knock at the door had them all jumping up. “Mom?” “Angel!” “Big sis?”

They ran to the door, Kurapika throwing it open to reveal (Name) behind it. Before they could all throw their arms around her, they noticed how she swayed slightly, the bags under her eyes now visible, along with the tired look on her face.

“I’m home… please… call Leorio…”

With that, she fell into Kurapika’s arms, the blonde neatly vomiting when he saw his hands coated in blood. There was a large patch of blood seeping through the back of her shirt.

Killua pulled Alluka away so she didn’t see, though he was panicking himself, he wanted to make sure his little sister didn’t have to see (Name) in this state. As he dialed Leorio’s number, Killua ushered Alluka to her room. “Go play on my switch, I’ll come get you in a minute, okay?”

Kurapika laid her on the couch, tearing off her shirt to reveal her bandages torso. When he turned her on her side, he spotted where the blood was coming from.

There seemed to be some kind of wound on her back, a fact that infuriated Kurapika. Someone attacked her while she had her back turned, and he hadn’t been there to watch over her. He felt utter shame and disgust at himself for being selfish the entire week, pouting over her absence while she was out risking her life to help others.

Leorio threw open the front door, his eyes scanning the room before he spotted (Name). Killua had crouched down next to her, tears running down his cheeks as he pushed her hair out of his face.

“(Name), Killua…”

The man kneeled down in front of her, his hand grazing over her wound. “Fuck, (Name), what happened to you?”

She shivered, sweat beading down her forehead as she struggled to speak. “Someone… who lost their family… took it out on me. He was angry… that I couldn’t… save them… I… didn’t press charges.”

Kurapika nearly crushed the coffee table with his grip. “He hurt you, (Name), why the hell did you let him get away like that? I don’t care who he lost, he doesn’t have the right to…”

He froze, a sudden chill running down his back. “He… didn’t have the right to hurt you. Not even if he was angry.”

Leorio held his hands over her back, focusing his nen on her injury as the group stayed quiet.

‘I’m a complete hypocrite. I’ve hurt her out of anger, for the sake of my anger… how can I even begin to lecture her?’

As Leorio worker his nen, her breathing slowed down. She finally relaxed once her wound healed up, giving them all a tired smile. “I’m sorry I took so long… I had so many plans for the Christmas season, but… I’m going you way too tired to do anything but rest the next few days…”

“No, no don’t you ever apologize for that, (Name). You’ve done more than enough.” Kurapika said, cupping her cheek. “This Christmas season has been the best I’ve ever had, all thanks to you.”

She sniffled, wiping away her tears before sitting up with Leorio’s help. “Thank you… I still want to cook a nice dinner for Christmas, it just… won’t be as grand as I hoped…”

Kurapika kissed her forehead, pulling her close. “As long as I have you, I don’t care. You’re all I need to be happy…”

She blushed, giving him a peck on his lips. “Could you help me upstairs? I don’t think I can do it myself…”

He nodded, scooping her up easily. “Of course. Come here, angel.”

Leorio and Killua watched as he carried her upstairs, before the man pulled Killua close. “Hey bud, she’s going to be okay. This isn’t like last time, you don’t have to worry.”

Killua was a mess, anxiety pulsing through his veins. “It’s hard… it’s hard not to worry. I can’t… I can’t lose her again. She’s my mom, I…”

Leorio patted his back. “I know, bud. I know…”

Kurapika placed (Name) on her bed, covering her up with her comforter. “Is that better, angel?”

She smiled, gently tugging at his sleeve. “It would be better if you were with me.”

She lifted the blanket, and he happily joined her, his cheeks turning pink as he buried his face into her neck. He felt just a little pathetic at how excited her got when he smelled her perfume again for the first time in a week, but that faded away when she nuzzled her nose against his.

“I’m so happy… that you stayed…”

Kurapika paused, his eyes widening a bit. “Did you… think I was going to leave while you were gone?”

She looked away for a moment, then nodded slightly. “… yes. I did.”

He felt hurt, but he couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did. After his fight with Uvogin, he abandoned her as soon as he woke up, leaving her all alone. After that, he attempted to push her away, leading to their separation.

“I’ll never leave you… never…”

She sighed in contentment, giving him a soft kiss. “Thank you…”

The two fell asleep, the blonde keeping a protective hold over her, as if to protect her even if her dreams.

—————————

Christmas Eve arrived, and (Name) was finally feeling good enough to get to work. She delegated chores, giving Kurapika and Leorio the grocery list, then having Alluka and Killua tidy up the living room as she did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

Before long, the house was sparkling clean. “This looks great guys, I’m sure Santa will be very happy when he comes down the chimney tonight!”

Alluka jumped up and down in joy, nearly spilling her hot chocolate. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait for Santa to come!”

Killua took her cup, laughing. “Well I can’t wait to open presents. Mom, we still get to open two each tonight, right?”

(Name) nodded, giving both of their foreheads a kiss. “Yep! Tonight we’ll eat dinners, open gifts, then bake cookies for Santa.”

She started cooking as soon as Leorio and Kurapika got back with groceries. Within a few hours, dinner was ready and the kids were getting restless. They all ate quickly, too excited to open presents and bake.

“Okay, we’ll open gifts youngest to oldest. Alluka, you’re up first.”

They kids opened their gifts, smiling. “Ooo, new hair clips! Thank you (Name)!”

Killua was too busy putting on his new shoes to try them out to speak, his face lit up light a Christmas tree. Kurapika frowned when (Name) handed him his present, remembering that he was younger than her.

“This is from me!”

She smiled, watching as he looked over the small box in his hands. “I also got you something to open tomorrow, so you have two gifts!”

Kurapika blushed at that. He had only gotten her the one gift, and now he felt a little bad that she wouldn’t have anything from him to open tomorrow. “Th-thank you, one gift would have been enough, I promise…”

He carefully unwrapped the paper, careful not to tear it. Once unwrapped, his eyes widened, his eyes going wide with shock.

“This… is an ornament made by the Kurta people…”

Tears fell down his cheeks as he lifted it from its packaging. “Yes, I found it while I was gone on my job. Some flesh collector was selling it, but I didn’t feel good giving someone like that money, so I stole it. You’re the rightful owner, after all. You can choose what to do with it.”

He held the little ornament in the air, watching the gold paint glitter in the light. When he turned it around, he nearly dropped it in surprise.

“Oh my god…”

‘Pairo, 4’ was written in Kurtan on the back, confirming that it was a genuine Kurta ornament, but also made by Kurapika’s childhood friend. He couldn’t contain his sobs, holding the little trinket to his chest.

“Pika…”

(Name) wrapped her arms around him, letting the blonde cry into her chest. “Thank you… you don’t understand what you’ve given me, (Name)… I couldn’t ask for a better gift…”

Once he was okay enough to let her go, (Name) opened her gifts from Alluka, Leorio, and Killua.

Alluka got her new fuzzy socks with her favorite Sanrio character on them, Killua got her a gift card to her favorite restaurant, and Leorio got her a plush of her favorite anime character. She hugged them all, giggling as she placed all of her gifts in a small basket that she would carry upstairs. “These are amazing, thank you so much!”

Killua hugged her tightly, then looked away shyly. “I have another gift for you…”

(Name) tilted her head as Killua reached behind the Christmas tree, hanging her a gift bag. “Open it.”

She opened the bag, pulling her present out of the bag and looking at it, tears ending at corner of her eyes as she pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Killua…”

She held a mug in her hand, that had the words “World’s Best Mom” on the front. “You really are the best mom… you kind of… saved me.”

(Name) choked up, giving his forehead a kiss. “No, baby, you saved me.”

After a long hug, Killua squirmed away to stand off to the side, his face red. Expressing gratitude and love wasn’t easy for him, and (Name) knew that. “Okay, Leorio it’s your turn!”

(Name) handed him a gift, smiling. “This one is from Killua and Alluka!”

“Ahh, thanks guys. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

He took the wrapped present, holding it in his hands with barely contained excitement. Leorio was almost more into unwrapping presents than Killua and Alluka were.

He unwrapped it quickly and held up a blue tshirt with white lettering on it. It read “Med School Student”.

“It’s awful, I love it.”

Leorio pulled off the sweater he had on and put the tshirt on in its place. It was a little tight, clinging to his pectoral muscles, but it fit well enough. “Oh wow, you really are a stud!”

The group laughed, and they all gathered in the kitchen to make cookies for Santa. Alluka helped make the dough with (Name) as the boys mixed the icing. Kurapika, who seemed to be clumsy any time he tried to impress (Name), was forced to wash the cookie cutters instead.

“I don’t think there’s any way I could mess up icing…” Kurapika mumbled, drying off the icing. (Name) leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Mmm, don’t jinx us, Pika.”

His cheeks flushed at her affection, causing him to lean into her. “I think I’ll be okay if I get another kiss.”

“Oh really?”

She laughed, pulling him in for a kiss, her lips tasting like sugar cookies. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his tongue flick out to taste her. “Mmph-! Okay Pika, that’s enough. The kids are right there,” she whispered, pulling away.

(Name) and Alluka laid out the dough, and with some help from the others, they made cookies. It was a lot of fun, and even though they all ended up covered in flour and dough, they all laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t have you all change into the matching pajamas yet, that would have been a disaster!”

She helped clean off Alluka and Killua’s faces before putting the cookies in the oven. “There we go, let’s get this mess cleaned up while they cook.

(Name) stood at the counter, wiping it down. It wasn’t every day she allowed her friends to help her this much, and she was realizing just how much easier life was when she let them take a bit of the weight off her shoulders. Instead of taking an hour to clean up the mess, it only took 10 minutes, the cookies being done right when they got done.

“Okay, they’ll need to cook off for a few minutes.”

Kurapika nodded, looking over their little cookies. Some were a bit lopsided and crooked, but he adored each and every one of them. He tried not to laugh at Leorio’s crude attempt at making a stethoscope. It looked more like the head of an elephant, but Leorio still seemed proud. “Oh, my cookie came out good!”

After they cooled down, everyone decorated and ate cookies. (Name) snatched up a few to keep for “Santa” before they could be devoured. “Alright guys, don’t forget who we made this for!”

She pinched Nanika and Killua’s cheek. Nanika was more of the artistic type, while Alluka preferred baking over decorating. “Sorry mama, they’re good!”

Kurapika sat, hunched over his own cookies. (Name) attempted to peek over his shoulder, but she was quickly swatted away. “Hey, no peeking, and get out of the light!”

(Name) snickered. “Oh my, so sorry Kurapika.”

She moved on to look at Leorio’s cookies, humming softly. “It’s… unique.”

“It’s ugly.”

“No, no it’s not!”

Leorio looked over his attempt at a stethoscope. They didn’t have silver so he had to use green, making it look more like a tree with vines than a stethoscope. “It’s cute, and it looks tasty.”

Kurapika cleared his throat to catch (Name)’s attention, and she smiled softly. “Can I see them now?”

He nodded, holding out the plate for her inspection. It was two gingerbread men, one with yellow hair and the other with (h/c) hair. “I uh… I made us. And we’re holding hands…”

She blushed, her fingers tips grazing the Kurapika cookie. “This is too cute…”

A phone was whipped out of her pocket in a split second, Kurapika blinking when she neatly blinded him with the flash. “There, now we can eat them!”

After they all feasted on cookies, they all slumped on the couch. (Name) was sitting on Kurapika’s lap, the blond rubbing circles into her tummy. “Ughh I think I ate too many cookies.”

He hummed softly, and at the moment he reminded her of a satisfied cat. His hands kneaded at her soft flesh as he held her close, his face buried in her neck.

“Mom can you make him stop? I’m gonna get sick,” Killua said with a groan. He was sprawled out on the floor as Alluka patted his back.

“Don’t be mean, Killua. He’s helping me feel better.”

She sighed, getting comfortable in Kurapika’s lap before selecting a Christmas movie for them to watch before they went to bed. Occasionally Leorio leaned closer to the two, getting some snuggles from (Name) before she was pulled back into Kurapika’s embrace. “Stingy!”

Kurapika stuck his tongue out at Leorio. “Maybe, but I’m stingy with what’s mine.”

(Name) blushed, her face buried in his shoulder. Was she really his? He wanted her to belong with him and stay by his side?

All she could hope is that he was hers too, and that he would stick by her as well.

The Christmas movie ended, and Leorio carried the kids to their rooms as they snored. “You two go ahead to bed, I’ll handle the Santa duties.”

(Name) kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Leorio. I’m so tired…”

“I figured, you still haven’t fully recovered.”

Kurapika held onto her hand as they walked upstairs. She put on a good show for the kiddos, but Leorio and Kurapika could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Let’s get tucked in, angel. You need your rest.”

The two snuggled in bed. Ever since they had sex, Kurapika had been finding his way to her bed. Sometimes he slept in his own room due to staying up late for research, and then (Name) would wake up with him in her arms.

As she drifted off, she felt him give her forehead a kiss. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

————————

Kurapika woke up to an empty bed, bus first reaction being to panic. The blonde patted the empty spot before his eyes shot open and his chest began to heave. “(Name)? Angel, where are you?”

Usually his grip on her meant they woke up together because she couldn’t get out of bed without waking him, but he had turned over in the night.

Although he knew that she was probably just downstairs, he couldn’t help the panic that set in. He had lost so many people, it was part of the reason he was so clingy. He couldn’t lose her, he refused to.

“Pika? Were you calling?”

(Name) peeked in the door, still wearing her pajamas that matched his own. “Angel…”

Kurapika stumbled forward, holding her face in his hands so he could pepper kisses into her face. “Please, if you leave the bed, wake and inform me before you go… I worry.”

She smiled, feeling her body melt under his touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up so early. I was just making a Christmas breakfast…”

He stared at her, the harsh, terrified shade of scarlet fading to the one only she got to see. “Let me help. I’m good with breakfast foods.”

The two made a heaping amount of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and once the smell wafted through the house, everyone left their rooms.

Leorio rose from the couch, wiping the drool from his face. “Mmm… I think I was dreaming about your pancakes, (Name).”

She giggled. “Maybe! Come on, let’s eat so the kids can open their presents! I think I see a few more under the tree…”

Alluka gasped, running over to the plate of cookies, seeing that Leorio Santa had taken bites out of a few cookies, beheading the Kurapika cookie. Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched at the sight. “Was that necessary?”

Alluka huffed. “Hey, don’t question Santa! He might have thought your head looked tasty!”

Kurapika rubbed his temple. “Sure, sure…”

Killua snickered before stuffing his face with another bite of pancakes.

———————

After breakfast, (Name) pulled presents out from under the tree, placing them in piles in front of each person. Kurapika was surprised to see he had quite a few wrapped. “Where did all of these come from?”

(Name) smiled. “Gon and Melody sent you a gift in the mail, and the rest are from Alluka, Killua, and Leorio.”

Kurapika felt so loved in the moment. Since he had lost his clan, he rarely got many presents for his birthday or Christmas. The gift he got from (Name) on his birthday two years ago had been the first gift he received in years.

He had come so far, now surrounded by friends that appreciated and cared for him. “Alright everyone, you can start opening presents in 3, 2, 1!”

They began opening their gifts, Kurapika staring for a minute before he followed suit.

By the end of the session, Kurapika had a brand new pair of shoes from Leorio, a nice hair care kit from Alluka, a new book from Killua, a pair of heavy duty sunglasses from Gon, and a pastel pink scarf from Melody.

Kurapika looked so proud of his gifts, showing them off to (Name) before tucking them away safely in his room.

When he got back downstairs, (Name) smiled. “You have one more from me, Pika.”

He looked up before looking back at his gift. “You’re too kind, (Name)…”

He tore off the wrapping, tilting his head. “What is this?”

She giggled. “It’s a switch, a handheld game! You can play with friends across the world. You have a few games on it, so why don’t you let Killua and Alluka help you out?”

Kurapika nodded. “Ah, this is like the gameboys Pairo and I would see in magazines. Oh!”

He looked in wonder as he turned it on, and (Name) left him, Killua and Alluka taking over teaching him. By the time Leorio and (Name) finished with throwing away all of the wrapping paper, they had all started playing Minecraft with Gon.

“(Name) look, I’ve made a house!”

She peeked over Kurapika’s shoulder. “Wow, you really have!”

The day was spent with the adults laying around and watching movies or playing on their new game systems, while the kids ran around outside with their new toys.

Killua got a new skateboard and dirt bike, which he rode through the forest with Alluka clinging to his bike. “You sure they’ll be fine?” Kurapika asked, not looking up from his switch.

“They’ll be fine enough.”

By the end of the day, everyone was relaxing by the fire, sipping hot chocolate as they watched another Christmas movie. Kurapika kept a hand on her thigh, smiling. “I think this has been the best winter season I’ve had since…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence, she knew what he meant. (Name) took his hand, planting a kiss on it. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

As she snuggled up to him, her pajama pants leg rode up a little, revealing she still had a few healing scratches and scrapes from when they went ice skating a few weeks ago. “(Name), why haven’t healed those up? I can’t imagine they’re comfortable.”

She set her hot chocolate down, Leorio and Kurapika freezing in their spots. With a sigh, she rolled her pants back down. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the Chimera Ant incident by now.”

Kurapika felt his heart race. Was finally she going to tell him what happened now?

(Name) looked like she was choosing her next words carefully, her face concentrated in though. “Well… during that incident, I… lost my ability to heal myself. I… don’t want to talk about it, but I’ll say one thing. It was… in exchange for… something… at least that’s my theory.”

Kurapika was a little bit disappointed by how little information he got, but he was still concerned to hear she had lost the power to heal herself. When he thought about it, she had relied on Leorio to heal her wound. ‘I should have realized sooner… what if she got hurt, and I didn’t know she couldn’t heal herself?’

He was glad to know this information, because it would mean he’d be more prepared and able to keep her safe. If he knew her weaknesses, he could plan around them. “I see…”

Kurapika didn’t push the subject. He could see the topic made everyone but him and Alluka uncomfortable.

As they got in bed that night, (Name) stared down at her leg, remembering the events of the Chimera Ant Incident.

‘I can’t let him know, it would break him…’

[forever-rogue]

Blonde!Peter request: it’s quarantine and he gets so ridiculously bored that he borderline forced you to help him bleach his hair, and when you realize “oh fuck, he’s actually really hot with blonde hair”, some steaminess occurs? However far it ends up going is up to you, but also Peter thinking it’s kinda funny and being like “I woulda done this years ago if I had known me being blonde would get you all flustered like this” because he’s a little shit

AN |  No, but blond!Peter does something for me. He’s so hot ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Sexual References

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I am so bored,” Peter groaned loudly as he walked into the living room only to find you sprawled on the couch, watching yet another episode of another new show you were binging through. You caught his eye and nodded before moving so he could sit down next to you, “I think I might lose my mind.”

“Peter,” you rolled your eyes at your roommate, “you’re like a literal genius, surely you can think of something to do.”

“Wish that was true, buttercup,” he laid his head on the back of the couch, “there’s nothing to do - even for Spider-Man. It’s like even criminals decided to take a break and listen to the rules for once.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, slyly looking you over. His breath almost caught in his throat as he realized you were in nothing but short-shorts and one of his old shirts. He thought he’d lost that one…but it looked way better on you, “yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he watched whatever show you’d put on, attempting to keep up with the plotline but zoning out more than anything. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, despite his best efforts. He’d always had feelings for you, despite the fact that you were off limits - you were his roommate and his best friend. He wasn’t about to throw all that away by making a fool out of himself. But, ever since you’d both been stuck together in quarantine, his feelings and urges were growing stronger and stronger. 

It was starting to be a problem. There was only so many times he could jerk off to you in the shower before you caught on. Especially when it was always your name dripping from his lips like pure, sweet honey. He cleared his throat and focused his attention back on the screen. After a bit of half-assed watching, he came up with a brilliant idea.

“I’m going to bleach my hair.”

“Peter, no.”

“Peter, yes,” there was a wicked glint in his honeyed eyes that told you he was up to no good, “and you’re going to help.”

“Absolutely not,” you rolled your eyes, “you do not need to be blond, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“There’s nothing else to do,” he groaned and poked your side, grinning when you squealed due to your ticklishness, “and we have the stuff from when you decided you need pink hair!”

“Hey, that was necessary,” you insisted, giving him a pout, “and don’t act like you didn’t like it, Pete. I know you did.”

“That’s,” you could see the flush of rose rise up in his cheeks, “that’s besides the point! Baby, just say you’ll help me.”

“Peter,” you raised an eyebrow, “don’t call me that.”

“Come on, please help,” you both knew that you could never say no to Peter Parker. You waved him off, “I’ll do whatever you want in return.”

“Fine,” you gave in with a huff and he pumped his fist in the air, “I’ll help you.”

“You’re the best,” he leaned over and pressed a big, sloppy kiss to your cheek, “I always knew I loved ya.”

You sat there in stunned silence as he jumped off the couch and practically ran to the bathroom. Your own face reddened as you watched him go, trying not to stare at his ass and how good it looked in those stupid grey sweatpants. Sometimes it was hard to be in love with your best friend and roommate. Especially when he was hot, smart, funny, and nice as Peter Parker.

You weren’t sure how you were going to survive quarantine without something happening between the two of you. Fuck.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter, I need you to stop squirming and stay still,” he was seated at the edge of the tub as you tried to brush through his thick locks of hair. You could tell the boy, with all his energy, was already getting impatient at having to sit still for so long, “it’s not my fault you have stupidly thick, gorgeous hair. You sure you wanna ruin it, bub?”

“You like my hair, huh?” you didn’t even have to look at his face to know that he was smirking, “it’s not gonna ruin it…right?”

“I mean it won’t ruin it,” you gently dragged the brush through the last of his hair, “but it’ll damage it and take a minute to get back to how soft and healthy it is. You are bleaching it after all.”

“Am I going to end up with straw hair?” he teased and you couldn’t help but snort at the comment.

“No,” you promised as you crouched down and brushed a few stray locks out of his face, “I’ll take good care of you, Pete.”

He raised an eyebrow at your little innuendo and your entire face flush with warmth, “you’ll take good care of me, huh?”

“Your hair,” you quickly corrected, “I’ll take good care of your hair.”

“You can do whatever you like to me,” Peter had never been one to be shy with his affection around you, but you’d never been ready to cross the line from best friends to lovers. But Peter, among other things, was a patient man - a horny but patient man, and he was willing to wait for you. 

“I’m gonna mix the bleach now so we can start,” you stood and pulled out of his grasp as you busied yourself on the counter with making the right mixture for his hair, “just sit for a few or run around and get your energy out now.”

“Well then,” he practically bounced up and ducked out of the bathroom, “I’ll be back in less than 10!”

“Peter-”

But he was already gone and down the hall, evidenced by the slam of his bedroom door. Odd. But you decided not to question him; you knew better than to question him. Maybe he was just gonna do some exercise in his room for a few moments. You shrugged to yourself as you grabbed the developer and packets of powdered bleach. 

Little did you know that Peter was in his room, pulling his hard cock out and jerking off before going back to you. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed his little problem when you were crouching right in front of him. But he needed to take care of it if he was going to survive you putting bleach all over his hair. Your gentle touch, your warm scent, your tits almost in his face, all of it made him harder than he cared to admit. His plan was to quickly get it out of his system and think some of the worst thoughts possible while you were all over him.

“Fuck,” he groaned quickly, hoping you didn’t hear the slick of his hand on his cock. It didn’t take long for him to almost spill in his hand. He pictured it was your smaller hand wrapped his cock, with your pretty, smart mouth opened to catch his cum on your tongue, “you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Fuck, baby.”

It wasn’t long before he spilled onto his hand, stuffing his fist into his mouth to keep from moaning too loudly. He didn’t need you to hear him whimper your name right before he came back for you to bleach his hair. 

He cleaned himself up and steadied his breathing, trying to compose him before going back out to you. Once he was sure that what he had done wasn’t too obvious, he went back into the bathroom and felt his heart rate pick up immediately. You’d changed into another pair of tight little shorts and an old, ratty t-shirt of his that you didn’t need to worry about getting bleach. You were too beautiful. 

“You ready, Pete?” you turned to him with a sweet smile, and damn. He felt his knees grow weak as he sat back down in his little designated space. He’d fought criminals, was a certified genius, but seeing you in those little shorts made him malfunction. 

“Y-yeah,” he managed to choke out as you pulled on a pair of plastic gloves.

“I’m gonna start with the length and then the roots come last, okay. They develop faster and if we do this first it won’t be even with the rest of your hair,” you explained as he nodded like he actually comprehended a word you were saying, “if it starts to burn or you feel uncomfortable let me know, yeah?”

“Okay,” he closed his eyes as you started to put the bleach in his hair. He figured that maybe if he didn’t watch you, he’d be able to keep himself from all of his fantasies of you. 

You worked slowly and methodically, singing softly under your breath as along to the music you’d started playing from the small bluetooth speaker. After a few songs he instantly realized that you were shuffling the playlist he’d made for you. Oh. He had it bad for you.

It seemed like an eternity until you were done, making a satisfied sound as you looked at his head full of bleach. You grabbed the plastic bag you’d brought in with you and wrapped it around his head, “gotta let it all meld together for a bit. It’s gonna feel hot, okay? But if it gets to be too much, let me know. I think leaving for about forty-five minutes should be fine, then you can wash it off. We’ll go from there…your hair isn’t too dark and virgin so it should take easily.”

“Thanks babe,” he relaxed and grinned when you didn’t correct him on the nickname, “I’m sure it’ll be great. I owe you.”

“What’re friends for?” you teased as you pulled off the gloves and started to clean up. You felt his eyes on you, knowing he was checking you out, but decided to ignore, “go and relax, Pete. I’ll be done here in a few. Put on a movie or something.”

He made a small sound before padding his way into the living, a flurry of emotions coursing through his veins. You were already the best parts of him, held the biggest place in his heart, but you were making this so difficult. He wanted nothing more than to just-

“Hey,” you walked back into the room and plopped down on the couch next to him, “what’re we watching?”

“I just ugh…the Office?” he asked lamely as your face lit up. Of course he’d pick your favorite show. You gave him a cheeky little wink before making yourself comfortable. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to focus on the screen. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The timer on your phone went off and startled both of you. Neither of you had been watching the show very closely, both hyper aware of each other’s presence, “alright Pete, time to go shower! So, wash the bleach out, shampoo, and then use my deep conditioner. That should take care of it nicely.”

“Alright,” he grinned, excited to see the results of your hard work, “I’ll be back eventually!”

“If I’m asleep by the time you get back,” you poked a finger at his chest, “don’t blame me. You’re the one that decided to do this late at night.”

“I would never,” he wrapped his long, slender fingers around your wrist before giving your hand a small squeeze, “well, I’ll be back as blond Peter soon!”

“Dork,” you laughed, a sound that went straight to his heart, as he ran into the bathroom. You yawned, rubbing at your tired eyes before deciding to lay on your bed as you waited for him. Unfortunately, you were fast asleep within minutes, unable to keep your eyes open any longer. 

“Babe,” he stepped into your doorway, his features softening when he spotted you all curled up and snoring lightly. He pulled back your blankets before picking you up effortlessly, without waking you, and tucking you under the covers. He smiled as you buried your head into the pillows, unable to stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “good night, buttercup.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up, you found the early morning light streaming in through the gap in your curtains. You yawned and stretched, enjoying the popping of your stiff joints as you realized that you were under the covers. Strange. You didn’t even remember falling asleep or tucking yourself in. After rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you slid out of bed and walked out of your room in search of coffee. Since you couldn’t go to your favorite cafe at the moment, you’d taken up learning to make all sorts of coffees at home. A pick me up was exactly what you needed right now. 

But as soon as you made it into the living you stopped dead in your tracks. There was Peter Fuckin’ Parker, sitting - manspreading - on the couch as he casually read a book, and sipped a cup of coffee. Not only that, but he had a head of bleached blond hair, which and you hated to admit this, made him look fine as hell. 

He must have heard the hitch of your breath along with the quickened beating of your heart because he looked up and gave that golden boy smile that made your knees almost buckle. How did he not only look amazing with his natural hair but so disgustingly hot with the head of blond hair. 

“Good morning,” he closed his book, which you quickly spied to be Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? as he gave you his full attention. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but your mouth ran dry, “you alright? Cat got your tongue?”

“Pete,” you blinked a few times and tore your gaze away before you got too lost in those glittering honey eyes, “the blond worked out. L-looks great.”

“Yeah?” he stood and walked over to you, running a hand through his newly bleached locks, “you think so?”

“Of course,” you swallowed thickly before moving past him to go into the kitchen. Maybe you could get out the feelings of frustration you were feeling on making a fancy iced coffee, “you always do.”

He followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his strong arms crossed over his broad chest. You could feel him watching your every move intently, but you tried to ignore it as best as you could, “you know I woulda done this years ago if I had known me being blond would get you all flustered like this.”

“Peter,” you turned around and he was right there, his big brown eyes on yours, refusing to leave or back down, “I-I’m not flustered.”

“Why are you lying to me?” he whispered, reaching up and touching your face, bushing his knuckles over your cheek, “I can hear how fast your heart is beating…I can smell you.”

“Pete…” he set his hand flat on your chest, just above your heart as he felt it beat rapidly under his touch.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he backed you up until you were pressed against the counter and looking up at him with wide, doe eyes, “you don’t want to make a mistake. But baby, just give this a chance. You gotta know I’m in love with you, right? That I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I know you’re scared, but give me a chance, sweetheart. You’re fucking breaking my heart, looking like you do everyday, smiling that pretty smile, using that smart mouth…”

“Peter,” you put your hand on top of his and gently pulled it away from your face, “I…I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“No,” you shook your head, “scared that if we don’t work out…I’d lose you. I don’t think I could live without you, Peter.”

“That won’t happen,” he leaned in so his face was close to yours, his lips almost brushing against yours, “I promise. I’ve always been yours, baby, even if you didn’t want to see it. But if you don’t want this, really don’t want this, just say it and I’ll leave you alone.”

You could feel his warmth fanning over your lips, and you knew what he was saying was true. You closed your eyes for a moment before nodding ever so slightly, “I’m yours.”

That was all it took before he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you sweetly and softly at first. When you were left dizzied and breathless, you pulled back and looked into his eyes, seeing that soft, dopey smile on his face. He put his hands on either side of your face before he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and nose before stopping back at your lips, “say it again.”

“Peter-”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” he didn’t hesitate for a moment before he effortlessly picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He was kissing you with a fervent hunger, years of pent up emotions being released all at once. He was carrying you to his room without removing his lips from yours. He tenderly laid you down on the bed, surprisingly gentle and reverent in his movements. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he held himself over you, strong arms caging you in and nudging his nose with yours, “I’m so in love with you.”

“Yeah?” your soft little question had his heart practically melting.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly, kissing you lazily.

“I’m in love with you,” you promised softly, “with brown or blond hair. But I gotta admit, Peter, you look so fucking sexy with the blond.”

“I knew you’d like it,” he grinned wolfishly, “my pretty girl.”

“I have one more question for you now…”

“Anything.”

“You gonna fuck me now?”

“With pleasure.”

[loverhymeswith]

Vampires Will Never Hurt You

Day Three of the October Dreams 1K Follower Event

Pairing: Vampire!Jonathan Breech x F!Reader

Summary: Jonathan gives you his venom and you give him your blood.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: 18+ only, P in V sex, fingering, references to suicide and self harm, scars, blood, pain, addiction, vampires

A/N: Please heed the warnings as this is much darker than my usual work. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for encouraging me to pursue this idea.

Except for the sound of your laboured breathing, the cramped Dublin apartment is silent. Once upon a time, this would have been a rare occurrence given that Jonathan is here in the bedroom with you. But lately you’ve discovered that a sure-fire way to get him to stop talking is to keep his face buried between your legs.

“Oh fuck, Jonathan. Yes,” you cry as he ceases the endless teasing, finally sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. A heady mixture of pleasure and pain dulls your other senses as his sharp fangs break your already-scarred skin. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

You shudder as his tongue darts out, licking over the fresh wound and lapping at the crimson beads of your blood blooming beneath his mouth, the satisfying result of his ministrations. Jonathan hums in contentment, the sound a soft vibration against your sensitive skin as his wicked fingers continue their exploration, slipping between your slick folds. 

This is exactly how he likes you, spread bare on the bed before him, your body laid out like a veritable feast.

It’s a relationship of convenience. Not that you’d go so far as to call what you and Jonathan share a relationship, per se. It's more of an agreement. A mutually beneficial arrangement. He gives you his venom and you give him your blood.

You’d met him in a nightclub almost a year ago. A dark and seedy place on the edge of town. Knowing Jonathan as you do now, it made sense. He seemed to have a knack for seeking out trouble and that night was no exception. Some creep had been bothering you at the bar - nothing new there - until a mysterious and handsome young man had swooped in like a knight-in-argyle armour, whispering something vaguely threatening that had turned the older man’s face a deathly shade of pale.

That would have - and should have - been the end of the story, had you not stumbled upon the same young man much later that night in the dark alleyway behind the bar. He hadn’t been alone and at first you’d assumed he was locked in a lover’s embrace, but as you found yourself staring, rooted to the spot, you realised his teeth were sunk deep into the neck of your earlier harasser. 

If you’d had any sense of self-preservation left at that point in your life, perhaps you would have dropped your cigarette and ran. Instead, you’d waited patiently until the young man turned his pale gaze upon you, releasing his victim to crumple to the ground in a heap.

“Ah fuck, you weren’t s’posed to see that.” 

His pleasantly lilting accent told you he was a Dublin native and despite the oddness of the situation, you’d taken a step closer, your fight or flight response having abandoned you long ago. Even in the dimly lit alleyway, you were able to see the blood staining his plump lips, a stark contrast to his pale and angular face.

An angel of death.

“I won’t say anything,” you’d told him without hesitation. After all, who was going to believe you? You weren’t even sure exactly what it was you had witnessed. 

Stepping over the lifeless body on the ground, the young man approached you cautiously, pulling out something that looked suspiciously like a wooden spike from his dark jacket. 

"Just put me outta my misery, would ya?" he'd all but begged, offering you the stake. 

There was a wildness in his otherworldly blue eyes that spoke of recklessness and desperation. Of a desire to end his suffering - something which you recognised all too well. Later on, he would tell you that he’d been carrying around that stake for years, waiting for the day when someone would finally drive it into his heart.

You’d spared a cursory glance at the chiselled length of wood but had neglected to reach for it, far too beguiled by the beautiful man himself. “Why would I want to do that?”

He’d cocked his dark brow, surprise evident in his fine features as if he was equally as intrigued by your reaction. “Because I’m sick to death of bein’ a fuckin’ vampire, alright?” 

Vampire. 

His admission had been so casual and you’d allowed the word to settle in your mind for a beat, narrowing your gaze at the young man. You’d never given much thought to the supernatural before, and under normal circumstances you would have been sceptical. But this was far from normal. You had just witnessed him rip out a man’s throat.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you’d asked him without a trace of fear.

“No.”

“What if I want you to?”

The rest, as they say, was history. To this day, you can’t remember whose idea it had been, only that the fateful encounter had proved fortuitous for both parties. In you, Jonathan found a companion and a willing victim, someone to soothe the centuries of loneliness. Someone he could feed from without the fear of them fighting back. 

In Jonathan, you found release. The tiny hurts he inflicted were far more effective than anything you could achieve by your own hand.

"So beautiful," the vampire murmurs now, finding the strength to tear himself away from between your legs. His piercing blue gaze sweeps over the canvas of your body in admiration, his slender fingers tracing over the new bruises and bite marks he has left in his wake.

He had warned you right from that first night that the side effects of a vampire’s kiss would be addictive. That the venom in his saliva didn't just result in oblivion, but that it was an aphrodisiac, too. Apathetic and worn down by years of misery, you hadn’t really believed him. Ushering him back to your one-bed apartment, you’d told him to bring it on.

But in the end, Jonathan had been right. You couldn’t get enough of him - had practically begged for him to fuck you within seconds of him plunging his teeth into your delicate wrist. He’d obliged, although not immediately. For a two hundred-year-old vampire, he could be infuriatingly chivalrous when it suited him.

"Gonna make love to you now," he grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Your blood stains his alabaster skin.

Still riding the high of his venom as it works its way into your bloodstream, you nod blissfully, relishing the comforting weight of Jonathan’s lithe body as he lowers himself onto you. Over the last few months, he’s turned this into an artform, taking the time to break you apart piece by bloody piece as his mouth marks the soft skin of your stomach, your breasts and thighs. And now, as his warm tongue trails a crimson path along the curve of your throat, just before his razor-sharp white teeth puncture your most vital artery, he enters you in a single thrust.

You cry out his name again, lost in the storm of sensation laying waste to your body; the pressure of his thick cock stretching your walls, the piercing bite of his fangs as he drinks from you, the searing heat of his venom filling your veins. It’s too much and yet not enough. You need to be closer. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and with every drag of his length through your slick channel, you clench around him until your vision is filled with stars.

As he drinks his fill, his thrusts become sloppy and you know he’s close to the edge. Lightheaded from the lovemaking and the blood loss, so are you. With another moan of pleasure, you submit to him willingly and entirely, trusting him intimately. You know he’ll never take too much. Just enough.

Finally, you feel his canines retract and his tongue flicks over the raw wound, the gesture sending a current of electric pleasure through your already wrecked body. When he pulls his mouth away from your neck and smooths his knuckle along your cheek, you open your eyes to find his lust-filled gaze has turned reverent.

When he speaks again, his voice is rough and soothing. “That’s my girl. Now come with me.”

You don’t need to be told twice, his praise encouraging you to shatter around him as wave after wave of ecstasy fills the empty space in your veins.

You told him from the offset that you didn’t want him to turn you. Life is hard enough with an expiry date. But sometimes the thought of an eternity of this - of Jonathan -  is awfully tempting.

October Dreams Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @zablife