#In which I fall far too deep into this ship

[jaylaxies]

TIDES AND TEMPTATION

PAIRING: siren!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, fluff, angst, mentions of kidnapping, pirates, war, blood, sirens and mer-people, mentions of nicknames, cunnilingus, breeding, unprotected sex, underwater kingdom.

WC: 5.2k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: happiest birthday to my love @celeste-hoon this one’s for youu <3 also hihi, angels! we’ve finally reached the last fic for this year’s kinktober! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

The sound of waves crashing against one another, the sudden buzz of urgent chatter and running, and the burn of ropes digging into the flesh of your wrists woke you up from your uncomfortable slumber of unconsciousness. 

It was bright, albeit the lack of sunlight as the clouds covered the sky. You blinked once, and twice before realizing exactly where you were, your mind reeling back to what had happened over the past one day—or more. You weren’t aware of how long you had been knocked out for. 

You remember going out with your friends at the sea shore, your peace interrupted by the sudden screams, the pain following soon after you saw the group of pirates trying to capture everyone in the vicinity, you weren’t an exception. 

Your cries were ignored. Fighting back was of no use as they easily took control, using the rope to tie you up as they carried you into the massive blue coloured ship, your body too tired to keep up, falling limp till you reached here. 

You were on the deck, tied up with a lot more people who were just as panicked if not more, yet you couldn’t spot any of your friends. The pirates were in a rush, their swords out and a sweet melody lingering in the air despite the bloodshed filled atmosphere. 

You cried out, not sure as to who the pirates were fighting, but it seemed as if everyone was suddenly in a trance, which kept on breaking and emerging again as they attacked the other force. 

Suddenly, a guy rushed to where you were tied up, cutting your ropes and pulling you up as you struggled against his grip, tears flowing down your cheeks with the chaos around you, no energy left in you. 

The ship wasn’t in control anymore, the waves overpowered the balance, the sweet melody in the background loud enough to put you in a trance, your eyes shifting from the blue of the water to the sea cave which shone bright, embedded with the prettiest set of stones you had ever seen, along with the creatures you didn’t know existed till date. 

You weren’t sure what you felt as the ship flipped completely, the screams muffled as you came in contact with the water, your eyes closing as you failed to try to swim, the coldness of water making it harder. 

However, you were pulled to the side by someone, your eyes barely open to take in the sight of what looked like a tail, its scales mixed with a palette of blues, dark greens, slightest shades of purple and pink merging together to form a luminescent look. 

Your eyes closed shut yet again, and the creature took you deep inside the siren caverns, helping you up on the flat surface of the emerald rock, looking at you with dark, curious eyes. 

You were far from the water where the bloodshed had taken place, the pirate crew along with the prisoners long gone, devoured by the mer-people, who once looked like the prettiest entities on earth, now seemed to be no less than demons with their claws out, sharp canines on display as they munched on their new food source. 

But not the siren who was with you. 

He looked ethereal with the white glow around which illuminated his figure, one strand of his dark hair braided intricately, tiny flowers adorning them as he looked down at your unconscious figure with a slight tilt of his head, holding himself up on the rock, letting his tail rest in the water. 

Your wet dress was now clinging to your body, beads of sand on your skin and your breathing uneven, eyes threatening to open again with distress. 

He didn’t move when you opened your eyes, which were full of hurt and exhaustion, you couldn’t scream in fear. Instead, you found yourself staring back at him just as curiously, taking in the pretty moles scattered all over his body, his soft glistening pink lips with fangs peeking out and resting on them. You took notice of the dainty jewelry he had adorned, from his necklace to his ear cuffs, from his arm cuff which barely contained his muscles to the gold chain he had around his slender waist, you observed it all. 

He was the prettiest creature you had ever come across. 

He wondered why he was so fascinated when he was supposed to hate your kind, the kind which destroyed his kingdom. 

But not you. You looked lost, scared, as if the humans didn’t show mercy to their own kinds too, he was intrigued, his heart beating faster taking in the soft glow the carven stones reflected upon you. 

“Let me go,” your voice came out breathless, body shaking with the cool air around you, caressing your soaked body. 

His expression didn’t change, however you could see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your plea. 

He took a hold of your chin, sensing your fear heightening with his move, “what’s your name?” He asked, voice smooth as if his siren tone was trying to comply you to answer him. 

Your voice came out in a whisper as you told him your name, which he repeated after you to get the pronunciation right and you suddenly felt as if your name was the prettiest thing you’d ever heard. 

The small moment was ruined the second other sirens came swimming into the cavern, hissing as they saw you but they stopped the second they noticed another siren with you. 

“Fuck! Let go of me,” you exasperated, not wanting to become food for the bloodthirsty creatures. 

His gaze was stoic all of a sudden as he addressed them, paying your words zero attention, no traces of kindness as his loud voice boomed in the area, “touch her and you die,” he warned everyone, the fear evident in their eyes as they bowed down, swimming back into the depths of the ocean. 

“How?” You breathed out, and he turned to look your way again, cupping your cheek, sudden warmth blooming in your body and you were torn, trying to decide if you wanted to hate him or not. 

“Open your mouth,” he orders, and you gulp, shaking your head despite knowing that you had nowhere to escape, but also slightly aware of the fact that you felt a pull towards this siren, and it scared you even further. “Don’t be difficult,” he warned. 

Slowly, you parted your mouth, observing his next move. He was quick to snap open his heart shaped pendant, taking a white pearl out and placing it on your tongue, the taste buds already delighted at the sweetness the pearl harboured. 

“Eat it, it’ll help you breathe in the water,” he said, eyes so dark yet shiny. 

“No! What? No, I can’t go in there—” you looked horrified at the idea. 

He simply looked at you, “you have nowhere else to go. So, it’s either you follow me, or you become food for the others,” he said, referring to the sirens which you had encountered a few minutes back. 

He left you no choice, his gaze sharp as he waited for your answer. With a gulp, you nodded, choosing to follow him as he saved your life, finally intaking the pearl, watching him nod with the slightest upliftment of his lip. 

“Come,” he extended his hand for you to take. 

“Wait,” you stopped him, “what’s your name?” 

“Sunghoon,” he spoke, voice rich as he finally held on to your hand, intertwining your fingers, “and you belong to me now.”

He didn’t give you a chance to react pulling you with him. Panic seeped through you, which was soon replaced by shock as you could easily breathe under the water, as said by Sunghoon, who held on to you tighter, taking you deep inside the water. 

You were mesmerized by the schools of fishes around you, coral reefs of all colours decorating the sea. Nothing felt real to you anymore. It was too surreal to be real, especially the siren next to you, who had his eyes set on you. 

You didn’t know what was to come. 

If someone told you you’d be visiting a royal palace deep inside the sea then you would have laughed in their face. 

However, now that you had actually reached such a place, trying to hold in your panic, you weren’t sure how to react, granted that you had pinched yourself a few times to wake up in case it was a dream. 

Which wasn’t the case sadly. 

The shock was clear on your face when the tailed guards with tridents bowed down looking at Sunghoon. The place was epitome of beauty, decorated with underwater planktons and shells, the merfolks eyed you with curiosity, to which you held on to Sunghoon’s arm tighter. 

“Why are we here? Don’t tell me you’re a prince,” you said, still wondering how you got to breathe under the water, also staring at the big shell covered with foam, a few mermaids sitting there, whispering amongst themselves but it was clear that you were the topic of their gossip. 

Sunghoon didn’t answer your question, taking you into a big chamber which seemed to be his room, and you stilled, thinking that maybe he did belong to the royal family. 

“Jake, come here,” Sunghoon called out, revealing a siren with an elegant, green coloured tail. 

He bowed down the second he was summoned in front of Sunghoon, “yes, your majesty?” 

“Set up a chamber with no water. It should have the atmosphere similar to that of the land. Also arrange human clothing as per the size of my princess,” he ordered, eyes flickering towards you when he spoke the last part and Jake bowed down, leaving you both alone. 

“Y—you’re actually a prince? Oh god, I can’t be staying here—and what do you mean princess?” You rambled, losing your mind, your eyes comically wide at this statement. 

It must be a joke, it has to be a joke. 

“Shh,” he came closer, trapping you against the wall, “I told you, you belong to me now, princess,” he spoke up in his ever so silky voice, his eyes glowing. 

“But—” 

“Oh, princess,” he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek, “you’re cute if you think you have a choice, there’s no way to go back now, the ship is destroyed.” His voice came out deeper than you had expected, lips brushing against your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin. 

“You know this is kidnapping, right?” You tried to argue. 

“Not when you want to be here,” he retorted, looking back at you, his pointy nose caressing yours, “you can fight all you want, princess. It won’t change the fact that your heart beats fast whenever I come close to you,” he says, pulling back with a smirk and swimming away, leaving you all alone in his chamber. 

You couldn’t move, as if he saw right through you when he mentioned your heartbeat, because no matter how hard you tried, even you couldn’t convince yourself that you weren’t a flustered mess around him. 

You didn’t know how they managed to set up a chamber without the water but somehow it happened, and in record time too, which had you sighing with pleasure when your feet finally landed on the floor. 

Meanwhile, you were conflicted again, not sure if you’d be okay alone in a room, but at the same time you didn’t wish to sleep with Sunghoon (read: you feared you’d lose control around him) but the thought didn’t bother you for long as you sat down on the big foamy bed they had arranged for you, along with myriads of clothes in all colours and patterns, majority of them consisting of silky dresses, the fabric more watery than water itself. 

You half expected Sunghoon to visit you before sleeping, which didn’t happen and you couldn’t deny that it disappointed you, granted you knew no one but him. 

Your feelings were all over the place, nothing felt real but you weren’t sure if the reality of being on land would be any better than the comfort you’re seeking being under the water, away from the danger as you remembered that you indeed have someone who’s willing to save you. 

Yet you can’t help but want to fight him for being so unnecessarily cocky, then again, he was a prince, and a siren prince at that, you couldn’t blame him for the way he was. 

Sleep came easily, especially when you were in the comfort of the foamy bed they had arranged for you while you were clad in the silkiest night slip you found in the grand closet, which again was arranged for you in record time. 

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but your body needed the rest, and by the time you woke up, all your little wounds and bruises were gone from the fight yesterday, not to mention how you were surrounded by a bunch of curious mermaids who were sent to take care of you, their tails had turned into legs as they entered your room. 

“Hey, nice to meet you guys,” you spoke awkwardly, glad that they weren’t being rude to you, but they were curious about you. 

“Does his highness talk to you?”

“How did you guys meet?”

“Prince Sunghoon never brings anyone back to the palace, you must be really special to him.”

All three spoke up, making your eyes go wide, “he doesn’t?” You ask and they shake their heads to confirm the statement. 

You feel your cheeks beating up, trying to look elsewhere to calm down. The mermaids were nice, taking you to the royal bath first, also fetching you some human food, surprisingly the most scrumptious one you had ever consumed. 

However, they were quick to leave the second Sunghoon arrived at your chamber, his tail too getting converted into long legs, his torso on display but his legs covered with a blue-green silky cloth wrapped around his waist, being the same colour as his tail. 

“Slept well, princess?” He asked, approaching where you sat down on your bed. 

“Don’t call me that, I won’t ever be your princess,” you breathed out. 

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue, face indifferent as if he was expecting this exact reaction. 

He came closer, observing your face where the scratch wound had been previously, he smelled like fresh ocean breeze, the kind that makes you feel alive even on the dullest of your days, and you couldn’t help but clear your throat and look away. 

“How do you have legs now?” You asked, deviating your attention, but he continued staring at your face, “don’t you have princely duties to take care of?” You asked, trying to get him to talk, but again, he continued to stare at you, his head tilting slightly as you gulped, not looking into his eyes. 

“Taking care of my princess is a part of my duty,” he said as smooth as ever, leaving you speechless yet again. 

You didn’t notice the necklace he had in his slender fingers, made up of prettiest shades of little shells. It was delicate, almost magical with how sparkling it looked to the eyes, “got them made from the rarest shells of the kingdom,” he spoke up, inching closer to help you wear it. 

His touch was cold, juxtaposing the trail of warmth he left he left behind as he clasped it behind your neck, your eyelids fluttering close at the proximity, a shiver running down your spine as he whispered into your ear, “I found the necklace pretty, but you made it look prettier.”

It was impossible for you to stop thinking about Sunghoon it seemed, even more so when you had the prettiest necklace resting on your clavicle. It was as if the water around you had some sort of magic which made your mind drift back to the certain dark haired prince over and over again. 

Maybe it was because you were in his kingdom, or maybe because he was a siren, the creature famous for its manipulative skills. Yet you knew he wasn’t using his siren voice or anything related to that when he talked to you. 

Shaking your head, you focused on exploring the palace with your three new friends, the mermaids you had met earlier in the morning. The word pretty would not be enough to describe your surroundings as you observed the tiny pink seahorses moving around in a line at the back gardens of the palace. 

“I see how envious everyone is, their stares could actually kill,” one of the mermaids spoke up. 

“Why don’t you guys hate me?” You grimaced while asking. 

“Because the prince has his eyes set on you and you only—also, we are his cousins so we don’t really like the whole idea of incest,” they explained with soft smiles. 

“Oh—” you said out loud before they nudged you to look at the person who was already present in your chamber, none other than your prince. 

A sudden wave of giddiness travelled down your body, leaving just as quick when you mentally reminded yourself to not fall for his antics. He was a siren chasing a human girl after all. 

“Prince Sunghoon. What do I owe this pleasure for?” You ask, standing in front of his taller frame as your friends leave you in privacy, closing the door behind them as they leave. 

He stood with his back facing you, and that was a dangerous sight already with his muscles flexing at every little movement of his. 

To prevent this from happening (read: your mind going mush at the sight of him), you moved swiftly and situated yourself in the comfort of your big bed, his eyes observing you carefully, just like always and the action was enough for the corner of his lips to lift up ever so slightly. 

“Prince and Princess should sleep together, don’t you think so, pretty?” He asked in his velvety tone. 

Each time you try to step back to calm yourself, Sunghoon comes up saying something bizarre, leaving you more disoriented than before. 

“W—what are you talking about? We’re not even married yet—”

“Yet. Well, I’m glad to see you being enthusiastic about it,” he mused, harbouring a lopsided grin as he neared you. 

Your mouth was open as you tried to display just how against you were of the idea, “I’m not marrying you,” you confirmed. 

He rolled his eyes, wrapping his fingers around your ankle, pulling you closer effortlessly, enough for your face to be inches away from him, your legs dangling on either side of him as he stood in between your legs. 

“Cute,” he chuckled, taking the authority with less to no effort, his sharp fangs on display as he grabs your neck in a swift moment, the action has you seeing stars even with the lack of pressure on his hold, other hand caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, brushing the same spot over and over again. 

“Sunghoon—”

“Y’know what, princess? You remind me of this little creature I came across when I visited your land. She was just like you—hissing and scratching till I got down on my knees and gave her gentle caresses on her back,” he told the story, making you freeze on spot, his voice captivating, “such a sweet kitten she was. You’re the same, so violent despite being a cute little kitten, all you need is a gentle caress—” he caressed your cheek to make a point, “to have you mewling like a kitten.”

You couldn’t stop the little whimper escaping your lips the second he said so, proving his point even further as your cheeks burned with embarrassment? Proximity? His fingers around your neck? Or the way he made you mewl exactly like a cat? You couldn’t decide. 

“Sweet dreams, princess.” He smirked, leaving you alone for the night, speechless as ever. 

You couldn’t, for the life of you, face Sunghoon after the little stunt he pulled last night and you did everything in your power to avoid him the following day, which he found amusing as he watched you swimming away from a distance, using your pretty legs in the middle of other sirens, the necklace still wrapped around your pretty neck. 

Others complained how he didn’t smile much to none, which changed when he found himself smiling with his dimples on display at the sight of his cousin mermaids giving you various sea flowers, tucking them behind your ear, which made them glow. The bioluminescence felt like magic to you as they glowed when you smiled, moving around and discovering the secrets these deep waters held, your eyes meeting Sunghoon’s for a brief second when you realized he’s watching from the balcony of his chambers. Your breath hitched, the sight of his torso never failing to get you flustered as you averted your eyes to focus on something else—anything else. 

You couldn’t help but admit that you enjoyed this new life, and that you were grateful to be alive, to be saved by a certain siren who was in your mind twenty four seven, the circadian clock adjusting to your new ways of living. 

You watched yourself in the big reflecting surface which served to be the mirror in your room, your skin had a newfound glow and your body looked pretty clad in the blue dress which was lighter than the air, the fabric almost felt like silky fluid. 

The noise of shuffling behind you caught your attention, and you simply assumed that it would be Sunghoon who had come to visit you again, which wasn’t the case as you turned around to see an ugly siren with its claws out, reaching out to you with the most gut wrenching scream it could muster. 

Your eyes widened, hands covering your ear to save your precious eardrums, crouching down to save yourself. 

Maybe you said it too early, maybe this life was just a little something god had given to you before trying to snatch everything away from you, including your life. You waited for the attack, you waited for the trident to pierce your body.

Yet the attack never came. 

With your body shaking, you dared to open your eyes, only to find Sunghoon with his eyes pitch black as he held on to the other siren by its neck. His grip was strong, the sound of bone crushing only made you look away in fear, “how dare you—” he spoke up, voice loud and shaking with anger,  “—try to hurt my princess?” He didn’t hold back anymore, slamming his head on the floor, blood splattering everywhere, a few drops landing on his face. 

Sunghoon didn’t wish to drag it long, especially when he knew that you were terrified, “clean it up,” he ordered Jake, who was quick to oblige his command. 

“Princess,” Sunghoon spoke up once you were alone in the chamber, his voice gentle as you looked up at him through tears, noticing that the siren was nowhere to be found, “he’s gone, he won’t be back,” Sunghoon told you. 

You stood up shaking, rushing into his arms. Sunghoon was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, the other hand resting on the back of your head, patting you gently to calm you down. 

“Hoon,” you whispered, “why did he come after me?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“He wanted the crown, so—so he went after the person I cherished the most,” Sunghoon told you earnestly, trying not to kiss you the second you used the nickname. 

“Please don’t lie to me,” your voice came out as a whisper, lower lip jutting out in a pout. You couldn’t resist him anymore. 

He cradled your face, his fingertips soft against your skin, providing you with the warmth you had gotten so familiar with over the past few days, maybe it was the way he had protected you since the day he first laid his eyes on you, maybe it was how he never failed to express his emotions when it came to you, speaking whatever came to his mind, maybe it was how his eyes were full of love and a promise of something more. 

That’s what made you want to kiss the prettiest creature you had ever met. 

His touch was light as the feather, which allowed you to move swiftly as you got on your tippy toes, placing your soft lips against his rosy ones in a quick kiss. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest, the tenderness lingering behind on your lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. He bit his lower lip, pulling you closer by the waist, his body pressing against yours as he pulled you into a feverish kiss, the kind that leaves you breathless, his lips slotting against yours in a perfect manner, as if puzzle pieces put together. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed out the second he separated from the kiss. 

“Why? Don’t you want your princess now—” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was picking you up with ease, lips on your again, his muscles flexing as he carried you to the bed, getting on top of you, giving you a second to breathe. 

It was the way he stared so deeply into your eyes, it had you melting in his arms, “want you,” you admitted, “so much.”

His smile was wide, mesmerizing you to the point you had to lean on your elbow, kissing his dimpled cheek before trailing kisses down his jaw. The peck on his Adam's apple however, was enough to drive him over the edge. 

You looked so pretty like this, lips glossy and eyes begging to have more of him, all of him. It was like a tune playing in the background when he dipped down to trail kisses all over your clavicle, sucking love marks all over your previously untouched skin, his fangs digging into your flesh slightly, providing you with the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, your back arching as he got rougher with his approach. 

His touch was electrifying as he grabbed the curve of your waist, “you’re my human, all mine,” he mumbled against your skin. If his voice was alluring for you then every inch of you was alluring for him. 

Your dress was easy to remove, soon thrown on the ground, exposing your body to Sunghoon, who swears he’d worship you each day. You squeeze his bicep, holding on to him tight, his finesse showing as he takes your tits in his mouth, squeezing the other one when you moaned, no room in between you for any air to pass through. 

He continued kissing lower and lower, covering the expanse of your body in a silent prayer. He was claiming you his. 

Lifting your legs on his shoulder, he continued peppering kisses all over your lower abdomen, your fingers tugging on his silky roots to get a grip, pretty whines leaving your lips, telling him to stop teasing. 

He couldn’t ever deny you, now sucking on your clit, tongue tasting every drop of your arousal, prodding your entrance. The brush of his nose on your clit had you shivering with need, “Hoonie,” you whispered, eyes closing at the unadulterated bliss he provided you with. 

He fucked his tongue into your hole, desperate to have your taste all over him, the rings on his fingers juxtaposing the warmth of your body as he held your thighs open, his shoulders providing to be sturdy and strong for your legs. 

It was too much, your hands were sweaty, now gripping on the silky sheets as you stared at the watery ceiling, which reflected the lewd image back at you—Prince Sunghoon buried in your cunt, immersed in eating you out, wanting to have every inch of his princess. 

Your back arched into him, craving more of him as you felt your high approaching with the spasming of your pussy, your body not being able to handle more of his ministrations, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, lewd noises all around the room as you finally orgasmed, telling him taste all of you. 

“Fuck, you’re my sweet nectar and I’m obsessed,” he muttered, coming up to push his tongue inside your mouth, the kiss deeper than ever as you tasted yourself on his tongue. 

You didn’t even notice when he unpinned his cloth from his waist, the delicate chain and ornaments decorating his perfectly sculpted body as you finally saw him—long, thick, and hard for you. Your mind blanked out, it wasn’t gonna fit, but you couldn’t help but whine for more. 

“Make me yours,” you whispered, and he pulled you impossibly closer, as if trying to meld his body with yours, your arousal had his lips glistening, his eyes turning dark again. 

“You’re so fucking mine,” he spoke in a deep breath, pumping his cock a few times, “all mine,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, chuckling as you chased for more. 

And he gave you exactly that, your eager holes taking him in slowly as he pushed himself inside your warm cunt, the walls clenching around, trying to adjust to his length and for a second you forgot that you were being fucked by a siren, his cock too perfect, too big for you. 

“Oh god,” you cried out as he pumped himself into you slowly, trying to fit himself into you by each thrust. You were so fucked out already, wanting to kiss Sunghoon every chance you got and you were afraid of how fast you developed feelings for your pretty siren. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl,” he praised as you took him in fully, his cock snugly fit inside you, your toes curling with the overwhelming sensation. He grabbed your hips, pistoning into you harder, faster, panting near your ear before keeping his forehead against yours in hopes of mapping out, learning and remembering every expression of yours. 

Oh you looked beautiful. 

The moonlight coming down from the mirror-like ceiling only casted a glow on you, making you seem even more magical than Sunghoon thought you are and you wanted this moment to last forever, his cock twitching and hitting the deepest spots in you, the spots that had your mind shutting off. 

“So—so close,” you whimpered, and he held on to you tighter. 

“Let go, princess. Come for me,” he said, kissing your tears of pleasure away as he too rushed to fuck you harder, making sure you felt every inch of him in your core, filling you up as you heard sweet melodies, as if you had reached heaven, you both coming undone together, holding each other with need. 

He kissed your temple, caressing your cheek before placing sweet kisses all over, telling you how well you did, before saying something that made you cry out of what you’d call love. 

“I used to sit on the rock staring at the moon, my mother told me I’d get my soulmate soon,” he said, looking at you softly, the look in his eyes was enough to confirm that you wanted to stay with him for life. 

“And now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go, princess.” 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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A Little More Than a Nibble - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion wakes you up at camp looking for a late night snack. You both end up with something a little more. (Fluff, Angst)

Yes I'm on the Astarion train. How can you not love him?

This short is set before Astarion's act 2 confession

Something called to you from the dark, stirring you out of sleep. Fragments of the waking world brushed against your consciousness; a dying fire, a far off owl calling, a presence hovering over you. The cold influx of terror lasts only a moment as you realize the presence is not only familiar but expected at this point. “Are you awake darling?” Astarion’s voice exudes the beguiling charm that’s become so familiar to you, familiar enough you’ve started to catch the hint of artifice that lays behind it.

Sleep-heavy eyes drift open to find him kneeling down next to you, red eyes fixed on you. The deep slumber is hard to shake off and your answer is no more than a drowsy whisper. “I am now.”

“Oh apologies my sweet but I was just wondering if…” He lets the words hang for a moment, waiting for your mind to catch up, to finish the implication. Really though it could only be about one of two things since you’re the one in camp that’s been both fucking and feeding him. And with the ungodly hour, you can easily conclude which it is.

“No luck hunting?” He deserves at least a little teasing for waking you like this.

“Actually I was thinking about you and couldn’t get the taste of you off my tongue. Would you mind terribly if I had just a little taste, just a slight nibble?” Perhaps you’ve been too indulgent with him and he’s grown used to getting his way with you, a habit you really should put to an end. If only the mere suggestion of those teeth at your neck didn’t make you quiver with excitement.

Still, it won’t do to placidly let him have his way every time. “You say slight nibble, and I wake up woozy the next morning. I fail to see what I get out of this little arrangement.”

For a moment, you think you see the slightest hint of hurt at your refusal, before he swiftly resumes his flirtatious persona. “Why, you get my gratitude and affection. Both of which are undying, I might remind you.”

It’s not the honeyed words that convince you, it’s the ghost of an emotion, the possibility of vulnerability, that there’s something beneath the mask he shows everyone, even you. Not that you would really refuse, you’re too far gone for that. Life as the daughter of a noble house of Baldur’s Gate primed you for this, to fall for a man so wrong, and dangerous, and not at all anything you should want. Rebellion after years of complicity, years of forced perfection and crafted smiles, of doing everything expected of you. The Illithid ship had given you a terrible burden, but it had also been more freedom than you’d ever known in your life. Freedom that didn’t necessarily come with inbuilt wisdom. Silently, you throw back the covers, beckoning him into the bed roll beside you. With a satisfied smile, he gracefully slides in, body pressed against yours.

The first time you’d let him do this it had been awkward, sloppy almost, a fact explained by the later revelation you were his first. Now familiarity has led to comfort, intimacy of its own sort. Different than just sex, but no less thrilling. An arm around your waist, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips brushing up against it in a gentle kiss first that makes you shiver before the bite.

The sharp ice of those teeth piece your skin and drive into the blood flowing in your veins. Then you feel it, the echo of your blood flowing into his veins. It had frightened you the first time but now it sends a wave of bliss through you. An involuntary sigh escapes you and you know if his mouth wasn’t full, he’d be tormenting you for how much you enjoy it. Arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him tighter against you, as though you are begging for more. You are though aren’t you? You can’t get enough of this, of him.

Drifting away, you lose yourself in him, a sweet surrender to an inexorable pull. As promised though, he’s only taken a taste when he lets up, pulling away, and licking any drops from your skin. The control he’s starting to show is impressive, even if it leaves you yearning for the strange connection of his feeding. Knowing that he never lingers after any encounter between the two of you, you unwrap your arms which feel so much heavier now, letting him go. Unexpectedly, he remains, head now resting on your chest, forehead pressed to your cheek. “Not going to eat and run?”

“In such a hurry to be rid of me?” He murmurs, his face hidden so you don’t even have a chance of reading his expression.

You’re not naive, despite what the others might believe. There’s nothing more you expect beyond what already passes between the two of you. Even if you believe you could care for him, he’s not open to you that way. Still, even if the tone is nonchalant, you feel there’s a loneliness behind it he's not quite hiding all the way. “I didn’t say that.” He doesn’t ask directly to stay and you know he won’t, so you pull the covers over the two of you and put your arms back around him and without saying another word.

With a subtle shift, you feel him get near your throat once again before stopping himself. “Perhaps I should go.”

“You don’t have to, I trust you.” Tentatively, you reach a hand up and softly stroke it through his silver hair. First he tenses, and you wait for a reproach for being too tender with him, but none comes. A moment later and you feel the tension release and he relaxes again. Your eyes are heavy, your body desperately craving sleep, but you're afraid there will never be another moment like this, with him so close, and not pushing you away. So you fight to stay conscious, and keep your fingers moving gently as long as he allows it. Sleep comes to claim you again though, and just as the world fades around you, lips brush your collarbone and the arm around your waist holds a little tighter.

The dawn comes, and the camp stirs. When you find the empty space in your bed roll, you tell yourself your heart doesn’t break a little and get ready to get on with your day.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

[halfhoursonearth-writes]

Can you recommend fanfiction that you personally really like?

Yes! Love this ask. I’ve never made a Zutara fic rec list partially because I’ve read so many wonderful stories over time that I find the prospect daunting! 

But there are absolutely certain stories that I have a personal soft spot for, that I return to again and again. And that’s my criteria for what’s included below. This is a sampling of fics that I find myself coming back to, in no particular order. I may come back and add more, because this list is so far from exhaustive. A mix of ratings (marked), so keep that in mind.

Wish I Was the Moon by Like a Dove (T), post-canon: There’s so much that I love about the way this one-shot explores Katara’s character and what she faces post-canon, how she frees herself, strikes out in the world and finds her way home. Her feelings for Zuko, and her inner-conflict around them, are rendered tangibly, both through scene and subtext. A really good example of how an author can show a character’s lack of/journey to self-knowledge without breaking voice.

Refraction by caroes3725 (E), post-canon: When I started reading Zutara fanfic (for me this was in 2020), this was the fic I was looking for—a deep, realistic-to-canon, in-character exploration of how Zutara could unfold after the events of ATLA in a way that gives Katara in particular the arc she deserves. Really well-done development of the Fire Nation court world, well-developed characters, shining dialogue. An amazingly well-worth-it slow burn.

Wildfire by rainstormdragon (E), post-canon: To me this story is kind of a steamy Zutara thesis. The characters are so spot on and alive, their flaws are on full display in a way that feels realistic, and their chemistry is powered by their compatibility—matched in passion and stubbornness, and also in what they want from life. And I think it really gets Aang, too, which is something that can be hard to find in ZK fic. Also really hot, but that's only part of what makes it really shine.

Partners in Learning by evergreenonthehorizon (T), Modern AU: One of the things I love in modern AUs is watching an author weave that invisible string between these characters. Sometimes, it’s by writing narrative arcs that parallel the series, and sometimes it’s by drawing out the personality traits that make the characters both lovable to readers and such a compelling match and watching that spark bloom into flame. This beautifully written story does that so, so well in a really compelling Modern AU setting. Zuko and Katara here are so wonderfully lovable, and it’s a joy to watch them fall for one another, too.

Journeys by Smediterranea (E), Modern AU: In real life, I want to see my friends in relationships with people who can recognize why they’re so particularly amazing. That potential, I think, part of the appeal of ZK as a ship, and that’s part of the special magic of this fic. Watching these two characters get to know one another—really see one another—and fall in love deliciously sweeps the reader up. Plus, really fun, in character cameos from the rest of the Gaang along the way.

Spark, set fire by marijayne (T), Modern AU: literary fanfic, and I mean that in the best way. This story is beautiful and bittersweet, the latter is not often something I seek out in fanfic (where I hide from life), but here it’s gorgeous and worth it. The world building here is really cool—allows the author to explore some of a set of cultural issues/interactions that both echo the ATLA world and ours. The characters are so tenderly drawn (dadko especially)—and the connection between them builds beautifully and tangibly—and the longing is…chef’s kiss. 

Wrong when it's right by nire (T), Book 1 Canon Divergence: Before I read this, I couldn't imagine wanting to read a Book 1 Zutara. After, I wanted more. Bickering, bed-roll sharing, shared heat, tenderness and common ground. A delight from start to finish.

Anyway, thanks for asking and happy reading! <3 And if you want more recs, let me know.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fanfic #zutara fic recs #zutara fanfic reccomendations

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Happy follower milestone! Maybe an Ettore onesbot where reader is assistant to the doctor Dibs and maybe some kind of nurse kink???

Afflictions Of A Dark Nature

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is my first time writing for Ettore so apologies if it seems OOC, I did try my best (I even re-watched High Life and will be sending the bill for emotional damages). Also get well soon @ewanmitchellcrumbs 😚

Warnings under the cut! Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* lots of swearing, mentions of past sexual encounters that may have not been consensual, fingering, dub-con, p in v sex, ass slapping, degradation, mentions of a blood test, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), creampie, cum eating, dacryphyilia, choking, kinda face slapping?, ass play, spitting, overstimulation | Word Count: 6.4k~ | dividers by @firefly-graphics

If he had to see that wrinkly, smug face of Dr Dibs again, Ettore would lose it.

He knew who he was. He wasn’t beyond acting out against women if he wanted to. It’s part of what put him here in the first place. Drifting through space, on some suicide mission that the oh-so-wise earthlings had decided it would be better to doom prisoners to death rather than qualified astronauts. Not like it mattered. He was on death-row anyway, so what loss really was it?

Only the loss of his complete sanity.

He knew that if he lashed out at anyone, even Dr Dibs, there’d be a punishment of sorts. In a way that was wholly unethical for someone who is supposed to provide care, but hey, who’s keeping track. Nobody gives a shit on earth. She could put arsenic in the water supply if she wanted to, and nobody could say a thing about it.

For the sake of at least living longer, though it made him dry-heave inside, he sweetened up, got more sleeping pills out of it as a result, which in this place was gold dust. A long, good-night’s sleep did little to take a person away from a situation like this, but it was at least something. A small mercy in a way.

Deep down, there was a need-no, an impulse that Ettore couldn’t shake. 

But before he could indulge in the memories of those needs, someone called his name.

“Ettore, is it?” 

Her voice was sweet, far too compassionate for someone stuck aboard working on this fucked up prison. And when she raised her eyebrows at him to elicit a response, she gave a polite smile. When was the last time someone smiled at him, truly?

She had a clipboard in front of her, disguising the lanyard around her neck and she wore blue scrubs, which looked the same design as the prisoners, but instead theirs were red.

Perhaps to show how dangerous they were. Hers was clinical and clean. Pure.

He wore suspicion on his face, marked with the furrow of his brows and without saying a word he stood and followed her into the infirmary. She was a head shorter than him which made him smirk when he was sure she wasn’t looking. 

All he knew was that he was grateful it wasn’t that wrinkly, smug bitch. He was sure she was doing something fucking weird to them. Just couldn’t put his finger on what.

When she drew the curtain, she let him in first, “Have a seat”

This cubicle was at least separate. And even though they’d not been on the ship for long, it looked crusty and old, with those wax linoleum floors, vile padded walls. It looked like it was going to fall apart. 

Ettore slumped into a chair next to a computer with a huff, taking in his surroundings, still trying to figure out what to make of this new person. Why hadn’t he seen her before? And she looked a lot younger than Dibs, was she even a real doctor or nurse at all?

Her hair was in a loose bun, fractionally more formal than Dibs who wore her braid like armour over her shoulder at all times. It made her look older, despite what Dibs would like to have believed. 

She sat down in front of the computer, typing in a few things, and he admired her face for a moment in silence. The way the light of the monitor reflected off the colour of her eyes, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips when she was trying to read something and how fast her fingers typed on the old, beige keyboard that was far too loud for his liking. Sounded like a clock was ticking in his brain.

He didn’t say a word. As was Ettore’s way. He was usually never one to speak first. He was an observer, seeking out the weaknesses of people as if he could simply by looking, like he could extract a little piece of them the longer he did. For her though, he couldn’t make her out.

When Ettore craned his head slowly to look, he could see she was reading his medical history and it made him feel special to know that she was finding out everything she could about him. He wished he could do the same to her. Find out all her little secrets.

“Just some general things and blood work today, nothing fancy” she says, meeting his eyes for a moment with another polite smile, the kind of smile where she’s clearly just trying to be nice, but Ettore can’t help the deep ache in his core to have a woman in front of him now, after years of not touching one. The Box was fine, sure, but there was no other feeling like a woman. Their warm, fleshy insides, each ridge within different from woman to woman.

Something knocked on the door in his mind. A sinful thought had arrived and asked how would she feel? Did she use the Box as well? Who did she think of when she touched herself?

“Roll up your sleeve for me” she instructs, holding the blood pressure monitor in her hands and tearing the velcro away. 

She meets his eyes again briefly to find him already looking at her when she leans forward to wrap it around his bicep, right over where his tattoo is. She has small, soft hands, indicative of her work. How would they feel on him, wrapped around his cock? Would her hands even surround him? That was all he could think about as she patted the cuff in place, brushing against his shoulder.

The machine whirred to life and it squeezed his arm, at the end bordering on pain which made him wince. She busied herself with typing on her computer in the meantime, the lanyard around her neck now visible, showing her name.

Got you.

When the machine beeped, she looked at the screen and put the results into his record, wheeling her chair to him again to take it off. He felt his cock get hard beneath his scrubs not just at the feel of her hands on him again, but now because of her proximity. He assumed everyone used the same soap here, she was no exception. But it smelled different on her and he inhaled a deep, long breath to commit as much of it to memory as he could.

She looked surprised when he spoke, as if she hadn’t expected him to.

“Why haven’t I seen you around”

It was hardly a questioning tone, more like an accusation. But she didn’t flinch away at it, rather, she was used to it.

She gave another polite smile, “Oh well, I’m usually in here, running all the tests Dibs gives me” she explains, getting her additional tools ready for the blood test, “But she wanted more help with ‘menial’ tasks like this, is how she put it” she says with a short, quiet huff of a laugh, like she thinks the reasoning was poor.

“So now you’re doing poor sod’s blood tests?” 

She nodded, “Something like that” 

Her tools were lined up, a tourniquet, a syringe and some cotton swabs. She pulled a pair of blue gloves on and moved her chair closer to him. 

“So you’re gonna poke at me?” he asks, half-amused, like he’s testing her.

She cleans the area around his arm with alcohol, a puff of air coming out her nose in a quiet laugh, tightening the tourniquet on him “Just seeing if you have good veins” she says, running her thumb over the pale skin of his arm, clearly finding a vein she was happy with.

Dr Dibs always missed his vein at least once, and he’d clench his fist as the needle went in. He wasn’t into drugs, like a lot of other prisoners here, so he wasn’t used to the prickly feeling. He found pleasure in other ways he deemed fit.

“Just a scratch” she mutters, inserting the needle beneath his skin, smiling to herself when blood goes into the bottle. First time. 

Ettore watched the vial fill with rich, thick blood, and then watched her, “You seem a bit young to be a doctor”

"Technically I'm a Junior Doctor" she replies, concentrating on his blood flow before meeting his eyes again. She seems to look at him deeply, her pupils flirting across his face now that they're so close to each other. He hears every little breath, every movement of her throat as she swallows thick, like she's nervous. And everytime her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he stares at the pinkness of it, thinking of how it would feel.

"Should I be trusting you to give me a blood test?" He teases with a wolfish grin, trying to see just how far he can push his luck.

"Hm, I don't suppose you have much choice" her smile turns a bit devilish at his quip, which quite honestly, the turn of her lips makes him want to bend her over the desk and fuck her right then and there. Wants to see what kind of sweet sounds she might make. Even the thought of it makes his cock ache.

“Suppose not”

"I'm allowed to give you blood tests" she says with a teasing smile, pulling the needle from his arm and replacing it with a cotton swab, "Hold that there for me" 

He obeys, holding it with his thumb firmly, smirking at the banter he didn't expect to have. The fact that she doesn't visibly seem afraid of him only spurs him on more. Thinking how far can he really go to make her feel uncomfortable. To make her realise just how dangerous he is, what he could do to her.

If anything he's shocked at his own restraint that he's managed this long without touching her. Such a small little thing. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he put his mind to it. And in those cute little scrubs as well, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to him. How easy would it be to just rip right through them, to see if she was wearing anything underneath. He imagined she wasn’t, and that he’d rip them open to be greeted with her bare, soft skin, how plush and feminine her tits would be, filling his palm. He wants to squeeze them painfully, make her whine out like a slut.

His body is getting hot, blood thrumming with want.

Once the cotton swab is secured to his arm with adhesive, he can’t take his eyes off her, challenging her to meet his gaze to see what she would do.

“Why are you here?” he asks, intrigued. She doesn’t look a bit like a criminal. But he could be surprised by her and he has a feeling he will.

“That’s a personal question” she states, not losing the lazy smirk on her face at the fact he’s clearly so interested in her, “why are you here?”

“Alright, point taken”

She doesn’t prod for more information.

Holding out a clear tub to him, “You know what to do right?” she asks, clearly holding back a wider smile.

Cheeky bitch.

He snatches it from her grasp with a grin, “Now?”

Her eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“However long it takes”

A jolt goes through his body, as if a light had just come on inside. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fucking cock tease.

He gave her a look before drawing the curtain in the cubicle, barely a few feet from where she sat. So close that he could hear her typing on her computer, hear her quiet sighs. What sweet noises would she make with his cock prodding her soft, tight insides.

Usually when he did sperm samples for Dibs, he took no enjoyment from the idea that she was essentially in the same room as him, not that it took him any less time to cum, she was still a woman and that meant something. As repulsive as she seemed. 

But when he took himself in his fist and stroked himself to hardness, teased himself with eyes softly falling shut, he imagined they were her hands. Everytime he squeezed from base to tip, reaching down with the other hand to cup his balls, wondering what her tongue would feel like dragging over every inch of him. Would she tease him? Lick his angry red tip only slightly, and that sensitive spot underneath, flattening her wet muscle over it slowly, allowing him to feel every warm and minute movement.

Without even really realising, his hand was guiding himself faster, desperate to feel the friction of her pussy choking him. Would she buck her hips to meet his desperate thrusts, or squirm away as he bullied the end of her, pushing against her cervix recklessly. He wanted her to be a good girl, and just take what he gave her. If he started, would he really truly be able to stop?

He struggled to hold in the shuddered breaths and he very nearly forgot to put the tub in front of him before finishing. A pleasant roll of warmth ran through his body, one that quickly turned into a dark, deep desire. His hand wasn't enough. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. He wanted the real thing and she was right there. Dirty bitch was probably already wet thinking about what he was doing.

Slipping through the curtain he handed it out to her and she took it with an amused raise of her eyebrows.

“That was quick” she quipped, putting a lid on it and writing his name for the label.

Oh she’s going to get it, dirty fucking mouth.

He couldn’t hold off the sort of accomplished grin on his face, she was more fun than he thought. For a moment, he allowed himself to just simply observe her, wondering what other fun they could have.

He was growing impatient at not being able to act on those thoughts. 

“Is that it?” he asks, making her look up again.

“Unless you have any other…ailments?” Ettore doesn’t miss the way she suppresses a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t suppress his and feels impossibly hard once again seeing her dainty lips curl up just slightly. She must be able to see beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs, how much he wants her. Let her see, he thinks, make her squirm a bit.

He watches the way her eyes briefly run over him. It was so quick, that had he not been looking right at her, he would have missed it. She swallows, feeling like he caught her and turns away a bit, trying to hide the warm feeling that settles between her legs at the way he’s looking at her, exciting and yet dangerous at the same time.

She only hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s squeezed her thighs together. 

“Smashing then, cheers doc” he smirks, sauntering off with a certain swagger about him, knowing that his sweet, innocent looking little doctor is all worked up. He looks over his shoulder before leaving.

The ache of the blood test is completely forgotten. Instead, all his blood is below his waist, with none left for his brain to function. It’s been a while since a woman last did this to him. Yeah he’d fucked plenty of women, some had even wanted it. But he wanted her to want it. Wanted the little slut to beg for it. To beg him to stuff her full of his cock.

That was new, he thought. But it didn’t deter him from trying to get near her when she was alone, for any chance he could get at having her all to himself. 

Annoyingly, he didn’t find the opportunity for quite some time.

Anytime he stalked past her office, there was always some other prisoner inside, having their own tests. A flash of something akin to a dark jealousy courses through his veins, his hands forming fists whenever he hears her talking in a hushed voice to another male prisoner, speaking in that way that only a doctor does.

It’s short lived, when he realises she doesn’t speak as sweetly to them as she does to him.

It feels like he’s had a hard-on for days, just merely thinking about being alone with her. It’s beginning to become painful just how much he wants it, to make her squirm for him, to make her cry. His use of the Box has increased dramatically, but the more he does it, the less the effect. His hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He can’t replicate that tightness only a woman's cunt could give, the feeling of being sucked so desperately inside someone, being milked for all he’s worth. He dreams of it. She would take it all, he thinks, she’d be a good little slut and take it.

He thinks that if he goes there often enough, he might just run into her, drag her inside, or to a nearby hallway, or even tackle her to the floor if need be and shove himself so deep in her she won’t be able to hold back her wanton moans. He imagines holding her arms behind her back so she can’t move, brutally fucking her so hard that her hips will be bruised. 

He’s always liked walking around in the dark, even though he knows he’s not really allowed.

Tonight though, it rewards him.

A soft light emanates from her office and when he leans against the doorway to peek inside, he emits a quiet laugh through his nose, hands in pockets, just watching her.

Her hair is free of the loose bun she wore before and it trails down her back as she’s sat in her chair, leaning over a microscope. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing and recording notes that his presence doesn’t even disturb her.

He didn’t even think about announcing his presence. He wanted her genuine reaction.

So he didn’t think twice about stalking up behind her and grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Only a quiet gasp escaped before he slammed his palm over her mouth, muffling a surprised cry.

“Shut the fuck up” he warned with a low voice.

She froze at his words, eyes wide and breathing heavily, not even having to wonder who it was. His fingers curled painfully against her scalp, tugging her up so her back is to him. Ettore can feel her hurried breaths out her nose hitting his hand.

“Be quiet and I’ll play nice” he says against the shell of her ear, making her body shudder, drawing his hand away from her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers accusingly behind her as he pushes the front of her body close to the desk, the edge biting into the front of her legs. His hands run down the sides of her, sucking in the fabric to the shape of her body, growling low at finally being able to see her form underneath.

“I came to see you” he grins,

“Fucking liar”

There was something exciting about being called out like that, and about her saying such vulgar words. As sweet as she looked, he knew there was something deep inside, somewhere he wanted to prod and poke at.

“It’s your own fucking fault” he snarls, pushing his hardness against the softness of her ass. He feels her freeze up for a moment, as if she’s just putting the pieces together, “prancing about in your slutty fucking doctor’s outfit”

One hand dips beneath the hem of her scrubs, a warm sigh expelled from his chest at the softness of her stomach beneath it, trailing higher over her ribs. He can almost feel her pounding heart from here, and it does nothing to deter him, the smirk on his face evidence of that. His large palm tugs at one of her clothed breasts, slightly annoyed to see that she’s wearing a bra underneath, but he squeezes it all the same, relishing in the pained whine she lets out in response to it.

His other hand tugs her forearm almost painfully behind her, twisting it in his grip harshly. He fully knew how strong he was compared to her and couldn’t have her doing anything rash. Best to keep her hands where he can see them.

“I was just trying to be nice” she counters with a harshness to her voice, not being able to take the breathiness out of it,  “Damn sight better than what most of you deserve” she briefly struggles in his hold, that is until he tightens the clamp on her wrist. A warning.

“Careful” he warns low in her ear, “I don’t think you understand the situation right now”

“You need to get off me. Now” she tries to push her hips away from him, but at her blatant refusal, he only pushes himself closer to her, moaning softly at the friction against him and the warmth of her even with her scrubs separating them.

He resists the urge to outright laugh, and scoffs instead, “You are in no position to make demands to me. I see right through you…you want me”

She only grunts painfully in response, half-trying to tear her hand away. Not trusting herself to say anything. Ettore almost wants to laugh at how pathetically she’s trying to avoid showing how she really feels.

“How long has it been, hm?” he says, more like a growl than anything, as his hand dips beneath the waistband of her scrubs, “Since someone touched you here”

She doesn’t reply, half fighting and half giving in. But then his hand cups her clothed sex, only covered by her thin underwear and she feels his large palm rub against her, her clit throbbing with desire at not having been touched in so long. God it had been so long. His fingers tease her entrance, rubbing in circles, coaxing some slick from her.

“A while, huh?” he smirks.

“Stop it, we’ll get in trouble” she says, but it comes out a whisper, not able to hide the way his hand against her most intimate area is having such an effect on her. The heel of his palm rubs against her bundle of nerves, making her blood feel like fire in her veins, arousal pooling in her belly.

“You think I give a fuck?” he retorts, grinning, “I would have a thousand punishments if I meant I could shove my cock in your tight little hole”

“You wouldn’t”

He does laugh at that, “You wanna bet?”

Her body briefly goes rigid, trying to hold back a genuine moan when his hand dips past her underwear, and Ettore groans at the feeling of her warm, wet pussy, coating his fingers with her slick. Her eyes break closed, mouth taut into a thin line to hold in her whine, body slightly trembling at how hard she is trying to hold back.

“You talk all this shit and you’re fucking soaked for me” he grins against her ear, “is this what was under that uniform…while you were prodding and poking me?”

She gasps, her lips opening in a hurried breath as his digit sinks into her, teasing her soft, spongy walls with the calloused pads of his fingertips. She doesn’t answer him. Can’t. She can just feel herself getting warmer. It’s undeniable, the effect he has on her. And she’s not sure if she’d be wise to submit to it. 

But it’s getting harder and harder by the second not to.

“Oh, you’re filthy” he says, inserting another finger, stretching her pussy with them, softly but harshly pushing inside “getting off on taking my blood, fucking slut”

At both his words and motions, she lets out a soft and quiet moan, a pressure inside her building the more she feels his fingers caressing her warm, wet walls.

Ettore tugs down his sweatpants, freeing his cock which sits hot and heavy against the curve of her ass, the tip flushed and stood to attention against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, pushing forward to let her feel him. He doesn’t even bother to begin the tryst with kissing. He’s not like that.

It’s much too soft and intimate a gesture, compared to what he plans to do with her.

She turns her head, now just quietly moaning at the pleasure his fingers give her, eyes half open and a hedonistic expression on her face. She sees him pull his shirt up his chest, and then looks down, to see what exactly is pushing hard against her backside.

Before she has any time to react, his hand is curled around her nape, pushing her head flush against the table in front of her, sending the samples scattering to the floor. 

"Stop it!" She protests, trying to wiggle helplessly out his grasp, "I'll scream"

She sees him smirk, looking down at her with a half lidded lust filled gaze.

"Do it then, makes it more interesting" he shows his teeth, tugging down her scrubs song with her underwear. Now with her body flush against the table and stuck, both his hands knead the globes of her ass, his fingers leaving pink marks in their wake. He takes fistfuls, spreading them to have a proper look at her glistening pussy, just waiting for him. She whimpers at the pleasured pain it emits when his fingers hold her apart, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he kicks her ankles apart.

“Someone could walk in!” she whisper-shouts, holding her hand to her mouth to muffle any sounds when he runs the tip of his cock over her soaked folds, slapping it against her clit and smiling at her reaction.

“Let them watch then, they can see how much of a mess I’ll make of you” he purrs leaning down to press his chest against her back, “None of that either” he pulls her hand from her mouth, “I want to hear how desperate you are for me”

With her cheek flush against the table, she had to only move her eyes to look at him. Glazed over with the pupil blown wide, it betrays just how much she may or may not want it, she still doesn’t want to show him. She’s almost annoyed at his cockiness, until she feels just how big he is, teasing her ever so slightly at her entrance.

“Now let’s see what pretty noises you can make for me, hm?”

He pushes against her, parting her folds, pulling her hips towards him to sink as much inside her as he can. His heart beats faster as he feels her pussy choke him tightly, every single ridge feels like fucking magic against his cock, he feels like just finishing inside her right there. She chokes a moan, his curved member rubbing up inside her at all the right angles the further inside he goes, until he kisses the end of her with the tip, reaching places she could never with her own fingers in the Box. Her back arches slightly as he bottoms out inside her, his fingers so tight on her hips they will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not even a second, as he pulls all the way out, his length covered in her slick and slams back inside with a wet smack, watching how the flesh of her ass ripples when his hips meet it.

“Oh you’re bad…” he purrs, setting a brutally quick pace. Her eyes softly shut, her front rubbing almost painfully against the stainless steel table with each hard thrust.

“Gonna have you on every fucking flat surface in this ship” he breathes, his voice hurried from the effort and how she tightens around him at his words, “you’d like that wouldn’t you….everyone watching how much of a slut you are”

She yelps out in a pained moan when he slaps her ass, gripping it after to emphasise the burn, “Answer me”

“Yes-yes…” she manages through hurried breaths, trying to control her volume but rapidly failing.

Every time he fucks into, the sheer thickness of him pushes the air out of her lungs every time, her walls stretching against him to accommodate. Ettore smirks down at the view. She lets out between a sob and a moan when she feels his spit on her puckered hole, his thumb rubbing circles against it and spreading his saliva over her sensitive skin.

It feels so right and wrong at the same time. And when he pushes a thumb inside, only making her feel more full than she already does, she can't help but buck her ass against him, wanting more friction, pleasured tears falling down her cheeks. It really had been a while since she last had sex, obviously. But nobody had been this forward and rough with her before.

“See? I know you like this…knew you wanted to fuck me the second you saw me” he mocks, giving one hard, deep thrust inside which has her squirming against him with a desperate whine, his thumb sank all the way inside her ass, the movement of their fucking aiding in stimulating that as well.

He thinks, one day he'll claim that hole of hers as well.

But not today.

He pulls out quickly and instantly tugs at her hair, turning her over so that he can see her face. She’s sat weakly up on the counter, thighs held apart for him by one of his hands. Poor thing looks tired out, he thinks, looking at her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, her head lolling back against the counters with a thud.

“Are you fucking crying?” he grins, softly slapping her cheek and grabbing her face so she looks at him, “really has been a while, huh? That’s a bit pathetic”

He practically rips the shirt off her, not even bothering to take the bra underneath off and just tugs it to the side, freeing her breasts. He groans at the sight, perky, rosy and stood to attention in the now hot office, smelling of pure, unadulterated sex. They fill his palms perfectly, and he tugs at them with his fingers, revelling in the low, chesty mewl she lets out.

It’s no effort at all the way his cock just slides into her again, slowly. Too slowly.

She feels the curve of his cock, different in this new position, every vein and ridge. His thickness splits her open until he hits the end of her, pounding mercilessly into her, making the cupboards jolt in place with each snap of his hips against her thighs, which he is keeping in his palms wide apart. Ettore grins down, watching at the way his cock disappears into her over and over, at the ripple of her soft, soft skin each time.

She arches her back against him, warm, pleasured tears pricking at her eyes the closer she gets to that tight, hot pressure in her tummy bursting. He laughs as she clenches noticeably around him,

“What is it, hm?” he sneers, “or have I fucked you stupid?”

Her moans are so desperate she really does look pathetic, “fuck…I’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum for me?” he taunts with a wide smirk, all of this just doing wonders for his ego, “now, why would I let you do that?”

“...ne-need it…”

He never lets up his pace as once hand curls into her neck, tugging her forward so that her eyes are solely on him. She moans softly at the rough action.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?”

She nods as best she can, his hand tightening only slightly around her neck, trying to will her voice to come out between the deafening smacks of their fucking.

“Yes..”

“Say please, then”

“Please-I need it” she begs in a horse voice.

He shoves her back roughly, smacking her head against the cupboards, watching her tits as they bounce. Truthfully, he can feel himself getting close as well, but more than anything he wants to watch her come undone on his cock. Show her just how much fun she could have with him if she just let herself.

Her cheeks are pink and her chest is dotted with warmth as the air in the office is hot and thick, even more so at the pleasurable lack of oxygen his hand around her neck gives. It makes it harder for those strained moans to pass her lips.

Every drag through her hot, ridged core sends sparks of pleasure through him, crawling up his spine. 

You first.

She sucks in a breath when he lets go of her neck, allowing his thumb into her mouth. She sucks on the digit greedily, using her tongue to coat it with saliva. Ettore almost moans at just the sight of her.

He'll have that mouth too, he thinks.

A string breaks between her mouth and her thumb as he presses it suddenly against her clit, hard. She gasps at the painful pleasure of his rough actions, swirling his thumb over her bud to bring her to that precipice first.

Her hands grip his shoulders, but he quickly tears them off him, "I didn't say you could touch me" he snarls in between devastating thrusts, drawing figures of eight on her clit and watching as she squirms.

Her hands brace the counter either side of her legs, needing something to hold onto, "...m sorry…"

"You will be fucking sorry. Stupid bitch" 

If it's possible, he moves himself into her faster, bullying that rough patch inside her with such severity that her eyebrows furrow together, her mouth open in a silent scream. She contracts around him at the combined pleasure of his cock and his stimulation to her bud, knuckles going white at her grip on the counter.

"Such a perfect pussy…never fucking using that Box again…not when I have this…" he breathes pressing his body against hers so they are flush, his nose running up the side of her neck.

"Ettore, please…"

It's not really a request, just something that passes her lips. And he knows the second he feels her clench so tightly that she's done for, when her back arches towards him and her body goes rigid for a split second.

Her teeth sink into his skin at his shoulder, muffling the scream of pleasure that threatens to escape. He knows that will be there for days and it will most definitely hurt in the morning.

A gush of arousal soaks his cock and he continues to pound into her through it, pressing his thumb into her clit, extending her little death into a devastating abyss of warmth and rapture. Her walls quiver with overstimulation around him, and he can feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her desperate whines.

"Fuck-shit" Ettore pushes inside once more, hard, with a barely stifled groan, huffing a pleasured laugh at the feeling of stuffing her with his cum and the warmth that surrounds him.

He wants to stay like that forever, keeping his cum inside her with his cock. Her thighs shake slightly, and he delights in the fact that she might not be able to walk afterwards. To remind her who she belongs to, now that he's claimed her.

He calms his hurried breathing just enough to pull his rapidly softening cock from her, earning a low whine from her once she pulls her teeth from him. Her tits move slowly with her breathing, thighs still shaking ever so slightly and parted to give him a good view of the mess he's made of her.

Her arousal combined with the cum that's leaking out of her activates a primal part of his brain and he's tempted to fuck her brains out again, but knows he wouldn't be able to.

Another time.

"Look at my filthy little doctor" 

He pulls her thighs close to him, teetering on the edge of the table, and all she's able to do is make a sound of surprise, eyes widening as he sinks to his knees between her legs.

"No-no, Ettore-" she protests quickly. Her hands going back to bracing the counter tightly when she feels his warm, wet muscle lapping against her soaked folds, a combination of her climax and his swirling over his tongue with such lewdness it makes her flush bright red.

After such a recent and all-consuming orgasm, she flinches when his tongue swirls over her clit, the vibrations of his low moans against it feels much too overwhelming now.

"Please-too much-"

He runs his tongue flat over her core, groaning at the combined taste of them and lapping up whatever leaks out of her. He could spend fucking days between her legs if she tastes like this all the time. Her arousal is so sweet and tart, musky when combined with his. Mixed with his cum, he thinks, she's made to be fucked by him. Made to be filled.

Fucking her with his tongue through her fluttering walls, her hand cards through his hair, tugging. To push him away or to bring him closer, she's torn between the two. The warmth of his mouth against her is just too tempting to want him to stop and when he moves his face side to side, his sharp nose nuzzling against her already over-used clit…

"Fuck! Please-"

The orgasm that rocks through her body blazes every nerve in its path, all the way down to the way his tongue is still lapping and sucking her juices, as if she's the best thing he's tasted since boarding this hellscape of a ship. He takes every bit of essence, sighing and moaning, with a grip so iron on her thighs, she can't move even if she wanted to.

Ettore rises to his feet, giving one more flattened lap over her core, sucking at her clit, which makes her twitch. Her glazed over, wettened eyes meet his, the blue almost entirely encompassed by black. He looks like an animal who's just tasted blood again after a long time of being caged. She doesn't entirely know why, but it makes her throb with desire, and it frightens even her to know that such a dangerous man, a criminal no less, is making her feel this way.

It makes her think, is she any better for enjoying it as much as she did.

He looks down at her, almost entirely bared to him, his reddened marks blossoming over her skin in early bruises. Her fucked-out face, a mix of lust and confusion, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks.

A dangerous grin widens across his face.

"I meant it you know…" he says, dark and low, "...I'm not using that fucking Box ever again"

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Ettore Taglist:

*Let me know if you want to be added to any taglist! Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

#ettore x you #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x y/n #Ettore x oc #high life fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life movie #high life 2018 #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore high life smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ewanverse

[lettersofgold]

prompt 4 for trent 🫶

-> I left my shampoo in your shower, I left my smile inside your head.

break ups, makeups, nothing but wasted time. you were a sniffling mess as you grabbed each piece of clothing out of his closet and placed it into another overfilled box. trent was a gift giver - it was his love language - and now you wished he never gifted you anything. the reminders of him were non-stop. you had not left liverpool as quickly as you aimed to, but when you finally got the apartment you wanted, you took to quietly moving out while he was away.

his dog sat solemnly near the box of clothes with his head on his paws, eliciting whines of disapproval. he used to do the same thing when trent was leaving for a game or when you would go away for holidays and deep down, you felt the pup knew that you weren't coming back. although the tears burning your eyes refused to fall, you did nothing to stop the gut-wrenching sob that escaped your lips once your custom jersey, with polished white lettering with "MS TAA" across the shoulders that pulled into your hands. you stared at it with the pain of a thousand fires swirling in your chest angrily because your entire relationship was gone and taken away from you, like death by a thousand cuts. you called your best friend and within thirty minutes she had arrived and took over the rest of the packing. as you sat on the floor with the dog in your lap and your best friend captaining the slowly slinking ship of diginty and hope, with you merely muttering "keep" or "toss".

you left your key with his brother, who gave you solemn look and a tight hug that lasted longer than any hug you had with him before as he whispered, “i’m sorry he did this,” against your ear. you wiped your tears, shaking your head as you stared at him “it’s not your fault”. it was no one’s fault but trent’s - he made his bed, with her beside him, and now he had to lay in it.

irritated. trent had been irritated all day. if it wasn’t one thing it was another - training was a mess, he wasn’t going to be back playing as he had planned and he hadn’t heard from you in days. every text he sent immediately turned green - you blocked him. he knew it but it didn’t stop him from trying. the guilt was seeping out of his pores alongside the sweat of the day as he walked into his house. he muttered a hello to his brother who waved him off, not even taking his eyes off of the tv. trent forced himself to not pay any mind to his brother - he didn’t have time for lectures. it was what it was. the stomps of his dog walking behind him as he entered his room gave him some type of ease but as he sat on the bed and loosed a breath, he was met with two puppy eyes and whine.

“wha’s your problem?” he reached to touch the puppy who took two steps back. the puppy huffed and whined as he pawed the air. “she’s not coming back.” which deflated the dog’s spirit entirely and he curled inward on himself on what used to be your side of the bed and huffed once more - with a judgmental look from is round puppy eyes. trent grumbled to himself as he turned on the shower and waited for the steam to rise. a shower and a long nights sleeps would fix his sour mood. maybe seeing sarah would fix it too, and he contemplated inviting her over but decided against it. he couldn’t handle the tension between his brothers and he didn’t want to hear a goddamn thing come out their mouths, no matter how right they were. he kept himself occupied but the shower left nothing but memories rinsing over him alongside the water. he reached for his shampoo but it was empty and muttered “fuck.” before tossing it to the side. he reached for the next one and stopped - the pink bottle glaring at him, taunting him, reminding him of the memories he made.

how he rarely showered alone. the intimacy he shared with you as you teased him and washed his hair. you were always so gentle - your eyes were red from the hot water running down your face but you didn’t care - and far too concentrated on the task at hand. it was so simple but to trent, it was everything. you would talk about your day and take your time in unbraiding his hair and lathering the shampoo into his hair. or, you would place kisses on his back and your fingers trailed his wet skin, aiming to ease the tension he carried physically and emotionally. the showers started due to the insatiable habits of needing to be inside you and making love to you. then it turned to wanting to be near you, all the time, no matter the circumstances - even if that meant invading your showers and taking turns washing each others hair. trent was at ease under your touch and it was never lost on you the release of his tense shoulders and the sighs that loosened out of him when you touched him in any capacity. he loved knowing you were right there, easy to touch. easy to love. dependable. yet, he ruined it all, blinded by lust while lost in a chokehold of endless yes men and women who wanted to be affiliated with a premier league footballer.

he left the shampoo in the shower after sloppily washing his hair just to say he did so. he rummaged his cabinets to start his skin care routine only to realize it was your skin care routine that you applied for him. but your skin care products that were no longer there. his heart fell to his stomach and he felt sick with the memories running through his mind - suddenly blindsided with guilt instead of anger. your smile was all he could see as he rummaged to find any type of moisturizer to throw on and go to bed.

as he applied the product to his skin it felt all wrong. it should’ve been you, sitting on the sink, wrapped in your towel and scolding him playfully as you stuck eye patches on him before bed. it should have been your smile that he saw as he kissed your wrist as you smoothed out one of the many products that he had no idea clue what they did but obliged, because it made you happy. it should’ve been your smile that he as your brushed your teeth alongside him and complained about the early mornings or the latest work drama.

it should’ve been you smiling, there, alongside him and wrapped up in bed. instead you had left and all that was left was your smile inside his head.

#football fanfic #football fic #football one shot #football x reader #trent alexander arnold social media au #trent alexander x you #trent alexander arnold x y/n #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold

[simplykorra]

I really like whenever you post thoughts about what you love about characters (specifically Ava), so I was just curious about what you love about Bea? I’ve never loved both characters in a ship like this and I think they’re such a perfect complement to each other

when you can find a ship where both characters are able to occupy space in your mind and both of them give you that buzz when you think about them, then you've hit the jackpot

it's not always been the case with my ships - the only other one besides avatrice that i could say do that for me are korra and asami

as far as bea goes, i really love the different layers she has and seeing them uncovered, especially in season 2

but also the little bits we see in season 1. it's clear from the jump that bea is reserved and by the book and has her routines and patterns and that whole bit with shannon in the start and how she's trying so desperately to stay by the book because if she doesn't then she'll break - and it makes you wonder if that moment ever happened before ava showed up

did bea ever break? did she allow herself the chance to mourn any of her sisters? there's a post and a theory i've seen that bea was in line to be the next mother superion and i think that tracks so well because she is a survivor and a planner and you just know she knows everyone and everything about the order because she doesn't know how to function without all the information

and i think that's her fate until a certain ava silva shows up and throws her world into orbit

we know ava isn't the first person to bring out bea's heart - we see it in that photo of bea/mary/lilith, but it's clear that things between all of them had shifted and bea probably blamed herself a bit for it (because that's what she does) so when ava shows up and beatrice immediately just...tries with her, it's probably terrifying.

then she opens up to ava, probably too much, but holy shit ava has this big heart and sees who she really is and isn't scared or disgusted, no ava tells her she's beautiful, and for the first time in bea's life her attraction to someone doesn't bring pain - it brings her this tiny bit of hope and from that moment on, beatrice fully commits herself to ava and i love her devotion.

i love that when beatrice tells ava that she won't leave her side, she never does, literally until ava has to leave her

as their relationship grows and we see more sides of bea, it really does let her personality shine. i fully believe there is a cheeky and almost incredible sense of humor inside of her that she holds in all the time and ava brings little bits of her out of her - which is what i love about bea - there's so much life inside of her, she just chooses to keep it hidden away from 98% of the world, but those who get to see it fall in love with her

then we get to season 2 and holy shit beatrice is in normal clothes and living with ava and fighting for her gay life and she's just so cute and still so devoted, but also letting herself relax a little and even enjoy the simpler things

THEN...then we see her dancing and we, like ava, see that there is so much more inside of her and to her and that she has this spirit that could change the world if it was ever allowed to be set free

for me too, the love for beatrice comes from when they come back to the order in season 2 and while she puts her habit back on, it's so clear that she isn't the same girl

she is no longer sister beatrice, but just beatrice, of the order and her devotion is no longer to god, but to her own heart - a heart that belongs to ava and she devotes herself to protecting the girl she loves, chooses her even over the mission itself

bea's heart is too big for her own chest at times and she has such an amazing depth that still feels mostly uncovered, but kristina performs her so well that you see how deep her character goes without having all the details yet

ava is the centerpiece of warrior nun, she's the heart of the show for sure - but beatrice is the backbone, the steady presence that keeps everything upright and aligned, it all falls apart without her and that weight is on her shoulders always and she knows that

yet, she can't ignore herself anymore and carry that weight for free, not when she knows what it's like to fall in love and finally chooses herself because of it

when ava comes back, beatrice will be ready to love her the way they both deserve

#sister beatrice #warrior nun #oops long post!!

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IV : Aite

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Spanking; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Rough sex; Squirting

A/N: happy mando monday mother fuckers — literally nobody look at me i have nothing to say for myself 

also, again, canon deviation — he’s got the beskar spear here already.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 9.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER IV : AITE

MEGARA: You love the light so much?

AMPHITRYON: I do, I love its hopes.

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four plays by Euripides

You stir hours later, sweltering and tangled under the covers in the dark, cramped alcove of his narrow bunk, sweat pooling between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and take in the steaming beast of a man, heavy muscle and a solid chest pressed into your back. Din’s nose nuzzles into your hair as he breathes deep and steady. The bunk is so narrow, and he is so broad, half draped on top of you, and you’re being smothered by his heat and weight. 

“Din,” muffled, sleep graveled voice, “Heavy.” He doesn’t answer – dead to the world after everything the two of you had been through. The two of you’d crawled into the cool darkness of his bunk and promptly lost consciousness after the emotional ordeal of everything you’d talked about, but now you are hot and aching, and as you try and shift and wiggle, murmuring supplications to rouse him he huffs in his sleep, disturbed at your wriggling, and that unyielding arm of muscle presses you deeper into his chest, constricting your ribs, at the same time that his overly large shirt he’d put you in shifts up to reveal your naked bottom half, and his hips shift up to press his hard, seeking cock to the wet seam of your cunt. His hips rock into you, rolling you further onto your belly, and he growls a sleepy sound deep in his chest that you’re sure would translate to sleep, little one, were he conscious. He keeps trying to push in, frustrated grumbles when he meets only soft thigh instead of the warm cunt his dreams expect. 

You can feel them on the periphery of your conscious mind, he’s dreaming of you, of your wet pussy, and the feeling of your slippery walls clenching around him. And you’ve no other choice but to give in, pulling a knee up to your chest you sense him step into this side of consciousness, and then he’s fucking in deep, meeting the end of you and grinding his hips against your ass with a low, hoarse groan. “Fuck, I was dreaming of this.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing your bottom to his pelvis and trying to tilt forward as far as the bunk allows to deepen the angle, but he pulls you back tight to his chest and lifts your leg to drape back over his hip. His hands snake up the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, rolling the aching peaks between his rough fingers and mouthing at the sweaty skin of your neck.

“You’re sore and exhausted, little one. I told you no more,” he admonishes but doesn’t stop the rhythm of his thrusting hips, rolling up into your slick cunt over and over. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I hurt.” And part of you regrets it as soon as the words leave your mouth, painfully honest, humiliating, but the larger part of you is only desperate and aching for him to fuck into you, writhing wet and wanton on his cock.

“But I do. That’s all I care about.” He pushes inside again anyway though – the need too great, again and again until the two of you are trembling with orgasm together, wet and shaky and intimate. 

-

The next bounty finds itself on the planet of Kashyyyk and the Razor Crest makes planet-fall a few hours after the two of you finally stumble out of the warm cocoon of his bunk. 

You make tremendous fun of him and his ridiculously beloved ship, you can’t help it with a snickered, A Razor Crest? Really? Has the Guild been skimping out on you? To which you’re met with nothing but stony silence and then again, This hunk of junk is going to leave you stranded out in open space one day, I’m surprised it even still has the capacity to travel at– and then him spinning to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your mouth into a pucker, he gives your head a little shake. “One more bad word about my ship, and I’ll put this smart mouth to better use, do you hear me?” He’d forced your head into a little nod, but you’d rolled your eyes, snorting at him, as if you wouldn’t enjoy that. He’d harrumphed and turned to climb up into the cockpit after that while you’d washed the sweat and come of your nap from your body in the little fresher, the sound of him whispering his name to you ringing in your ears. 

-

“When do you think you’ll be back?” You pout up at him, spread out on your nest on the floor of the hull that’s become a permanent monument, your still damp, trembling, just fucked form covered only by a thin blanket. It’d been hours since the two of you’d touched down on Kashyyyk, and you knew he probably should’ve been gone ages ago, out hunting his bounty, but he’d not been able to pull himself from your soft wet clutch. He was grumpy now and insisting he had to go even though you desperately did not want him to. 

“It won’t be long – maybe two days, three at the most.” He’s re-donning the armor he hasn’t worn in days, slowly and meticulously adorning himself with each piece of beskar. 

“Alright…” you sigh, stretching out into lithe, soft lines, your hands above your head so that the blanket covering your chest inches down to expose one soft nipple to his gaze. He pauses deathly still to watch your display, and you spread your knees beneath the cover with a breathy, little moan. “I guess I’ll see you in three days… I’ll just be here.” You look up at him with the most guilelessly innocent eyes you can muster. One of his boots sneaks forward to toe the blanket away from you: He can see your little cunt, wet and gleaming, the reddened swell of recent use, and when you spread those soft, gorgeous thighs a little further apart there he is. The slow drool of his spend from your pussy. Fuck, that bounty is never getting brought in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, turning to hide your face in the bend of your arm — you need to be more careful about that, don’t know why it keeps happening. You listen to the clang of one of his pauldrons dropping to the floor. 

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” His voice has taken on that deeper tone he falls into right before he’s about to sink inside of you. 

Shit, shit shit, this is too much. Too desperate. 

You spread your legs wider, slowly pulling one knee up to your chest, and gently running your fingertips up the sensitive inside of your thighs until you reach your messy center. Swollen and overwrought from his ferocity, and you don’t care, you still want more. You flutter your fingers over the wet mess, circle your clit and pass over your clenching opening. 

“Think about you of course,” you moan, and listen to a restrained growl from him, the fall of another piece of his armor and then the soft shuck of his shirt falling as well. 

“I can see myself drooling from that sloppy little hole,” he murmurs, now the crash of the helmet, you squeeze your eyes shut tight, “Push it back in. Fuck yourself.” He falls to his knees between your spread legs. 

It is hours later before he finally manages to make it outside. 

-

On the fourth day without him, you begin to stir with restlessness.

He’d promised three at the most, and you’d wanted to say that three days was an unbearably long time to be away from him. Yes, even this soon – weak hearted little wench, you’d griped at yourself. But you’d been cast in an unbearable silly wash of shyness, going hot and vulnerable from head to toe when the moment finally came that he’d dallied just too long, and he absolutely had to go now, really, I do have to go, the bounty isn’t going to catch itself, and we’re soon to be out of credits. As if you couldn’t just steal or trick your way into more credits if absolutely need be, but he’d hear nothing of such petty thievery. So you’d kept your pouting to yourself, and let him go. 

He was a day late now, and you knew it was silly to worry about him.

He was a kriffing Mandalorian. He didn’t need you clucking over him like some worried mother tip-yip, but you couldn’t help it. You knew, even with as little experience with him as you have, that when he said he’d do something he did it. So you were beginning to stir with a frenzied and restlessly anxious energy, thinking of all the potential possibilities of harm he could have come to. Could Wookies chew through beskar? You didn’t know, but it seemed highly probable with the sort of Maker blasted luck you’d been cursed with that he’d randomly get eaten by a Wookie or some other beast on this fucking jungle planet and leave you stranded and without him.

You step off the Crest’s ramp late in the afternoon. Clad in only a pair of soft, worn leggings and your breast band, saber hilt in hand, thinking that perhaps a spot of training would help dispel your anxiety over him, but when you make it outside the weather is so lovely, warm and temperate, and you can’t help flop down into the soft grass of the field he’d landed the ship in to take in the heat of the sun. 

The sky has been different every morning, but it’s almost pearlescent today, watery gray shot with silver white that coalesces into a sort of soft hued lavender. The planet’s single star, soft behind the protection of the clouds, has you going lazy and lethargic as it fights to push its way through. You think that perhaps, the training is unnecessary then, if the sun’s able to soothe you into peace for a few moments, and you cross your arms behind your head to lay back and close your eyes to the sky, feeling the warmth of it seeping through the thin membrane of your lids.

The two of you had both gone a little shy and awkward as he’d gotten ready to finally go four days ago. While he’d gotten dressed, arming himself to the teeth, you’d felt his eyes on you as you lay wet and trembling where he’d left you, and you were sure he could read how much you did not want him to go. You’d so desperately wanted him to bid you farewell with a kiss, to tell you he’d be back to you soon, but he’d done none of those things. Had gone quiet and awkward and given you a sharp nod of his head before he was spinning on his heel, cape snapping behind him and throwing himself out into Kashyyyk’s wilderness for his bounty. Why the fuck anyone would choose the Wookie homeworld as a place to hide was beyond you. You think you’d much prefer being caught by the tin can than eaten by one of those overgrown hairballs, but what do you know. 

Well, actually – no, you’re certain you preferred being caught by him. 

I like to be caught.

By me.

By you.

So all you had to do now was sit here and stew with your own thoughts. You wonder if maybe you should plan for what your next move will be after you leave him – but your mind immediately shies away from the possibility of that. No, you think,  you’ll consider that later, in a few days, a few weeks, whenever he finally gets sick of you, which you know will happen sooner rather than later. But despite your recalcitrance to consider the timeline of when this will end, there is no part of you that doesn’t know how this will end. In ruination, surely, come by your hand, him angry or hating you. You just hope you can hold off on your inevitable destruction for a while longer, for you so enjoy being with him.

If you’re being modest and not entirely honest with what you feel, then, yes, you enjoy being here with him, enjoyment verging on something much deeper, more intense. The warmth and comfort you’d found in his ship, even if it was a hunk of junk Razor Crest, being with him, fucking him, having him take care of you, you like this. 

And it is not so much a realization, but a reminder that you’d been unsatisfied with your life thus far. Again, if you were being modest and not entirely honest, then sure, you could call it dissatisfaction.  Dissatisfaction with what you are, what you had been, and you’re angry too. Angry at the things that were done to you, the things you’d endured. You did not deserve to have been treated so. You had not deserved such cruelty, and perhaps, this time here with the Mandalorian, with Din, could be taken as a recompense of sorts. A lovely and wholly unexpected prize, a gift, after all you had endured. You could take this time with him with a grain of salt, a seed of wariness, and try and keep yourself as internally stoic as possible, entirely plausible, sure, and then when the time was right you could part ways and take your losses for what they were. For as good as you are at lying to yourself, you are self aware enough to know that at the end of this it will be a loss, he will be a loss. A worry for a later time, though, you suppose. 

You settle back on your bent arms. 

Dissatisfaction with life… you laugh lightly to yourself. What a silly thing. You’re alive, you’re free. That’s more than enough to be satisfied with. 

But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder at what it is to be a God and a slave all at once? You feel you know both sides of the coin so well – both sides of yourself. And you find yourself dissatisfied and angry at the intimacy of the knowledge you hold. You wish you could wash your hands of both facets of yourself and begin anew.

You wonder if perhaps he could provide the answer to the start of that question. 

-

“What are you doing?” His voice comes, what could be hours or minutes later, and you feel a soft, lazy smile spread across your face. Finally, finally, he’s back, he’s back. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you murmur up at him. You think you must have dozed off.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open – it’s dangerous.” You give a derisive little snort of self assured laughter at that. Dangerous, ha ha, yeah, sure. “Where are your clothes?” So grouchy.

“I’m wearing them, shiny.” You’ve still not opened your eyes, and you listen to the sound of his long suffering sigh, big smile stretched across your face now. 

“Little one–” Your eyes finally blink open to take in the sight of him after four long days – he looms above you, extraordinary and singular, like some warrior of old – a knight or some other silver burning effigy, standing as the face of all that is good and valiant and true. Your pathetic little heart gives a sickly sweet flutter inside your chest. The two of you stare at each other silent and still, caught in each other’s gazes – it’s been four days, four agonizing, interminable days and you’d missed him. You’d traveled with him for such a short time, and already you found yourself in the painful business of missing him. 

He’s got one inescapable hand clamped around the bounty’s arm, an unfortunate Mythrol, whose head whips back and forth between the two of you.  “Aww, there’s no way – No way, man. Is this your girlfriend, Mando?!” The Mythrol practically howls. “There is absolutely no way this hunk of metal got you to bang him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do not speak to her,” Din’s head snaps away from you to shake the creature roughly, shoving him forward. But the comically unintelligent bounty fails to read the Mandalorian’s angry countenance and digs his heels in.

“I’d decided on a spot of training, but then I got tired and lazy and hot, and now I am resting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before–” bratty drawl to answer his earlier question.

“The galaxy really does show you new wonders every single day,” the Mythrol goes on unheeded, looking down at you with moon eyes, and you snicker. “Tell me, gorgeous, is his junk at least normal looking? He’s not like … green or something under there is he? Scales? Any strange orifices?”

“You’re literally blue,” Din deadpans.

“Blue is a perfectly respectable color to be.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a good look at all his orifices yet, but I’ll let you know once I do,” you say coyly, looking up at Din and batting your eyelashes at him.

“You have fucking gills–” and he sounds so comically offended, you can’t help but break out into hysterical giggles. 

“Listen, if he isn’t doing it for you, trust me, I'm getting out of this real soon. I’ll surely take care of you if h–”  And then Din’s huge, balled up fist snaps out to punch the poor bounty in the face, dragging him off towards the Razor Crest, and muttering under his breath about brats and no respect and piece of bantha shit bounties. You make sure your laugh follows him all the way into the hull while you lay your head back on your crossed arms and continue enjoying the warm sun on your face and exposed belly. 

“You’re fucking naked,” he growls a few minutes later, hovering over you menacingly, very aggravatingly blocking out your warm sun.

You open your eyes to look up at him, shading yourself from the glare shining off the curve of his helmet. He’s rid himself of his armor and duraweave and remains only in his flight pants, long sleeved undershirt and helmet, the expanse of his thick neck left naked without his cowl so that you can admire all of that gorgeously tanned skin. “Mandalorian, you’re in your underthings! How scandalous.” He’s got his beskar spear gripped in one hand, and you eye it dubiously.

“You’re naked,” again, cold and clipped.

“So are you.” Maker, just the stance on him is full of sass, hands on his hips, one foot propped out like he’s about to start tapping it at you, on the verge of shaking his finger at the ornery little girl. 

“Shut up, brat. And get up.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” You lay back on your crossed arms and close your eyes again, but he knocks the edge of his boot against your bare ankle, right at the prominence of bone on the side so that you’re yelping unexpectedly and folding your knee up towards your chest to get away from him. “Mean man,” you frown up at him accusingly. 

“Get up. I want to see what you can do – let’s spar.”

The laughing smile you have plastered across your face goes wan and melts away. “You want to do what now?”

“You said you were training – I want to see what you can do.” 

“Well, I don’t want to show you.”

“My mistake, it wasn’t meant to be a request. Get your little ass up.”

“Exactly – I’m too little. I can’t spar with you.” You look up at him with big, pleading eyes, pouting at him. 

“Yes, you can. Get up.”

“I don’t want to spar with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he laughs. He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. You scowl at him, bristling with indignation.

“You could never–” You take his legs out from under him with a single crook of your finger so that he’s hitting the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from his lungs unexpectedly. You get to your feet, pinning him there lightly, but so that he’s not able to move even a millimeter. 

“You were saying?” Silence. “Do not mistake me for something I’m not,” you say slowly. “I could hurt you. Easily. I could kill you easily. I have to be conscious of myself and you and all the things around me every day so that I don’t unwittingly cause harm.”

More silence from him, and you panic for a second that you’ve actually gone and accidentally killed him. You fall to your knees at his side, letting go of your hold over him, and he stays still and unmoving, but then says, “I know. I know what you are. I also know that you would never hurt me. Even accidentally. You’d never let yourself.”

“Din,” you whisper, letting your forehead fall to his belly. He brings a hand up to cup the bowl of your skull and softly strokes your hair. He can’t know that. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that, and yet…

“Spar with me. It’ll be fun.”

You groan, rolling your forehead against his stomach in feigned denial. “Fine, you have a fucked up idea of fun, and when I whoop your ass you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” You move to stand,  clasping his hand in yours to pull him up with you. 

He slaps your bottom when he gets to his feet, squeezes just a little bit, “Brat.”

“You are not allowed to grope me when you’re making me do things I don’t want to do,” you say indignantly, turning your nose up at him, “And I want to make this interesting.” You move a few paces away from him, and then spin on the ball of your bare foot back towards him, igniting your saber on the come around. “Let’s switch weapons,” you say with a conniving little smirk. 

“You want me to use your lightsaber?”

“Scared?”

“Fuck off, and give it here.” Oh, he’s funny when he’s grouchy. 

You disengage the plasma beam and toss him the crossguard at the same time that he sends his spear your way. You catch it easily and give it an experimental twirl in your hands – it’s light, nicely balanced, and you give it a figure eight twist in front of you, once, twice, “Not as fancy ��� but I suppose it’ll do.” You take position, flexing up once on your toes to feel the tight stretch of your calves, a fizzy flutter of excitement in your belly. He’s right, you would never hurt him. A small, terrifying part of you even whispers that you think you’d do harm to yourself before you could ever even think of hurting him.

You can feel a deep hum of satisfaction coming off of him at the sight of you wielding one of his weapons, and he pauses for a beat, admiring you, and then ignites the saber, spinning the blade once in his hand, and then moving towards you on the defensive immediately, without thought. “No powers – just us,” he says, and he brings your lightsaber up above his head, the frame of his heavily muscled arms almost distracting you for a second, and then down upon you with all of his considerable strength. Fast as light, and he’s fucking strong so you feel the reverberation of the weapons meeting in your teeth with how powerful his strike is. 

“Maker– I didn’t think you were going to be a dick about this.” 

“That was your mistake.”

“Oh, you suck,”

“Not quite. But you will be later, trust me.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke?! I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” you gasp. “This is not the way, Mandalorian,” you intone in a deep voice, imitating his baritone.

You disengage from his lock and spin away from him, twirling the spear above your head in a quick little flourish, hair fanning out around you, and then bringing it down upon him again. He’s fast and strong, but you’re small and sneaky, easily distracting. Your footwork has always been your greatest strength, like a dance and a game and a duel all at once. He parries your blow and steps to the side trying to evade you by going around. You take a light hop further away from him, and then pirouette back again, fast as you can, ready to strike once more, but he’s already there waiting, leaning heavily into your space so that the plasma blade flashes violet and angry, buzzing right up against your face. You feel the heat radiating off of it on your eyelids, and a bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“You’re not getting laid for a week,” you grit through clenched teeth, blowing a fallen piece of fringe out of your eyes. 

“Oh, you’re getting fucked as soon as this is over.” He shoves you back with all his strength, and you stumble over your own feet, giving an outraged little screech as you go ass over tits, and your bottom meets the hard ground. He circles your fallen form, “Get up. I'm not done with you yet, little one.”

Jerk. You spring back up onto the balls of your feet and meet him in a parry of blindingly quick strikes, one after the other after the other. He matches them all without even seeming to strain himself. Your strength is nothing compared to his, and for a second you feel a flash of anger, a memory of being weaker and smaller than everyone around you. He’s not even trying. You growl and spin again, going low, trying to get his legs, but he meets your blow, and then brings one of his hands up to shove you away by the shoulder. He’s never even wielded a fucking lightsaber before and this is how he does – you catch yourself with a supportive tendril of the Force on that one, and bare your teeth at him. 

“You’re stronger than me – this isn’t fair,” you pant.

“You know that isn’t true.” He strikes again, and you block it, barely. “But if it were, you’re tiny. Most people are going to be stronger than you. Tough shit – you can’t always rely on your tricks.”

“My tricks–” Fuck you. You jerk away from him, gasping for breath, sweating, angry at his words and full of reckless defiance. But you take a deep, calming breath and give him a small smile. “Oh, no?” you croon, and lunge at him again at the same time that you snake a ribbon of Force around his striking arm to pull the limb backwards, rendering it motionless and him without protection. He brings his other arm up to block your presumed blow, but you pull the saber from his grasp with your mind instead and knock the side of his spear against the curve of his helmet, loud clang echoing at the same time that you bring one small, bare foot up to the center of his belly and shove him back, sending him sprawling to the ground. How’s that for a trick? “Life isn’t fair, shiny. I'm going to use all the tricks in my book until I'm dead – and even after that, I still might find a way.” You stand over him looking down at the impenetrable dark of his visor. You crook your eyebrow at him, a little shrug of one shoulder, and oh, he’s fucking pissed, you can feel it rolling off of him. 

“I said no powers,” and grunts when you place a small foot on his belly, a conqueror over your felled opponent. 

“Oops.” You see the strain of his arms trying to fight against your restraints, biceps bulging and bunching, and he growls like an animal, like someone about to teach you a particularly savage lesson. You remove your foot from him and take a few, slow steps back from him. Retreating from the beast you’ve just purposefully enraged. “Now, now,” you try, “We were just messing around–” a nervous, hiccuping laugh.

You let him go, and he moves to his feet, long legs unfolding almost in slow motion. “You better fucking run, little girl. You do not want me to get my hands on you right now,” he says slowly.

You don’t need to be told twice, without a second thought you’re throwing both weapons to the ground and spinning on your heel, sprinting away as fast as you possibly can on bare feet. You’re pretty sure he even gives you a few seconds head start before he’s shooting after you. You can hear the pounding sound of his heavy strides over the hard ground, and you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can, making for the tree line far ahead, but there are rocks and small bric-a-brac hidden in the underbrush, and your pace falters, heart thumping painfully fast within the cage of your chest. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering your whole body, and right before his chest makes harsh contact with your back you have the thought that being caught by him is one of the greatest pleasures you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. 

He slams into your back and takes you to the ground, his hand coming up to protect your face, his other arm banding tightly around your waist seeming to press all of the air from your lungs. 

“Should’ve run faster.”

“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” you gasp.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” You feel him lever himself up above you, and then he’s ripping down your leggings and underwear, the sound of seams popping at the ferocity of his movements, “You want to be my little whore? Want me to fuck you right here under the open sky for the entire galaxy and the Maker to see how I own this cunt?” And lands a stinging, sharp slap to your ass. He grips the meat of your cheek and spreads you wide for his inspection, you feel the probe of his thumb at the tight furl of your ass, then lower to your folds, your leaking entrance, your swollen clit. “Look at you, fucking soaked already, shit. You like being hunted and caught, little one?”

“Only by you,” you moan into the dirt, an echo of your past words to each other, your cheek squished against the grass, you watch the panting huffs of your breath disturb the blades and let him do with you what he will. He’s caught his bounty, he should enjoy the fruits of his spoils now. He presses his thumb inside, sliding it in and out of you slowly, and then unexpectedly slaps you again and you mewl, twisting the soft green blades between your shaking fingers, trying to find purchase, an anchoring, anything to steady your racing heart. You listen to the rustle of his clothes as he frees his cock and finally, finally, you can hear the change in his breath as he takes hold of his hard length. Make me so fucking hard, you hear him mutter. He reaches for your twisted hands then, pulling them behind you, “Hand here, and here–” he sets each palm on either of your cheeks, “Show me that little asshole. I want to see it.” Nasty man, and like the good girl you’re trying to pretend to be, you obey and pull yourself apart for him, presenting all you have to offer, hips lifted in a desperate little arc for him to fuck into you. He presses the wide head of his cock to your fluttering cunt, and starts to push in, stretching you painfully without having made you come before – it hurts to take him like this. Caught and fucked into the dirt, and he pushes in until he’s rooted to the hilt, heavy sac pressed tightly against your backside, and you love it. His strong thighs bracket your own, restrained in your partially shoved down leggings, making the fit all the more snug when he wedges that thick cock inside of you. “Fuck, yes,” he growls and sets a punishing pace. Slamming his hips so hard into your ass you can feel the rebound of your soft flesh in your hands, still holding yourself open, drooling and sobbing into the grass, hair a fallen mess, sticking to the wetness of your tears and spit on your cheeks. He angles his hips down and hammers into your g-spot. Fucking made for me, perfect little cunt, so pretty, you can hear him muttering hoarsely through the modulator behind you over the wet, sucking slide of his cock. He sets a brutal pace that has you going almost cross-eyed, weak little huffs of breath being fucked out of you on every push in so that you can’t even make a sound of pleasure or pain or anything. All you can do is take it. 

He moans an almost agonized sound, feels so fucking good – and oh, it’s too much, the punishing pace, the sound of his pleasure, the painful stretch of his thick cock inside of you, hitting against that ravenous little place, the feel of his desire for you pushing up against the periphery of your mind – he is devastating and life changing, world altering inside of you, and, “Din, Din, please – I’m going to come,” you hitch and cry. 

And he pulls out. Suddenly, painfully, he rips his sliding cock from the wet, fluttering clutch of your pussy on the verge of orgasm, dripping cock smearing wetly against the curve of your ass. “No,” he sits back on his haunches and turns you over roughly, your bare arms and back chafing against the grass and dirt. “Who said you had permission to come?” He rips your leggings down one leg to get at your sex and spreads your thighs wide, right here in the middle of the open field, and then hooks his fingers under your breast band at the space between your tits to pull you up into a sitting position. “Grab my cock,” he orders. “Bad girls don’t get to come.” You wrap your slim fingers around the swollen, slick length of him and start to slide your hand up and down, squeezing to the very root and then back up to the drooling head, ending in a little twist. You look up at the visage of his helmet, if his gaze had a physical manifestation it’d be all over your skin, licking and kissing and sucking. He pushes your breast band down to free the heavy, aching weights of your tits and squeezes them hard so that you’re moaning up at him softly, legs spread around his kneeling form, bare, pulsing cunt leaking into the grass beneath. You can see the skin of his neck where his stubble fades to tan sweaty skin beneath the edge of his helmet, and your teeth ache to bite there. You want to see what sort of sound he’d make if you bit hard enough to draw blood…

He twists your nipples between his fingers, and then switches to softer, soothing passes around your areolas, lifting each breast high to squeeze and then letting them fall to hang and sway heavily. “Too fucking beautiful for your own good,” he says in a low whisper, as if only for himself. Your other hand moves to cup the hanging weight of his balls and you massage them gently, and then twist a little, applying more pressure, eliciting a soft whimper from him. “No,” he grunts suddenly, pressing you belly back into the hard ground, pinning you there despite a whine and dolling out a quick, stinging slap to your spread sex. You cry out, trying to toe him away with one small foot lifted to his shoulder, escape his unforgiving hands, but he digs his fingers into the softness of your thighs and pulls you back towards him, gripping the base of his cock to feed it back into you. “This is your punishment, stop distracting me.” 

He lifts up the hem of his shirt, tucking it beneath his lowered chin so that he can fuck you unobstructed. He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your breast band around your waist and uses it as leverage to pull you onto his impaling cock, fucking up into your cervix painfully, sending you right to the edge of orgasm once again. The sight of his exposed abdomen shifting under the sunlight, sweat sliding down from his chest to the hair trailing from his navel, lower to the thick root of his cock, neatly trimmed, mouth watering – it has your already overwrought cunt pulsing and aching and drooling, clenching down painfully around him. “You are not allowed to come. If you do, I'm going to make it so much worse for you, do you understand me?”

“No, please. Please, Din. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” you cry, deepening the arch of your back to open yourself further to him, to feel the jolt of his cock more intensely within you. 

“Too late.” His thrusts speed up, sloppy and unsynchronized, and he growls low in his throat beneath the helmet as he rips himself from you once again and takes his soaked length in hand, fucking his fist furiously until he comes over the gaping slit of your sex, covering your pusling cunt in the searing heat of his milky spend, spurting thickly onto the slope of your belly and your heaving tits. You let out an agonized sob, throwing your arms over your face to hide the sight of your tears from him. Your womb twists painfully, low in your pelvis, the echoes of his brutal fucking still felt in the unsatisfied frenzied fluttering of your muscles. “Bad girls don’t get filled up either.” He gives his slick length one final squeeze, twisting his fist viciously at the angry, red tip to milk out the last final drops of his come. You watch his fist, gripped around himself so tightly, beneath the hood of your wet lashes and crossed arms, and think it must surely hurt him, such a punishing hold on himself – but you also think that, like you, he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure. Or a lot… depending on the day. 

He drops his wet hand to your pulsing sex, smearing the thick viscosity of his semen into your painfully sensitive skin, and then slaps it again and again and again. Three stinging slaps in a row that has you twisting away, trying to escape him. “I want to eat your cunt,” and his voice is nothing but a gasp, “It’s so fucking red and swollen – and it gapes when I slap it.” He hits you again, presses a hand low on your belly to keep you in place and incite the coiled ball of unreleased arousal sitting inside of you, all at once. 

He leans forward, holding himself up over you on one strong arm and grips your jaw tightly, his hand wet and sticky with his come and your own slick, and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout and giving your head a little jostle, his hold on you, so tight, you feel the imprinted shape of your teeth on the inside of your cheeks. “What if someone saw you like this, being fucked full of cock? What would you do?” His hand leaves your face to press two thick fingers inside of your poor, abused pussy. 

“Please, no more–” you whisper, you can’t take anymore. 

“Quit. As much as I say – it’s mine. Isn’t it? It belongs to me.” You have to nod, you have no other choice, you must tell the truth right now, and then answering his first question: “Nothing. I don't care. What would you do?” And despite your protestations, you wrap both your hands around his thick wrist to leverage yourself against him and begin to ride his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers crooked inside of you.

“Kill them. You’re only mine to see like this– fucking mine,” but he pulls his fingers from you, again. You give a little undignified screech, feeling the overwhelming sensation of your opening clenching hungrily around nothing, and he sits back on his haunches again, taking himself away from you, and tucks his still wet, still semi-hard cock back behind the plaque of his trousers. He takes several deep breaths, the wings of his rib cage expanding so wide on the exhale you worry for a second he’d take flight, escape you, go somewhere where you could not reach him. 

“You’re so mean,” you mewl up at him, tears streaming across your cheeks and backwards, down your temples into your hair – making your already sweat damp hairline even wetter. Your whole body feels wet and trembling and raw. You move to press your knees closed, but he grips you around the ankle still wearing your leggings and pulls them off of you entirely. 

“I know,” he says, “Poor, little girl,” cooed at you, a little mean, a little condescending, his voice so soft and smokey and deep. “Perhaps, this’ll teach you what happens to bad girls who don’t follow the rules.” He pulls you by the wrist to sit up and curls to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly, unfolding from the ground all the way to standing, with the entirety of your weight slung over his shoulder, just by the pure strength of him. He turns back towards the ship and slaps your ass as he walks, right at the apex of your thighs so that you feel the rebound of it in your cunt. Tears drip down your upside down face while your arms hang limply down towards the ground, your head bobbing along limply with his gait, wild, loose hair swinging, entirely overwhelmed and conquered – just like he’d wanted you. 

And after everything, even without an orgasm, it’s really not so bad. 

-

He hauls your ass back to the ship without even seeming to lose his breath, carrying your weight easily over his shoulder. He’s so strong, and it makes you even wetter for him, if possible. Making his way up the ramp, he hits the button to disengage and shut it behind the two of you once you’re inside, and deposits your limp, trembling form onto your nest of blankets. A murmured: “I’m going to get us in the air,” and then he’s climbing up into the cockpit. You think you must fall asleep or go so delirious from the cramping deep in your belly that you lose consciousness for what seems like seconds or possibly hours later he’s back and spreading your legs again, you mumble something incoherently that sounds like his name or a plea for mercy or his cock, and then his unmodulated voice sounds, “Don’t open your eyes, little one.” You think you nod your head or give some sort of a reply of confirmation, but you can’t be sure. Your body feels so far removed from you, sun drunk and cock drunk and Din drunk. He shoves the breadth of his wide, naked shoulders between your thighs and hooks both thumbs at your soft outer lips to spread you wide and spits directly onto your swollen clit and blushed, fluttering hole. You moan and writhe, bringing your hands up to your face to dig the heels of your palms harshly into your sockets, sliding the tips of your fingers through your hairline to pull at the strands. He starts off light, whisper soft, the tip of his tongue tracing figure eights over your clit, and then further down to flutter lightly at the  mouth of your cunt. You’re sex is drenched in his own come, and he doesn’t seem to give a single fuck, tasting himself on your own skin and groaning at your combined flavors. He moves back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth hard. Your back arches in an almost painful bend, bringing your knees up as far back as you can to your shoulders, hands hooked beneath the sweaty bend of your joints to hold yourself open for him.

“Are you going to be bad again?” he murmurs into your cunt.

“Yes–” irrationally, recklessly defiant.

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.” He licks a long, wet swipe through your slit, further down to taste your ass, his tongue applying pressure to the sensitive rosebud, then back up to your pussy, licking into you with the strong muscle of his tongue. You can feel him rutting into the blanketed floor. 

“Are you hard again already?” voice ragged, you want to know, you want it in your mouth.

“Fuck yes, I’m hard. I’m always hard for you. Most perfect little cunt in the entire galaxy,” and he literally slurps at your folds, wet and lewd and entirely obscene. You writhe on the blankets, one foot pressed to the thick mass of his muscular shoulder trying to push him away and rock yourself against his face all at the same time. He moves to kneel over you and grips your other leg open under the bend of your knee. “Never want you to fucking behave,” he presses two thick fingers inside of you, hooked against that spongey spot at the front of your cunt, thumb on your clit, and sets a quick fire pace, tugging your orgasm forward, jostling his fingers inside of you. “Means I get to do this to you as many times as I want,” he grits. “Get this fucking cunt wet for me, little girl.” He shoves a third finger inside of you, hooks his fingers against your g-spot again and presses down on your lower belly with his other hand, and rubs fast and hard inside of you. You whine high pitched, an animal sound, writhing in the nest of blankets, twisting them in your hands to press your face to them. He quickens his pace, his whole hand shaking within you, and then wrenches it from your cunt and you feel yourself gush onto the waiting blankets and his spread thighs. 

He moans a savage sound, “Yes, yes – fucking again,” and he pushes those three fingers back into your gaping hole, the palm on your belly giving a slow soothing circular stroke to settle you, and you think you must surely want to beg for no more, please, no more, but you cannot. He pauses for a second, and you listen to the sound of his heavy panting breaths over the sound of your own echoing heart in your ears. His palm is so big and warm on your abdomen, and it soothes you for a second, your limbs full of fired lightning. He pets softly at your g-spot, and then quakes his hand again, palm on your belly pushing down to apply pressure from the outside. It feels like there’s plasma melting down your spine, and your vision behind your closed lids bends and flashes blinding white. Again, it’s going to happen again – he rips his hand from you, and you gush once again, soaking wet. Yes, yes, yes, he’s chanting, sounding half delirious, nonsensical, and then his mouth is at your cunt again, drinking up all the slick wetness you’ve just made for him.

Mine, all mine, look at all this – made it all for me, didn’t you, gorgeous thing. 

He laps at you gently until he’s gotten all of it, every last drop of your come and slick and sweat. Your entire frame shakes and jolts with aftershocks, trembling and sweating and crying. Heart beating an overwhelmed symphony within your chest to the tune of his name. This is not like anything else, you think. This is something to venerate and fear equally, you think. You feel afraid. He mouths gently at the raw skin of your inner thighs, pressing slow kisses to your mound, up the slope of your belly, over the trembling hills of your breasts, up finally all the way to your mouth where he licks into you wet and hot. There’s a desperately hungry energy to him, ready to shove into your cunt and fuck you again. You feel the drooling tip of his heavily hanging cock bob against your belly, and he makes a soft sound, low in his throat, but pulls back, humming contemplatively. 

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmurs between kisses, “You’re filthy,” the soft sound of his self satisfied huff of laughter. He presses one last kiss to your mouth then gets to his feet with a soft groan, the hollow sounding pop of his knees, and you listen to him move into the fresher, starting the water and shuffling about. You’re beyond words, vaguely painful aftershocks seizing your throat and muscles, and you can’t open your eyes, you won’t. He’s walking around with so much trust, moving about the hull into the softly lit fresher helmetless and entirely vulnerable. He trusts you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to say that, ever been able to claim the trust of another person. Never. You need to protect this at all costs, guard it fiercely and nurture it as you would a fragile and delicate sapling. 

He returns to your side after a moment, wrapping his hands around you. Your limbs have been rendered limp and useless, entirely pliable for his strong hands to pull you up into his embrace, and you feel like water in his arms as he carries you into the warm spray of the fresher, submerged in his touch and his smell, your mind murky and floating with your eyes still closed. He shuts off the lights as he passes, sinking the two of you into a deep darkness once again and sets you on your feet, shaky, weak knees knocking together, coltish and frail. 

The spray of the water is warm and sets about a cloud of humidity around the two of you. You reach up to twist your arms around his strong neck, fingers twisting in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and his roving hands slide along your limbs and curves, water slick and lust frenzied, but still slow, categorizing, exploring. He feels you, grips your soft flesh in his big hands, the rough calluses on his palms catching at your sensitive skin, his fingers pressing along your arms, gripping the joints of your elbows between his fingers, up to your wrists clasped behind his neck. He brings one hand down to his face to press a long kiss to the center of your palm, then presses your splayed palm to his cheek, nuzzles against you like an overly large cat. “I love how this feels,” he whispers low. You think you must have lost your voice, spit it out in the field where he’d fucked you and left it there, forgotten, but you press your face up into the warm spot beneath his jaw, mouthing slowly there at his burning hot skin. He tastes like the sun, like earth and life and all the goodness you’d never before had the chance to taste, and you want to drink him down, take a bite and swallow him, let him settle down, deep and heavy in your belly where you’d keep him always. Your heart gives a heavy thump of fear, but then his other hand is there, sliding down the arch of your spine and gripping your ass to press you into the long line of his erection. “Are you ready for my cock again, little one?” And his words return your mind to the slow cramping, deep in your pelvis. The hungry clench of your cunt and the shivers zipping down the lines of your muscles. 

Yes, please, you think you whisper, and you must, for he lifts one of your thighs, hooking it around his hip and bending his knees slightly to press the head of his cock to the slick mouth of your cunt, and then he’s surging up and sliding deep inside you, gripping your other thigh as he goes to lift you high up into his arms and settle himself deep into your belly, to what feels like the very end of you, knees hooked over the bends of his elbows. It feels like he presses all the way to the heart of you, your very heart, your very heart, he has it in his clutch. That heart you’d for so long feared had been taken from you, swallowed and destroyed. You moan softly into his open mouth and he swallows down your sounds, tastes the inside of your mouth with his tongue, grips and kneads all the soft contours that make you up – that softness that still makes up the hard creature that they’d tried to force you into. He feels it, takes it in his hands. 

You run your hands along him as well. The hard lines of him to juxtapose your own softness. His broad shoulders, muscled and strong and endless, seemingly wide enough to hold up the weight of the galaxy. The thick bulge of his biceps, the strength of his chest, the flat expanse of his abdomen that gently turns to softness lower down. The thick root of his cock fucking up into you. You softly circle your hand there, feeling the slide of him thrusting into you, pressing into the swollen bud of your clit. You can feel your orgasm churning like molten ore in your pelvis, the base of your spine. You’re both scarred all over, mottled in the painful history of your individual pasts, and he has scars on his hands, covered in them, for some reason these hurt you more than any you’ve ever endured on your own body. Such strong, capable, gentle hands – you pull them to your mouth one by one and kiss each and every one of them. 

He grips your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock harder, bends his knees to deepen the angle inside of you and you keen and mewl weakly for him, a supplication in the shape of his name, shared here in this warm darkness he’s pulled you into with him, and you think of the dark and of the opposition of light. Of being alone and together and here with him, afraid and protected and how the darkness had never seemed anything more than a cruel and suffocating mantle meant to only ever subjugate and enslave you, and how here, with him now, with him inside of you and held in his arms it feels like nothing more than protection. A safe place to cast away your fear. “Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?” he murmurs into the lush of your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth and biting down gently. 

Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika.

My good girl, taking me so well.

And no one had ever baptized you with a veneration such as that. No one had ever called to you in gentleness or care, and so you do. You come for him at the sound of it, at the feel of the wide head of his cock kissing your womb on every press inside, the grip of his hands, possessive and hard and gentle and coaxing and inescapable, all at the same time. It’s like he’s all the things in the world that a man could ever be, and you give him your pleasure, and he returns it in kind, filling you with the heat of his spend, coating your insides with himself. Sweet and full of heart, just like he’d said.

Chapter V

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#TCC fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #star wars fanfiction

[bby-deerling]

nico robin x who is it for the 250 event!

congrats on the 250 milestone!!! here’s to reaching 500 🥂

thank you so much!!! cheers both to growth and the amazing community we have here that makes it possible! (also, another galaxy brain request i had so much fun writing this)

robin + who is it (nsfw, gn!reader)

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 757, masterlist

cw: very inappropriate use of devil fruit, fingering (both ways, gn!reader so you pick which hole), oral (robin receiving), jealousy

You and Robin were both mature adults, with a particular arrangement that had no strings of exclusivity explicitly attached; however, neither of you had dared to venture outside of each other for quite a long time, and it seemed the two of you had slowly moved towards a deeper level of commitment together. 

Or so you thought.

You should be overstimulated and unable to think right now.  Robin’s many hands are all over you, sweet scent of flowers overpowering you as she gropes and kneads and teases every part of your body with delicate fingers.  Her gasps and moans fill your ears as your fingers curl inside her, head thrown back in ecstasy.  Tongue dancing across her clit, you should be in heaven right now, but all you can focus on is her shoulder—the dark, maroon hickey on her shoulder.

Maybe you would have been less bothered if the Sunny was docked at an island, and the person who left their mark on her could have been a faceless stranger, never to be thought of or seen again, but you had been sailing for long enough that the culprit had to be someone else on the ship—someone too close for your comfort.  The thought lights a fire in you, making you double your efforts to make her fall apart, desperate to prove your worth and defend your place at her side and in her bed.

Gazing up at her, you can tell you have her close, watching the heave of her gorgeous chest as her breathing quickens.  Your movements nearly stutter as she desperately grasps at you with her many hands, wanting to feel and devour every bit of you as she reaches her high.  Her hips grind at your face as she comes, leaving a layer of slick across the bottom of your face that your tongue eagerly darts out to clean up.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks as she regains her senses, voice still breathy and expression brimming with concern as she catches the distant look in your eyes.

Words collect themselves on your tongue, but all you can do is stammer, trying to find the right combination; you were hurt and bothered, but didn’t want to come off as accusatory or hostile.  Luckily, you end up not having to say anything as her eyes light up with realization.

“Was this bothering you?” she asks, pointing to the mark with a smile.  You nod, and swallow hard, eyeing her nervously and awaiting her explanation.

“You missed it, our captain was in quite the biting mood before lunch today.  I came out with minor injuries; our poor sniper, however, got quite a few chunks taken out of him.” she says, trying and failing to hold back a giggle.

The deep breath you let out is shaky, exhaling all of the worries and nerves you had built up.  Electricity starts to buzz through your head, relieved that Robin hadn’t felt the need to seek the company of someone else after all.

“Were you jealous?” she asks, smiling smugly with a teasing lilt to her voice.

“No…” you lie, averting your eyes, far too embarrassed to admit you had gotten so worked up, especially now that you knew the truth. 

The hands covering your body resume their gentle touches and squeezes, caressing planes on your form that you had never given a second thought.  To be touched this completely, this intimately, was nothing short of intoxicating and addictive.  

A finger circles your hole, gently teasing it; you’re wet and eager and begging, but she grins at you, enjoying watching you writhe and plead for even more of her.

“Who’d you think it was?” she asks, curious to know where your suspicions were directed.  To entice you to answer, she presses just the very tip of her finger into you, before withdrawing it and making you whine, a silent message that you wouldn’t get what you wanted until you fessed up.

“I thought it was Law.” you admit, ashamed at your jealous thoughts, but powerless to her methods of interrogation; when Robin has your body in her hands, she has the unique talent of stripping your mind and soul raw as well, and eagerly consuming them all.

She giggles at the notion.  “Funny.  He couldn’t possibly handle me.”  Her finger finally slips into your slick hole, making you let out a soft whine as your head feels dizzy.

“I don’t feel the need to go anywhere else.” she assures you.  “No one can take what I give them quite like you can, dear.”

#one piece x reader #x reader #nico robin x reader #robin x reader #one piece smut #mdni #i am soooo down bad for her you do not even know the half of it

[slashingdisneypasta]

Captain Hook x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: ⬇⬇⬇

'You should have met me in 1984. You would've liked me.''I like you now.'

(From The Vampire Diaries)

Warnings: ... softness???...

Tagging: @asperol-with-izzy , @disney-android-foundation , @lady-love88 , @marinerainbow , @miss_understood , and @ryantryan6969 . Hi, I hope you are all ready for some romance featuring one Captain Hook! ^^ Have a great day, and I hope you enjoy ^^

"My dear, you are beautiful... tonight, and always." He speaks quietly, looking thoughtful as he uses his hook to gently release your hair from under the collar on his coat and carefully arrange it over your shoulder. His eyes are on you but they're far off. You're not sure he's really here, right now, truly. "... You should have met me before all this madness... before this blasted land. Before Peter, and my hand... You would've liked me. I would've- I would've been sure to deserve you, then." Hook's fingers on your face, knuckles gently brushing your jaw, feel like complete heaven to you as well as his dark romantic eyes on your face. His coat around your body is warm and makes you feel loved and cared for, and the breeze in your hair makes you feel like you're on air but his words are all too wrong and it makes you feel suddenly confused; Eyes round and eyebrows furrowed and head tilted to the side at him.

"... Hm?" You've just had the loveliest night with him. He made all of his men leave the ship for the night so you could be alone together and watch the sky get dark. You watched the sky turn a pale blue first, then yellow, and orange, and pink... then blue again and now its black- its night, and it cold, and you have a charming man's coat on. Its a perfect night... but now he's saying some things you just don't understand. You? Would've liked him?? Would've???

"I was a gentleman, back then... I would've taken you on the grandest dates, shown you sights almost as beguiling as you are, taken care of you, and your family... made you happy. ... Unfortunately, all I can proffer you now is the chill in the damn Neverland air and this old coat." His hair is silhouetted by the lamp behind him and you can see the breeze ruffling the messy locks so you reach up and run your fingers through it.

"Grande dates? Hm... could've sworn we were on one of those right now." You flash a gentle, hesitant grin. He cant be serious about the things he's saying, can he?

Chuckling softly, Hook shakes his head. "This is nothing, dear. I wish I could give you so much better... A treasure like you is supposed to be spoiled. And once upon a time, I was a better man- I would've made that- you- taking care of you, and making you happy, my entire life."

To this, you don't know what to say. Your mouth falls open as if needing to say something- but no words come out. Closing it again, you lower your hand from his hair let it slide down his hook arm; Squeezing gently. An attempt to comfort.

"Which is not to say that I wont try, now... " As he takes in a deep breath, he closes his eyes for a moment and furrows his brow's, the lines in his forehead getting deeper. "But unfortunately, my dear, you are looking at a broken man. I can only offer half my heart, to you- the rest is taken by an infernal desire for revenge. And I... I'm sorry, but I'm not good enough, to overcome it. Not even for you."

... Oh... That's what this is about.

You see.

Squeezing this sad-sack's arm a little more firmly, you take a step into him, so you truly need to crane your neck back to see his face. "... I don't care. I'll take what you can give me."

His eyes pop open again, and he looks at you with a surprised expression. "What?- "

"I like you now, Hook." Sliding your hand back up his arm and to his shoulder, you use him to balance you as you get onto your tip-toes and give his cold cheek a kiss. "So, you take your revenge on that Peter... or you try. You can try every single day, if you want to. You two can chase eachother back and forth all day, every day. But just come back to me at night and have dinner with me, okay? Have dinner with me, and kiss me, and hold my hand, and I'll be happy. I'll be over the moon."

"My dear- "

"James." He gulps, hearing you pull first-name on him. "Just kiss me, okay? And think about what I've said; Let it sink in. I want you, I need you to understand that."

"... th- think? That's rather hard to do, while kissing you; You know?"

Giggling, you curl your hand around his neck and gently guide him down. "I believe in you, Captain."

"Alright, my dear; I will try." With a bemused, pleased smile - like he's the luckiest bastard in the universe, - Hook does so.

#Captain Hook x Reader #Disney Captain Hook x Reader #Disney Captain Hook #Captain Hook #Captain Hook x Reader Excerpt #Disney Captain Hook x Reader Excerpt #Excerpt #Disney Villain #Disney Villains #Disney Villains x Reader

[luvrxbunny]

rough

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary: You're confronted with the town's opinions.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smoking (weed), lots of feelings, (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 2.6k

a/n: if you've read my fic 'soft' then you've read this already

|| pt.1 || pt.2 || pt.3 || pt.4 ||

You just want to fuck him already. It’s been months now, of this back and forth. To be clear, you do still want him romantically, how could you not? This man, when his hair is fluffy and soft just like him. When you see his expression now light up when you walk into the room. When he builds you little trinkets in the shop, instead of doing the job he was assigned to. When he makes your favorite for dinner after finding out that you’re having a bad day. When he plans movie nights featuring your favorites that he could find on DVD. 

How could you not love him?

It scares you. The “situation-ship” you both were currently in started a few months ago. Actually… It started exactly four months and three weeks ago. There’s no point in pretending you haven’t kept track. Joel told you that he needed time. You would have never expected it to be this much time but you’ve grown to love and crave him over the months.

He listened to what you said at the bar that night. He’s been giving you so much affection it’s actually making the other women in the community quite jealous of you. He hasn’t kissed you yet but he kisses your cheek, your forehead, and- when he’s drunk or high enough- your neck. You don’t kiss him anymore. You’ve kissed his cheek a few times over the months, his head once when he was sick but other than that you try to keep to yourself. You’re still a bit traumatized from his first rejection, the way it played out, and everything. You’d rather just not risk it.  

You’re in the garden and he’s in the field. You’re planting flowers, pulling and re-planting vegetables while Joel is harvesting the wheat he planted four months ago and tilling the land for the new seeds. You keep looking over at him, you really can’t help it at this point. 

The sun is shining through his hair, making it a dark golden color with streaks of white running through it. His arms are smudged from handling the dirt all day and his biceps flex repeatedly as he picks the kernels off of the wheat and throws them into his basket. His eyebrows are creased and his eyes squinted to avoid the burning light of the sun and he keeps looking over at you. He really can’t help it at this point. 

You look so beautiful, sitting on your knees with your adorably mismatched gardening gloves. Your hair falls so angelically every time you lean forward to lead a new plant to its home. Every time you sit back up you use the back of your wrist to shove the hair from your face, sputtering out, trying to get your hair out of your mouth and it's so endearing. Your arms are dirty and he feels the incredibly odd urge to bathe you. He’s ready to love you. He’s so fucking ready but he has no clue- not even the slightest- as to how he should tell you. 

The current supervisor calls it a day and you almost fall face-first into the plants in your scramble to get to Joel. He’s taking off his gloves, flexing and stretching his fingers when he sees you rushing toward him with a huge smile he can’t help but mirror. “Hey, darlin’. You look so beautiful today.”

You freeze where you stand which luckily isn’t too far from Joel. He makes his way over to you, watching your expression. He loves it so much, he doesn’t understand how he never noticed it before. The way you always take a deep, shaking breath, your eyebrows go inward and you give him this look. He doesn’t understand it yet but it always makes him ache for you, makes him burn somewhere in the depths of his being to just be with you. He doesn’t know how long he can resist it. He doesn't want to. He doesn’t.

“I’m- I think I really- I just really wanna kiss you.” You snap out of your daze and your eyes focus on him, hopeful for a moment then a little dull. You turn your head, give him your cheek, close your eyes, and wait for the gentle kiss but nothing happens. You slowly open your eyes and look at him, he looks scared. “I wanna kiss you.”

You can hear your heart speed up, your breaths getting shorter and your thoughts more jumbled. He wants to kiss me? You’re confused for a moment, not understanding what brought this on. You’re eyes slip from his contact as you lose yourself in your thoughts, not realizing the silence you’re creating or the anxiety you’re causing. But Joel realizes, he’s sweating more than he has all day as he waits for you to say something, do something. He shifts his weight from foot to foot before giving up. “We don’t have to… I just- I wanted to…” He tries and fails to keep the sadness out of his voice.

His words strike fear in you and you reach out to grip his arm, hoping it’s enough to stop him from walking away. “Y-You wanna kiss me? On the… on the lips?” He’s surprised by your voice, it sounds far away, loose, and airy.

“I do.” It comes out with no hesitation, no stutters, no pause. You take a step closer to him and his expression twitches, his chest beginning to heave with anticipation. 

“I would really love that, Joel.” You’re staring up at him now, as best you can in the sun. You’re looking into his eyes, an excited, mischievous glint in your eyes, challenging him, daring him to do something. And he loses his nerve. 

“Oh! Okay. Thats… Thats good. I- I want you to come over later, alright? I’ll get us some weed and alc. You don’t need to bring snacks or nothin’ either jus- jus bring yourself, alright? Okay, see you then.” And with that, he walked off. His cheeks were absolutely burning. He couldn’t believe himself 

‘That's good’? What the fuck is wrong with you, Miller? Leaving that darlin’ girl standing in the sun like that? It just ain’t right, she’s so sweet on you and you fuckin’ know it. Why am I doin’ this to her… 

You’re watching Joel walk away. A bit stunned by the whole interaction, confusion, and questions swarm your head the whole walk home. They stick with you in the shower and as you get ready to head over to Joel’s. They accompany you on the whole walkover as well.

Maybe he wants me to do something… I know people like it rough, so maybe he wants me to take charge? He doesn’t really seem the type. Does this mean he wants me now? Will he kiss me tonight? Is that why he invited me over? Are we gonna have sex? Oh god, I hope so. I’d treat him so well- or maybe I wouldn’t… everyone likes it rough. 

You’ve reached his block when you’re stopped by Susan; Joel’s biggest admirer. She places herself in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you to talk to her.  “Oh, he’s not in, hun.”

You take a calming breath and try not to roll your eyes at her. “Okay… Well, I’m gonna check, just in case.” You turn your steps and try to make your way around her only for her to place herself right back in your way. 

“I’m gonna be honest I- I don’ really get this whole thing with you an’ him. I just- I guess I don’ really see it… Do ya’ know what I mean?” You glare at her, ignoring her statement and waiting for her to just get out of your way. “I mean…” She steps closer to you. “I remember when you first got here…” 

You can feel shame and embarrassment curl in your stomach at the mention of your arrival. You weren’t in the best place, mentally, and you did a lot- a lot- of things that you wished you hadn’t, lots of men you wished you hadn’t. “Don’t be an ass, Susan.” She backs away from you, a sinister smile on her face and her hands in the air. 

“Hey! I’m” She laughs. “I’m jus sayin’... You were interested in a lot of different men.” You start walking, refusing to listen to what she has to say. But the psycho bitch follows you. “I mean are you even sure that it’s him that you want? Weren’t you with Jared just a few months ago? I mean…” 

You’re speed-walking to Joel’s now. You’re only a house away when she hops in front of you again. “Hun! I told you he ain’t home! I’m just-” She sighs and lowers her head as you crane your neck, hoping and praying Joel had made his way to the porch by now. But he hasn’t. “If you just want a man I can set you up with some of my friends! Some people who are… Gosh! How do I say this without bein’ rude? Some people who are more in your… lane… league?” Your head whips back at her, fury raging in your eyes at her audacity. 

“Excuse me?” You question, low and threatening. “Well. Hun, c’mon now, don’t get all bent outta shape, I mean well! You and I both know Joel is too… hmm, well. He’s too good for you I guess.” You’re not staring at her, you’ve turned your head to the patch of sky you can see through the trees beside you, choosing to count the stars instead of listening to this shit. 

“I’d strongly disagree.” You can hear her gasp and spin around as a smile spreads over your face. Joel. 

“Oh! I- I thought you weren’t home, sugar.” She tries to lean into him but he walks around her and grabs your arm, pulling you past her with a mumble of ‘Yeah. I know.’, ending the conversation. 

Joel doesn’t speak until he’s gotten you inside. “I dunno why you listen to that woman. She spews nothin’ but garbage.” You watch him dart from cupboard to cupboard to retrieve his lighter and a little joint you can tell he rolled because it’s dented in the middle. “She’s always saying some dumb shit. I fuckin’ hate it.” 

His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is hard as he lights it up. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him so angry. You watch the tension fall from his shoulders, his face relaxing as he inhales. You take your shoes off, still watching him as a small smile spreads over his face and he exhales. “Are you gonna share Joel?” You ask as he goes in for another hit. 

“Hey-  Be nice darlin’ it’s mine after all.” He teases while handing it to you. You push yourself up onto the counter, sitting next to where he’s leaning as you take a drag. 

“Yours schmours, you’ll be fine.” He giggles- giggles- at your statement, his hand coming up to cover his smile as he laughs. All you can see are his pretty brown eyes, the creases around them, and the way they almost shut while he laughs. You feel your heart race, bringing along that urge that has gotten you in trouble many times over. Your eyes flicker to his lips and you immediately avert your gaze, taking another hit to try and calm yourself. 

You wait for him to come back up from his designated, folded, laughing position and hold the joint out for him. You snort at the misshapen stick, causing you to choke on the smoke you were holding. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what you get for laughing. Mhm.” You’re coughing up a lung as he says this, making the situation worse because you cannot stop laughing at him. He continues his remarks after taking a hit, you’re still choking and laughing, and you hold an arm out to him. 

“Joel-” You cough. “Joel-” You laugh. “Joel, stop it. I’m- oh fuck.” You start coughing again in a way that has Joel turning to face you, amusement and a bit of concern on his face. “Oh my god, stop. I’m gonna die, don’t make me laugh- oh my god.” 

He’s beaming at you, proud that you find him so funny and the high really hitting him. You can tell, his eyes are a bit hazy and his eyebrows are raised for some reason. He walks towards you when your fit dies down, pushing himself between your legs with a dazed look on his face. He’s just staring at your thighs for a moment, his head turning from left to right so he can look at both of them before looking up at you. Your heart is thrumming out of your chest as you try to keep your expression neutral, maybe a bit inquisitive. He stares at your lips for a bit before you see his hand raising with the joint. He brings it to your lips and looks back up at your eyes, his eyebrows jump, prompting you to inhale. 

You take a long hit, trying to get as much smoke as you can, hoping it will calm you down. His eyes stay on yours, darkening as his breathing becomes a bit shallow. He pulls the joint away from your lips and puts it out right onto the counter before bringing his hand up to your cheek. 

You haven’t exhaled yet, savoring the hit while he slowly brings your face to his. You’re watching his eyes, still on yours as he pulls you in. You begin to exhale, not wanting to hold the smoke in if he’s going to kiss you. That’s when he pushes your lips together. You try not to choke as he sucks the smoke out of your mouth and pulls away. You’re in a stupor as he grins at you and breathes your smoke out, re-lighting the fire in the pit of your stomach, the one that always seems to flare whenever he’s around.

“What’d ya think of that, huh? Good kiss or?” He’s wearing a smirk but his eyes are uncertain at your silence. You keep it up, not saying anything, just pulling him back in and smashing your lips into his. He accepts your kiss with a grunt from the force of it as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in. 

You’re gripping his hair like it's your lifeline, gripping his face like it’ll fall apart otherwise, it hurts a little but he’s fond of your eagerness. Your hands slide onto his shoulders and you dig your fingers into his skin brutally, pulling a wince from him. He separates your lips and strokes over your cheek with his thumb, admiring you. It's a soft, tender moment until you yank him by his belt loops, crashing him against the counter painfully to whisper in his ear. “I want you, Joel”

He smiles at this and kisses you again as you undo his belt. You remove it from the loops and let it drop to the ground so you can get to work on his button and zipper. You feel his lips stutter against yours and he pulls away, confused. “Not- not here, darlin’. ‘M not gonna do this in the kitchen.” He sounds a bit confused as he grips your hips and lifts you off of the counter and back onto the floor. They come back up to cradle your face again as he places a quick, soft kiss on your lips. “ ‘M gonna make love to you in my room, on my bed, baby.”

Make love...?

What?

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist! or send me some motivation here!

🏷️ : @hiroikegawa

#joel x reader #joelxreader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff

[zwhoreo]

getting high with luffy?

ok so i have never been intoxicated or done any substances in my life so this may be extremely inaccurate, but idc it turned out cute

intoxication - luffy x gn!reader

fluff

summary: while exploring an island, you and luffy accidentally eat a fruit that gives you a mild high

contains: as the name suggests, intoxication (no actual drugs), reader gets some anxiety symptoms at the end

words: 1.3k

________________________

A warm breeze flutters your hair as you follow Luffy through the jungle brush, palm fronds waving above you as you begin your exploration. You have to tell Luffy to slow down, a few times actually, he’s so excited about this lush world you have yet to discover that he’s running and tripping over his feet and you don’t want to lose him.

But he keeps looking over his shoulder in an are you seeing this? and a c’mon, we don’t have all day! sort of smile because he really wants to share this with you.

It’s over waterfalls you go, wading through streams, birds crying overhead. You’re really in such a beautiful place, set loose in the jungle to play as the crew stays back on the beach. The sun is warm and white against your skin and everything feels peaceful but alive.

Luffy has taken to grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him because you’re going too slow. He swings between cliffs from tree limbs with you wrapped in his arms, he’s been loud and you don’t think he’s even blinked in a while because he’s just so excited to look at all the new things around him.

But eventually he starts to whine into your neck that he’s getting hungry. You’re far away from the ship and Luffy seems like he needs to eat something right then or he’ll be uncomfortable, and although you’re usually good at remembering snacks you just didn’t have time to pack them today.

Luffy seems eager to catch one of the wild pigs you’ve seen running through the underbrush but you tell him you’d be better off finding some fruit to eat, there’s a grove next to the waterfall you just crossed.

The wild fruit is the size of the palm of your hand and electric pale blue like a sky through clear water. Luffy climbs the tree immediately and begins to pick them, sitting on a branch precariously, eating messily, but he drops a couple down to you as you stand below.

“These’re real good, [name!]” he chirps, looking at you happily.

“C’mon! Come down and sit by me!” You open your arms for a hug, and Luffy falls from the tree right on top of you, shoving you down into the soft grass.

He sits there on you, still eating his fruit, every so often sticking it down in your face so you can get a bite.

And you’re both happy and content for a few minutes, basking in the sun and the mist of the waterfall and each other’s warmth and closeness.

He begins to feel heavier on you after a few minutes, or maybe, as you soon suspect, it’s just that you’re becoming more aware of your own senses, because everything is brighter and louder and more there. But yet the sky seems to swim so calmly above you, you’re entranced. You feel Luffy’s fingers lazily running up and down your cheek. His face is close to yours now, breath heavy, you’re relaxed and joyful and Luffy’s eyes seem to sparkle even more right now, dark and deep but shining like sunlight piercing an ocean trench. You get lost in him, mouth open and unable to speak. Those eyes get more hooded the longer you stare, glazing over, pupils taking over the iris completely.

He begins to giggle in short, breathy gasps and falls right onto your shoulder, rolling off of you. The pain of the impact itself is strangely dull although the warmth ricochets throughout you. He drones a soft “c’meree…” as drools seeps from the corner of his mouth and he reaches out for you.

Suddenly feeling so clingy you follow his arms immediately, not caring about the dirt on your clothes. His laughter is warm on your face. He gets close enough to nip your cheek which seems to electrify your every limb from the ground up. A dreamlike filter falls on the world around you, Luffy swims in mosaics of the clouds behind him.

Inhibition leaves you and you feel one with Luffy all of a sudden, laughter and joy matching one another, squirming on the ground into each other’s arms, his salty, musky scent becomes so raw and wonderful against your nose all of a sudden. You both want to just fly away.

You can’t really tell what he’s saying but he sounds like the only person in the world. And the birds sound like dinosaurs and the waterfall sounds like a thunderstorm and Luffy’s arms lift you a million light years above the earth, he holds you as he wavers in place, still seeming fascinated by your eyes and your lips like he’s never seen them before, a finger tracing every outline of your face.

“Hehe… pretty…” he slurs, headbutting your neck in slow affection. You grab onto his hair and give his ear a gentle little bite.

So for what seems like a thousand years but also just half an instant you lay there in peace, true relaxation wrapping you in a blanket of muted euphoria. But threads of unease begin to spear at your mind. You don’t really know where you are anymore, all of a sudden. Luffy’s arms feel farther and farther away.

You start to crave the stable reality that’s slipping away.

“Hey… Luffy… I wanna get down…” You begin to wriggle feebly in his embrace and Luffy complains with a sound of drawn out frustration because he really doesn’t want to let go of you.

It’s only when your distress clearly shows in your face that Luffy’s daze is broken. He sets you down and becomes alarmed as he feels your heart pounding beneath his hands. He isn’t able to find any words, though. His mind feels so blank.

You’re getting anxious and your mind, unlike Luffy’s, is so full with every thought you could imagine. You find everything you can to be paranoid about, all at once.

“Luffy? Do you think we’re lost? Do you think the others are looking for us?” You murmur, feeling like your whole world is glass about to shatter.

“Nah, we’re fine, [name!] C’monnn… don’t worry…” Luffy tilts his head and stumbles a bit, trying to take you into his arms again.

You stand very still and close your eyes. The world sings around you but you stay still and breathe very, very slowly. You ground yourself in only the dirt that supports your feet, in the warm breeze that raises hairs on your skin. And Luffy knows that this is important right now, although he doesn’t know exactly why, so he sits down and plucks at the grass nervously and watches you in a wordless silence.

You’re ready and you reach for his hand.

The high is still there, a pleasant hum through your veins and a cloudy mist covering the world, you’re still very aware, but you’re feeling better. You’re more here again. Luffy’s hand is firm and warm in your grasp, he rubs his thumb over your palm. He’s still giving you small kisses every few minutes, unable to hold himself back right now. You link your arm in his at some point as you walk to the ship, needing security, needing something so you won’t float away again, and Luffy holds you eagerly like an anchor in the sea of your dream-filled mind.

And you wonder if maybe you’ll tell Sanji about the fruit, just for future reference.

#luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #luffy fluff #luffy x reader fluff #one piece fanfiction #luffy x you #luffy x y/n

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |VI| pirate!Eddie au

Happy Fourth of July/Tuesday (depending on what you celebrate).

Series Masterlist

word count: 6.1k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 6: Shiver Me, Timbers “Why won’t you leave me alone?” “Then I’d be alone, too." ― Leigh Bardugo, Siege and Storm

Despite the fact you had your new room waiting for you upstairs, once Munson left you, all you could force yourself to do was lie down. With deep breaths, you steadied your heartbeat and let a soft slumber fall over you. Just enough to regain some energy and hopefully for the pain to pass. 

You fell into a dreamless slumber, simply hovering in an abyss between worlds. It was plain and peaceful. Beautiful, to say the least. Away from all the nuisance and filth that was actually around you. None of the noise. 

Just a voice.

It called to you, and your name sounded so lovely coming from his lips. So lovely, in fact, that you awoke with the ghost of a smile still haunting your lips. You wiped it off together with the sleep from your eyes.

The sun still shined, but less brightly so. The shadows grew longer around you as evening came near. As you tried to move, you groaned out, everything feeling stiff and tortured, your side pinching where the skin was trying to heal slowly. The floor was certainly not the place to do so, but fortunately, you would only have to stay there a little longer. Slowly, not wanting to make any erratic moves, you made your way up again. But before you got too far up the steps, already knowing you were not planning on ever returning down there, you grabbed the long sheath of fabric you had used for curtains around your cell. 

The difference between the deck from before you had left it was like day and night. No longer was the crew huddled around in groups and yelling and cheering. Playtime was over. Now, all the deck crew were busy cleaning the floors pulling ropes or… well, you were not entirely sure what needed to be done, but they were doing it, and it seemed to be working smoothly. Certainly, they had enough on their plates to be bothered by you walking by… at least, too busy to stop and stare. You still caught a few pained glances. You weren’t sure if you preferred their pity over their anger, thirst or intimidation. It fell somewhere in between, presumably. 

On your way up to the quarter deck, you caught sight of Harrington, who was busy pulling at one of the larger ropes at the ship. His shirt sleeves were pulled up, so you could see the strain he put on his arms with each move. His veins were mixed with various scars. Everyone around the ship seemed to have them. Pain was not an option on the Hellfire. It was the price.  

Without having a moment to criticise your actions, you called out to him. As he looked up, shocked or somewhat confused, there was a second in which he lost control of the rope. It slipped past his hands and started to unravel. You were ready to run up and help somehow, but he managed to pull it back. The response from the men around him was nothing but unimpressed grunts. 

‘I am so sorry,’ you said as you walked up, bunching up the fabric in your arms as pieces fell to the ground. There was more you wanted to say, but you kept it to yourself. 

Harrington huffed out. He pulled more of the rope, letting it circle around his shoulder. He was not looking at you as he asked: ‘Are you okay?’ 

‘I think so.’ You looked down. Now shredded to pieces, the bottom of your shirt had soaked up most of the blood, and the red stain shone like a bright fire against the pale white. 

‘Good.’ He nodded once and did not say another thing. ‘I should get back—’ he nodded toward whatever he was trying to pull with the rope, despite never having stopped or looked away. 

 ‘Ah, of course, you stumbled, taking steps back. The message was clear. Why in the world had you approached him? Or tried to glance at him as you walked away? The sheets kept falling out of your arms, and it was a hassle to keep it all together. 

‘Do you—’ someone asked, but you quickly shut them up with a decline of whatever offer they were making. 

‘No, thank you!’ there was an attempt at civility. 

There was no fear this time as you walked up the stairs leading to the captain’s—nay, your—quarters. In fact, you were filled with confidence that you had not felt in a long time. One that even a stab, or a cut, in the ribs, could not break apart. With your hands full, you kicked the door open, perhaps a bit harder than anticipated. Across the room, a pair of eyes shot up to look at the commotion, but they disappeared just as quickly under the curtain of dark bangs. 

‘In case you forgot,’ you said, head held high, scrunching the sheet tighter, ‘this is my room now.’ 

‘The bed is all yours, princess.’ Munson refrained from looking up at you again, instead holding a sensible interest in the papers in his hand. But then he glanced up briefly. ‘Planning on redecorating already?’ He got back to his business.

‘Thought I might need it as another cover, in case the night got cold. Or a pillow.’ You moved towards the bed, still unmade from that morning when you left it. Your dress still hung at the bedpost. The captain nodded at your answer but did not resume the conversation any further.

You had not contemplated this and had very little ability to affect it. You might have won the bed chambers, but the captain’s office still needed use… and considering these were in the same space… 

Now, you had dared a lot in your time aboard this ship, including duelling the captain, but seeing how that had turned out, you were not willing to risk such games anymore. And so, you did not try to fight it but instead sat on the bed and stared ahead at the map that hung across from you. The only sound in the cabin was the quill scratching of the captain as he made notes over all his other notes on the topic of more notes. 

You did your best to make yourself comfortable on the bed, moving around, shifting your weight from side to side, and pushing the covers and pillows up to give you more support. It was quite noisy, but it had not been done intentionally. Despite what your amusement might have come from the agitated looks of the captain could say on the matter. 

‘Is this what you’re planning on doing with your day?’ He mumbled, still not looking at you. It was as if he didn’t dare catch your eye any longer, but that did not stop him from talking to you like before. 

‘I am simply trying to make myself comfortable,’ you said, fluffing a pillow, slapping it as hard as possible. Some of the feathers flew out with it. 

‘And must you do that while I am working?’ He put down some of the papers in frustration. 

‘Remind me,’ you leaned back, the fluffed pillow doing very little in favour of your back, ‘what is it exactly that a sea urchin like you does?’

The captain sighed and leaned back on his throne. It seemed smaller than the first time you saw it. Less… menacing. ‘Well, making sure that things are run tight on the ship so we don’t die at sea in a crash of fire and timber, for a start. Then, just on the side, I am trying to find the fastest route to bring the princess home. Sound like a good day’s job?’ He spat your nickname out, and hearing that anger made you feel sicker than ever you had heard it before. So, you didn’t reply to him but turned your head the other way, facing the disorganised shelves of books. With one astronomy volume missing, the rest still looked on the brink of falling apart. It was stomach-churning to look at, and the next two minutes you spent in silence were enough to make your mind up. 

You got up on your feet too fast, sending a rush of pain into your ribs and a dizzying sensation into your brain, but once that faded, you made your way over to the books and started picking them out, one by one. Each fell loudly on the ground. It took four of these deafening drops for Munson to get up and shout: ‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Redecorating,’ you made a quarter of a turn and looked as naively at him as possible. 

‘And you think the books will look better on the ground?’ He was already stepping away from his seat, half behind his desk and ready to leap to the books. 

‘No, but I do think they would look better organised.’ You pulled out a few more books, each falling on top of the previous. 

‘They—’ Munson stormed over to you, mumbling in curses about God and whatnot. ‘They are organised.’ He pulled the book you had just picked up out of your hand. Suddenly, there wasn’t an entire room between you, but only a few inches, and it all became a bit too real as his presence was always so quick to tower over you. ‘Meticulously so, may I add.’ He put the book back where it belonged. You took another look at the books, apprehensive of the statement.

‘Then, please, enlighten me on this system.’ From what you had observed, none of it made sense. Munson contemplated beginning what you could only assume was an excruciatingly long and painstakingly precise explanation of this system but stopped himself mid-first syllable: ‘I do not have time to entertain you. Stay away.’ He backed away. ‘And put those back as you found them...Please.’ It was a miracle he had learned that word. 

‘Fine,’ you spat out, only to then ask much more calmly, ‘can I at least read them?’ You doubted these books had fulfilled any of their purposes in a long time. Munson may indulge in the accessorisation of his bookshelf, but he did not seem to be much of a reader since there was nothing else to do on this blood-boiling ship… 

‘Yes, alright, if it keeps you quiet.’ He waved you away dismissively as he got back to the desk. You watched how he moved, hand rubbing over his jaw as he scratched at the stubble that was apparently becoming a common characteristic of his now. That was combined with the blood red of his knuckles as if he had hit something hard. You wondered where the damage was—clearly not in this room, as you could not see any broken furniture, walls, or shards of anything.

It hurt to bend over, so you manoeuvred to sit down and slowly put the books back in their designated spot. All you could do to ignore the lingering stare you were given from Munson was to try and organise the books in your head. Epic poetry could go on the top shelf, followed by the sciences. Map journals would go below that, and then… then the diary logs. Were those his? Highly unlikely he would leave his own writings out in the open like this and then let you read them. You picked one out at random. 

It was bound in black leather, nothing written on it, but inside, the pages were clearly used and covered in ink, ready to fall out as you opened it. You glanced at the first page. The scribbling was barely unintelligible. For one, the handwriting the original scrivener had put down was tiny and messy, but also because any other free space on the page was used with notes in a different hand. The annotations were made in different ink, though both were black naturally and the letters a bit more manageable. They mainly consisted of deciphering the words that had originally been written, and soon you were to find out that the handwriting was one of many obstacles in understanding the text. 

It was a code.

All of it, and someone had taken a painstaking amount of time to decode all the cryptic messages left. 

‘Who is this Captain James?’ You asked as you walked to the chair before the desk since the bed only felt okay for lying in. Munson did not look up as you made yourself comfortable before him.

‘Old Man Jim, captain of the Gold Tiger,‘ he sighed, only briefly glancing up to catch any sign of recognition on your face, which was lacking, and so he continued. ‘I’m surprised your father had not told you anything about him; he was quite renowned for his… expeditions. Stole from any family he came to contact with, then buried all his treasures somewhere before disappearing—not before writing it all down in here, however.’

‘He wrote down how to find the treasure?’ You raised a brow. 

‘Among other things.’ 

‘Why let me read it then? What if I figure this out?’

‘Two simple reasons, princess,’ he put his quill down and, crossing his arms, looked directly at you. ‘Whoever had decoded his messages in the first place was probably even cleverer than Jim, so it’s all just more riddles for you to figure out and second… it’s been decades since he wrote that journal. The treasure is long gone.’

‘What do you mean it’s gone?’ 

‘As in, taken. No longer there.’ He blinked. ‘Now, if you will excuse me.’ He reached for the apple that stood on top of a pile of parchments, but you were quicker. Munson stared blankly at you as you leaned back in your chair and bit it into it proudly. 

‘Did you, by any chance, hit your head during our match?’ He watched you flip more of the pages in the journal. The notes were, indeed, all written in another code. He briefly explained his question: ‘You seem… different.’

‘No, I suppose you simply rubbed off on me.’ Like a disease. You smiled. 

‘Well, then, I’m glad my company has favoured you in some way.’ He wrote something down with his quill as you glared at him and snapped the momentary silence with a bite of the apple. Then, he got up and pushed his throne back, scraping the wood horribly. ‘I’m sad to admit I can’t spend more time enduring your questions, but I’m required somewhere else.’

‘Coincidentally, I’ve been waiting for you to say that since I walked in.’ 

‘I’m very happy to see you still have your sense of humour.’ He got up. ‘But will you be keeping the shirt?’

‘I don’t have anything else to wear,’ you weren’t planning on putting the dress back on. After spending half a day in these trousers and shirt, you realised the torture of all the other layers. The weight of it all alone. 

‘Hadn’t stopped you before.’ Munson nodded over to the wardrobe.

‘You want me to take your clothes?’ You ate some more of the apple. 

‘I’m sure it’s more preferable than being covered in blood.’ 

‘It is not us troublesome as you’d imagine, actually,’ then you looked up at him again with realisation, ‘unless… are you bothered by it, captain?’

‘I’m alright.’

‘Great. Then that is settled.’ You leaned back in the chair and took another bite of the fruit. The sweetness of it was like a reward for everything you had to put up with. Munson clenched his jaw, but there was little else he could do, so he walked away just as he had announced. You ignored his walk towards the door and only moved once you heard the familiar door closing behind him. Not wanting to waste a moment, you got up, ignoring that stitch in your side again, and moved across the desk. It had been naive to think that when you looked down, you would find the drawer still open, but as luck would have it, it actually was. 

However, not all the luck was on your side because when you pulled the drawer open, you only saw the bottles inside—now counting one less than in the morning, but only bottles nonetheless. The piece of the letter was gone. You searched underneath the glass to ensure, even under the desk and its surroundings. 

Glancing up at the door every few moments and listening to what was happening outside, you carefully poked around at the things on the bureau. No, it was definitely gone. 

Munson must have moved it. You cursed at yourself. Then, did he also know you had seen it? You knew it was wrong to go through his belongings, but you did not feel any guilt. That had left you when you were thrown in that cell all those days ago.

And so, you kept looking, cursing him after going through every book on the shelf and not finding it, then through the nooks of the wardrobe as you picked out a new shirt to wear, throwing the old one on top of the captain’s throne. It was somewhat of a sensitive operation, this search. You tried to be inconspicuous about it and let it spread over the next few days, making sure you did not make too much of a mess as you went through the drawers and items lying around to not cause any suspicion. Most of the days, looking went by in the exact same way. 

You did not know if the captain went in on your deal and slept in the cell or elsewhere. It did not really matter, either, since all that was important was that you got to sleep in a bed. He could sleep with the sharks for all you cared. Either way, he seemed well-rested. When you would awake each morning, the captain was usually already at his desk, your breakfast at the table, and you would eat it as he worked. Trying not to take up too much of the other’s space, only interrupting it with minor remarks here and there that would make you simultaneously laugh and grind your teeth with annoyance. Sometimes, other crewmen would walk in to discuss various matters, ignoring you for the most part. You listened but barely weight in on the conversation, more so out of a lack of interest than anything. 

The contributors in these meetings would vary, depending on the issues to be discussed, but Harrington and Robin would frequently be a part of them, clearly having a larger role in the crew than you had anticipated. Robin would sometimes ask your opinion, much to the shock of the others and yourself.

You looked up from your book, wide-eyed and taken aback, pretending to not know what they were speaking of, as if you had not been listening intently to every word.

‘I would say, go West.’ Mostly you would agree with Robin's suggestion, just to see Munson scowl, think it through once more, and eventually settle on the same answer himself. 

Harrington would not even look your way. You had noticed him going out of his way to stand with his back towards you, eyes always on the captain. You could not even understand why it bothered you so much, seeing you had only spoken once before all this; you felt a gnawing feeling in your gut… or maybe it was only the wound at your ribs. 

In the ongoing days, you checked how it was healing, and it seemed fine. Magically, there was no infection, maybe thanks to the alcohol you had poured over it. Finally, it was barely visible beside a paling bruise around it and the scar— large but still thinner than the ones you saw carried around by others on board. Maybe one day you would even forget it was ever there.

In the hours when it was just you and him, it was mostly quiet. You’d both read, only a desk between you, barely paying attention to the other until one would leave the room. Usually, he would do so first, and you’d take the opportunity to search for that cursed letter.

Other times, you’d grow tired, or your legs would become stiff, and you’d go out onto the deck first, leaving the captain to work on his own. Then afterwards, you’d return to the cabin, and your dinner meal would be waiting for you on the desk, and you’d read until sleep took over. You’d wake up the following day, and everything would start over.

When you were outside, you would mostly keep to yourself, knowing that the last thing the crew would want to deal with is to talk to you, and in your case, you had very little to say to them. Really, the only person you spoke to was Buck—or Robin, as she also went by, you had noticed—whenever she was not in her nest. You’d find a little less crowded spot on the ship and talk about whatever came to mind, or at least that is what you wanted it to sound like, while you tried to find out more about her, the rest of the ship and the captain.

‘So, how long have you been apart of this crew?’ It was a warm afternoon, a typical summer’s day, but the clouds had been appearing more and more recently and had now taken centre stage in the sky. The wind picked up, too, as you sat down with Robin. You wanted your questions to sound off the cuff and not as if you had been noting them down in your mind at night. Unfortunately, Robin was not the easiest to get information out of… well, depending on what kind of information you sought since she tended to talk a lot but not say much with her words. 

‘I honestly don’t remember when it was; it must have been years, time moves weirdly when you’re out on the sea, but I was dragged into it when bloody King Steve—’ 

‘King Steve?’ you asked, not recognising the name. Over the few days, she had been mentioning most of the crew, and you had tried to learn them, but this was a new one. 

‘Oh, Harrington— we call him that because, uhm he was a royal guard.’ 

This piece of information shook you. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, met the king and all that— don’t know which king that was, but apparently, he doesn’t like toasted bread, the king, if you’d believe that. I mean, who does not like toasted bread? That feels like a bigger crime than whatever we have ever done—’ 

‘What have you done?’ You had quickly realised it was easier to try and keep up with what Robin had to say than revert her back to previous topics, and so, despite your longing for more information about Harrington’s life before Hellfire, you asked about the issue at hand.

‘What haven’t we done,’ she chuckled nervously, ‘but I probably shouldn’t be telling you about that. Don’t think cap would like you knowing.’

‘I am not bothered by what the captain likes or does not like.’

‘Yes, but…’ she struggled to find her words. ‘I mean, he told us—’ Robin faded out, her shoulders stiffened as a harsher wind blew. ‘Did that feel normal to you?’

‘I think so. But he told you what?’ You knew Munson ran a tight ship, but you had not thought he would ban his crew from talking to you about things. Did he have such significant secrets to go so far? 

‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything—did I say anything? You should probably ask— no, don’t ask Steve—I mean…’ Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she looked up, but you kept your eyes on her, unphased. 

‘I’ll go ask Harrington, then.’ You said, exasperated, as Robin stared out above you without the intention of coming back down. 

‘No, don’t! It will only–’ she got up after you, already reaching for your arm, but more thunder echoed with menace like a cannon. She looked around frantically, cursing, then turned back to you. ‘Is the captain upstairs?’

‘I—I think so.’ You couldn’t possibly know except that he had been there when you left, and you had not seen him around the deck since, either. Robin tightened her grip on your arm lightly, subconsciously, before letting go and running off, but not before saying: 

‘Just stay here, okay?’ without giving you any moment to respond. It had all happened so quickly that you stayed put for the sake of your own brain trying to catch up on what had happened. Everything that Robin had said, or rather had not said. More clouds appeared, darker than their usual counterparts that had followed your journey. The wind picked up as well. 

‘What happened to Buck?’ A not-so-familiar-anymore voice asked behind you. You turned to see Harrington, Steve, whatever his name was. His shoulder was already almost against yours. How you had not even heard him walk so closely up to you was a wonder. But since he was here already… Robin had told you to not move, so you remained where she left you.

‘She— I’m not sure; she heard thunder and ran off to speak to the captain.’ Exactly then, as if you had cued it, a lighting strike appeared, slashing through the sky like a knife. The thunder followed behind at its own pace. 

‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Harrington comforted, ‘she’s probably notifying him of the weather.’

‘Well, I doubt he missed that,’ you said, breathing in slowly, washing off the skip in your heart that came with the lightning.

‘Not an enjoyed of storms?’ Harrington observed.

‘More when I am not about to sail right into it.’ You had heard too many stories of ships going missing in waves, being washed away by the rain, or burned by the fire that came with lightning. It did not feel inviting. 

‘We’re not,’ Steve reassured you, ‘we will probably turn around, find somewhere to wait it out.’ And you would have believed him, certainly appreciated his efforts in comforting you, except you knew that Hellfire was nowhere near any safe piece of land or calm water. Not to mention, the wind was blowing you in the direction of those lightning strikes. Where else were you to go? But when the thunder boomed over you, it still felt reasonably far away. There was time, so you focused on issues much closer to you. Specifically, shoulder-to-shoulder. 

‘She told me something quite interesting, you know.’ You said, looking out ahead at where the clouds were the darkest. Yes, that must be miles away. 

‘Robin says a lot of interesting things.’ He had already distanced himself by several inches. 

‘Well, it was more what she had not said, or rather, could not say, that was so interesting.’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’ Steve said, clearly nervous. That was visible enough by the way how he started to look around.

‘I got this feeling that there were, or rather, there are, things people are keeping from me, on behalf of the captain.’ 

‘We’re all simply following orders.’ Harrington sighed.

‘So what are you orders then?’ You looked him directly in the eyes. His were brown too, much like the captains, and yet entirely different. Colder, darker, and yet as inviting. 

‘I can’t—’ He took another step back, looking up at the quarter-deck as if he had been caught red-handed stealing. But there was no one there or paying attention to the two of you. Not when the clouds grew larger and darker and the air felt denser. That density only came with rain. ‘Look, he means the best for you.’

‘We both know that is a lie. He doesn’t care about me.’

‘He might not be able to show it—’ More lightning came over you. The thunder followed in mere seconds. It was getting closer and much faster than you had anticipated. Steve looked around at his fellow crew members, who all had the same panic-stricken lines on their faces, and suddenly everything around began to move much faster. ‘Go inside and… and stop whatever you’re doing. Before you get us all into trouble.’ His words didn’t fall heavy onto you. It wasn’t a threat. Because whatever the consequences would be, whatever Munson had promised for going against his orders, was not detrimental. He was not someone that was feared by his people. That much you knew.

Harrington grabbed your shoulder and pushed you towards the stairs of the quarter deck, but you resisted, demanding answers.

‘How do I get us in trouble, what am I doing–’

‘Stop talking, please.’ He was ready to pick you up to get you out of the open air. The first droplets began to fall on your face. They were cool to the touch, a surprisingly nice change from the hot and salty air that came with every day. As the rain fell, you stared deeply into his eyes, hoping it would break a wall in him, but it cracked something in you instead.

‘Did he tell you not to speak to me.’ 

Harrington said nothing, and in many ways, that was worth more than a million words. And while before he tried to get you upstairs, he now reached for you as you ran up to the cabin, but you were already gone. The rain grew harsher; you walked into the room, door slamming up against the wall, with your hair already glued to your face, which was heating up with anger. 

Munson and Robin looked up at you, frazzled. 

‘You,’ you raged, ‘had no rights to do that.’ More thunder clapped. The wind rushed by you through the open door. Robin walked up to the window to see the waves crashing against the back of the ship and the rain that poured down into it like a curtain of steel bullets.

‘Buck, go check on the rest; tell them our plan.’ Munson said, composed, ‘and close the door.’ The wind was picking up at all the loose pieces of paper around him. Robin nodded and swiftly made her way out of the room. For the first time, she said nothing to you as she passed, closing the door. Immediately, with the wind now blocked by the walls, it was painfully quiet. 

‘There is a lot I do not understand about you, much I do not need to understand, nor want to, but I demand you to explain why you banned your crew from speaking to me.’ Your face was damp from the rain, so who could tell if tears had become mixed between them. 

‘I did no such thing,’ he grabbed the loose pieces of paper that had flown away with the wind. He was moving in a rush. 

‘We both know that is not true.’ You both walked, meeting in the middle, nearly chest to chest.

‘I do not have time for this, princess.’

‘Well, make time then.’ You could not let this be over. You wanted answers.

‘Do you not see what is happening out there,’ with the last ounce of humour left in him, he pointed at the window, though through the heavy rainfall, barely anything was visible. 

Munson walked by your side, and when you went to follow him, not wanting to give up so soon, he turned around, his nose almost smashing into yours. ‘Stay here.’ He growled. 

‘No.’ You said back.

‘Stay, or I swear, to all things sacred and not, I will chain you to that bed.’ Between his words, he had found a grip on your wrist, and it tightened with each syllable. You blinked away the flinch of pain, and something about that made him back out. ‘Stay.’ His last word before leaving you was a whisper. It echoed in your mind. 

And so, you stayed, kicking at the door with a scream of frustration. Just when you thought that things weren’t as bad when you thought you had found a place for yourself around, a stone was turned, and the truth was revealed, and how much longer could you keep doing this? 

Tired and not wanting to fall to the ground, you sat on the bed. A thought occurred to you that you could go around and just destroy everything in your sight. Let the storm take the blame for the mess you would cause, whether it eventually would reach this room or not. You wanted to throw all those books off their shelves, tear his clothing to pieces, burn all those papers on his desk and rip everything off the walls— the maps, the tapestry, the notes— 

How long had that been there? 

You must have stared at that wall for hours in the past weeks, so why had you not noticed the dagger in the corner of the wall. It was struck deep into the wall, holding up several layers of paper, but the one most recently added, right on top of the pile… you recognised the scorch marks. 

Why did this letter stay on your mind for so long? Why did it make you search every inch of this room? You couldn’t quite explain it besides maybe seeing it as a kind of purpose. You had given yourself a goal to find it, and now, as you walked closer, you may have done it. 

It had been turned backwards, now only showing an old piece of paper, only adorned by water damage and blackened edges. The knife had been pushed deep into the wood behind it, and you had to pull it a few times before getting it out. Immediately, a stack of paper fell to the ground. You picked them up and put them on the desk but took one back to the bed. There, you searched through the sheet you had taken from the below deck, where you had, hopefully, kept the other note. The one you had found in one of the chests. The one that had kept you sane, giving you a spark of hope for humanity as it reminded you that somewhere in the world, love still existed.

Both papers were damaged, so the fit was imperfect, but the sentences aligned perfectly. 

My dearest, 

The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore. 

I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips. 

Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but they will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you behold such talents. 

To be able to hold you once again, to hear your voice, is the only thing that keeps me strong. I count down the days until I can tell you all these things while you lay in my arms, and I can feel your heartbeat against my palms. But for now, this must make due, sweetest, and I can only hope that when I close my eyes, I will envision you.

The last thing I will say to you is that I still have that dream some nights, the one we spoke of before I left. That we sail away from everything and create our own piece of paradise. 

I hope you do too.

Forever yours, 

—

The letter's ending had been burned off, concealing its signature, but you did not need to read it. You knew precisely what had once stood there, and upon your realisation, you could not believe that it had taken you this long to see what was right in front of you all along. After all, you had stared at the same handwriting for days in this room. On the notes scribbled in a rush, the margins and annotations of the books, but most importantly, the map you fell asleep staring at, the large cross over your home. It was all one hand. 

In shock, you reread the letter, trying to understand what was written there. As you did so, somewhere aboard, fearful yells erupted as the waves grew higher and the wind became angrier, and the rain more painful. Everything felt askew as the ship lost its balance on the water.

Chapter 7

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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[ranticore]

aerated water and extremely stratified standing water on Siren

image: a pelagic phocid trapped under a flow of aerated water, unable to reach the surface to breathe

I had to whip up a picture REALLY quick because this is text heavy and it turned out nice :) not so nice for this guy but hey. I'm going to talk about the deadliest natural phenomenon on Siren.

First things first some basic Earth limnology, if there are no tides and the wind is not blowing, standing water doesn't move. Water which is not mixed by either a current, wind, or a tide, or some other mixing factor, will stratify. It separates into layers. There'll usually be an oxygenated layer on top and an anoxic layer underneath, which can only be inhabited by certain extremophiles adapted to low or no oxygen conditions.

This is the normal way of things on Siren when the tides aren't moving; the ridges of land formed by glaciation that break up the sea are effective wind barriers and mixing is minimal. It doesn't make a difference to phocids and selkies because these people are air-breathing; in fact this stratification is why all attempts at a human with gills never really made it off the drawing board, they would be less suited to live in this water than an air breathing human. The sea never gets that deep on most of the planet's surface.

Vents in the sea floor are usually inactive or minimally active, letting out thin streams of gas (same as what makes up the atmosphere; oxygen, nitrogen, etc). However occasionally, an earthquake or other geological event will cause a vent to force out what lies beneath the crust; aerated water. Aerated water is low-density water. It's used in wastewater treatment plants on Earth right now. And if you fall in, you can't swim. You go straight through it. (These treatment plants have mechanisms to detect anything entering the water, and a mobile floor will rise up to lift you out of the water)

Aerated water on Siren is known by a variety of ominous regional names as it's pretty universally feared by sea people. In the stratified water, the aerated layer sits on top of the normal oxygenated later, creating an interface where the less dense water sits on top of the denser water. In particularly rapid flows of aerated water, it can form thick currents on the surface which do not disperse for days or even weeks at a time, and they can be so large and so sudden that entire villages could be wiped out instantly. You can't swim through aerated water, so you become trapped underneath it. You can't see the interface easily from below, so it's hard to judge its edges, it's hard to see how far it stretches. At best, you might have just taken a breath and you'll have 30 minutes to find the edge of the flow, but what if you swim in the wrong direction? What results, if people are particularly unlucky, is a mass drowning event of all air-breathing creatures in the area.

The flow usually starts in a linear shape and if it encounters open water with no land ridges, it will slowly begin to spread into a roughly round shape, getting thinner and thinner as it widens out until the layer is too thin to pose any risk. The gas discharge into the normal water can be significant and provides a nice boost for the oxygenated layer. Pelagic people have to be alert for this danger and have drilled responses and emergency flotation devices at their villages, just in case (in fact they make their own underwater hot air balloons to quickly rise to the surface using lighter than air flight)

It's not just aquatic people who are at risk. Flying people who might think to land on the sea to rest in the middle of a long journey risk landing on an aerated flow that won't support them, causing them to sink immediately. Ships with the correct displacing hulls and hydrofoil arms that penetrate to the layer of normal water can traverse aerated flows, but rafts and canoes, used by most of the population, are in danger of vanishing below the surface. Most modern whaling vessels are hydrofoils.

The final effect of the flow is incredibly rare but it has happened enough to provide fuel for superstitious rumours about flying phocids and selkies; if you're directly above the vent when the aerated water explodes out, you will be airborne very quickly and also concussed and/or dead from bludgeoning damage.

The first recorded death from aerated water occurred during year 16, when a settler human unwittingly piped a swimming pool's worth of it into a test chamber. the beta phocid test subject, Ambla, was supposed to be doing some basic aquatic locomotion studies. they were taken completely by surprise and died before the pool could be drained to save them (beta phocid lung capacity was not impressive). Ambla was the first recorded death of a genetically modified human (technically the second, but the first failed to be born and died in the deep dream so was never really alive) and initially the lab workers blamed a malfunctioning pressure generator, thinking that it had somehow increased the weight of water on Ambla and pinned them. The other beta phocids were distraught, in retribution began a campaign to sabotage the pressure pumps and other atmospheric systems at the settlement so that nobody else would die in such a manner. It was their first act of rebellion.

#setting: siren #my favouriteee bit of worldbuilding here lol

[anto-pops]

A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious. 

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in. 

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out. 

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like. 

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth. 

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call. 

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard. 

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts. 

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him. 

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not. 

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior. 

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions. 

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?” 

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication. 

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him. 

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.” 

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea. 

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.” 

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second. 

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress. 

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?” 

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer. 

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge. 

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those. 

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back. 

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.” 

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.” 

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.” 

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?” 

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?” 

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?” 

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.” 

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man. 

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet. 

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets. 

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes. 

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you. 

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life. 

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.” 

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now. 

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.” 

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man. 

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you’d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds. 

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too. 

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs. 

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging. 

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh. 

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good. 

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would. 

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets. 

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh. 

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.” 

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.” 

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?” 

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?” 

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.” 

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.” 

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.” 

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic. 

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.” 

Completely idiotic. 

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body. 

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?” 

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.” 

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing. 

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.” 

“…Come again?” 

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.” 

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” 

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.” 

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets. 

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.” 

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze. 

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.” 

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily. 

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request. 

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist. 

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin. 

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it. 

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you. 

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result. 

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.” 

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. 

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end. 

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely. 

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful. 

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed. 

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction. 

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going. 

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step. 

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him. 

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap. 

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.” 

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?” 

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips. 

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?” 

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood. 

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble. 

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again. 

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath. 

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy. 

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer. 

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were. 

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further. 

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank. 

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage. 

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath. 

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer. 

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him. 

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was. 

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement. 

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point. 

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female! reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow oneshot #my writing #this was written entirely so that I could get back into the swing of things because I feel so out of practice #if it's a makes no sense in some places I don't care I'm being cooked inside and out with dual temperatures of 100 degrees #now to look at the fucking wip list and actually do something about it KJHFSKJFHSKGH

[fieldofdaisiies]

Late Again

ship: Eris x Reader type: angst warning(s): none word count: 1,8k words request: I have this idea on my mind for a while. Eris is always busy now that he is a hight lord and he starts to come late in bed and etc. One day they have a big fight about it…

The room is dim, cold, the branches from the looming trees outside hit the windows and the walls of the Forest House due to the wind that has started some time ago. 

You sit on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit bedroom, your gaze fixed on the clock ticking away on the nightstand. The minutes stretch into an eternity as you wait for your mate, Eris, the newly crowned High Lord, to return home. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows against the wall, they stretch out, long and far, and a sense of disappointment hangs in the air.

'Tonight we will have an evening together. We can bathe and read a little, huh? What do you think?'

Well, you thought it was an amazing idea — absolutely, having been craving some time alone with your mate for weeks. But now, as solitude wraps around you like a thick cloak, you are reminded once again that it was just an empty promise. 

You had hoped that tonight would be different, that he would finally be able to leave his work behind and join you. But once again, the High Lord business holds him captive, and your heart cracks with disappointment about him once again not being here. Your shoulders slump, a sigh parting your lips and you gaze at your knees, absently. 

Eris is a good male, a good husband, a good mate, but the High Lord business is just so much, and he often forgets everything outside of this job. You know how important it is for him to be a good High Lord, you support him all the way, also aiding him with advice and time. But still, you are longing for closeness outside of the High Lord business. You just want to fall asleep in his arms once again, want to read him with, bathe with him, take long walks with him, make unhurried love with him. Kiss him. Except for small pecks in the morning you haven't really shared a proper kiss in weeks and this…hurts. You feel like you are somehow losing him to his job, like he is drifting away from you. 

You pick up a book from the nightstand, trying to distract your mind from the ache that lingers in your heart, stretching out by the minute. But your thoughts wander, and your eyes often stray from the pages to the door as you listen for the sound of his footsteps. 

Outside night has fully settled upon the Autumn Court, making the uneasy feeling inside you just grow as you tear your gaze away from the window and look back at your book. 

Memories flood your mind - laughter, joy, and love you have shared with Eris. You hold onto them when tears start to burn in your eyes. 

You tap your fingers against the pages in the book, opening your senses and the bond fully, deciding to let him feel exactly what you are going through right now. If Eris hasn't shut down his side of the bond, which he would never do, he must feel it all, every single emotion coursing through your body. And maybe, right now this is exactly what he needs. 

You place the book back in the shelf, not being able to read a single thing, your mind way too occupied with thoughts about him. 

You wander through the room, sighing as you drag your heavy feet over the cool oak of the floor. You glance at your reflection in the mirror, seeing a female with a heart full of patience and a soul longing for her mate. With a deep breath, blow out the single candle, letting the room fall into a darkness before you climb onto the bed you normally share with Eris. The stress is on normally. In the past weeks, you mostly fell asleep without him and woke when he was already gone. 

Your fingers brush against the cool sheets, and you are reminded of the warmth that is missing. The bed feels vast, empty and cold without him in it. You remember how Eris always used to warm you when you were cold, how his large, warm body wrapped around yours and he kept you warm when you shivered. 

The moon's gentle glow shines through the window and you swallow around the lump in your throat, a single tear sliding down your cheek. You close your eyes, your mind drifting still so loud inside your head. Despite the disappointment, you hold onto the belief that tomorrow will bring a new day, a chance for you both to be together and maybe you can finally talk to him about everything, maybe he will finally listen. 

The door bursts open with a loud pang, slamming against the door. You sit up immediately, shock rushing through your whole body, as your heart seizes and the breath catches in your throat. Still caught in a stupor, you find yourself saying, "Cauldron, Eris, you scared me."

He stands in the doorframe, both irritation and slight shock etched upon his features. "You are alright…" He breathes and it is a statement, not a question and it angers you.

No! No, you are not alright. You are far from it.

"I thought the worst," Eris breathes and leans against the doorframe, visibly exhausted. A thin film of sweat graces his forehead — he must have rushed here. "I thought you were in a dangerous situation, or being attacked, or-" "I wasn't just feeling that well," you mumbles and pull your legs up to your chest. "That is it." "The emotions were so strong," he answers, assessing you. 

The only light in the room comes from the sconces in the corridor, illuminating Eris' frame. He crosses his arms over his chest, exhausting visible in every line of his face. And then he exhales, long. "What is going on?" he asks, his voice cold.

His eyes meet yours, and there's a moment of silence, the unspoken weight of disappointment filling the space between you.

"You're late again. You weren't here again. Even after you promised," you finally say, voice tinged with a mix of sadness and anger.

Eris breathes out a tired sigh, his shoulders slumping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I know, and I'm sorry," he says, his tone carrying an emotion you can't quite place. He is not angry with you, right? That would make absolutely no sense.

"You're always sorry," you retort, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. "But it is all I ever get. A sorry and that is it. I'm tired of waiting up for you night after night. Day after day. Week after week."

A muscle ticks in his jaw as Eris holds your gaze, his eyes glowing with a mixture of guilt and exhaustion. "You think I want this? You think I don't want to be with you?"

"It's not about what you want," you snap, your voice trembling a little. "It is about you not being here. And honestly, if you really wanted it, you would be here." The accusation weighs heavy in the air, thick and strong as it hits your mate like a slap. 

Eris steps inside the room, closer to you, his expression remorseful. "You know how important High Lord business is. I need to change things, need to do things better, be a better High Lord than Beron was."

You shake your head, feeling burn in your eyes. "I understand that, but what about us? What about our relationship? It feels like you're choosing being a High Lord over me, over our time together. And you are an amazing High Lord already."

Eris closes the distance between him and the bed you sit on and reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away. "I'm not choosing being a High Lord over you. It's just... complicated."

"Complicated?" you spit, your tone incredulous. "What is complicated? Spending time with me?" You know you might sound silly and needy, but you don't care. He is your mate, and you have spent hardly any time together in the past month. 

The High Lord of Autumn sighs loudly, his hand dropping to his side. "I'm trying my best for the Autumn Court…it is what the people deserve after all this time with Beron."

"I see that. I see what you do for the people of the Autumn Court," you reply, your anger so strong in your voice. "But I also see that we're drifting apart. I miss you. I miss us. I miss what we once had. I miss out bond."

Eris looks at you, his expression softening and this time you allow him to touch you. His thumb swipes over your upper arm in a soothing motion, his chin lowering a little. "I miss us too. I don't want things to be like this."

"Then what are you going to do about it?" you ask.

He takes a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "I try to find a way to balance things better. I don't want to lose you. I know that the High Lord business is a lot, but I also know that I miss you greatly. Our time together. And that I want to fall asleep with you in my arms in the evening. That I want to go out for walks with you every day. That I want to have time to love you."

Tears bubble out of your eyes and down your cheeks, and you nod. "Thank you. You are my mate, Eris, I can't lose you."

"I know," he whispers, leaning in, his lips brushing your forehead. "I can't lose you either. I love you more than words can describe."

Between you there is still tension, the argument so fresh, but also a glimmer of hope you hold onto. Change is about to come, you know you can take your mate by the word. You know your love is strong enough to overcome this. And you know that you will also be just as supportive with his business as before, but also that he will make the right decision and will really take a step back and be there more for you — for your time together. 

"Let's sleep now, shall we?"

His clothes disappear in an instant and then your head rests on his warm chests, his hounds cuddle up on the lower end of the bed and he kisses the top of your head before you enter a sweet slumber, finally together with your mate. 

~~~~~~~~ tags: @sunshinebingo @tarataraaaa  @brekkershadowsinger @azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa  @cosmic-whispers @mali22 @elsie-bells @imma-too-many-fandoms @kuraikei @ginnyweasley06  @bubnix  @powerfulpantera 

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf

[st4rrth0ughts]

Kavetham/ Haikaveh/ Alhaitham + Kaveh character analysis because yes

a/n: why is their colour christmas themed

This post will contain Kaveh and Al Haitham's past, Haitham's story quest, voicelines spoilers, Sumeru Archon Quest spoilers, shipping mentions!! proceed with caution. Enjoy my 2nd yap session :3

First, Al haitham. No, he is not a cold, apathetic alpha male that will abuse Kaveh (you heard me), he is a man with depth, depth!! He is the Scrbe of the Akademiya, now the Grand Sage, and he not remotely near anything of the fanon interpretations i mentioned above.

He is a man who not so much as struggles with emotions in that sense, but can be extremely blunt when getting his point across, as see throughout the archon quest. Because of this, people around the Akademiya and i think some people outside(?) call him cold, mean, and many negative traits.

Al Haitham was extremely close to his grandmother, and he has no recollection of his mother and father, who died very early in his childhood by a car accident. His grandmother, as far as i know, was one of his closest, perhaps his only family member. And she's dead.

Now, onto the blunt side (i'll get into Kaveh through his paragraph, trust). This blunt side of Al haitham is shown when speaking to Kaveh (i think during his story quest), which may spark the view in game and maybe some fan's interpretations that they hate each other's guts. But Haitham really does care for Kaveh, he just doesn't show it lik how Kaveh shows his care for Haitham, yk? Its a miscommunication issue between these two.

In turn, Laveh is a emotional, and emotionally intelligent man. His kindness is often taken advantage of. An example, Dori and her palace of alcazarzaray, which until now, he still owes debt towards her until now. Kaveh himself is a man who has a heavy and deep story to him. His father had passed away, and he had to watch his mother fall into a deep depression, and eventually, she moved to Fontaine after being offered a job there. So he's alone, great. Kaveh is a man who is emphathetic of the people around him, and ever so thoughtful. But it has its flaws. He's emotionally volatile, and far too considerate of everyone around him. A doormat, essentially.

Now, Haitham and Kaveh's bond. Romantic or platonic, they have history, you cannot deny that. They've known each other since theri schooling days at the Akademiya, and even if everyone who sees them on surface level, think of them as roommates who bicker, hate each other's guts, no. 100% wrong, incorrect buzzer, go cry. They care for each other, in their own little ways, you know? If they did hate each other, you'd think they'd even talk?? Im sure ecen if their roomates, they'd find ways to avoid each other if their enemies.

Kaveh and Haitham's bond, shipping or not, runs much, much deeper than simply schoolmates turned roommates who bicker and argue all day. If Haitham doesn't care for Kaveh, he'd surely kick him out. Dont forget, even though he collects rent from Kaveh, he's willing to let him stay. No enemy does that (yes, im looking at you enemies x y/n stories, no, haitham and kaveh are not that dynamic) for you except in your dreams. Likewise, if Kaveh hates Haitham's guts, he would most likely find his own place by now, even if he is kind and generous with mora, he'd save just to get away. So no, they dont hate each other, enough about 'enemies to lovers' troupe with them.

Now, this may be a lil bit of a stretch, but their voicelines contrast each other perfectly. Kaveh's favourite foods are hot soup and fruits, and Haitham's least favourite food? You guessed it, hot soup because he doesn't like eating that while reading. Even one of their idles match, its even canon, Al Haitham likes to take Kaveh's house keys, making Kaveh wait and have to ask Al Haitham to open the door. The two of them were made with love by hoyo, and whether you ship these two or not, they have a deep and close bond that unless you read their voicelines and stories, and other character's observations of them, its a little bit difficult to understand them both, separately or as a ship.

Conclusion: Al Haithem and Kaveh are complex characters by themselves, and their bond is equally as intricate as them. I may not play genshin as much, but i love them both.

#character study #kavehtham #kavetham #haikaveh #genshin impact #sub genshin #sub kaveh #sub alhaitham #al haitham #al haithem #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham genshin #alhaitham x kaveh #kaveh #genshin kaveh #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh x alhaitham #haitham #ship study #dynamic study