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mooishbeam · 9 months

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『♡』 Losing Game

♡ featuring: ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: simmering feelings boil over as you're confronted by the man you hate the most; tartaglia, your boss. wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, degradation, humiliation, creampie, squirting, light choking, sadism, throat-fucking, cum play, fingering, overstimulation, brat taming, mind break, pet names (doll, baby)

notes: hiii, the positive response from the last one motivated me to get this done just in time for Fontaine. kinda long this time so sorry abt that. ajax my beloved <3 art by sonomi_rap5 on twitter comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Working for the fatui wasn’t easy in the slightest, especially when you aren’t on harbinger status. You were sent on long, grueling tasks only to be met with loose interpretations of gratitude and sometimes silence from the higher-ups, in which most wouldn’t even glance in your direction. Pleasant beginnings became a sour afterthought, and your perception of the fatui changed drastically. Your grievances, however, weren’t helped by your quick-witted snappy attitude and competitiveness; Presumably why you ended up under the division of Tartaglia. You assumed a binding contract from the capricious redhead wouldn’t mean much, but that was quickly proven false.

You'd rather climb every mountain in Snezhnaya than spend a minute talking to that airhead. He was instructed to keep a watchful eye on you during missions despite the competence you demonstrated. It was insulting. Anything he did you could do better. It’d been proven multiple times from the petty challenges you created. How much water you could drink, how long you can stay up. You won every time. How could you not hate him? His feigned ignorance and careless flirtations were enough to drive you mad. “Please, call me Ajax” he’d say, winking. The simpering smile he gave you after every comeback shot daggers in your pride. What made you particularly furious was the incessant drum of your heart whenever he was near you. The warm autumn morning that was his hair. The cool still waves his eyes sent to your core. You couldn’t fall for him, or else he’d have one up on you. You had to be stronger than that. You quelled your stress in a tattered journal gifted years ago.

“Hey, comrade!” His bubbly tone makes knots in your stomach, and you choose to stay silent. You’re hoping this mission will go without a hitch, as long as he doesn’t get in your way. Ajax lets out a teasing whistle.

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” As you’re collecting the items needed for the deal, he rocks back and forth on his heels directly in front of you, absent-mindedly watching.

You whip your head to face him, “You can’t see I’m doing something right now?”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing. But this isn’t entertaining.”

“Unlike you, your majesty, I have no choice but to be perfect. I apologize if that’s not exciting enough for you.” You retort with sarcastic curtsy.

“Haha! You’re always a pleasure to be around, (Y/N). My faithful, kind-hearted companion.” he said with a taunting wink. You're beyond flustered, haphazardly stuffing the remains in your bag and lugging it over your shoulder.

“Let's go.” You say lazily. He follows closely, arms crossed behind his head. “Calling me like a dog, how romantic.”

“If you don’t want to be called like a dog stop acting like one.”

“You could at least give me a treat if I'm gonna be your dog.” He looks at you, making his best impression of puppy-eyes. You bite back a few choice words, and glare at him instead. He isn’t fazed by this and flashes a beguiling smile that makes your ears warm. Glancing at the weight you’re shouldering, he comments, “You sure you don’t need any help with that?”

“No. The last person I need help from is you.”

You and Ajax regroup in an alleyway deep in Fontaine’s bustling city. You are assigned to retrieve a rare gem for one of Pantalone’s elaborate schemes, and you quickly prepare yourself for this interaction. Ajax studies you, leaning against one of the walls.

“Can’t you be a little nicer to your superior? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a lot of trouble half the time. You’re welcome.” You scoff. “I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, I have no problem doing this on my own.”

“I’m sure. Don’t mind me, Ms. Independent.” A sly smirk crawled up his face. “Fucking asshole” you mumble under your breath. “I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat it?”

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” After a few moments of silence, Ajax grips his chest in feigned agony. “Ouch. I’m gutted!”

Just as you're about to leave, he snatches your wrist, now only mere inches away from your face. His hand gently brushes away the strays of hair on your forehead. “There you go, doll. Gotta be perfect for your debut.” A whirlwind of emotions strangles your ability to think clearly, you pull your wrist away and start speed walking, attempting to gather yourself before you get to the jewelry store.

You enter the empty store and are immediately confronted by the jeweler.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” You proclaim your business and appointment under a fake identity, posturing yourself as wealthy. “May I see identification please.” Of course, you say. As you’re looking through your purse you notice something: there’s no identification here. Surely you weren’t that negligent over something so simple. You rummaged through the other compartments, trying to stay calm in front of an increasingly concerned jeweler. But it’s not there. How is this possible. Your nerves are heightened and the anxiety of failing the mission starts to creep in. “I made an appointment with Lottie; she’ll be able to provide reference. I believe I left my passport at home.” The jeweler seems slightly disappointed. “Unfortunately, ma’am, I am not allowed to present any gems without identification.” Your heart beats faster. “Well, sir, I’m very busy and I’m afraid this is my only chance to close on this item. You wouldn’t want to push away a well-paying customer.”

“I have no choice in the matter. If you have no proof of identification, I must ask you to leave.” Should I take it by force? You thought, thinking about the next possible option. As you’re about to handle the rest physically, the door swings open. Ajax comes up to you, placing his arm around your waist.

“My love, were you able to get the gem we were discussing?” You’re annoyed, but you improvise and look at him as if he’s the love of your life. “Not yet, dear.” Suddenly, he places a plush kiss on your lips. You’re stunned and speechless, filled with anger and wanting.

The jeweler interjects. “And are you the husband? Would you happen to have any identification.”

“Yes, sir.” Ajax pulls out a passport and fake birth certificate unbeknownst to you and begins to close the deal. The rest of the meeting you sit speechless.

“Thank you for your patronage.” are the last words you hear as you leave the store, Ajax guiding you with his hand. You’re silent the whole way back to your room.

You turn your bag upside down and begin looking for the mismatched documents. All while Ajax stares at you expectingly. You ignore his presence.

“So... how about a ‘you’re welcome?’”

“For what.”

He lets out a mocking laugh. “For what? I don’t know, maybe saving your ass back there? You froze, and you were unprepared, Ms. Independent.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten it if it wasn’t for the obnoxious bullshit you did this morning.”

“That’s dishonest, I wasn’t even talking!” he pretends to be hurt. “Admit that you need me.”

“Fuck off.”

“No.” His light-hearted inflection vexes you and makes it hard for you to focus as you read through the mountains of pages in your folder.

While your head is down, Ajax comes across the tattered notebook just peeking out from under the bed. Storing the months—no years—of feelings you had regarding the fatui. Regarding him. Some time passes and you finally raise your head, met with the horrifying reveal of him skimming through the journal, mischief coating the deep void in his eyes. You spring up and reach for the book but he’s faster, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head.

“This is really good stuff... really good.” You shout profanities over and over, anything to get his attention away from the book. But he continues to read as if you’re not there. When he’s done reading, he lets you go, and you instantly try to swing at him. Before you can land a hit, he grabs you by the throat and stares into your soul, almost as if he’s trying to swallow your being.

“You’ve been acting like a little fucking brat all over a crush? Not very big girl of you.”

“I know you think you’re beyond charming, but I promise you don’t have that effect on me.”

“Really? Let’s play a game then.” He knew you’d accept just to beat him at anything.

“If you don’t cum by the end of this journal, I’ll apologize for everything. I’ll do whatever you want. But if I win-” he steps closer to you, “You have to do everything I say.”

You almost burst out laughing. Such an easy challenge, how hard could it be?

You're panting, trying your hardest to focus on the words that seemed to melt off the page. Your back lays comfortably against his chest, with his legs keeping yours spread.

“Next page, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your words are lenient and breathy. Your underwear is still on, but Ajax’s fingers are covered in your slick, playing with the erect nub just enough to make you fuzzy. “You look like you’re tapping out.”

“This? This is nothing” You respond meekly, continuing the reading.

“I can’t help but have fe-elings for himph.”

“There’s some nice things about me in here, why aren’t you always like this?” He says, circling and dipping into your gushy folds, smearing the glossy mess all over your vulva. You try so hard to read the letters, squirming from his touch. The sensation pulsing from your clit to your brain made you incoherent; the more you move, the more he moves. The contents of the journal are humiliating, detailing your romantic and sexual attraction towards Ajax, and your attempts to stifle these feelings. He was getting a kick out of seeing your flustered face stammer over his appearance. He plays with the precum glazing his fingers, widening them to watch the trail it left. Only two more pages left.

“I-I-” You couldn’t get through the first sentence on the last page. Your thighs are trembling, and your pussy began to twitch. “Uh, s-shit. Ajax, wai-.” He trails his fingers over your clit spelling his name, then pushes two inside, fighting back an amused grin. “You’re almost done” Teasing in your ear. You bite back the moans threatening to escape; at the very least you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He watches you fall apart, shaking more aggressively before your body gives in and you cum on his fingers.

“Uh oh, that’s unfortunate.” You try your best to catch your breath, but he rides out your orgasm, making you subconsciously grind yourself into his palm. Then you’re struck with the reality of losing. He licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling back from the taste. “So fucking good, does being a bitch make you taste better?” You were too embarrassed from the loss to retort. “You won.”

“I did.” He lifts you off the bed and onto the floor, your legs still recovering. He hikes your shirt up, trailing kisses up your stomach until he gets to your nipples. He flicks and sucks one while kneading the other one, occasionally biting the slightly bruising flesh. “Not gonna moan for me, huh baby?”

“Not in the slightest.” You rasped. He smiles and blows cool air on your tits, sending a rippling feeling down your back. “That’s okay, you’ll give in.”

Ajax unbuttons his pants, and they drop in front of you. Unsheathing his thick throbbing length, drooling with desire. His balls are full and heavy, and as you look up at him his eyes are clouded with lust. The pretty freckles that dotted his arms and chest are much more visible now, and so are his battle scars. He breathed in deep, "take care of this for me, yeah?” You wanted to say no and say fuck this; but there was another side that wanted him desperately, that needed this.

You force your jaw open to accommodate his size and push yourself halfway on his girth, feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. Once you feel like you got it in, you slobber all over his cock, dampening his balls and begin to bob your head. You stroke with one hand and massage his sack with the other, leading to a breathy whimper from him. “Ah fuck, feels good. Suck it slow, slut.” You begin to move faster while cupping his balls, obscene noises leaving your sopping mouth. You have tears running down your sweating face trying to keep up with the vigorous movement of your tongue. You feel him throb a few times, his moans and grunting getting progressively louder.

“Need more” is all he says, putting one of his legs on the bed and grabbing both sides of your head. Before you can register what’s happening. Ajax pushes your head onto his cock until your nose reaches his pubes. He lets out a breathy sigh and starts throat fucking you with an animalistic grip. The gagging and spit noises echo off the walls, along with his continuous whimpering. You wanted to hate him, but your blood was buzzing, and your panties were drenched. “Shut up and take it” followed by broken fuck’s and yes’s. He threw his head back, hair slicked and torso gleaming with sweat, “look at me.” You reluctantly look up, addicted to his passionate expression. “I want you looking at me when I cum.” You grip his thighs, and he twitches a few times before spurting white, thick cum down your throat. He pulls out slightly to drag his semen over your lips and then taps it on your face, holding you in place.

“What are you doing? Clean me up.” he husked. You clean him up without complaint and lick your lips, forced to maintain eye contact with him the entire way.

In one swoop, Ajax picks you up and throws you on the bed, eager to get your underwear off. “You proved your point, stop being an ass" you slurred out. The room was intoxicating, all you could smell and feel was him. He takes your panties off, spreading your pussy to watch the slippery puddle dribble down your thighs. He shoves your panties in your mouth, “Fucking liar, I know you like it. Can’t taste how wet you are?” He aligns himself with your aching hole, keeping your arch steady with you bent over. Shoving his cock in, moaning from the feeling of your body perfectly molding for him. Ajax starts moving at a rapid pace quickly, his big slender hands tightly gripping your ass. The sound of wet sticky skin slapping together and the squelching from your core made you shudder. It was all too much; you have been teetering on an orgasm since you went down on him, and the way his balls thump your clit make you quiver.

“Whiny brat. Just needed to be fucked good to shut up, yeah?” he groaned through his words. Tears were coming down your eyes now, you can’t tell if he’s edging you by accident or on purpose. But right now, you’d do anything. He turns your head to face him, gazing at your tear-stricken face. “Aww, you cryin’ for me?” He stops to kiss and lick your tears, delighted by your tenderness. Taking the panties out your mouth, he brings your body flush with his and continues to pump inside with you looking at him.

“So sweet all of a sudden, where’d that attitude go?” The morals you had for moaning went missing and mewls and soft whimpers began to leave you. “Let it out, baby.” You’re suddenly babbling please’s begging for him to let you have it. “Pathetic, can’t even get off on your own. You need me that bad?” You nod repeatedly, dangerously close to your release. He had a dark look in his eyes and a sinful smirk. “Yeah? Okay, you’ve been so good.” He reaches down and starts to rub your clit ceaselessly, kissing your cheek. Your whimpers become loud shaky moans and he finally lets you have it, shockwaves going through your body as you’re dissolved into pleasure. You pulsate through the explosion, jello-brain and boneless as your cum leaks down his thighs. Just as he pulls out and flips you over. You’re dizzy and drunk off him, legs shaking indefinitely from the intensity. Then he puts it back in. “You can take one more, yeah baby?” Your overstimulated and violent shaking wasn’t enough for him to stop. He wanted you ruined. He keeps going, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwining with each other. He feeds you deep strokes, tip prodding your spot every time and watching as your tits bounce. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. You have no thoughts, only his name rings in your head. You can feel the coil inside you winding up, pleasure beyond the searing pain of your swollen pussy. He looks down at you and smiles.

“Look at me." You can’t hear anything at this point, not even the sound of your own voice. So, it’s a pleasant surprise when your voice carries his name, “Ajax, Ajax”, chanting as if he’s your god. “Fuck. Gonna cum. Let it out. baby” he says grinning. You’re clamping him so tight and throbbing until you ultimately shatter with him, releasing a stream of squirt onto him and the sheets. He bucks into you, letting out thick spurts, panting heavily as he watches you in disarray. You instinctively hold on to his arms, trembling uncontrollably as you try to search for breath and ride it out. You’re completely hysterical and sobbing from the emotion it ripped into you. You were in shambles and Ajax couldn’t help but smile out of happiness for what he caused. “I’m so sorry.” you say repeatedly, eyes shut and lined with tears. He got closer to wrap you in his arms, and you cling to him for stability. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.”

You didn’t want to talk about it when you woke up. You were hoping he’d be gone, and therefore wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation. But there he was, watching you sleep just as the sun rose. His ginger hair danced with golden flecks of light, and he looked at you like you were the only person on Teyvat.

“Creep.”

“Good morning to you too, baby~.”

#childe tartaglia ajax #ajax x reader #genshin ajax #genshin smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #ajax smut

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therhythmafterthesummer · 2 months

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The Wedding Planners (M) ~Changbin

Pairing: Werewolf!Changbin x Werewolf!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy/Supernatural AU | Smut | Fluff | Established Relationship Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: Planning a wedding was way more stressful than Changbin could’ve ever expected. It seemed so easy at first, like all that was needed was to fulfil a checklist and call it a day, but he realised very quickly that there was a reason for the concept of bride and groomzilla to have been created. [This story is an instalment of my WereRoomies series]. Warnings: mentions of arguments (but it's fine. this is all soft) · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this was originally going to be a drabble inspired by an ask that an anon sent. however, i felt like moving a bit of the story forward with it, so i upgraded it :^) hope you enjoy!

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Changbin’s WereRoomies Instalments: Finding Comfort in Autumn · Heat · The Love I Always Dreamt Of · The Wedding Planners.

Smut Warnings: unprotected penetration [piv] · creampie · fingering [F.Rec] · oral [F.Rec] · cum-eating/snowballing

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Planning a wedding was way more stressful than Changbin could’ve ever expected. It seemed so easy at first, like all that was needed was to fulfil a checklist and call it a day, but he realised very quickly that there was a reason for the concept of bride and groomzilla to have been created.

Changbin was a perfectionist to a fault, and so were you. This combination was a recipe for disaster… ‘You want those flowers? Are you serious? Do you even want to get married?’, ‘That tablecloth fabric is atrocious, I can’t believe you’d choose such a thing!’, ‘If there aren’t exactly eight flowers in each table arrangement we can’t even call this a wedding’…

It didn’t matter who said what, both you and Changbin had become absolutely insufferable beings. Not only to each other, but to the people around you as well. Which was why, by the nth month of you both planning your wedding, you’d very smartly agreed to create a proper system, name your must-haves and your absolutely-nots, and to fully hand over all duties to a wedding planner, your bridesmaids, and his groomsmen–who had also agreed it was the best choice for everyone’s sanity.

It’d been the best decision you both could’ve taken, since petty arguments over locations and flowers and tablecloths were most certainly taking a toll in your household’s dynamic.

Finally, after months, Changbin and you had returned to acting like your normal selves again, and he’d figured, what better way to celebrate this regained freedom than to take his beloved fiancé on an escapade to the mountains?

Changbin was a man of luxury, he was well aware of this. When it came to his loved ones, he spared nothing. So renting a cabin in the middle of the woods for five days and four nights was an insignificant expense when it meant he could spend all that time with you. A time where he wasn’t Changbin the engineer, nor the right hand of an Alpha wolf, nor the groom in a wedding that would soon take place…

It was a time solely reserved for him to be himself, for him to be your mate and fiancé, your future husband, and for you to be his future wife.

His wife…

Every time he thought about it, he felt giddy, he just had to admit it.

It was just a title, of course. He didn’t love you any less when you were ‘just’ his girlfriend, nor would he love you any differently when you’d legally become his wife, but he still liked the way it sounded. Not only that, but you liked the way it sounded.

Every time he called you his wife, he could just hear the way your heart rate spiked, he could see the big smile on your face…

But, oh, boy… When you called him your husband?

Changbin always felt like he was the luckiest man in the world, like he was ready to run a marathon or become the next Ninja Warrior.

You were mates, yes. You had mated long ago, and although he was very satisfied with this, the idea of being your husband did things to him. Maybe it was the fact that he spent a lot of his time surrounded by humans, but the prospect of being legally tied to you in their world made his heart swell in his chest.

When you’d arrived earlier than expected to the main lodge three days ago, you’d proudly told the receptionist that ‘My husband has made a reservation for one of your cabins. Do you know if it’s already available?’ he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, nor did he want to.

These three days had been absolutely amazing. You’d had the opportunity to go on runs through the woods together, to stuff yourselves full of delicious food, to have couple massages, and to huddle yourselves inside this cosy cabin to escape the outside world.

The fireplace radiated warmth, which was more than appreciated during these cold months. The gentle crackling produced by it was an immensely relaxing background noise. The fairy lights and many candles distributed throughout the cabin covered the inside of your little safe haven with the gentlest light, and, truly, this was probably the most relaxed Changbin had felt in months.

Especially now, when he could feel your nails digging on his forearms, when your delighted moans joined the sounds of your bodies colliding and the wood burning in the fireplace.

“B–Binnie, b–bunny, b–baby–”

Oh, you were already dropping the Three Bs on him, and that only made him want to rail you more.

Yes, Changbin was usually the more submissive one in the bedroom, that was no secret to either of you, but sometimes, the alpha in him just wanted to satisfy you, just like the omega in you wanted to be satisfied…

Was there a better way to do that than to have you in a mating press right there by the fireplace?

There just wasn’t.

“Hm?” He grasped at the soft faux-fur rug under you, trying to ground himself. If he focused too much on the vice-grip of your cunt, or the blissed-out expression on your face, he’d just come.

He was so fucking close… He’d been for a while now, but he was enjoying himself too much, he just needed to prolong this for as long as possible. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have you like this again later, on the contrary, he was sure he was going to, but he was horny and an idiot and you felt so good and the sound of the dainty ‘C’ charm on your anklet tinkling next to his ear was just so enticing…

“You’re so–Fuck…–you’re so good, b–baby…” Even if you were looking at him, your eyes had lost focus a long time ago. If he looked hard enough, he could’ve sworn your blown pupils had taken the shape of two cute little hearts. “I love you, love you…”

You repeated yourself over and over again, and Changbin couldn’t help but swear under his breath. He took your calves off of his shoulders and leaned into you so he could hold you close. With an arm under your neck and his forearm planted on the floor for stability, he resumed his steady pace. “Lo–love you, too… Love you, pup…”

Your quiet whimpers so close to his ear were bringing him to the edge at an alarming rate, and he was incapable of keeping his own moans in check with how aggressively his insides were burning up.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so, so, so fucking close…” He mumbled against your hair, speeding the movement of his hips and increasing the strength of his thrusts.

“Yes! Please, please come… Want–Binnie, I want your puppies so badly, please–!”

His brain fogged up immediately, and he started to feel dizzy. “Yeah? My wife wants to be full of my pups?”

“Fuck, yes!” You dug your nails on his buttocks, and the sting alone almost made him blow. “Please, please, my– my alpha, my husband–”

“Oh, shit–!”

An animalistic growl resonated throughout the small cabin when he came. The sound quickly turned into desperate moans as he kept fucking bucket-loads of his cum into your hole. He was too far gone, too overcome with pleasure and warmth.

He didn’t stop moving until your slick walls had milked every single drop he had to offer, and even then, he kept pumping himself into you, just to make sure…

Well, it wasn’t like you’d be getting pregnant, since your birth control had been very efficiently doing its job for months and months now, but his instincts didn’t care about that. All his inner wolf cared about was to try his best for it to stick.

It wasn’t until the mild sting of overstimulation started to settle in that he pulled his cock out, but swiftly replaced it with two of his fingers before he was moving down your body and attaching his lips to your puffy clit.

Oh, how heavenly it felt when he had you in his mouth… When you grasped at his hair and started gasping because of his tongue. His ears were still ringing, and he was still dizzy, but he needed to make you come, too. He was dying to feel you clamp around his fingers and hear you moan his name over and over again.

“O–oh, Changbin, fuck–!”

More.

He needed more.

Before he knew it, he was sucking and licking your clit like a starved man, fucking you with his fingers to stimulate that area within your walls that had your thighs trembling around his head and your grip on his hair tightening.

And, of course, you gave him more. Every moan, every sigh, every whimper was either a pet name, or a version of his name, or just a sound of pure pleasure and he was on absolute cloud nine.

“Bun–bunny, I’m coming–”

Changbin could barely perceive the sounds coming out of his throat. He’d been groaning and moaning against your folds since he’d settled camp here. But when your walls started fluttering deliciously around his fingers, you managed to pull another growl out of him, and your whole body just trembled in response.

He stopped lapping at your clit when you’d patted his head with a whine. Pulling out his fingers, he revelled in the creamy mix of your climaxes coating his digits. His eyes found yours before he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you bit on your bottom lip as a smile started to spread across your face. Changbin loved to see that twinkle in your eye, to hear your body’s responses to him and his actions. They always made him feel proud of himself, and like you were the only person in this world for him.

He supposed you were.

Never had he romantically loved someone this much, and at this point, he didn’t want to love anyone else romantically like this ever again. For him, it was just you. Every day, he was reminded that he was ready to spend the rest of his life with you.

As soon as he noticed his cum starting to spill out of your cunt, he immediately started cleaning you up with his tongue. He made sure to collect as much as he could in his mouth before he pressed a final, tender kiss to your clit and made his way up your body again.

With a satisfied sigh and your fingers buried in his hair, you pulled him in, sealing your mouths in a sloppy, loving kiss that had his brain almost disintegrating in his skull.

Changbin let his weight fall on you, and you simply wrapped your limbs around his body and squeezed him tight.

As the kiss slowed down and turned to tender pecks, Changbin hummed, pleased. Not only because of the body-rocking orgasm he’d just had, but because he was just so incredibly in love with you.

When he pulled away and his eyes found yours, he couldn’t help but appreciate how the reflection of the fairy lights sparkled in your eyes. His cheeks heated up at the sight, and a small giggle escaped his mouth before he was pressing another brief kiss on your lips.

“Y’know”, you mumbled, burying your fingers in his hair when he shuffled a bit so he could lay his head on your chest. “Coming here was an excellent idea”.

“Mmm… Of course. It was my idea”, Changbin laughed when you pulled on his hair at his comment, and pressed a kiss to your chest right after.

“Duh, what would we do without your huge brain, Bin”.

He pulled himself away from your chest and planted both hands next to your head to look down at you. “I don’t appreciate the hints of sarcasm in that sentence, puppy”.

He was, of course, joking. The splitting smile on his face was a great indicator of that. The comment made you chuckle.

“Me? Being sarcastic about these things? Never”, a smile tugged at your lips, and you brought your hands to hold his waist. “But seriously, though. I couldn’t even recognise myself the last few months… It’s been awful”.

“It really has been. I couldn’t recognise myself, either. I’m really happy we can be here together. It’s like our pre-honeymoon!”

“Oh, my God, the honeymoon…” You sighed dreamily, squeezing his sides. “We’re really gonna be gone for two whole weeks…”

“Mm. Two whole weeks of you, me, and all those tourist traps we’re gonna visit”.

“All those tourist traps we’re gonna visit as husband and wife”, you giggled, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I can’t wait”.

“Me neither”, Changbin didn’t think he could smile any wider. The thought genuinely made him so, so happy, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain all these feelings within himself for long. “Anyway, how d’you feel about a warm bath?”

“That is another amazing idea for sure”, you chuckled, hanging onto Changbin with all of your limbs so he could stand up from the floor with you wrapped around him.

That warm bath was absolutely lovely. The way you caressed his hair and lovingly left trails of kisses on his face, arms, and shoulders had his heart swelling with adoration. Plus, getting to pamper you as well always left his inner wolf with a metaphorical wagging tail, so he stepped out of that bathroom feeling light, like he was walking on clouds.

With your bodies dry and fluffy robes over your frames, Changbin held onto you from behind as you both waddled back to the fireplace so you both could lay down again.

He tried his best to choose a clean spot before he dropped a cushion on the floor for him to lay his head on, and pulled you into his arms. On the very first night here, you’d both mutually decided that you didn’t care about paying the extra cleaning fees for this rug…

Changbin exhaled a satisfied sigh once you had buried your face in his neck and hugged him close.

You inhaled deeply, almost dreamily, and the tender kiss you left on his pulse point had a small smile appearing on his face.

“I really do love your scent…” You mumbled, letting your lips graze against his skin with every word. “I never thought I’d find so much comfort in an alpha’s scent. But yours is just so… ugh, I just looove it”.

Changbin could feel heat creep on his face, making him blush, and since words failed him, he just pressed a loud kiss on your forehead to show some appreciation for your words.

“I was thinking…” You mumbled after a while, cuddling closer to his side and draping a leg over his torso.

“Mm?”

“Y’know… About puppies…”

Changbin’s ears perked up, and his heart did a flip in his chest. “…Yeah?”

“D’you think Chris would have any problems if another couple in the pack had pups first?” You mumbled, tracing shapes with your index finger on his clothed chest.

What an interesting question… Would Chris have any problems with that?

He was The Alpha of their pack, their leader, and tradition dictated that the alpha must be the first one to reproduce and bring pups to the pack. However… Chris wasn’t particularly traditional.

Chris had never really enforced anything on their packmates other than a few barely existing rules here and there, not only that but he had a human mate–yes, yes, he hadn’t claimed his girlfriend yet, but there was no doubt in Changbin’s mind that his dear best friend was going to do it at some point anyway. As far as Changbin had seen, having a human mate meant that their relationship would definitely go at a much slower pace than it’d go between werewolves.

Knowing Chris, and knowing his girlfriend, he was sure there wouldn’t be pups from them coming anytime soon.

“Chris… I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind”, Changbin said after a while, caressing your hair. “I could be mistaken… To be honest, I’m not, but I could be, so it’s something you could always ask him if you’re curious… Why?”

You hummed in response, and remained silent for a bit. Your hand slipped into his robe, and the shapes you’d been tracing over the fluffy fabric were now leaving a fiery trace on the skin of his chest, right over his heart.

Puppies… Changbin had thought about puppies before. Years ago, he would’ve never imagined himself as a father. He was a wreck, he didn’t have the emotional maturity to care for a child in the way they needed. Back then, that was… Nowadays, though…

“Would you… would you like to try for puppies?”

Your voice startled him. It went through his eardrum and spread all over his body, reaching his heart to accelerate its pumping. Puppies… Your puppies…

Changbin pulled himself away from you a bit, enough so he could prop himself on his elbow and look you in the eyes. You were looking straight at him, but he could tell you were nervous about what you were asking, and he realised then that he’d been quiet for a bit too long.

“Yes”.

“Yes?” The shock in your voice almost made him laugh. Were you doubting it?

“Of fucking course, puppy. Have our own litter?” He was almost shaking with excitement at the thought. “It’s like a dream. Our puppies, you and I…”.

A bright smile made its way onto your face, and in no time, you had straddled his waist and started peppering kisses on his cheeks, making him giggle.

“Our puppies, you and I…” You repeated, just before you planted a loud, wet kiss on his lips. “It really does sound like a dream”.

Well, nowadays, Changbin believed he could be a parent, especially if it involved you.

It seemed like that honeymoon was not only gonna be spent as a husband and wife visiting tourist traps, but also mating like dogs until that dream became a reality. It was very clear that you were both absolutely looking forward to it.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

General Masterlist | Ko-Fi Changbin’s WereRoomies Instalments: Finding Comfort in Autumn · Heat · The Love I Always Dreamt Of · The Wedding Planners.

#neverendingdreams #stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids werewolf au #changbin fluff #changbin smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #changbin fanfiction #changbin fic #changbin x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf changbin #✨🌙✏#catch me deleting this when it doesn't show up in the tags...

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emilybeemartin · 6 months

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Inktober Days 19-21

Day 19: "Plump"

Fat! Bear! Week! It’s perhaps the most beloved modern tradition to come out of a national park, when enthusiasts around the globe tune in to the Katmai webcams to see the results of a summer of brown bears gorging on salmon. We root them on, following their progress as they go from springtime skin and bones to mega-autumn chonk in just a few months. Watching these immense bears prowling Brooks Falls for leaping fish is so captivating that at some parks, during slow moments in the visitor centers, we would switch on the webcam feeds at the information desk. Rangers come from all different backgrounds, with all different affiliations and alma maters, but few things bring us all together like cheering on a wild bear eating wild salmon.

Day 20: "Frost"

One of the privileges of working in northern mountain parks is the early coming of cool weather. Born and raised in South Carolina, few things make me feel more alive than a brush of autumn in August. I remember that first welcome moment in Glacier, when I climbed out of the government truck at Logan Pass for my shift in the high country. There was frost on the mountain slopes and a snap in the air. My breath fogged in front of my face, and the wind whipped through my park green sweater and jacket. Back at home, it was ninety-five degrees and humid, but on that morning, I swapped my flat hat for my fleece cap and spent the day bundled up on the Highline Trail, noting the huckleberries taking on their first tinge of crimson. I remember coming back to the tiny ranger station to find the woodburning stove crackling away, and I thought this must be what paradise was like.

Day 21: "Chains"

My first thought for this prompt was a chain of islands, but as I brushed up on Channel Islands, I realized it fits even better thanks to the chain of life that stretches from sea to land to air. Underwater terrain creates huge upwellings of nutrients that form the base of a food chain in the kelp forests, where vivid orange garibaldi and massive seabass swim among the waving fronds. Seals and sea lions spin and dive before hauling out onto beaches in noisy rookeries. Above them on the headlands, rare island foxes—only found on six of these islands and nowhere else in the world—scamper after mice and insects, occasionally coming to the shoreline for crabs. And in the skies, bald eagles, storm-petrels, and cormorants swoop down to pluck fish and other meals from the sea. And so life goes around and around on this scrappy cluster of islands.

Like these? Want extra illustrations and national park travel tips straight from the ranger's mouth? You can preorder Thirty-One Days of Inktober: The Artbook! It's a limited run--- snag yours now before they're gone!

Incidentally, I'm trying to keep international shipping down by eating a bit of the cost myself, so I hope folks outside the US don't feel left out!

#31 days of national parks #national parks #katmai #glacier #channel islands

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freisende · 21 days

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Thousand Autumns English Volume Covers 1-5 Are Now Complete!

Thousand Autumns (Qian Qiu) have officially been taken and published by Seven Seas Publishing. Take a look, the volumes are all now complete. Special edition of the last volume (5th volume) are also available with limited supplies to pre-order.

They're so beautiful and I can't wait to stuff them all up in my bookshelves🥺❤

The arts were done so beautifully by Mimo.

The drastic change in the fifth volume compared starting from the beginning of the first volume is 😔💖

They're really closing the final curtain with the season autumn💛💛

Spring-Summer-Autumn-Winter; In the end, who can still remain eternal?

Look at the symbols on the side of the books! <3

Vol. 1: Shen Qiao's Bamboo pole

Vol. 2: Scroll (Zhuyang Ce)

Vol. 3: Ah-Qiao Tangren

Vol. 4: Shan He Tong Bei Sword

Vol. 5: Banbu Peak (Xuandu Mountain)

It's all related to our beloved protagonist Shen Qiao.

Please read Qianqiu if you haven't! Let's support the authors too by buying the official books if you can.

#千秋 #qianqiu #thousand autumns #yan wushi #shen qiao #yanshen #meng xi shi #text post #english translation #chinese novel #book cover #cover #digital art

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fairy-verse · 5 months

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Who are all the first borns mates?

Cross, the hybrid of summer and winter, is the beloved mate of Dream, the firstborn fairy of summer.

Killer, the hybrid of autumn and spring, is the charming mate of Nightmare, the firstborn fairy of autumn.

Error, the firstborn fairy of winter, has yet to find a mate, but either Fresh, Swap, or Garnet could be potential mates for him. I have yet to decide whether he’ll have just one, or two, or perhaps three… or perhaps there is someone else for him. Time will tell soon enough.

Ink, the firstborn fairy of spring, may appear as someone without the need for a mate. He’s content with the annual firstborn meetings, and he has the company of his spring fairies to keep him happy. Yet… deep within his soul there is a softness for the one who hides atop his mountain nest.

These are my personal choices for the firstborn, but you all are allowed to pair them up with whomever you choose. If you fancy the firstborn with other undertale-related characters, or perhaps with an OC of yours, then you’re free to choose that path.

You may also ask about, say, what Nightmare and Cross would have been like as mates. Nothing is impossible!

#aufairyverse #utmv #ask for the fairy #fairy!error #fairy!nightmare #fairy!dream #fairy!ink #error sans #nightmare sans #dream sans #ink sans #cheeky of me to use another favourite ship of mine as an example #teehee

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we-were-beautiful · 1 year

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Girl Dad! Eris headcannons

So I was scrolling through the tags some of yall put on the reblogs for Girl Dad! Cassian and I saw one for Girl Dad! Eris, and I couldn’t help myself. Now this is not an exhaustive list but there are some aspects that I want to explore for down the road in my The Fox and The Hounds series so Imma keep those to myself

Now Before I go into my thoughts and feels on the subject; 10/10 you all should go check out @redbleedingrose they have a phenomenal Girl Dad! Eris series going on, and are over all just an excellent writer in general. but alas I am terrible at making new friends so I have not reached out to message them about how much I love their works

Oh Yeah Eris is the girl dad to end all girl dads. Like all said and done he and his mate have around 9 girls.

I don’t think Eris ever wanted a son just given his upbringing with his brothers. I feel like with every girl his mate Eris always breaths a small sigh of relief when the healers announce that it is a girl.

These girls are also beloved by the people of the Autumn Court. Where Eris and his brothers had a reputation for cruelty under Beron’s rule, these girls have been raised to be kind and polite. With the older ones the Fae of the court were a little wary but by the time the last few came around they are seen as precious gems of the court.

This is not to say that they are weak. They are kind but they also have the fire of the Autumn court running through their veins and are fiercely protective of their family. They have been trained both by Eris and his surviving younger brothers.

Now Eris and his mate don’t have any children until after the events under the mountain. If Eris had it his way they wouldn’t have had any children until his father had been dealt with. But life finds a way and The mated pair welcomes their first babe within a year after they return to the Autumn court.

The second babe is a catalyst for kickstarting Beron’s demise. One his mate told him she was expecting the second babe Eris starts with his plans and before their second baby girl makes her grand entrance to the world Eris is the new high lord.

I think that once Beron is gone that the remaining Vanserra brothers stop trying to actively kill one another now that the main antagonizer isn’t pitting them against one another. There is a lot of healing to be done between the remaining 5 Vanserra boys, but their nieces bring them all together. The girls try to not have favorites but the youngest has openly declared that Lucien is her favorite.

The smoke hounds are very protective of the babes it is not unusual to see two or three of them watching the babes at any given time. Anyone that is not familiar to them or the nanny is not allowed near their Masters. Typically new staff members are warned about this but every now and then some young stupid sentry gets what the hounds deem to be too close to the babes and they end up on the business end of hounds that have been used to hunt people in the past.

There is an incident shortly after the birth of their first daughter. Someone thought it would be a smart idea to kidnap the newborn of the Heir of Autumn. (I plan on going into this further in my Fox and the Hounds series so I’m not going to go too much farther into this) It did not end well for the kidnapper, Eris has a reputation of being sadistic like Beron and not all of it is rumor.

Eris is not the disciplinarian in the household, and it's not that he is a pushover that lets his children walk all over him. No, he has a fear that he is going to turn into Beron who was very abusive to Eris and his brothers growing up.

Eris does have anxiety over this to the point that he doesn’t trust himself to discipline any children that he and his mate have. As parents they are strict but not suffocatingly so, they have reasonable standards set for their girls who are generally known as the most well behaved bunch of the second generation.

It is not uncommon to see Eris cradling one of his babes during a meeting once he becomes Highlord. He has also been known to completely stop meeting if one of his girls comes into the room. This male will stop whatever he is doing when one of his little ladies wants his attention. He wants them to know that they are more important to him than work so that they don’t grow up thinking that their father doesn't care about them.

Now the girls do grow up rather tomboyish, yes they like the silk and jewels of court like most girls do but they also enjoy running through the woods, joining Eris on hunts with the hounds. Playing knights in the forest, building fortresses and houses out of branches and leaves, these girls live for the outdoors. Sometimes it seems like the girls spend more time running around in the woods rather than in the forest house. Eris enjoys showing them the things he would have loved to do with his brothers when they were young but was unable to thanks Beron’s a+ parenting methods.

The family does have a cabin tucked away deep in the forest of the Autumn court. While it is a little tight with the amount of people and dogs when everyone is there, it is where some of Eris' fondest memories have been made. It is the families private getaway from the court and they spend as much time as possible there.

On the topic of hounds all of the girls love their parents many hounds; each bonding to one or two hounds as they grow. Eris does give his babes a puppy once they reach an age where they can be responsible to take care of it. All said and done the Vanserra household has just shy of 30 dogs.

All in all Eris is such a good dad to all his children and along this journey of parenting there is a lot of healing within both the Autumn court and the Vanserra family

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #high lord eris #autumn court #Eris is an amazing dad #acotar #acotar x reader #acomaf #acowar #acosf #jess talks

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megyulmi · 29 days

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“Autumnal sunset reddens the leaves As I return to my homeland in a dream. The memory of home feels distant, A man and a mountain top out of reach, But the sky is still an azure of the beloved’s eyes And reminds me that home is where the lover’s heart is.”

Suguru’s post-break up yearning from the upcoming chapter of turning pages (the narrow road to the deep north)

#it makes sense in the context i promise. it is no curses au but i was thinking of the yearning in these images.#ha. how i love writing yearning.#this chapter is turning out not as bad as i worried it would be.#t: turning pages (the narrow road to the deep north)#geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #satosugu #sugusato #suguru x satoru #jjk suguru #jjk satoru #stsg

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blingblong55 · 7 months

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Autumn Leaves- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

GN!Reader, angst, character death, platonic!relationship

Another day another life Passes by just like mine It's not complicated

It hasn't been the best year for the task force. Losing someone they knew for years, losing themselves in the process. Missing someone they wish they shared one last word with. Questions cloud their minds, heart aches make this autumn worse than the last. Maybe if their friend stayed longer, maybe if their comrade was not a soldier, maybe, just maybe. Not being there, seeing them become the husbands and fathers they all joked about, the last words they gave the other when they thought they'd die back in those missions, what fools were they to believe their friend would be the first one out.

Who would be there to see their kids grow? Who would be the one to keep them in shape if not their friend. Why must this person leave so soon? The tea wasn't even out yet. Stay a little longer, for the sake of our hearts.

The last mission, what a dick move was it to leave their battle buddy out there alone. If all had gone better, the one person who saw them drink and dance would see them do it once more. The designated driver, the one who looked after them, why couldn't they stay?

"You think I'll make it past 40?"

"Not a chance."

You and him laugh and he nods. "It'd be nice if we both did," you add. He nods and looks back at the smoky night sky, his cigarette being the only reason you can see the scar from his childhood. Your gaze is now on the stars. You always looked at the little detail of the others in the team. The scar Gaz got from a shit driving by the mountains, Soap and the scar on his eyebrow, are the only reason why you took him so seriously. Price and the scar on his shoulder, the one he got when he saved you from the gunfight.

But when you turn back to look at him, you only see him walk away. "Leaving so soon, sir?" you ask and he nods, "Best if I get some beauty sleep." You chuckle, "Better sleep for a century then."

"Oi, I'm not so bad lookin' kid," he smirks, loving the banter between you two.

"Look in a mirror, sir." you chuckle and he flips you off.

Another mind Another soul Another body to grow old It's not complicated

Maybe if one fought for the other that night, the one who is now gone would have at least left leaving some memories for the new recruits. A lie that still keeps four people awake at night. Would the dead come back like the movies say? Would their beloved friend be back if some potion or if Victor Frankenstein were to be real, could their friend be back? Sew them limb for limb, do the most to just hear them say a proper goodbye. Why must this world be cruel to those who try to keep every civilian safe by sacrificing their own sanity? Why must their comrade be gone so soon?

Do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you? Float down Like autumn leaves Hush now

"When I was a kid, me and my brother Tommy had those glow-in-the-dark stars up on the ceiling. Before my father would barge in the room to scare me, me and him actually bonded." He says as he sits next to you on the cold field. "You think maybe he is somewhere out there?" You look back to the sky. "Yeah, I'm sure he is, always told me he'd be around to bother me." from his lips a chuckle escaped.

If I had stayed, maybe we'd still have these conversations and not me talking to your graves.

"Soap, you snipe, Gaz get those communications going, Ghost, you and R/N get on that field and show them what we are known for." Price orders and then prepares himself for the old field.

Is it that it's over or do birds still sing for you? Float down Like autumn leaves Hush now

----

"Today, we are gathered to celebrate and mourn the life of a friend, comrade and the best goddamn soldier I had the privilege to work with." Price wipes his tears as he looks at the room full of people who know mourn with him.

"To me, Simon Riley was not just another soldier, he was a brother, or as I called him, my son. I met him days after the tragedy of his family and that day I swore I would protect this kid from the shit of the world and I stand here today saying I failed at the one promise I made as his then sergeant." His lips quiver. Soap and Gaz have an arm around you, keeping you or at least trying their best to calm you down.

The day you lost him, is still a blur. But what he said to you, will forever live with you. "R/N, I'm not a strong soldier, I fear so much and right now I fear I'm dying alone." his voice was weak as you heard over the radio. The run to him, the mud and cuts you had to just get to him, also live with you.

"Somewhere, in some place in Manchester, the soul of the greatest man I will ever know now roams the streets," Price pauses to gain composure. His voice breaks every now and then, "Somewhere he is teaching his nephew how to play football, his mother makes tea, to..." he stops again and wipes more tears away, "his mother makes tea, to celebrate the welcome his son. His brother sits on the green grass, watching his older brother bond with his nephew. And somewhere between the lines, he knows peace."

You get up and walk away, needing fresh air. "Simon was known as Ghost, and it pains me to say, that Ghost he will remain. But one thing changed, today, he doesn't reunite with his father, no but today I lost my...my son." Price looks at the coffin. "The men and women he worked with, they know he left a piece of him in each one of us. After 32 years of life, he can finally rest because he is the only one who truly deserves rest." His voice cracks again. "So, as we end this celebration of the man he was, I ask of you to think of him for who Simon was not for who Ghost is."

Ooh how I miss you My symphony played the song that carried you out Ooh how I miss you And I, I miss you and I wish you'd stay

You walked alongside the broken-down pavement, going hysterical. You swear you hear him call for you when the wind blows but all you have now is the dog tags of the man you called family. Hours before you had to pretend you were fine, you screamed and sobbed. "My fault, my fucking fault." you cried on your knees. The home he once brought you and the team to is now empty and haunting you with his smell. The walls with little to no decorations, the coffee stain on the counter, the empty office chair. The home he was Simon in, was now occupied by dust and old memories.

They say life is cruel to those who are nice and today, that saying became a fact in your life. Soap no longer had a battle buddy, Gaz had no mentor, Price had no older son, and R/N had no lifelong friend to turn to when shit hit the fan. And as you watched his coffin get lowered, you once more swore he called for you. One more fear was added when you watched Soap and Gaz hug each other. That fear is now losing them too. Price walked away from that moment, and you feared you would lose him too. No one can fear losing you because with Ghost now gone, you are now lost.

Touch down Like a seven four seven Or stay out and we'll live forever now

Tags: @liyanahelena @warenai @ghostslittlegf (tagged bc I know you live and cry for angst<3

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thepoisonedchalice · 7 months

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in the woods somewhere

Summary: Had some thots thoughts.. about Mountain chopping wood at the abbey, so here’s a little ficlet of him be appreciated for it Pairing: Mountain x Swiss (swissalps my beloved <3) Words: 474 Tags: mostly flirty fluff, but slightly suggestive at the end A/N: this is the first actual fic i’m sharing here.. and it’s about Mountain chopping wood? Of course it is… why is this so typical of me

The wood cracks loudly as the maul comes crashing down. Mountain’s shirt has long since been removed, the afternoon sun beating down on him, tanned and freckled skin all sweaty. He raises the axe again, his broad shoulders accentuating his small waist, canvas work pants slung low on his hips. If you looked close enough you could see the sheen of sweat on his torso and the light trail of hair dipping into the waist band. His calloused hands from years of hard work in the gardens and drumming grip the axe handle like it weighs nothing. His hair is pulled back in a bun between his curved horns, a few tendrils fallen out sticking to his sweaty brow. He knows full well there are some siblings ogling him from the gazebo in the distance pretending to read and enjoying the warm autumn afternoon. They’re definitely enjoying something. He smirks to himself as he puts the axe down, beginning to collect the split logs from the ground to pile them up in the shed. As he walks over to the cords of wood, muscles tensing in his arms and back as he carries the piles of logs he hears a loud wolf whistle from behind him.

“Look at that tall glass of water!” Swiss shouts as he walks down the gravel path towards the wood shed, face splitting into a huge grin.

Mountain stacks the pile of wood before turning around, rolling his eyes, smirking slightly. Swiss saddles up to him, hooking a finger in his belt loop, looking him up and down.

“See something you like?” Mountain grins down at him.

Swiss bites his lip, nodding, “Mhmm.” It’s then he notices the siblings at the gazebo over the earth ghoul’s shoulder. They’re frantically trying to find a spot to sit on the benches, opening their long abandoned books. “Looks like someone else likes what they see too.” He huffs a laugh, “Can’t blame ‘em.” His eyes dragging back over Mountain, his broad shoulders, the light hair and freckles dusting his chest.

Mountain leans in real close, Swiss can feel his breath on his lips, “I was just heading to the pond to cool off,” he whispers. Swiss’ eyes are closed, his breath picking up as Mountain’s nose brushes his. And in an instant he’s pulled away, grinning as his warm hand falls from his waist. Swiss opens his eyes, annoyed, to see the earth ghoul giving him a cheeky grin. “You coming?” Mountain asks, turning around stretching his arms out, flexing the muscles in his back and shoulders. Swiss groans and watches for a few moments, Mountain’s long steps, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he pulls his hair down. Satan below, he’s sure now that this afternoon is going to end with him a panting, whining mess under the willow tree.

#mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul x swiss ghoul #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #mountain x swiss #ghost band fanfic #chalice writes

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acourtofantumbra · 6 months

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Was doing a deep dive for a future post about *gestures wildly* witches... Manon's lineage... cross-world connections... something I've found that feels actually tangible, maybe. Anyway, despite only dipping a toe into the ToD reread so far (I am not a ToD hater lol I'm just busy) I found myself checking a moment from KoA and took a nosedive into something immediately shinier. But it was so sudden I didn't have time to do my usual highlights/scribbles on my (currently dead) ipad so... enjoy my measly Kindle highlights.

I KNOW many folks have beautifully analyzed SJM's repeated character names because at one point SJM herself basically said, "I keep a record of all of them and I know what I've used."

I've seen folks flag important repeats for years now (we've seen this film before, A+ work, it keeps me up at night!), but the heavy hitters have been Briar, Thanatos, Cormac and even Ruhn (you know... the Erilean mountains and the hottie who knows 3 things).

So it stands to reason that repeated names might deserve some extra scrutiny... And I pray we get some pay off with that in CC3.

Anyway, as I'm pulling at the thread of ToG witches via our (my) favorite queen - Manon - I hadn't realized I fully forgot her dad's name. Frankly, of all the plot points from ToG, Manon's story's specifics were the haziest... except where Dorian is concerned I'm a mere mortal... and that has me suspicious regardless. Anywayyyy, as you can see above, it's Tristan. Tristan Crochan.

I cannot fully explain the cartwheel flip my brain did thumbing through the roladex of SJM's characters... because Tristan Flynn was not the energy my brain was ready for after reading this really sad passage about Manon's murdered family.

On my first read of the SJMU I went ACOTAR (long break between the original and ACOSF) -> CC -> TOG. And on my first TOG read, this passage triggered no alarm bells. I probably just didn't remember Flynn all that much. But after my CC reread... oh. I remember him. Don't you worry.

Now I am fan of Flynn. He's got a rakishness I simp for, I root for him and the dragon, and clocked his lordship woes despite having what we've all decided is a "hot dad". He's a good time. And Flynn feels like someone to watch! He makes an appearance in not one, but two, CC bonus chapters... and he's got a crush on the aforementioned dragon, who either was introduced for no reason or is gonna be a key player going forward. Or SJM is fucking with us. I don't have the answers.

But what I'm struck by Tristan-wise is a) the similarity in the little physical descriptors we get - brown hair, brown eyes and b) not actually Flynn-related... but a deeply similar sounding story to none other than the Autumn King. Daughter you didn't know was born to a woman you claim was your real love... check. Searching far and wide with a singular focus on recovering your daughter... check. Having another kid out of obligation and duty to continue on important bloodlines... check!!!

It might not have anything to do with Flynn at this current moment... but it's not implausible. Lord Flynn is of course a beloved frat-pack member living in a dump with his fellow bros. He specifically pops up in these bonus chapters going through the motions necessitated by his aristocratic bloodline. His mom/family is eager to marry him and his sister off - of course he seems miserable about the whole idea. But also resigned to it? It seems complicated. TLDR there's a world where Flynn's like "woof, yeah I gotta get married off but the heart wants what it wants!" There is precedent!

Also, I've been 👀 Flynn since it was flagged that he has "super rare earth powers" not commonly seen in Valbaran Fae... first off, what does that mean? Second, hot?!

Well I've done it again, so many words and nothing really of note to take away haha. I'll be honest, my mind was not in a Tristan Flynn headspace!! I'm kind of bogged down in my own thoughts about the witchier women of this multiverse... but in my dragon theory speculation Flynn popped up again and I really can't explain why random dead ends are turning up Tristan!!! I'm not mad about it, but I wish I understood.

#sjm multiverse #throne of glass #cc3 #sjm multiverse spoilers #sjm theory #manon blackbeak #tristan flynn #tristan crochan #crochan witches #rhiannon crochan #crescent city #house of sky and breath #kingdom of ash #autumn king #bryce quinlan

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astudyincontrasts · 2 years

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Fall Fires

A Here Be Dragons/Hic Sunt Dracones Gift Fic

Dragon!Silco x Fem!Reader NSFW

Rocking up to the party again a month late with starbucks for @sherwood-forests birthday! This is just a sweet little drabble for our beloved Sher to celebrate what a joyous light she is in this fandom. There is no one who is more ready to spread love and kindness than Sher, no one sweeter or more thoughtful or enthusiastic to celebrate the talents and creations of everyone she meets. Most beloved Sher, I hope for all good things in life for you always🖤

In the theme of Sher’s absolutely epic dragon!Silco fic HBD, this is just a little additional treat following Silco and his Feral Consort through the autumn traditions of dragonkind. Sweet and occasionally a little smutty, no real warnings apply unless you’re allergic to fluff, love, or dragon dicks.

It was the final night of the conclave, the bonfires bigger than you’d ever seen them as evening crept in across the sky in bruising plums and a lapping sea of infinite black, stealing the hue from a twilight painted a violent riot of brilliant oranges and sculpted pink clouds. Some of the main fires were bigger than houses in your village had been, heat rolling off them in licking waves that sent the chill of the autumn air scuttling back into the shadows under the massive pine trees that ringed the sacred hilltops like silent sentinels.

The summer months had stretched long and warm at the dragon’s keep in the Northern Pass. Time spent alone with your dragon in the blissful newness of each other, in his near fawning devotion and eager appetite for you, all of you. But as the nights began to lengthen and the heat of the days replaced with the promise of cool, crisp air off the mountains, Silco had grown distant.

At first you’d only noticed it when he took a little longer to join you in the gathered pile of furs that made the bedding nest of the massive bedchamber each evening. But more and more you’d caught him standing alone upon the parapets, staring westward toward the horizon and the sky as if it were speaking, holding silent counsel that only he could discern.

He’d break from the reverie with a touch of your hand, smiling down at you as he came back to himself, even once wrapping arms around you and tumbling backward off the wall into the waiting maw of oblivion, only to delight in your shrieks as he transformed and lifted you high up into the sky, letting you ride until your face was wet from the soft buffeting through the clouds and your teeth chattered as the night set in. It had allayed your concern, if only for a few hours.

Later that night you’d lain awake on his chest, cheek riding the rise and fall of his deep purring, wondering what call it was that your dragon stood heeding, yet would not share with you.

When you caught him at it once more the following evening this time you stopped him trying to distract you with a peppering of kisses, fingers coming to rest gently over his scarred mouth.

“Why won’t my dragon tell me what is weighing on him?” You asked, as he grumbled, submitting in a deep lean to your reach for one of his curling horns, teal eye slanting to a shining turquoise slice as your fingertips went playing along sensitive ridges and griped, tugging at the crest of it, nearly lifting you off your feet by your grasp with a slight roll of his head.

“I will tell you, mousling, but it is a conversation to be had over supper… and perhaps some of that accursed wine you so enjoy.”

With the promise of an explanation at last, you allowed him the delay of roasting dinner, and enjoyed the cups of wine from the pilfered barrels in his hoard that he had no taste or use for. It was a delicious vintage, and while he seemed to enjoy the loosening of your restraints whenever you indulged, could not stomach the taste of it himself. It felt very much a ploy to either distract you or else ease the sting of whatever news he had to share, the way he kept your goblet filled as the evening’s quarry turned on the spit before the great fire within the hall while you both sat listening to the hiss and spit of fat sizzle and crisp.

Silco was long silent before he finally released a rumbling quiet groan of resignation and began.

“You know what season comes?” He asked, the mismatch of eyes sliding your way at last, away from the intent study of his own clawed hands.

“Autumn, yes.”

“Tell me mousling, what the fall brought with it where you come from?”

No need to think too hard on that, the memories were pleasant enough and the question simply answered.

“Harvest, gatherings. Moon celebrations and feasts before the dark of winter came if the summer season was a plentiful one.”

Silco nodded and reached over the flames to pull a hunk of meat from the roasting haunch of venison to lay it upon your trencher before tearing himself a massive handful as well, as mindless of the licking flames and searing heat as if it were but a show of light instead of scalding.

“And the wild things?”

You thought on the question for a moment, sipping at the wine as your meat cooled.

“The squirrels prepared for winter with their own harvest, the deer grew fat, some animals made nests for winter sleep, and many of the birds flew away.”

Silco hummed quietly.

“Autumn is a time for gathering. For migration. And it is also the small death throes of the world, a thinning between the fabric that lies between us and beyond. Magic lies heavy, and there are dead to be honored.” He explained, picking at his dinner to spare you the weight of his glance until he could no longer avoid it, and dragged eyes to your curious gaze once more.

“The dragons gather soon. The conclave will meet. I have not been to a conclave since I was introduced there after my first flight. We dragon are solitary, territorial, but we keep the oldest ways and honor the magic that birthed us. We gather only this once each year, and only if we have need to. I have never had cause to return to a conclave… save now.”

He dropped his unwanted meal upon your trencher and dug claws into the flagstones as he leant forward, demanding your full attention, clearly at odds with the demands of his kind and the insistent pull of nature herself toward what he knew he must do.

“We are joined, mousling. We must present ourselves.”

The scrape of the long, clawed nail of one forefinger etched a line across the stone before it and then a second, parallel line alongside.

“I must present you.”

His trepidation on your behalf warmed your heart nearly as well as the wine had warmed your stomach, and you set goblet aside to come crawling into his lap, much to Silco’s surprise, as he sat back, hands closing upon your hips as you settled arms round his neck and pressed forehead hard to his, so that nothing but the hot coal and cool blue of his eyes filled your vision.

“Does my dragon fret for me? Is that why you’ve been so distant? I’m not afraid of a little harvest gathering.” Not afraid of anything, not with him.

Silco rumbled, groused. Displeased to be humbled before you only to have you flick his concerns aside as easily as flies.

“It has been centuries since I’ve seen another of my kind,” he admitted lowly, “And I do not know if a human mate has ever been welcomed at conclave.”

The admission hung heavy in the air before his grip tightened upon you and he spun you to the floor, pinning you beneath his weight as he gazed down at you fiercely.

“No h-”

“No harm will come to me at your side.” You finished and he nodded slowly before stopping any further interruptions or questions with the hunger of a kiss.

You had anticipated a desperate lovemaking that evening, with him eager to drown his fears and sate your wants, but instead he’d just curled tightly around you and held you in his sleep as if something might come and snatch you from his arms should his grip loosen but a moment. It sparked a small lick of apprehension in you, that a creature you knew to be so fearless should be so stricken. Yet, there was the glow of curiosity, of that adventure you so longed for, and the spice of the unknown that all kept that spark from catching conflagration and consuming you.

A half a week later you’d set off together to join the conclave.

It had been a long flight there, into the west, a journey of several days even with the ground slipping away beneath you as you rode among the clouds. Very glad indeed that Silco had insisted on your dressing warmly, insisted on the fur-lined cloak he’d draped over your shoulders and the warm, sturdy boots laced well up to mid-thigh. He’d grinned when you’d tucked your dagger into your belt but did not argue.

The wind whipped cold around you as you watched the countryside go by beneath, more of the land than you’d ever seen in your brief lifetime, and so beautiful from up above. Everything smaller, simpler looking, and the gorgeous palette of fall colors painting everything as far as the eye could see in lush reds, deep burgundys, brilliant yellows and crisp browns. The fields of wheat moved like great seas of gold, blowing wave after billowing wave against the winds, and the scent of hearthfires from farms and towns wafted enticingly on the breeze.

Silco had allowed that you both stay the evening in a town one night, not sleeping rough in the fields, but rather at an inn and tavern in one of the small villages. He garnered many looks; tall, cowled form nearly brushing his head against the rafters as he towered silently behind you, glowering at all the befuddled locals and their curious stares as you negotiated dinner and a bed.

None dared bother you though, and the warm food was delicious, the simple pleasure of buttered hot bread one you’d forgotten how much you longed for, and welcome indeed alongside the salty brine of hard cheese and the sweet crisp bite of ripe, rosy apples. The meat came in deep trenchers, dripping in a rich, glossy brown sauce alongside roasted whole onions, pale turnips and sweet, thick slices of carrots. Silco devoured it, save for the turnips, and you grinned over a mug of spiced ale as the bar wench jumped at the sound of his voice when he requested seconds be brought.

Well fed and tired from the long flight, Silco was nearly out cold the second he stretched on the straw-stuffed pallet in the small room you’d been given. He barely fit on the bed, legs hanging a good portion off the end, but it hardly seemed to bother him, nearly snoring by the time you climbed atop him, only to roll that flaming red eye down himself to watch you trail a lazy pattern of licking kisses along his chest and stomach as you pushed his shirt up.

“Mousling…”

“Shhhh. You may have eaten your fill, but I still hunger.” You hushed him, only to be rewarded with a low rumbling as your tongue traced teasing little licks above his navel and you buried your face in the soft divot of muscle that ran from hip down into the waist of his pants. Fingers made short work of his stays as one large clawed hand came to rest atop your head, nails fitfully, gently raking at hair, and tail curling up around your thigh to rub lazy soft enticement between your legs as you pulled the twisting mass of his cocks free and set to exploring the texture and taste of them.

“Ahn! M-mousling…!” He huffed breathlessly, the backward toss of his head rending twin tears in the pillow beneath him as you traced little licking passes over the crested pointed heads of his cocks and then up over and over again at the fused corkscrew twist of them until he was stiff and hot to the touch as if you’d pulled him from the fire like a branding iron.

Hands and mouth, wet tongue and hot, slow friction, you worked him as he arched under you, purring, snarling, gasping your name and growling out bliss until he came for you, a hot spill you lapped from his skin before settling over him, warmly exhausted and he already dropped back to sleeping, his trepidation of the coming meeting and distrust of the town around you forgotten for the evening. Your jaw ached and tongue felt raw and new as if it had been scrubbed in sand, but it was a small price for both the satisfaction of his release and the peaceful slumber that welcomed you both.

The next dawn saw you both back in the air before the town had awoken, payment left richly upon the bedside, that they might continue to welcome strangers as peacefully as they had done for you.

The following dawn after that brought the conclave.

The hills you’d flown over were rising steadily, the mountain range they lay at the foot of growing upward into the sky with each passing minute, a massive and long scar of jagged dark rocks and peaks that dwarfed the range of the Northern Pass where Silco had made his home. These were ancient lands, the very roots of the earth disemboweled sometime long ago and thrust as black pillars to the sky. A land shaped by fire deep and hot as any that ever poured from the mouths of dragons, now full of life, and wild as the beasts who gathered there this season to unite for three days and nights.

The clearing spanned several hilltops pressed together, and in the shallow basin of their meeting a stone circle of standing rocks shimmering and black as obsidian. You could see shapes moving below, large shapes, and in the clouds with you were others, circling.

The cries were already lifting as you descended, hands a tightening grip upon the ridges of Silco’s back against the way the wind buffeted and tugged at you as the ground rushed up to meet you both. Silco landed heavily, tossing you bodily forward upon his back. Quickly, you regained your seat, though, the ground trembling under you both as heavy bodies landed all around or came thundering up. Not that you could see much, with how Silco kept his wings lifted, kept you shielded from sight and so blocked off much of your view as well, the length of his neck effectively limiting your vision directly before you too.

Hands slapped to your ears as the deafening chorus rose around you, earsplitting shrieks and piercing, rumbling bellows all around until you too were screaming, shouting loud and long as you could. It was not fear, though it may have begun as some kind of primal noise akin to that. No, this came bubbling up from somewhere deep, just another voice longing for that chorus.

So lost in it, and so determined to dampen the cacophony surrounding you that you failed to notice when all voices had ceased save your own, left alone screaming to the sun and the mountains… until you opened eyes and found Silco’s wings lowering and every gathered dragon staring straight at you.

Voice died in your throat as hands slipped from where you’d pressed them to the sides of your head as you stared back at more dragons than you could have expected in as many and more variety and color as you could have possibly imagined, like a gathering of dark jewels upon the crown of the hilltops. How silly it seemed now, that you had suggested once to Silco that dragons were extinct.

All eyes rested upon you as you slid from Silco’s back with a dip of his wing, only to find him transformed beside you once feet hit the ground, cowl of his cloak pushed back and the curve of his horns jutting proudly to the sky.

Many dragons remained as they were, but many more also took that mind-bending path into human form. Three of the tallest approached, the eldest among them in their center, a proud and wizened creature, no less fiercely strong looking for his long hair shot through with pale whites and silvers and the deep furrowed crinkling at the outer edges of brilliantly pale blue eyes the color of glacial ice.

Beside you Silco shifted tensely, edging closer to you possessively, protectively.

“...Silco?” The tallest dragon asked, squinting, before recognition and Silco’s own dip of a nod confirmed suspicions. A broad, sharp smile broke over the old dragon’s stern face, “It has been many, many years. We welcome you back.”

The tall creature spread open arms and Silco stepped forward, away from you as you stood watching the exchange curiously, feeling very self conscious indeed with so many eyes upon the pair of you. He approached the trio of elders and canted head in a stiff bow that probably ought to have been lower and more deferential, but your proud dragon only offered what he could stomach. The elders accepted and inclined heads back to him in unison, the tallest reaching forth to place a hand upon Silco’s shoulder that you could see him stiffen at, but permit.

“What brings you to conclave at last?” The elder asked, glancing past Silco toward you meaningfully. Silco turned to cast a look over his shoulder with the softness of that teal eye at you.

“I have a mate. We’ve come to have the binding blessed.”

Murmurs kicked up from the gathering, and while you could hear surprise and even delight in their tone, Silco could not, or did not, and you watched him bristle, casting hot glances to and fro around his gathered kin.

Beside you a woman had crept up, and you startled as she slid a hand under your own, glancing up into her face to find a sweet, sharp smile and hair flowing down over shoulders to her waist in strawberry-golden waves, eyes like amber with sun streaming through them.

Silco lurched toward you both with a snarl, only to be stopped by the grip the elder tightened upon his shoulder.

“Welcome, dragon-bound.” The woman purred, stroking a glittering greenish claw of a hand atop your fingers that she held.

“T-Thank you.” You managed, eyes flicking from her to Silco to the elders and back again to the radiant creature that stroked your knuckles so gently. You dipped a curtsey, unsure of what tradition or circumstance demanded, yet it seemed the right thing to do. The elder smiled gently and the woman drew you to herself. Though you could see Silco straining at the grip upon him, struggling to contain his anxious tension, you felt no fear.

“Silco.” The elder murmured, tone not scolding, merely gently walking the line toward reproachful. “I know it has been many years since you joined conclave, but no harm will come to your chosen here. Nor you. Your binding shall be honored.”

The elder turned, letting his hand slide from Silco’s shoulder as he opened the hematite glitter of clawed hands and addressed the gathering in a booming voice.

“We have much to celebrate, and some to mourn. We gather to honor all, to offer gratitude and pay homage in the old ways. THE CONCLAVE IS GATHERED!”

Around you the hilltops rang with dragon song, the towering mountains echoing back the sound like the old roots of the earth recognized the children it had birthed of fire and stone and sang to their return.

Each night passed in ceremony and celebration, in feast and dance and song and fire. Fires built big and burning brightly through the night to dawn and through each day, never extinguished, only heaped higher and brighter until the final night when they burned big as houses, flames leaping and dancing.

The first night had been for mourning the passing of those who had gone before or recently passed, solemn and so beautifully poignant in story and song, in offering and recollection that you could not help but weep for times and creatures passed that you had never known. The second night welcomed the younglings from their first flights, a warm and joyous thankfulness for new life to carry forth the flame of the past, fun and light hearted with the frolickings of the little ones brought to be introduced to all and welcomed to the fold. The third and final night was your own; the blessing of unions, fruit of the future and vine of the past joined together.

Silco had kept you close, regardless of the assurances of the elders, though his wariness seemed to have ebbed as the nights went on and you remained unaccosted and well cared for, even if he seemed to dislike how the pair of you were a novelty, a curiosity among the ranks, and how others flocked in cautious droves to meet the feral consort of their lonesome brethren.

You were enchanted, however, as one beautiful, terrible beast after another came to share your fire, share food or gift you trinkets, as the younglings stole you away to play games in the daylight, and delighted in your gifts of autumn wildflowers as you crowned their little horns with yarrow and goldenrod, thistle and ironweed, and as they squealed at your ghost stories around the feasts at night. All the while your dragon, dark and silent and determinedly protective by your side, gathering you to him each night to kiss your face and tuck you to himself, as hoarded and treasured as gold.

The final night, however, you were separated.

Silco looked distraught as you were led away, folded into a group of dragon mates that surrounded you like tall, kind sentinels. Each eager to meet the human dragon-bound, to welcome you. They descended upon you like a gentle flock of enormous beautiful birds. Passing you hand to hand as you were gently disrobed, bathed and dried, as your hair was brushed out and dried to a lustrous sheen. They spoke in hushed voices, that enchanting golden woman who had greeted you first chief among them as you were prepared.

“We paint you for the blessing, little one.” She explained as your hands and arms were taken and they began the slow process of drawing beautiful patterns and shapes from your wrists up past your elbows. “Tales of your mate’s kin and his past upon your skin. That your story becomes one.”

Fingertips were dipped in the same dark red henna paint and palms, fingers and knuckles carefully traced with your own exquisite pattern of scales. Across your bare back the cool paint was drawn as well.

“Wings for you, consort, may you touch the heavens in love.” The golden-green woman explained the painting upon your back as she wrapped your waist in a fold of a deep plum-colored rich silk that was long enough to trail behind you as you walked, shot through here and there with golden threads that caught the firelight with each movement and gave the slithering, soft fabric a life of its own.

Your eyes were darkened with kohl, lips stained with berries as the lines of the paints dried and hardened and then were wiped away to reveal the beautiful art left behind to saturate skin for many weeks to come in a rich red-brown hue that sang against the color of your complexion.

Your bare chest was adorned with a jingling treasure of gold coins fashioned almost to a loose and light chainmail breastplate, split in twain from sternum down, fastened round your neck and down behind the small of your back with thin gold chains. Every motion sang softly and the loose hanging scales of coins tickled at your skin and stiffened nipples.

“A dowry for your love, from the gathered.” The golden woman explained, as you were fitted with other little trinkets until you shone wrist to ankle, “In welcome and blessing.”

When at last you were adorned to their satisfaction, the coterie drew you forth from where they had sequestered you beneath the pines and followed you in retinue back up the sloping hill toward the largest fire and the stone circle it burned and danced within. Silco waited before the flames, bare to his waist, tail flicking nervously, crowned gloriously with an autumn wreath of leaves and pale birch among the curling reach of his horns He had been painted in licks of gold, traced outline to the shape of each scale running up his arms and whorls of it etched like shining epaulets across shoulders and collarbone. The elder stood beside him, both of them watching your ascent as the other dragons gathered and drew near with your approach, a keening, haunting cry going up, a beautiful low bellowing beneath, as voices raised around you.

Silco was gazing at you as you drew near as if he could not find air to fill his lungs, an ecstatic joy close to pain upon his face, unspeakable in its infatuation. He reached out as you neared, and your hand fitted to the folding grasp of his long clawed hand, always so terribly gentle. The elder took your other hand and both drew you to the edge of the fire, where heat rolled off in heavy waves, brushing back the strands of your hair and gently singeing darkened lashes.

“We join this eve to bless the unions made this year.” Began the elder, “To celebrate the binding of souls. In this we persist. In this our kind is made stronger. You have danced, you have become one, you have shared a flame and food. Tonight, we share blood, and bring you not only to the blessing of your binding, but also to ourselves.”

From around the fire, the two other elders came, one bearing a cup, and the other a glittering blade. The elder dropped your hand as he accepted the blade, and for a heartstopping moment you shied close to Silco as he raised the knife, only to watch him slice open his own arm and hold it over the cup. The blade passed to the other two elders, who did the same, as the tallest of them took the cup in exchange, each bleeding a little into the chalice. Around the gathering it went, until at least ten of the dragons had given their blood, ending with your own. Silco, releasing his gentle grip on you, to bleed himself into the cup before the elder took the knife and gave the chalice to him.

Silco held it out in offering, brows knit and upturned at their center, like he held his heart in his hands for you to devour.

“Drink, dragon-bound, and join our fire.” Intoned the elder, behind you.

Fingers trembled as they closed over Silco’s grasp of the proffered cup, and let him tilt it gently. The fiery liquid lapped at your lips before it filled your mouth, searing and copper as stone, thick and cloying as dripping honey, hot as any pepper spice you’d ever known and indescribable in taste as it flowed down your throat with each thick swallow. It burned like whiskey and lit through your veins the second it hit the pit of your stomach.

Rocking on your feet, your arm was caught by the elder as Silco withdrew the cup. Distantly, you were aware you were being drawn away from him, closer to the flames, watching his face as the heat grew and grew… until you turned to find that the elder held your hand out into the very fire itself, that you had your fingers splayed to the searing soft lick of the brilliant light and yet you did not burn. He released your hand as you reached to toy with the kiss of the flames, fascinated and bewitched.

Among you, that cry went up again, filling the hills and mountains.

“Go to your beloved.” The elder murmured, breaking the reverie as you stared at skin unburnt and felt no fear of the searing heat. No need to be told twice as you glanced up at him and then to Silco waiting, looking for all the world like his heart might burst as you spun from the flames and launched yourself into his arms. He caught you up; his feral, wild, unburnt adored, and devoured the kiss you offered. If the elder had more words of blessing to say they were lost to you as you pressed your forehead to Silco’s, arms wound round his neck and the song of dragons ringing in your ears.

The moon hung full and heavy above, nearly as richly orange as if it had been plucked from one of the fields of ripe pumpkins you’d flown over in your journey here. Beneath you the bed of soft moss and leaves cradled you under the spill of the silk that had been gathered round your waist, now spread bedroll to your joined bodies under the shadows of the dark pines and golden birch, tucked in a private nook of the hills. The scent of bonfires joined the distant joyous ruckus of the gathering, of dancing and song and laughter by the firesides, a chorus mingling with the crickets and the hymn of the late evening forest that lay down beyond the hills. Here you made your own music, soft urgent moans to his deep rumbling, sweet laughter at a tickle and sweeter still a whine of pleasure.

Silco took you slow, though he’d been in a terrible hurry when you’d left the blessing fire together to come here, to finally be alone at last again.

You stood, breathing hard as he circled you with deliberate steps, as if he’d memorize every inch of the beauty the other dragons had wrought you in for him, as if he’d finally quarried the prize he wished and now would take his time at the feast. Heart hammered eager anticipation as he circled, pausing to trace a painted line here or toy with a tendril of coiled hair there, sparking soft little arcs of excitement rushing along skin with each small, teasing touch. Breath leaving you in little sighs as he closed in to brush a kiss to your shoulder, heat of his mouth a welcome reprieve from the goosebumps rising against the chill night air. You held perfectly still, save for the occasional delicious little shiver as he bent to scrape a tender bite to your jaw, to whuffle breath warmly in your hair, sharp blade of his nose crushed to you, drinking in the scent of you.

“Is my dragon pleased?” You asked slyly, the words hitching in your throat as his hips pressed to the back of you, heat of him inviting as large hands splayed along your hips.

Silco hummed approval, agreement, rumbling against you in a way that had you melting back against him.

Clawed hands pulled the silk at your hips loose, let it spread out upon the ground, before running nails lightly over the loose draped shirt of coins you wore. Shirt was a generous term for it, truly it was but a necklace that draped tapering in twin sheets of glittering gold to your waist, two waterfalls of gleaming metal that shone like burnished scales when you moved, concealing breasts alone. It tickled and warmed against the skin, had you gasping as he toyed with it and blushing hot pleasure to hear him purr another deep noise of satisfaction as a clawed hand dipped beneath the golden shimmer to cradle up the soft of one breast.

“They dower you as a princess, my little beauty.” Breath washed a ticklish hot sheet over cheek and chest as he lowered his head to drag his tongue a slow lick along the rise of your cheekbone.

“Mmn, am I glittering enough to add to your hoard?” You teased back with a smile, fingertips running along his gold painted forearms lightly.

“You are the treasure of my heart, mousling.” He murmured low, “If all I had were you, I would still be rich beyond dreams.”

It had your heart clench with pleasant pain within, had you spinning slow to face him, the gentle drag of claws teasing the rise of a nipple as they slid out from under the coined mail.

Mouth pressed tenderly to the heat of his chest, head dipping to press a kiss to the silvery grey scar the spear you had wrenched from him had left behind. Fingers tugged at the stays of his pants, impatient hands slipping over lean hips, progress only halted when he came to his knees before you, putting you nearly face to face with his height, the cool of his touch sliding down to take a possessive, delighted grasp of the curve of your of your bottom, the mismatched sheen of ruby and teal sapphire watching you suck a gasp as he got a cheek in each hand and the prickled points of claws sunk harmlessly into giving flesh.

“You do look beautiful, beloved. Though I like you best in nothing at all.”

It had you raise hands back behind your neck to unfasten the delicate clasp of the necklace and let it slide, tinkling softly, to the forest floor, only to cradle fingers around the sharp angles of his face as the heat of his mouth nuzzled against your collarbone. He drew back just enough to regard the small array of scars he’d left upon your chest; little pale pink weals where his claws had sunk in over your heart, months and months ago. They were not the only scars you’d been left with in your adventure across the Northern Pass with him. Across your upper lip, your cheekbone and through one brow, along with a smattering of others, your early days were written across your skin. Perhaps not as prominently as the grey, deep furrows that marked his left side, but there nonetheless.

“Do you know,” you asked softly, one hand coming to rest upon the broad span of his bare shoulders, as you slid fingertips of the other under his chin to tilt it to you, “If you had torn the heart from me that day, I would still have been happy?”

“What? Why?” He rumbled, dark brows furrowing tightly.

“Because it would have been with you, where it belonged.”

The distant sounds of revelry echoed across the hills behind you as Silco stared up at you in stunned awe, a pained look of exquisite adoration twisting the sharp, darkly handsome marred features of his, so unused to such deep gluts of emotion.

He brushed a kiss featherlight to each of the five little scars he’d left over your heart, eyes turned upward to hold your own. The warmth of your hands had just lifted to cradle his face when he slipped lower, the impossible heat of his tongue coiled round a nipple. Neck arched hard as your face turned to the open heavens above as he sucked slow before the tender pinch of fanged teeth came down and had you rocking into him.

Inch by inch, he took his time, tasting, laving at the softness of you, between breasts and over the gentle slope of stomach, kissing ribs one by one where ragged breath brought them to the surface, tongue dipping, dragging through the indent of your navel before his face pushed hard to the crux of your thighs and the delicious wet heat of his licks slicked along the part of your sex in teasing slow laps.

Clawed hand released it grasp of one soft cheek of your behind to drag the promise of claws along the back of your thigh before he caught your knee and hooked it up over his shoulder, tongue redoubling its efforts as he licked through the soft cleft of your sex, delving between sweet folds, leaving you no choice but to take desperate grasp of his horns and hang on for dear life itself as he devoured you.

Braced on one foot, back arched hard to offer him what was his, you sucked a sharp breath as large hands raked over the soft curves of your backside, as the melting silken heat of his tongue spread you and delved into your wetness, sweet heat slicking through soft folds, teasing every so often at the eager little ache of your clit as he drank you in, rumbling chuckles at the stifled little moaning gasp you made each time he’d let his tongue slide out of you and up, as his hands parted the cleft of your cheeks until you were writhing, fisting the hard, knobbled curl of his horns beneath your fingers and nearly begging he take you already as his tail caressed up the length of your stomach and between the weight of breasts to coil round your throat. Not happy until you were mewling, pressing into him and dripping down your thighs with the teasing.

Each renewed grasp of his horns or trembling stroke of fingers had him grumbling and groaning his own delighted satisfaction. Paying no mind at all to the crown of leaves you were dislodging one by one with your caress, golden and red bits of them falling to flutter across his shoulders to the ground.

“Silco! Please…” You were panting, rocking, standing leg ready to give out before he lifted his head to watch you with a devious, sharp glinting smile. And thank whatever gods held sway over the dark mountains and their dragon gathering that he took pity on you at last and laid you down, gently.

So far gone you barely registered it when he lifted you, laid you on your back against the silk, save for the dizzy change in the pull of gravity. You watched through heavy lids as he shed pants and settled between the welcome splay of your thighs upon his knees, hands coming to brace over you as he bent to nuzzle the warm wash of nipping kisses up your throat.

For all his teasing, he took you so slowly. The smoke and ash taste of him mingled with your own salt-sweet on his mouth as it closed over yours as he spread you, worked you gently with thrusts so tenderly careful you could feel his hips shivering, feel the stringing tension coursing through each line of him as he held himself in check while you rocked up against him, inviting him into the welcoming heat, savoring each ridged rise and thick, pressing texture as he sank within you.

It was Silco this time who was gasping for air once he lay fully seated, hips rocking as if he could not stop the mind numbing, overwhelming urge to move against you. The blade of his nose pressed to your cheek, fanged mouth open over yours, stealing breath and air as you whispered and moaned soft encouragement and adoration up at him. Until he was gazing down at you, laying in his arms, the backs of his dark knuckles caressing your jaw.

When the pair of you moved again, you moved as one.

Entwined, you arched under him to each slow roll of his hips. Etched against the night sky above you he was a glorious, terrible beauty, the searing glow of that burning ruby eye and the crowning glory of his dark horns singing to something wild within you. Had you biting tenderly at his lower lip, tugging, licking at his sharp teeth and hot slide of his tongue. Yours, your dragon, your heart, like he had actually torn it from you that day and ate it all up and now went walking the earth and flying through the clouds with it still caught, stuck a tender beating thing behind his fiery maw, still aching for him within the furnace of his own chest.

Your fingers could not drink enough of him, could not seek enough of his heat and the texture of his skin, from face to throat, shoulders to ribs to the slow roll of his hips. He sighed into your touch and shoved his face hard into the crux of your neck and shoulder, sucking shivering, deep gulps of breath as if he’d imprint the very scent of you this night into an indelible stain of perfection on his memory.

“Silco… Silco…” Thick and sweet as the rich butter you’d had on hot bread back at the tavern days ago, his name slid from your throat, filling your mouth, more heady than any wine or ale, tasing better than any luscious fruit. You made a song of your desire for him, pitch lifting as he moved all the faster within you. Always fit to break for him, always a wonder at how deep, how full, how perfect he took you. Dragon-bound, his, made together on some strange forge.

He was snarling, groaning, the deep rumblings of his chest crushed to yours only heightening each exquisite sensation. He stopped your voice with a slow, deep kiss, followed by a thrust just as agonizingly deep and gradual. Breaking the sweet, suckling languor of his devotion to your mouth to gaze down at you.

And for a moment, just for a breath, he was that broken, lonesome boy on the side of the mountain pass again; touched by a terrified tenderness and longing and fear that had seasoned over centuries to a knife’s blade of emotion.

“I love you.” The whisper of it caught in his throat, hitched and broke.

And in that tidal pull of his breaking dam you rushed up to meet him, to tug him under into your waves, to show him, tell him, let him eat the love, the heart right out of you again. His; beating to the rhythm of dark wings across a harvest moon, where the lifting sparks of fire and the brilliant glow of stars all became one drifting constellation.

#gift fic #dragon!silco #silco x f!reader #Silco x reader #hbd/hsd #silco #arcane #silco au #dragon au

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