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monocaelia · 3 months

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fragile.

' you have broken down my defenses, and i don’t really resent it. ' - vita sackville west

in which you really don't want to care about him and his careless attitude, but you always find yourself coming back to him. always. feat. diluc ragnvindr & gn!reader w.c : 5k warnings : childhood friends to lovers, diluc lore spoilers, minor angst but ends w fluff, diluc ragnvindr. note : happy new year! sorry for the delay hehe, but this is for @seraphiism's 2023 collab event !! please support the other authors and enjoy the fic ^^

your mother had always instructed you to stay close to her side, to never stray far away from her lest you find yourself in trouble with the master of the winery or the other servants working the orchards and tending to the land of the estate.

but with a beautiful land of ripe grapes and friendly staff greeting you as you rush past them, how could you ever just sit still beside your mother as she did her job around the winery?

the late summer breeze rushes past your face as you weave through the wooden stakes holding the wiry vines of grapes above you. the warm sun rays heat your skin as you leap over the small rocks that litter the passage leading into the main area of the ragnvindr estate. the wind whispers in your ear, making you grin as your little legs take you wherever it guides you.

you feel free, the wind pushing past your wings to lead you to your newest adventure around the manor.

your feet land firmly on the grounds behind the manor when you hear the gentle sniffles coming from behind a couple of barrels. despite your mother's warnings echoing in your head, you take gentle steps towards the sound as curiosity takes over.

you're not expecting to see a young boy with fiery red hair and matching eyes that hold the warmest, flickering fire glaring up at you with tears at the corner of his eyes and holding a bleeding knee.

"...are you okay?" you ask, kneeling down beside him. you begin to frown when he pulls his knee away from you and his glare deepens.

"i don't need your help," the young boy hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

"really? you don't need my help even though you're crying in a corner all by yourself?" you scoff at him. he doesn't say anything in retaliation and you take it as an okay for you to help him.

you pull a handkerchief from your pocket; nothing too fancy as your family couldn't afford the finest silks like the nobles could. it's cotton, white, and had a simple design of a little sparrow emroidered in the corner.

"i don't have any bandages on me," you mumble softly. your little fingers gently wrap the handkerchief around the young boy's knee several times before tying a small knot on it. without even blinking, you lean down to kiss the wounded knee.

"what are you doing?!" the young boy exclaims, yanking his knee away.

"kissing it better," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "my mother always does that when i get hurt. she says it takes the pain away and makes it heal faster."

"that's stupid," the boy mumbles with a glare.

"says the one who tripped and fell and hurt himself," you argue back. you stick your tongue out when the boy shouts out a 'hey!' and roll your eyes.

"who are you and what are you doing here anyways?" you ask the young boy, kneeling beside him once more. he's still glaring at you, but it's less hostile than it was a few moments ago. "my mom said strangers aren't allowed to be here."

the young boys eyes are red, vibrantly so. the life in them burn brightly, reminding you of a fire as it flickers with warmth and a promise of a brighter tomorrow. like the hearth of a fireplace, the young boy seems to be the incarnate of warmth itself with the way he's filled with the flame of life.

"i live here, dummy," he quips back at you with a frown and your eyes widen.

"really? i've never seen you around, and i've been everywhere on this estate," you reply, bringing your thumb and forefinger to your chin as you remain deep in thought. truly, the only people you've managed to catch were all adults working for the master of this winery. never once have you seen a kid running along.

with a bright smile of your own, you lean towards the young boy. "we should be friends! since i don't know anyone else to play with here, we can play!"

the boy looks you up and down with furrowed brows, but he slowly nods. "...okay," he mumbles and you grin brighter.

"great! what's your name then? i'm-"

your name is shouted as hurried footsteps rush towards you. your mother pulls you aside as she looks at the young boy in front of you with panicked eyes.

"young master, i'm so sorry if my child said or did anything to hurt you," your mother says in a rush. she pushes your head down to bow in front of the young boy. she hisses something into your ear and you stutter out your own apology too, even if you did nothing wrong.

you find out the young boy you helped earlier that day was the son of the nobleman your mother works for, diluc ragnvindr. apparently, he's some big deal because he's the young master, but what kind of big deal hurts himself and hides between the barrels instead of asking for help?

you huff as you kick your feet sitting down by your bedside. because of the whole debacle, your mother had ordered you to stay inside to prevent even more debacles from happening even if you explained that the young master getting injured was not your fault. the sun shining from your windowsill feels so far away as you stare outside and ponder what to do.

until you hear a light pattering sound come from your window.

your curiosity is piqued as your small frame approaches the glass panes, wide eyes peeking over the wooden frame as your eyes scan the scenery.

the foliage of the trees surrounding your home cast shadows over your house with small animals running back and forth from the greenery above, causing the rustling of the leaves. the sun trickles in through the gaps of the leaves and your eyes settle on the boy with red hair standing outside your window, a small rock in his hand.

there's a proper bandage on his knee now as it was properly dressed, and his fiery eyes meet yours. he looks hesitant at first, but his brows furrow and his lips open to prepare to speak.

"...come outside and play with me," he tells you when you push open the window in your bedroom, a slight pout in his voice.

"you got me in trouble," you reply shortly, "and now i'm stuck inside because of you."

the young boy bites his lip, pondering what he could do or say to make things better. from the way he's thinking hard enough for you to see steam coming out of his ears, you could tell that he was trying really hard to think of anything to say.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, kicking the dirt with his shoe.

"sorry, what was that?" you ask, holding your ear out.

the young master huffs, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance. he stomps his foot before-

"i said 'i'm sorry'!"

you smile at him smugly before crossing your arms on the windowsill. it was amusing to see the supposed young master like this; for such a renowned young boy, he was such a cry baby.

"okay, i can't go outside, but we can still play inside if that's okay," you tell him with a bright smile. "i'll let you in!"

"diluc..." he says, red eyes meeting yours. he reminds you of a fire with the way he's looking at you; so full of life but almost burning you if you get him too riled up. but the flames are tame now compared to the anxious flickers you saw earlier before he apologized.

"okay; i'll let you in then, diluc!"

ever since that warm summer, you and diluc have been inseparable; every afternoon is spent exploring the land of the winery but never straying far enough to get lost or end up on the other side of the lake where monsters lurk.

you were there the evening master crepus brought home another young boy around your age home; his blue hair reminding you of the blueberries your mother bought from mondstadt for you to eat. it was a bit of an adjustment with another young boy to play with, but soon you got along well with him as well.

his bright blue eyes always sparkling as you invite him to play alongside diluc and his little hand held in yours. he reminded you of the stars above with the way his eyes twinkle with youth and reflect the night sky above you when the three of you snuck out of your homes to stargaze with your hands holding onto each other until the morning sun began to rise over the horizon.

with your hands held tightly with diluc's and kaeya's, your youth together was only just beginning.

it's a cool morning where the early frost is beginning to melt as the sun continues to rise over the horizon, spreading her warmth and love across the fields of dawn winery. the young master has been gone for a couple days now; something about some sort of knight exam or whatever happening in the city of mondstadt. you would have gone with him, but your duties lie in caring for the winery whilst your friends head off to the heart of mondstadt to finish their training and hopefully become part of the knights of favonius that crepus ragnvindr had always encouraged them to be a part of.

you know having their father's praise meant a lot to your dear friends and you could only hope for the best for both diluc and kaeya as they were off doing their duties.

your ears perk as your name is shouted through the winery along with the sound of hooves rapidly against the dirt road. over in the distance, you can make out a red haired young man galloping over on his steed at near full speed. with wide eyes, you try to tell him to slow down before you get trampled and-

"oof!" you groan as a heavy body slams into you, both his weight and warmth tackling you to the ground. you're thankful that his arms cradled your head as you both go tumbling into the dirt road underneath you and the only pain was that of your body against the floor.

you don't even get to question why diluc had tackled you to the floor when he pulls his face away from you, giving you a clear view of his expression. he's smiling brightly, a wide grin on his face and his eyes of rubies twinkling brighter than any flame you've ever seen. the flames of his soul flicker brilliantly in his excitement and you can't help your own match his energy.

"i got in!" diluc says, his boyish smile growing wider. the small divots in his cheeks are cute and evidence of how hard he was grinning at the news. "i passed the trials got to do the oath swear and- oh, i wish you could've been there!"

despite growing up into a more mature-ish teen, it is moments like these where you're reminded that even as time passes and he grows taller than you, diluc is still the bright eyed boy that you've known since you were young. he looks so cute, in an endearing way, when he eagerly tells you all about his trials and how tough they were.

you really hope that the young master stays the same as he is now.

with a gentle hand, you reach up to ruffle his hair; it's soft to the touch and your eyes don't miss the way diluc pauses in his excitement as your fingers weave into his hair. you assume it's because he's not used to your praise and brush it off, even as he leans into your touch and waits for your words.

"why don't we head inside first? i want to hear everything that happened, but inside where it's warm and comfortable rather than on the dirt floor, diluc," you say to him, a slight lilt in your voice. you laugh softly when you see his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment before he gets off of you.

"i apologize, i was just so eager to tell you," diluc says softly, reaching down to offer a hand to you. you take his hand; you can feel the natural warmth emanating from his body through his gloves and, before you know it, you've been pulled up from the ground. his arm wraps around your waist to assure that you're balanced as you stand up.

"i just," diluc begins. you watch him as the young master of the winery averts his gaze briefly before he meets yours, warm rubies enveloping you with nothing but the comfort he holds for you ever since you were both younger.

"i wanted you to be the first person i told and to tell you."

a wave of something pleasant washes over you knowing that diluc, the heir of dawn winery and one of the most hardworking and talented man in all of mondstadt, rushed back home on horseback in the early hours of this chilly morning just to announce the news to you in person.

just so he could be your first in regards to his good news.

you laugh softly as something warm settles into the pit of your heart, squeezing his hand in yours as you tug him towards the main mansion of the winery estate with no intentions of letting his go for the time being.

even with the budding flowers of youth begin to bloom and the happiness that was promised to you has yet to come, you would have never expected for the spring of your youth to end so abruptly.

it happened all so quickly; crepus ragnvindr wielding a delusion, his death and the anger of diluc exploding, and the fall of your friendship with kaeya and diluc.

you weren't given the details of either one's situation, just a witness of a near death experience and the unforgiven apologies spewing from kaeya's lips as he held his injured eye in the midst of the rain washing down on them as if mourning both the loss of crepus ragnvindr and the wound wedged deep between the relationship of the ragnvindr brothers.

it was like in a mere second, the once warm diluc that would blush and hold your hand so delicately had been wiped away and replaced by a diluc grieving the loss of his father as the flames of his anger and betrayal of both his own brother and the knights of favonius for trying to brush the murder of his father under the rug explode and engulf his entire being.

he doesn't even give you a proper goodbye, leaving only a letter dedicated to you and his vision dimly glowing on his nightstand behind.

it feels like a fever dream when you hear the news of diluc finally returning after all of these years. you don't even hear it from the man himself; rather, from the whispers and excited chatter that the master of dawn winery had returned home.

part of you is excited at the news that he's alive; with no news of his existence after he ran from home in search of the truth behind his father's death other than the faint glow and warmth radiating from his vision clutched in your hands when you missed and worried for him, you were ecstatic knowing that he truly was home now.

that he's alive and breathing and still with you.

and yet, another part of you twinges in pain that he didn't come to you and announce that he was home. he had left you without even a single goodbye, not even bothering to visit you and explain his situation before leaving you questioning whether or not he even cared about how you felt about him.

of course, you aren't entitled to being the first to know, but after growing up together and usually being the first to know of everything in your youth, your heart aches knowing you were one of the last to hear of this at the winery.

it doesn't help knowing that you have not even caught a glimpse of diluc after his supposed return.

so imagine your surprise coming home one evening, the cool night air biting against your skin as you return home after a long day's work, seeing a figure leaning against your home.

at first, your blood turns cold as your heart races in your ears; it couldn't be anyone bad... the winery is a safe place and any suspicious figures are dealt with accordingly before they even step close to the winery grounds. you don't even have anything to defend yourself against if they did happen to be someone with malicious intent.

you take a step back to turn tail back to the estate but freeze when you begin to recognize the figure outside your door; red curls resembling that of flames flickering in the air and warm ruby eyes that you could recognize anywhere. despite standing in the dim evening light and having only the glow of the lantern outside of your home, you could make out the injuries through his dark clothing.

just what did he get himself into?

you hesitate at first, but eventually let your instincts take control as you begin to walk over to your home. it's as if you were both in the blooming stages of your youth again, bringing diluc home to mend his wounds after training for the knight exams.

caring for him was like muscle memory to you, even after all of the events leading to him leaving you in the dust.

you don't say a word as you open the wooden door and guide diluc in, pulling out a chair by the fireplace. wordlessly, he sits in it as you leave to prepare to clean his wounds.

your fingers shake ever so slightly as you remove diluc's coat from his shoulders, the heavy fabric falling to the floor with a thud. you apologize softly as you begin to unbutton his shirt and, as each button is undone and reveals more of his skin, your fingers begin to flinch every time your skin brushes against the skin of his chest.

his breath is warm, you can feel it against your skin as you slide off the remaining clothes on his torso. his chest is bare to you, and normally you would be gawking at how much he has physically changed since you were younger. but you cannot help but stare at how much he had been injured in the last few years you have seen him.

aside from the scratches from the most recent scuffle which led him to your quaint home beside his manor, scars litter his chest and arms. although most of them are healed, the damage that he had experienced was still evident on his skin and you hold back a gasp at how deep some of them had been; there's a huge scar that runs diagonally from the top of his chest to his stomach and you could already feel your stomach churning at the pain.

you couldn't imagine having to sustain those injuries for so long, and being alone through it all.

and, now, you hope that the injuries currently on his body heal faster knowing that he isn't alone this time. not when he has you by his side.

diluc's eyes burn holes into your skull as he watches you dip a towel into the bucket of warm water at your side; you pretend to ignore him. twisting the soaked cloth to rid it of the excess water, you gently begin to clean the wounded man in front of you.

a man you consider an old friend, but you fear he doesn't hold the same sentiment. not anymore.

it's quiet, the only sound shared between the two of you being the occasional sound of the towel dumped back into the bucket and the crackling of the fireplace in your living space. the moon casts her illuminating rays through the window of your home, but her light is nothing compared to the comfort of the fire in your home.

the comfort of the man in front of you, even if you didn't want to ever admit it to him now.

the glass jars containing the disinfecting ointment for diluc's wounds clink gently as you open them to spread over his skin.

"why are you helping me?" his voice breaks the thick silence between you two. his sudden question makes your hands pause, but you don't raise your head as you think of something to reply.

"and let an old friend bleed to death outside my door? you think i'm that heartless, diluc?" you ask him. your fingers resume their previous job of slathering the medicine over his new wounds. "i could say the same to you, why show up to my house like this?"

another silence follows your words and you assume he's done interrogating you for your kindness to him.

"i had nowhere else to turn to," diluc says after a while. your eyes catch his fists tighten on his lap as he takes another breath. "you've shown me nothing but kindness even after i was so cruel to you."

you exhale softly at his words. of course he thinks dealing with his own problems this entire time was the worst thing he could do to you. if you were being honest, it did hurt when he seemingly pretended you didn't exist or pushed you away when he had returned home from whatever he was dealing with away from mondstadt.

you had hoped for a joyful reunion, one filled with tears as you finally welcome home your old friend. but he never announced when he was coming home and you only figured out through the grapevine. he was never home when you looked for him and when you finally caught a glimpse of him, your eyes would meet for barely a second before he rushed off elsewhere and leaving you in the dust.

according to kaeya, his brother whom you've kept in touch with throughout the years. diluc had changed even more ever since his return; he kept his feelings to himself and his face remained 'constipated,' as per kaeya's words, due to his inner turmoil.

but from everyone else, he had always been so kind to them. the old women in the city would always praise how gentle the young master was, helping them walk across the city or carrying their groceries if they needed it. the young women also constantly swooned over how mysterious, yet warm-hearted diluc was; seemingly cold in nature but treating children and animals with such tenderness.

"it did hurt knowing you were ignoring me," you confess as your fingers begin to unravel the gauze to wrap over his wounds. "even if you wanted everyone to think you've changed and have become cold and guarded, i know you're still the same caring boy i've known since we were young. i hope so, at least."

his skin is warm to the touch, another feature you realize has never changed about your old friend. with bated breath, you lift your head to let your gaze finally settle on diluc's own. just as you predicted, despite the physical changes, you can still see the diluc you once knew within the scarred and older man in front of you.

diluc has definitely gotten older; the baby fat on his face slimming down slightly to reveal a more defined jaw and the bags under his eyes were evidence of his restless nights away from mondstadt. there are light scars on his face, nothing too deep to keep from his princely demeanor but are definitely proof of a troubling journey, and he has grown taller than the last time you had seen him in your youth.

but one thing that has never changed is the fire the lights up his eyes. so red and warm, you're tempted to hold his face in your hands to get a closer look. they're so vibrant, alive like the embers that flicker in the fireplace that lights your home, as they stare back at you in anticipation of your next words.

"you would never intend to hurt me on purpose. so if i should have to wait forever for you to be ready to come to me like you've had in the past, i don't mind doing so."

diluc's stoic expression wavers at your words. a sliver of guilt shines in his eyes and he looks away briefly as he digests the words you've spoken to him.

he couldn't tell you the reasons why he always kept you at arm's length; was he wary of your intentions for always being kind to him despite how he treated you or was he so used to people close to him lying to his face that he feared you were also pulling a facade?

or was he scared of you sharing the same fate as his family should he loved you with his heart on his sleeve, a fate of being held in his arms as he feels the warmth that once comforted him when you were young fade away like the embers in the hearth of a fireplace?

diluc did not want to know and he did not need to know, not when you're looking at him with such trust and compassion that he finds it hard to even hold any distrust towards you.

his dear friend from his youth who was always there to pick him up when he fell.

you did not break through the walls shielding diluc's heart for you had already found your place beside it, holding he's life with your gentle hands and protecting his soul's flames with your faith in him.

"i'm sorry," diluc apologizes to you, looking into your eyes. one of your hands is grabbed to be held by him, rough and scarred and so calloused as it held the memories and grief of what he went through to become like the man in front of you, the gauze held in your other. his warmth seeps into your skin, heating up your skin as the flames of his heart grow and encase your entire being within its embrace.

your lips part to say something, but he continues to speak.

"i thought keeping you away would benefit us both," he takes a breath as his eyes scan over your own features, taking in all that has changed since the last time he saw you in your adolescent years; how much you've grown both physically and emotionally. you look so much more mature than the naughty child who ran around breaking their mother's rules just to play with him or the dear friend who would bicker with him endlessly during their teenage years.

the years of their beautiful youth, years that he wished so dearly he could go back to and live in that peace for eternity.

but while the winds continue to blow and move time along, you've continued to stay the same despite the change.

you're still so kind, so inviting to someone like him.

you treat him like the friend you've remembered in your adolescence, even if his hands were bloodied with vengeance and his heart is scarred and wounded from betrayal and deceit.

he is still diluc, just diluc in your bright and beautiful eyes; he always had been.

his hands squeeze yours tightly, hoping that he has the courage to say what he wants to say.

"i don't deserve your kindness, or your love. but if i imagine a life where i have succeeded in pushing you away and we no longer talk," diluc begins, the fire in his eyes wavering as they hold your gaze.

"i don't think i would ever want to live a life where you're not in it."

diluc's words shake you to your core; it's something you wouldn't expect him to say now after all these years. as much as you want to immediately forgive him and push back the years of agony, waiting for any sign that he was alive while leaving his vision behind, or even watching as he ignores you despite being home after all these years, your heart aches knowing knowing he even did this to you in the first place.

"how can i know that you won't leave me like you did?" your voice is small despite being so close to him. in fear of having him see how much his actions have affected you, you face tilts down to your lap to avoid his gaze. "i can't just wait for you forever, it hurts sitting here all these years with a promise i don't even know if you'll keep."

you take a shaky breath as you speak again.

"you didn't even say goodbye."

your voice breaks as you say those words and you can feel the burning sensation as the tears threaten to spill over your eyes.

there's a moment of silence between the two of you before you hear him gently call out your name. his free hand reaches up to cup your face, tentatively guiding you to face him. he says your name again, softly as if even saying your name too harshly would cause you to break, and you hesitantly meet his gaze.

there's a tenderness that you recognize deep in those fiery pools in his eyes, one that flickers like the hearth of your fireplace and suddenly you feel like you're experiencing the most beautiful yet fleeting moment in life once more. diluc's thumb gently presses against your cheek to wipe away any tears that overflowed from your already wet eyes.

his pinky links with your own, a childish thing to do but one that you still hold dear to your own heart.

a promise between the two of you bathed in firelight and your youth reflected back at you in the shape of the young man sitting before you.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin x reader #diluc fluff #diluc fics #didi writes #seraphiism'23 #events !!#this was fun!!#sorry this is really late TT life is life-ing o(-(#n e wayz; i do think diluc would b such an annoying kid LOL #b r a t to the core #but he mellows out and all that fun stuff later #happy new year everyone ! i hope you enjoyed my (late) work !!

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

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Pain

Eris x reader

A/n: I’m all moved in and still getting settled so plz enjoy this lil fluffy piece with Eris 🤗

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff

The pain in your back was reaching debilitating heights. Ever since Masha threw you off her back, yours had been strained. You knew you should go see a healer, but you didn’t want Eris to fuss. Or be seen as weak.

You winced adjusting yourself in your seat. Praying to the Mother you hoped went unnoticed. If your mother saw she would tell you to smile through it or that you were being dramatic.

It seemed Lady Autumn noticed. She gave you a quick sympathetic look that no one else saw. “Y/n,” she said softly, “Would you do me a favor dear? Can you run this to Eris for me?” You nod at her. She was giving you an excuse to leave. Cauldron bless this caring, kind female.

Slowly you get up, being careful not to bother your back. You take the paper she held out for you. She nods at you in dismissal. As fast as you could you left her receiving room before your mother could object.

Once out in the hall you unfold the note. All it read was, “Go rest dear.” You smile at her elegant handwriting. Thankful that someone in this house cared for you. Besides Eris of course.

Wanting a quiet place to lay down you head to Eris’s rooms. It would be empty this time of day since he prefers his rooms serviced in the morning. Slowly pushing the door to his rooms open, you poke your head in. Empty and quiet. Just as you hoped.

Weaving through the sitting room furniture you head for the bedroom. You kick off your shoes and pull on the laces of your dress, letting it fall at your feet. Helping yourself to Eris’s clothes you pick out a loose fitting shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts from the closet.

You carefully pull yourself onto Eris’s large bed. It’s always warm under his covers. Maybe some of his warmth was still lingering from this morning. When a healer had initially checked your back after the fall she had told you heat would help. Of course you hadn’t listened, thinking you would be fine just taking an everyday tonic for the pain. You are regretting that decision now.

Laying flat on your back your eyes fluttered shut. It felt nice to be back in bed. Maybe Eris will be back soon. His father kept him busy all day meaning you didn’t get any alone time. As you drifted off you thought about his hands and how he could use them to warm your back. How the pain would melt away with a single touch.

When you woke up the sky was a brilliant orange-yellow from the sun setting. The room was no longer dark, a small fire burning in the hearth, and the fae lights set to dim. Turning your head you find Eris sitting against the headboard. A book in his hands. He looked peaceful. “Hey,” you say tiredly.

Eris smiles down at you, closing his book and placing it on his bedside table. “Hi wildfire,” he coos, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face. “My mother told me I’d find you here. She said your back was hurting, do you need anything?” Something about Eris’s mother knowing you’d go to his room warmed your heart.

You could lie and say no. But you weren’t interested in denying yourself the comfort of Eris’s warm hands. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?” Eris nods, “Anything you need.” “The healer said heat would help the pain. Can you use your powers to help?” He gave you a sympathetic look. The fact that you were silently suffering for so long killed him.

Silver lined your eyes as you pouted up at him. “Please.” Eris leans down to give you a soft kiss. “Let’s get you comfy, yeah,” he murmurs against your lips. Snaking an arm under your back Eris pulls you against his chest. He gently moves you to lay on top of him, legs tangled together, and your head on his chest.

Leaving the blankets at your waist Eris starts to slowly run his hands up and down your spine. On the last pass he pulls the hem of your shirt up, his fingers causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

“Where does it hurt most?” You let out a small hum, snuggling closer into his chest. “Between my shoulder blades and lower back.” Eris places a large hand on each spot, warming his hands to comfortable temperature. You sigh at the relief. The heat felt wonderful. You could feel your muscles loosening as the minutes passed. Eris checks in with you, making sure the heat was enough or if he needed to move around. If the two of you could stay like this forever life would be perfect.

As your breathing evens out, signaling you’ve drifted off, Eris kisses the top of your head. “Sleep well, wildfire.” He whispered. You leave a quick peck to his chest right above his heart.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra x reader #acotar eris #Eris x reader #Eris x you #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra acotar x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fluff

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oh-snapperss · 5 months

Text

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when.

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home.

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them.

Home is where Cleo is.

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.”

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down.

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat.

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo.

BANG.

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it.

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it.

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.”

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones.

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear.

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. .

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same.

Not this time. Never this time.

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight.

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.”

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.”

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees.

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them.

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone.

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet.

“They’re coming,” he says.

It’s time.

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him.

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing.

Run.

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill.

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly.

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not.

And he won’t die by Cleo.

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo.

Home. He wants to go home.

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired.

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home.

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home.

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over.

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home.

#secret life #secret life smp #ethoslab #zombiecleo #cletho #secret life spoilers #my fics #tw death #I don't have an explanation at all for this #Is this cohesive?? i wrote it in a daze. in under thirty minutes #if it's not great OH WELL #this is how i am coping #god i'm never gonna feel okay again about them #never ever #i'm fucking insane #bursts into tears

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cordeliawhohung · 12 days

Text

Of Sea Foam and Iron [3]

general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

a storm hits

wc: 3.9k

warnings: historical au with lots of inaccuracies, mythology!au, nudity, talk of war and gore

Cold linens awaited you when you truly woke from your rest as John and Simon’s presence had dissipated.

There was no chin to rest against the top of your head, or a strong chest to press against your back. In fact, the only proof that they had ever been there at all was their lingering scent on your skin. You closed your eyes as soon as they fluttered open, trying to draw back the memory of their hands on your waist and the comforting weight that accompanied it. It was only a pale imitation of the real thing, and it left your chest yearning for something you knew you would never gain the courage to ask for.

When your eyes opened for a second time, they did so with a great huff from your lungs. Pale sunlight and a strong breeze drifted through the cracks of the closed shutters, and though salt was always ever present in the air, you could smell the promise of rain hiding underneath the brine. It would be a good day to stay inside.

Usually you didn’t need your himation in the warm summer months, but without the golden sun to warm the house, a heavy chill pricked at your body. You wrapped the thick wool around your shoulders before you descended downstairs on creaky steps. Simon was already hard at work for the day, and you hardly got halfway to the landing before you heard his hammer echo with its metallic clink in the courtyard. All Simon had done since the day the two of you were bound together in matrimony was work. In the beginning, you were certain that it was to distance himself from you — his unruly wife — but once John returned home you thought he would allow himself to rest. Yet, it seemed as if that’s all the man ever wanted to do.

“Mornin’ little dove,” John grinned.

A strong fire blazed in the central hearth of the home where dancing flames attempted to lick John’s back as he sat faced away from his hard work. Blue eyes sparkled with a warmth that rivaled the fire behind him, and you almost felt a smile flitter across your lips. There was nothing different from his gaze that morning compared to the previous day, yet his fingers twitched as they rested on his bent knees as if they searched for something.

“Morning,” you replied, voice meek as you adjusted your himation.

Johnny’s hand slipped off of his knee where he patted the hearth next to him invitingly. “Come, get warm.”

Your bare feet hardly made a sound against the floor as you crossed into the threshold. Each step brought the warmth of the flames along your legs where they dethawed your cold toes and fingers. John watched you with careful eyes as you situated yourself on the stone slab next to him, and he hummed once you settled. Heat prickled up your spine and it chased away the residual morning cold that clung to your body; though, you were unable to tell if that was because of the fire, or because of John.

“Rain is coming,” he said. His head tilted back to look up at the ceiling as if it were the sky instead. “A storm, maybe.”

Over the roaring of the fire behind you, a dull roll of thunder grumbled somewhere in the distance. It was not frequent that your city received storms, as Poseidon often smiled upon you. Though one could argue he was angry, if the storm was mild, perhaps he only sent the rain to assist with the farmers and their crops.

“That would be nice,” you mused.

John chuckled warmly. “You like the rain?”

“I think so,” you answered. “I like the water. The ocean.”

“A fine thing to love.”

Instinct told you to look at him, yet you refrained from doing so. Despite the familiarity in the tone of conversation, John was still a stranger to you. Some man who had returned only yesterday to embrace your husband while dressed to gut enemies. Still, he was kind, but despite the fire at your back, you were silent and cold.

“I… wanted to talk more about yesterday,” John continued through your silence. “I’m sure you still have many questions, as Simon isn’t the most prolific.”

“Prolific?” you repeated with your snark hardly restrained. “He’s spoken a handful of words to me since we’ve been married.”

“Like I said, quiet,” he repeated with a poorly hidden laugh. “Though, I wasn’t much help prompting answers from him yesterday, either. Dead on my feet after traveling. Took us just short of a fortnight to arrive home.”

John rubbed at his eyes as if the exhaustion still plagued his vision, and yet even with his movement you did not glance at him once. Looking at someone often brought a weakness about you that you had difficulty conquering. There was something about their eyes that had you see the humanity within them, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. You would have hated to crumble in front of him.

“Well,” you prodded, “perhaps you can get an explanation out of him, then. He spoke not a word of your existence and then introduced you as my second husband? Such terrible madness.”

“I already got an explanation out of him this morning while you slept,” he sighed. “Which is why I want to talk to you. I’m better at explaining things than Simon is.”

Bewildered, you finally allowed your eyes to fall on John. “Must you be so casual about this? Was this not a surprise to you? Coming home to your husband having wedded himself illegally to someone else?”

“Simon is not my husband.”

Your expression betrayed the icy exterior you used to conceal that softness inside. It was difficult to tell if it was because of your confusion, but you found your heart aching at those words. John could not look at you when he said them, and though they left his tongue with ease his tone was soaked in a somberness that burned.

“Soldiers aren’t permitted to marry,” he explained, blue eyes trained on the floor in front of him. “They say love gets in the way. Muddles things up. Soldiers have only one duty, and it’s to the state.”

He paused.

“I would have liked to have married him.”

If it wasn’t for the pain in his voice, you would have been afraid. The lost longing painted you to be the ruiner; the pitiful being that tainted something that had not gotten the opportunity to bloom. A desert-like dryness settled on your tongue. It tasted worse than sand. It was bitter, grainy, and promised to end you.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“Don’t be,” John said with an attempt at humor. “I told him to find a wife. To get married. Have children. I would have hated for him to wait around forever just for me.”

“Could you not have waited? I thought soldiers were only required to serve for two years,” you pondered.

John hummed again. He did that often, as if song better suited his ideas than mere words. Thick fingers pressed into the joints of his wrists as he massaged tired muscles and traced faded scars before answering you.

“Most only serve for two years, yes,” he concurred. “But, you don’t earn the name Ares’s Dog by serving the minimum. My heart is here in the city, but my home is in the viscera leftover from battle.”

He paused as he twisted his torso to look behind him. A large hand reached for a split log in the pile just next to the fire, and John expertly tossed it into the flames. The fire cracked loudly, content with its meal.

“No. I told him to marry, so it wasn’t quite the surprise when I came home and you were already here,” he explained as he repositioned himself. “Find a wife. Start a family. And if his wife would have me too, then I would stay. But it seems things weren’t that simple considering your… situation.”

“Yes,” you concurred, voice soft. “It wasn’t… proper.”

“Simon told me what your father had to do to protect you. I’m sorry you had to witness such gore,” Johnny consoled. “I understand why he would hastily marry you off to Simon if it meant having the protection you deserve. And, well, knowing Simon as well as I do, he didn’t hesitate at all in marrying you if it meant aiding you.”

A scoff tore through your vocal chords so fierce it left a sour aftertaste on your tongue. John spoke of Simon as if he were Apollo himself, guiding the sun across the sky to bring light and warmth to the soil beneath your feet. You were certain that John’s feelings towards Simon weren’t unfounded at all, but though he had never been cruel or unkind to you in any way, he was not loving. Not to you, anyway.

“Could have fooled me,” you spat. “I feel like a ghost in this house. At least he avoids me like one.”

Despite your sour attitude and words, John only chuckled.

“His love is strange, yes,” he said. “It’s still new to him; love. Being vulnerable. Something he was never granted before. He’ll keep his distance, if you let him. I swear to you, you’ll find no finer man than him.”

Another roll of thunder shook the sky. It was stronger than the quiet whisper of one you heard minutes earlier, and it all but demanded attention. Both you and John looked up to the ceiling, and moments later the soft trickle of rain engulfed the house. Though none of the windows were open, you pulled your himation closer to you as if to stave off the breeze that beat at the shudders. The thick wool soaked up the heat of the fire like a sponge, keeping you well insulated despite the impending storm.

A content sigh left John as he carefully pushed himself to his feet. Soft trails of goosebumps prickled across his skin as he stepped away from the fire and into the cold, but he didn’t stray far before turning to face you once more. His hands reached for you where they hovered in the air, patiently waiting for you to accept his offer.

“Come. We should eat,” he urged.

It was not your first time putting your hands in his. He always seemed to want to hold you and gently guide you as if you did not know any better. Still, you accepted his assistance as he pulled you from the hearth. Somehow, his hands were warmer than the flames, and though you were standing on your own, he refused to let you go.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said, blue eyes boring into you. “I told Simon to find a wife, and if she would have me, then I would stay. If you do not wish for me to be here, say the word, little dove. Your father might have wanted for you to be under my protection, but I will not share a bed with a woman who would want someone else. I will leave no mark on this place when I go, if that’s what you wish.”

No response rose in your mind or throat at his reminder, but a heavy fit of remorse weighed on your chest. He spoke those words as if he were the intruder. As if he had not loved Simon and lived in that house long before you ever came around. It was difficult to tell if you had fully accepted the idea that you lived with two men; though even if you hadn’t, it was something your father obviously wanted for you. Still, even if you didn’t want him around, you would not deny him the flesh and warmth of his lover.

“Stay,” you said, voice quiet.

John’s smile was the warmest you had ever seen. No hint of lust or darkness; only a pure appreciation for your kindness, something you felt like you weren’t capable of those days. His tongue darted out between his lips as if in anticipation, and you ignored the way it made your stomach churn.

“Then it is done.”

Trickling rain continued into the afternoon before it started to swell into a proper storm. Whistling wind became near deafening as it threatened to pull the house apart, and it wasn’t until the sky was black with clouds that Simon finally ceased his work and took shelter inside. With the amount of water that dripped from his clothes when he came limping into the kitchen for lunch, you were surprised he hadn’t drowned out there. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead and down the nape of his neck, and his chiton clung to his body in a way that certainly wasn’t comfortable. His frigid skin tinged pink with his scars extra angry and puffy.

Both you and John looked up from your food at the sopping wet mess of a man who dirtied the kitchen. Simon’s chest heaved with fatigue, and his feet hardly lifted from the ground as he meandered towards John.

“How’s the weather?” John asked facetiously.

“Frustrating,” Simon huffed. “Can’t keep a goddamn fire lit or burnin’ hot enough.”

He paused once he approached John’s side, eyes focused on the plate of food in front of him. Without a word, he snatched a fair size of cured meat off of it before taking a bite and turning around. Simon continued his pitiful shuffle as he exited the kitchen, shoulders hunched and legs shaking. John did not appear to mourn the loss of his food, yet his eyes stayed trained unwavering on his lover’s body as he rounded the corner.

“He seems upset,” you noted.

“He’s in pain,” John explained.

A clash of thunder sounded just as John rose from his chair, and he left his plate behind as he began to rummage for something around the stove. Its embers ebbed and waved with brilliant scarlet light, and it almost danced to life in flames when John knelt before it. He retrieved two medium sized, semi-flat stones tucked into the stonework and placed them on the small hearth next to the dying embers. Nodding to himself, he then turned to you, worry etched deep in his face.

“Wait a few minutes, then grab these stones and bring them up to our chamber,” he asked while his feet began to wander out of the room. “They’ll be hot, so grab them with cloth. Take care not to burn yourself.”

Without another word, he vanished out of the room where you then heard his feet stomping up the stairs moments later. Rain refused to quiet nor waver even as you carefully cleaned up yours and John’s plate.

Pain? Simon was in pain? Well, John could certainly read your husband better than you could, because you thought he had just been his regular self. Still, you supposed it wasn’t entirely impossible. With as many scars that afflicted his body, you were certain the damage ran deeper than just superficial marks on his skin.

As instructed, you waited until the rocks had soaked plenty of warmth before using the edge of your himation to grab them. With careful hands, you trekked up the stairs to the second floor where you found John and Simon in bed together. A drenched chiton sat on the floor next to the bed, but Simon’s naked body still glistened with the memory of its moisture. His chest heaved and he grunted like an animal as he slung an arm over his face, hiding his eyes from the light of the oil lamp that flickered on the nightstand.

John’s thumbs dug into the muscle around Simon’s knees, massaging them with what appeared to be less than gentle touch. Simon hissed, jaw flexing as his teeth grinded together, yet he kept still as the man worked at him. You approached the side of the bed with hands outstretched, hot rocks tucked together underneath thick wool sitting in your palms.

“Is he alright?” you questioned.

John paused long enough to turn and grab the stones from your hands. His fingers didn’t flinch when he grabbed them, as if he was so used to the heat of them that it no longer phased him.

“It’s the weather,” he explained. “The old wounds in his knees are aggravated by the change.”

You watched with apprehension as John pressed the rocks against Simon’s skin, yet your husband didn’t flinch. The tense muscles that flexed in his thighs slowly began to soften as John moved the rocks carefully around his knee, tracing the long scar that dissected his skin. It was one of the first things you noticed about him the day you got married. Deep and ugly, it ailed him so bad he couldn’t walk straight because of it; forever bound to limp in weakness despite the strong stature his body would otherwise have you believe.

Another smaller scar mirrored in perfect continuity on his other knee. It was not as deep nor as angry, but you could clearly make out the line in which both scars connected. A blade. It must have been. There was no other weapon that you knew of that could’ve created a scar such as that. His entire body, even his face, was littered with the unsightly marks.

Why would a blacksmith have such scars?

John moved from one knee to the next, warm rocks soothing away the ache so deep in Simon’s body that hands alone could not heal. You quietly stole a seat on the mattress next to Simon, and you carefully watched the mesmerizing motions of John’s circling hands. He was so… soft for a soldier. Considerate. It’s a side of man you weren’t used to seeing after witnessing such violence in your home. For a while, you thought love was just violence; blood waiting to be spilled. Perhaps love was just warm rocks against tired skin.

“What happened?” you asked with eyes still trained on the old wound.

John’s eyes glanced up at Simon, who wasn’t able to see his gaze through the arm slung over his face. As if he felt the burn of his eyes, the man shifted on the bed before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Tell ‘er, Johnny. Know you like tellin’ the story,” he urged.

A grin bloomed on John’s face as he turned his attention back to Simon’s knee. “He got this from saving my life.”

Stunned, you shifted on the mattress to get closer, and your thigh brushed against Simon’s leg. How your husband could handle the cold of your chambers completely naked and half wet was beyond you. Your body yearned for any warmth it could steal.

“I don’t believe it,” you countered.

Really, you didn’t. How could John MacTavish, hailed hero of your city, need any sort of saving? You didn’t at all doubt Simon’s capability of saving someone; it was just the thought that John could ever find himself in such a precarious situation that you doubted.

“I’d never lie to you, little dove,” John chuckled. “No, Simon and I served together, once upon a time ago. Trained together. Fought together.”

He paused his story in order to switch knees again, returning to the one closest to him. Simon’s breathing had already calmed, and he no longer panted like a mad dog. Any tension that had been harbored in his body when you first entered the chambers had almost been completely washed away.

“Years ago both of us had been deployed in a large-scale battle. It was a bloody skirmish with swords flailing every which way, I swear the glint of metal was brighter than the sun that day,” John recalled. “But there was this big brute who fought with a club. Rivaled the size of Simon, even, which isn’t easy. Bastard snatched the shield right out of my hands and knocked his club against my chin. Split me right open and knocked me out cold.”

A hand instinctively covered your mouth as John shared the story, and he paused for a moment to look at you. He seemed to take some sort of boyish pride in your worry, and he tilted his chin up to put his own scar on display. You had hardly noticed it before due to his stubble and your active effort to not look too many people in the eyes, but it marked his skin as clear as day. It was deep, spanning from the front of his chin and curling underneath the right side of his jaw in an angry, red line.

“I wasn’t out long, of course, but I wasn’t all there when I woke up,” he continued. “Felt like I was underwater, could hardly breathe. Bastard stood over me ready to bash my head in like a damn melon when Simon swooped in like an eagle. Sliced him to bits before he could do anything else to me. But war is messy and unforgiving. Several others piled on him, got him pretty good. Still killed the bastards.”

“All but one,” Simon corrected. He had been so quiet you swore he had fallen asleep. “One of ‘em ran off.”

“He killed the bastards that weren’t cowards,” John amended with a chuckle. “But they got his knees. Surprised infection didn’t take him. But Simon, my love, stubborn man that he is, carried me off the field even with his wounds.”

“Would you rather I dragged you?” Simon asked.

“You should’ve left me there.”

“I love you too much for that.”

The sound of rain smothered the conversation as both men fell silent. Rotten shame boiled deep in your stomach as your eyes carefully scanned Simon’s body. Over the weeks, you had gotten so used to his unabashed nakedness to the point it didn’t phase you, but that wasn’t what made you feel shameful; it was the realization of how bitter you had been.

On the day of your wedding when Simon lifted your veil from your face, the only thing you could think was how ugly he was. The scars that littered his body were just eyesores, and his limp didn’t make him a paragon of strength. Hardly the man that was supposed to protect you from the wicked ways of the world. How cruel you were for thinking such a thing. For looking at the scars he earned saving the life of his lover as if they were an eyesore rather than proof of his devotion. How dare you look at him as anything less than he was; a man who loved?

In an attempt to swallow down your shame, you found your own hands reaching out for Simon’s knee. The heat of his skin felt nice against your frigid hands, but he flinched at the sensation. You paused as you looked up at his half obscured face, and you didn’t look away until you felt his muscles melt and relax underneath your touch.

In silence, you mimicked John’s movements with your thumbs. Tendons and muscle danced underneath your fingertips as you did your best to massage the pain from your husband. With hands as weak as yours, you were certain it hardly did anything to help him at all. Still, you continued, and you prayed to the gods that he could feel your silent apology through your touch alone.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #f!reader

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queenshelby · 22 days

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 23)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

"I should have him killed," Tommy said as soon as Robert left the room, but you bristled at the suggestion.

"No, Tommy, you can't do that!" you objected. "This is all my fault, I know that and I will find a way to fix this," you promised gravely, eyes pleading for Tommy to reconsider. And, even though you too knew the full weight of your actions, somehow your heart didn't feel heavy, not yet. Instead, you still felt the euphoria of being with him: the exhilarating feeling as though his love was an intoxicating drug that coursed through your veins.

"Relax. I wasn't serious," Tommy conceded, softening his expression as he observed you, although he knew well that, by keeping Robert alive, there was always a risk the truth could inevitably bubble to the surface.

"I'll make sure he never breathes a word about this though," Tommy promised, his voice firm and his eyes hard and you nodded silently, still reeling from what had just happened.

" Tommy," you eventually whispered meekly after almost three minutes of silence, your heart pounding as you reached for his hand and he took it in his own, his grip warm and steady.

"Yes, Love?" he asked, intently focused on your expression.

"I don't want you to marry Lizzie," you admitted quietly, your heart still reeling from the whirlwind of emotion that had swept through the room.

Tommy let out a sigh, releasing your hand as he turned away and paced toward the large fireplace at the far end of the room.

Gripping the mantlepiece with white-knuckled intensity, he spoke in a low growl towards the flames dancing merrily within the hearth.

"Love, it's already done and it's for the best, eh" he insisted. "I can't call off the wedding and I most certainly can't be with you, no matter how much I want to," he added, his voice thick with regret.

The air in the room became heavy, filled with unspoken emotions that weighed down on you like a poorly fitted corset, squeezing the air from your lungs.

You searched his face, trying to find any kind of warmth that could hint at the love he said he felt for you, but his gaze remained fixed on the fire crackling within the hearth.

"I can't just forget about us though," you admitted softly, taking a tentative step towards him as if approaching a caged lion. "I read the letters," you told him with tears in your eyes.

"Yes, the letters I never send to you for a fucking reason," he snapped, his disappointment written clearly across the hard lines of his handsome face. "You are my goddamn niece for fuck sake!" Tommy thundered, spinning around rapidly and taking a step towards you. The blazing fire behind him illuminated his sculpted face, casting deep shadows across his features as he looked at you with an expression that swung between despair and frustration.

"But we didn't know when all of this started between us," you protested quietly, maintaining the fragile connection between you.

"Does it fucking matter now, Love?" Tommy ground out, his voice a rasp of gravel and anger as he stared down at you.

You trembled under his gaze, those blue eyes that could both soothe and incite fear burning with an intensity that left you wanting to surrender, even as your heart screamed at you to run.

"Society won't care about whether we knew or not. No one would ever fucking marry us and I certainly won't get into the House of Fucking Commons if it was to be found out that I fucked my own niece," Tommy growled, his body rigid with tension.

"I cannot change the fact that we are related, and I cannot change the fact that I want you more than anything in this world. But it doesn't fucking matter. We just -," Tommy began, only to be cut off by your lips on his.

"Shut up," you whispered, your voice thick with desire.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you, kissing him deeply. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he hesitated for just a moment before he kissed you back, his lips devouring yours with a passion that took your breath away.

Tommy's hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his arousal pressing into you, hot and hard. His fingers dug into your hips as he lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs apart.

"I don't want marriage. I don't even want you to admit, in public, that you have feelings for me, but I want to be with you occasionally and I don't want to fucking share you," you panted, your voice shaking with desire as his hands roamed your body.

"Y/N, we can't do this," Tommy groaned, even as his lips found your neck and his breath ghosted against your skin. "But I can't fucking keep my hands off you either," he admitted, the words like a confession against your heated flesh. "What are you doing to me?" Tommy breathed, hands gripping your hips so tightly it was almost painful. But you reveled in the knowledge that you had this effect on him, a man who was so in control of everything around him, reduced to a panting, pleading mess of sensations.

You arched your back, breaking the kiss as you reached upwards, unbuttoning his shirt again. The strong lines and shadows of his chest unfolded before you like an illicit gift and you couldn't resist running your fingers over his skin, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under your touch.

"I need your cock inside me , Tommy," you demanded, biting your lower lip as you looked up at him with a hunger that he mirrored in his eyes.

He groaned at your words, low and deep in his throat, his blue eyes darkening with desire as they locked on you.

You reached down to pull your skirt up further, exposing yourself to him as he pushed his trousers down and stood between your open legs, his throbbing need evident of its fierce desire.

Tommy's hungry gaze never left yours as he pushed into you in one sharp movement.

Your head fell back with a gasp, his name spilling from your lips as you welcomed him deeper inside.

You were wet and ready, the slickness coating his length as he filled you completely. The feeling was indescribable; pleasure mixed with guilt and longing that made your heart race and your mind whirl with emotions.

Tommy's eyes blazed with lust as he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved within you.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "You feel so fucking good."

Despite the cold air in the room, sweat beaded on both of your brows as you matched his thrusts, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The desk beneath you creaked and shifted with each harsh movement, but neither of you cared. The world outside this room didn't matter, only the two of you and the primal connection between you until, finally, you reached your high.

"Oh my fucking god , Tommy!" you screamed as your orgasm tore through your body. His name tasted sweet on your lips and you relished in the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin as you clenched around him. "Yes, yes, just like that," you gasped, your head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure as he drove into you harder. Tommy's movements became more frenzied, his control slipping as he chased his release.

"Fuck , Y/N," he growled, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble as his hips snapped forward. "You're going to make me come so hard."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting the flames of your own renewed desire.

You clenched around him, milking his cock with your thighs wrapped tightly around his waist as he continued to piston in and out of you until, finally, he stilled.

Groaning even louder than before, Tommy emptied himself deep within you, seed dripping from your still-quivering entrance as he fell forward, resting his forehead against yours.

His breaths came in short pants, and you smiled as his cock twitched in the aftermath of its climax within your warmth.

"Fuck I love you," Tommy muttered, eyes drifting closed as a sigh of pure ecstasy passed through his lips. He shivered against you.

"I love you too," you whispered back, the warmth of your breath brushing against his cheek, causing goosebumps to rise up all over his body.

You sat and stood there for a moment, completely intertwined with one another, your chests heaving in sync. The only sound in the room was the steady beating of your hearts and the labored breaths leaving your lungs.

You looked up at Tommy and noticed the satisfied, blissful expression on his face that you had put there.

His hair was slightly damp with sweat and stuck to your forehead as his body relaxed against yours on the desk. The satisfaction that warmed you up from the inside, knowing that you had done this to him, was unparalleled. You loved seeing him lose control, even if it was just for a moment in time. After a few moments of post-sex silence, Tommy slowly pulled out of you and stood up straight. His body glistened with the sweat of exertion and desire and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you draped over his desk, thoroughly fucked.

But the smile quickly faded as reality came crashing back down.

"We can't keep doing this, Love," he muttered, tucking his shirt back into his trousers and doing up his belt. "I am getting married tomorrow," he reminded you, causing you to nod.

"I know," you replied softly, still catching your breath. The feeling of emptiness as he pulled out of you was a stark reminder of the cruel reality. "I know it's wrong, Tommy."

He leaned over the desk and kissed you gently on the lips, a small promise that he would always protect you.

As you pulled your skirt back down and fixed your hair, Tommy took one last look at you before turning to leave the room. The silence of the study felt heavy and charged, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest.

You watched as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone in a state of blissful satisfaction, and the chilliness of the room brought reality crashing back down around you. You knew that this moment couldn't last forever, but it was something that you would cherish nonetheless.

Tags:

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@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 month

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Vesuvia Weekly: Things the M6 don't do anymore

~ my little creative drabble for the prompt "How Things Changed" (pre- vs post- plague) over on @vesuviaweekly! Hope you guys like this little hurt/comfort/fluffy train of thought :3 ~

Julian doesn't shout in his sleep anymore. He still gets nightmares, still tosses and turns and mumbles and wakes up with a start in a cold sweat - but his troubled murmurs don't turn into the terrified cries that they used to. He's still working on eating better and sleeping longer and it's taking time. But from the moment you first lay down next to him for the night, some part of his brain understood that the warm, safe weight of you meant he didn't need to scream to be heard anymore - or helped.

Asra rarely makes tea anymore. They still love to drink it - multiple times a day, if they can - but now you're the one who makes it. He never got over his childhood wariness of tea kettles in general after the mishap that involved his magic appearing. While you were recovering, it was one of many duties they happily shouldered to take care of you. Now that you're equal partners again, it's one of the many small ways he's begun letting you take care of him in turn. Besides, yours tastes better.

Nadia doesn't run away to her tower anymore. She still visits it frequently, to think, or nap, or clear her head, or give her introverted nature a break from the constant social pressures of being Countess. But she doesn't run away to it, to sit in the circular chamber and pretend (or hope) that the rest of the world had simply ... ceased to exist. She doesn't like the thought of losing a world that has you in it. Now, her visits range from serene to tumultuous, but they all carry hope and purpose within them.

Muriel doesn't forget to tend the fire anymore. It used to be an easy thing to go without. After Asra moved out, after his tormentor went up in flames, it was easy to watch the light in his hearth slowly dwindle and die. It was peaceful to sit in the dark quiet of a stone hut and slip into another long, deep, chilly sleep. But now you're here. And you deserve to be warm. You're worthy of a space filled with golden light and soft furs and beautiful tapestries and good food and warmth. And maybe ... he is too.

Portia has stopped hiding in the library. Don't get her wrong, she still sneaks into it all the time. (Seriously, what else was she going to do when she was handed one of the only two sets of keys???) The library was her space, with stories only she had read, where the skills she grew for herself hid among the bookshelves. Her achievements are much, much bigger now. They look back at her in your eyes, in Pepi's little voice, in a flourishing Vesuvia. She doesn't hide in the library anymore. She emerges from it.

Lucio refuses to eat breakfast by himself, ever again. As a soldier, it was a hurried affair around campfires - nothing like the fun of raucous dinners the night before - and as a Count, it was brought to him in his chambers. He'd sit and eat the pile of sugary goods and eye the mess of last night's debauchery and try not to feel cold and small and alone. After three years of hell, he's not alone anymore. Breakfast is campfire food, or inn amenities, and missing most of the sugar he loves - but it's portioned for two.

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lexyleblancc · 1 year

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Something nicer {Sihtric}

Summary: Sihtric takes care of his family during the night of a storm.

Dad!Sihtric x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nothing, unless you fear children and a simp of a man :)

Word count: 699 haha nice

Disclaimer: Not proof read, we die like men here. Also have decided to make this a little series of the TLK men being dads because it warms my heart

There had been rumors of a storm hitting, and Sihtric couldn’t be more happy that he had made it home before it hit. The nights had been getting colder, almost unbearably cold. Furs were piled high on all the beds at night, roaring fires hit in hearths to keep the chill at bay. You were curled into Sihtric’s side, your nose cold and red from being the only part of you visible under the mountain of furs you curled under. The man sucked in a breath as your cold nose made contact with his neck, making him shiver. The door to the bedroom creaked open, making the restless man look up, seeing the small figure of your youngest child standing there, holding a small stuffed bear tightly in her arms.

“Da, it’s so cold.” The little girl cried quietly. Sihtric sighed, sitting up and letting the furs pool around his waist, the cold air hitting his skin.

“It is.” Sihtric agreed, motioning for his youngest to climb onto the bed. “Lay with your mom, keep her nice and warm and I’ll go get the fires going again, okay?” He cooed softly, tugging the furs over the young girl and kissing her forehead. In your sleep you reached out for your daughter, pulling her closer to you and letting out a soft hum. Both Sihtric and your daughter let out small laughs, before the man stood from the bed and found the closest tunic he could reach.

The wooden floors were half frozen, sending shocks through him as he quickly rushed to the living room to stoke the fire before heading down the hallway to the children’s room to stoke that one as well. Sihtric almost cursed the day you insisted on giving your children the larger room with a fireplace in it, but they would always come first. He just prayed to the Gods you would be able to move houses soon, somewhere that was much larger and had a fireplace in every room to keep the family warm.

Your two oldest children were curled together in one bed, shivering under the furs while the man worked quickly to warm them. The middle child, your only son, had abandoned his bed at some point in the night to help keep his older sister warm during the night. Once the fire was roaring once more, Sihtric grabbed some of the extra furs from a chest beside the door and covered the children, kissing both their foreheads before leaving the room quietly.

When he was finally back in his and (Y/N)’s room, he smiled fondly seeing his wife and youngest child sleeping soundly in each other's arms. He slowly slid back under the covers, reaching over your daughter who laid contently between you two, and pulled the both of you closer to his shivering form.

“Where did you go?” You asked, your voice laced with sleep as your eyes opened slowly to look at your husband.

“Just fed the fires.” He told you softly, pushing some of your hair away from your face as he smiled widely. “Gave the children some extra furs to keep them warm until morning.”

“We need more fireplaces to keep this place warm.” You joked quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The walls would tend to let in drafts during the colder months, taking all the heat away when the family so desperately needed it.

“Or a nicer home.” Sihtric mumbled, his eyes growing heavy with the sleep that so desperately called for him. “I will talk to Uhtred in the morning, see if there is something we can do about the cursed cracks in the walls until then.” He promised, placing a tender kiss on your lips before leaning down and kissing your daughter's head. “Just rest darling, the warmth will flow through the house soon.”

“I’m not the one shivering.” You hummed, placing a warm hand on your husband's arm. He smiled softly, holding you and your daughter tightly as the both of you fell asleep once more.

He would always wake up at night, to stoke the fires that warmed your family, just until he could provide something nicer.

#Sihtric #sihtric x reader #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom imagine #osferth #osferth x reader #Uhtred #uhtred x reader #ragnar x reader #young ragnar #erik x reader #erik thurgilson #finan #finan the agile #finan x reader

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shadowdaddies · 4 months

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I feel like there isn’t enough stuff for rhysand

So you can do whatever you want with it coz i don’t really have anything in mind

(Just like some fluff and smut and a teensy bit of angst)

Thanks

I was also asked for more switch!Rhys so this is angst to fluff to smut with switch Rhys and reader

Heavy is the Head

Rhys x f!Reader smut

Warnings: smut below the cut, little bit of d/s dynamics, wing play, oral m!receiving, minors dni

Glancing at the clock above the hearth, you recognized the late hour and your mate having yet to return from his trip to the Hewn City. You reached out through the bond, feeling his sorrow in such intensity that you realized Rhysand must be close.

You raced downstairs in your nightgown to find Rhys on the living room couch, violet eyes aglow in the firelight as he set down a writing quill, staring at a parchment on the table. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, his gaze flicking to where you stood to reveal the tears that lined his eyes.

“Oh, my love,” you whispered, padding over to where he sat. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you leaned into Rhys’s warmth, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rhys sighed, setting down his drink before settling back against the cushions, pulling you with him. Curled into his side, you brushed his onyx hair from his face, admiring his beauty. A slight smile graced his lips as he noticed you watching him, but it disappeared just as quickly.

“I am trying. I am trying to undo thousands of years of corruption and oppression in this court. The wing clippings in Illyria have increased. Azriel wants to cut off the wings of the males who are clipping, but the Lords have made it clear that they would revolt if that happens. I can’t allow this to keep happening, but I can’t lose my army. But then meeting with the Court of Nightmares today, and Keir...” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled. “What is worth defending, and what isn’t? I didn’t ask to be born into this position, and I don’t think I am fit for it. I am not fit to take care of all of these people.”

Tears formed in your own eyes, feeling his pain as your own. You looked down at your mate - a male who tried so hard to do the right thing despite having been raised to do the opposite.

Shifting against him, you straddled Rhys’s hips, hands running up his toned chest, his neck, to cup his face. Tenderly, you leaned forward, kissing the tears that had fallen down each of his cheeks before pulling back to look in his eyes.

“I love you, and I am so proud of you. We will find a solution, together.” Eyes darkening, your hands moved up to thread through Rhys’s onyx locks, tugging lightly as you whispered in his ear, “but for now, let me take care of you.”

Rhys groaned, the scent of his arousal immediate as you licked up the side of his neck, sucking on the spot just below his ear. His hands began to slide up your legs, thumbs rubbing your hips when you pulled back. With a ‘tsk,’ you pulled his hands from you, guiding them to hold the back of the couch behind him.

“Keep your hands to yourself, or I stop,” you ordered, unbuttoning his shirt, baring his tattooed chest to your gaze. With a smirk, you rolled your hips against his, feeling his hard cock straining against his pants. “Wings out, too,” you whispered softly, pussy clenching as he obeyed immediately.

“Good boy,” you purred, satisfaction filling you at his responding whimper. You rolled your hips against his in circular motion, just enough pressure to tease him without relief. Pushing open his shirt, you licked and sucked down the skin of his neck, leaving marks across his collarbone.

“Mine,” you whispered, licking one soothing stripe over an already darkening mark, fingertips trailing up his sides as he shivered at your teasing touch.

“Yours,” he breathed, head falling back against the back of the couch, lips parted in pleasure. You took advantage of the position, reaching behind you to grab the feather quill Rhys had left on the table. Still drawing teasing strokes up his side, you turned the quill in your other hand, brushing the feathered end against the inside of his wing.

Rhys gasped, eyes wide as his head shot forward, hips bucking into you. Violet eyes darted from where you held the feather in your hand, to the devious sparkle in your eyes. Wrapping your free hand around Rhys’s neck, you pulled him in for a rough kiss. Massaging his tongue with yours, teeth clashed as you curled your tongue along the roof of his mouth in tandem with the roll of your hips against his strained cock. You drew the feather along his wing again, smiling against his lips as he trembled at the touch.

“Fuck, darling. I need more,” he ground out, voice hoarse from desperation.

“Anything for you,” you purred, sinking to the floor in between Rhys’s legs. Tracing your hands slowly up his thighs, you watched his reaction, mouth slightly open, chest heaving, cock twitching in his pants as you moved to undo the laces.

Rhys’s member sprang free, already dripping with precum as it throbbed against his stomach. You felt your panties dampen at the sight, letting Rhys into your mind to show him - the view of you on the carpet on your knees, the wetness of your core as you ached for him, the feeling of how eager you were to please him.

He groaned, hips grinding against the seat as his hands gripped the back of the sofa, eyes nearly black as they focused on you. With a cheeky grin, you batted your lashes at him, watching his face as you flicked your tongue out against his tip, moaning softly at the taste.

“Fuck,” Rhys gasped, hands twitching as they ached to thread through your hair, force you deeper on his cock. Puckering your lips, you sucked in a pulsing pattern on his head before sinking down, taking him as deep as you could manage before gagging as he hit the back of your throat. A groan escaped Rhys, his breaths becoming heavy as you bobbed your head rapidly up and down, using your hand to work the base where you couldn’t reach.

You slyly picked up the quill from the side, dragging the feathered tip once more against Rhys’s other wing, unable to stop your smile at his responding roar. Just as you felt Rhys’s cock twitch in your mouth, he brought his hands down, pulling you off of him.

Licking your lips, you looked up to find Rhys trying to catch his breath, wide eyes staring at you in awe. “You are perfect,” he breathed. “But I need to be inside you, please.”

A bright smile graced your lips as you nodded. “Like I said, anything for you. Tell me what to do, my love.”

Rhys pulled you up into his lap effortlessly, ripping your soaked panties from your hips. You gasped, the sound turning into a moan as he brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. Heady with desire, you mewled pathetically, rolling your wet pussy against him in a plea for more.

Rhys smirked, hands moving to your hips as he lined himself up at your core. “Hold on tight,” he whispered, pulling your chest to lean against him, your hands now gripping the back of the sofa as he began to thrust up into you brutally.

You bounced on his dick, helpless as he hit impossibly deep with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping combined with your moans echoed throughout the house, Rhys’s moans growing louder, his thrusts sloppier as he neared his edge.

You pulled your hand back, moving to play with Rhys’s wing again when he caught your wrist. “Come with me, darling,” he whispered, guiding your hand to your clit as the both of you rubbed tight circles across the swollen bud.

You shivered, breaths stuttering as you reached your high, Rhys letting go right after you, hot cum spilling inside your pussy as your chest collapsed against his.

“I love you, so much Rhys,” you whispered, placing a kiss to his neck before settling into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I love you, darling,” Rhys murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair as he lifted you up, carrying you to your bathroom as he readied the tub for the both of you.

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the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep · 3 months

Text

Sweater Weather (Gale x GN!Reader)

Rating: Teen/SFW

Pairing: Gale and Reader (Second Person POV)

Word count: 1k

Summary: You knew that Waterdeep could be chilly during Hammer, but you didn’t realize quite how cold it could get. Luckily, Gale is always happy to lend you some warmth

“I had no idea Waterdeep could get so cold,” you said, shuddering against the cold winds that crept through the poorly insulated windows of Gale’s tower. Even beneath a veritable pile of blankets, the cold still seemed to seep into your bones. You insisted repeatedly that you would be “just fine”in the cold, yet you still shivered under all of the layers.

A cold front loomed over the Sword Coast, heralding the beginning of Hammer. The seasons were more temperate in Baldur’s Gate and you were unprepared for the harshness of Hammer further north.

Conversely, this was Gale’s favorite season. Gale’s wardrobe was significantly larger than yours and warm woolen sweaters and heavier cloaks comprised much of it. His mother made him a new heavy tunic sweater every year, partially out of motherly fussiness but mainly because she knew how much Gale loved a solidly-made sweater. That day, he was clad in a heavy burgundy sweater and trousers. He wore a pair of well-insulated slippers, yet another gift from his mother Morena.

“Come here, my love,” Gale said, beckoning you over to where he sat by the hearth in his library. Without abandoning your ersatz coat of blankets, you trudged across the room in stocking feet to curl up against Gale’s welcoming embrace.

The warmth of the fire and your lover’s body heat were comforting as you cocooned yourself by Gale’s side. On Gale’s opposite side, Tara was curled up and asleep with her head resting on her front paws. You could hear her snoring softly as you settled into Gale’s arms.

He gave you a tender peck on the forehead as you leaned into him. “We need to rectify the paucity to warm clothes in your wardrobe, my dear,” he sighed. “As charming as it is to see you scuttle about in your blanket cocoon, you require far more insulation against the Hammer winds.

You nodded reluctantly. You quickly realized that it was foolish to put on a tough front in front of Gale. Not only could he read you like one of his beloved tomes, you knew he always wanted you to be comfortable.

“You needn’t be so stalwart,” Gale said, taking a fatherly tone. “There is nobody in this tower or in all of Faerûn to impress or intimidate. Our days of toughness are over for now. It is safe to be vulnerable, challenging though that may be.” His lips curved into a half smile. “You’re a terrible liar anyway.”

“You’re right,” you sighed. Old habits died hard.

“I tend to be,” Gale replied with a hint of pride, which earned him an eye roll from you.

“So humble,” you wise-cracked, shaking your head. You shifted beneath the blankets and began to sit up. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want any?”

Gale’s brows furrowed and he shot up from the sofa. “Sit back down. You’ll catch cold wandering about like that.” He bent down and kissed your forehead. “I shall bring the tea and I shall bring you more appropriate clothing.”

You chucked, but acquiesced as Gale hurried out of the room. It was little things like this that you found most charming. He cosseted you at every turn. Even when the was lost in his inner world, the only thing that could snap him out of it was you. He valued your comfort and happiness above all else. Often you had to remind Gale that his needs mattered just as much and, despite his protestations, you wanted to care for him in equal measure. He struggled at times to allow himself to be loved and cared for, but old habits die hard.

The library where you and Gale whiled away so many hours together was a manifestation of his thoughts, dreams, and ideas. When you first moved in together upon returning to Waterdeep, it felt odd and somewhat uncomfortable to sit in his library. You felt as if you found someone’s secret hiding place and decided to claim it as yours. With time, though, you became more comfortable. You belonged there as a part of his inner life.

“Your tea, my love,” Gale said warmly. He set a cup and saucer in front of you, part of a set passed down through his mother’s family. “Unfortunately, this is the last of the mint tea. I shall acquire more when I go to the market tomorrow.”

He disappeared once more, trodding down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You could hear him rummaging around, presumably looking for a sweater tunic for you. Eventually, he returned, carrying an emerald green garment.

“It may run a bit big, but it should do the trick,” he smiled as he passed the sweater tunic to you.

You gratefully pulled it over your head. You could smell Gale’s favorite rose-scented soap on the fabric. It did, in fact, make him smell a bit like an old dowager, but you’d come to appreciate it as one of his quirks.

The weight of the tunic was comforting, like a hug from a loved one. You could immediately feel the warmth flooding your body as you cozied into the tunic. It was a touch too big for you, so you rolled up the sleeves before taking a sip of the tea Gale made you.

“We’ll have to get a few shirts and sweater tunics in your size. It’ll only get colder from now until Tarsakh,” Gale advised, pulling you close to him. He kissed the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair. “I have to keep you warm, my love.”

“We’ll keep each other warm,” you corrected, giving Gale’s hand a squeeze. “Through all the days of Hammer to come, this year and every year.”

The cold winds blew harder outside, rattling the windowpanes, yet you remained warm and comfortable in your lovers tunic as the two of you cuddled together in front of the library’s hearth.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #baldur's gate #gale x reader #gn reader

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shanastoryteller · 9 months

Note

happy pride! could you elaborate on hestia's men/lovers that have been mentioned a few times in gods & monsters?

Hestia's heart belongs to Atlas.

But she is more than just a heart.

Besides, the quicker everyone forgets she was mistress to a titan, the better.

"I worry about you," Hera says, during one of those long nights where she sits by her fire and lets Hestia pin up her hair and neither of them say anything about the bruise in the shape of Zeus's hands. It's not the violence that concerns Hestia, exactly - Hera leaves equal marks behind, after all - but the lack of care, which is not the same thing.

"I have my fire. I am well," she says, because she doesn't need a throne to know her power, has no need of grand temples. Every flame that warms is hers.

Hera shifts, a show of uncertainty that Hestia hasn't seen since the war. "Zeus worries about you. He wants to see you married."

Zeus fears her loyalty lies with Atlas and wishes to see her tethered to someone he can control.

"I am the goddess of marriage," Hera continues. "I could make a good match for you."

She knows what Hera is offering. A weak god, one that wouldn't even attempt to cow her. Or a god that doesn't cow before Zeus, which just leaves Hades.

But she does not want to be either the protector or protected.

"I do not wish to marry," she says.

Hera places her hand over hers, her amber eye sparking. "Then you shall not."

Hera declares her to be an unmarriageable goddess, as pure and bright as the fire she lives in, and to marry would be to sully the warmth of hearth and home.

Hera is the queen of the gods. What she speaks becomes truth.

Zeus goes large and dark in his rage. The fight they have shakes Olympus and causes the earth to split all along the mortal's home, which irritated Demeter to no end.

Hera doesn't budge.

Hestia remains unwed.

When Hera is at her most cruel, her most demanding, her most unlikable, Hestia remembers, and builds her fire a little higher.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #clintbbarton #gods and monsters

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vanillacreambunny · 3 months

Text

dottore x reader

genre: fluff

words: 604

warnings: none

notes: the cold weather inspired me to write this. Just something short and sweet. As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Thank you to those who take the time to read and comment on my work; it’s greatly appreciated ♥

One would assume you’d grown accustomed to the harsh Snezhnayan winters by now, and yet you find yourself woefully unprepared as you step out into the cold, which seeps beneath your layers and into your bones. Each breath burns your lungs, and by the time you reach your destination your hands and legs are numb, and your nose is running, snow dusting your shoulders and catching in your hair.

Lord Pantalone, with that sickeningly sweet smile on his face, places a handkerchief in your hands as he passes you, exiting through the door you came through. He disappears before you can utter your gratitude, and the next moment, the Doctor himself is wrenching the handkerchief from your grasp, wiping your nose himself despite your protests, his expression unreadable.

“I expect better of you,” he drawls, tossing the handkerchief into the fire crackling in the hearth; you watch it succumb to the heat of the flames, wondering how much Mora burns before you.

The thought is fleeting, however, as you bask in their warmth, snowflakes melting on your wind-chapped cheeks. You slip your gloves off, shoving them into your pockets—not before Dottore gives a disappointed click of his tongue at the sight of the threadbare material, the palms worn, and the seams coming undone, his disapproval palpable.

He takes your hands in his own, turning them over in silent scrutiny. “Good. You’re still of use to me. No signs of frostbite,” he hums, every brush of his fingers against your skin sending your heart rate higher. “Consider yourself lucky, though remember that your foolishness will catch up to you one day if you are not careful.”

“Yes, my—”

His hands close around yours, rubbing warmth into your fingers, and causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Heat rushes through your body from his touch, and all you can do is pray he believes your trembling is a result of the lingering cold—nothing more. You notice how large his hands are in comparison, his fingers rough and calloused after years of working with them, your eyes tracing the pale scars that run like rivers through the valleys of his knuckles.

Goosebumps run up your arms and down your neck when he purses his lips and blows, so close to kissing the tips of your fingers. Your gaze flickers from his mouth to his masked face, and although you cannot see his eyes, you feel them on you. He smirks, giving you a glimpse of pointed teeth as he chuckles, low and infectious. You can’t help but smile in return, regarding him with a tilt of your head and a kind expression.

“About time, assistant,” comes a gruff voice, the door slamming open with enough force to rattle the hinges.

You pull your hand away, taking a step back and bumping into Dottore, or at least one of his many segments, his red eyes narrowed in your direction and hands on his hips. “You know I don’t take kindly to such insolence. Perhaps I should experiment on you today as punishment.”

“Please,” Dottore scoffs. “You and I both know you wouldn’t dare. Besides, I can vouch for her tardiness, lest you forget your place.”

The segment frowns, huffing in indignance, and turns around without a second glance. “Come along then. We’ve wasted enough time.”

You nod, following after your master, but first, you turn to Dottore once more.

“Thank you,” you whisper—your voice loud in the quiet of his study—before slipping out of his sight, that grin of his etched into your memory and keeping you warm the remainder of the day.

#genshin impact #dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x you #reader insert #noelle writes

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potionpeddlerpatchy · 11 months

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word count: ~10.4K

paring: God!Sero x f!Nymph!Reader

warning(s): dubcon, drugging, use of aphrodisiacs, loss of innocence, first time, marking, oral (f!recieveing), creampie, sero being manipulative in general.

authors note: hello again! Figured i would repost this lovely Sero piece once again as I have its sequel coming out very shortly, and its best to have everything in one place. This was part of a Mythology collab, and I loosely based it on the Apollo and Daphne myth; though I twisted it a little. So please, enjoy Sero using sweet words to convince you into his conniving plan~ 🔮

Nymphs, nature deities that are not fully gods yet not mortal as well. The only true creature that lives for themselves and yet the only one invariably bound to the land of mortals. And what more can a nymph do than to plenish their lands, give lone travelers a peek of god-like beauty, and to tempt the gods?

A long time ago, Gods ruled the world.

Before mortals became too abundant, their faith lost, and took over everything; the gods controlled all that was seen, heard, and felt. They gifted the mortals things like the wheat in their fields, the water in their cups, the hearth and warmth in their homes, and even the beautiful visions they would see when they slept.

The gods were kind enough to bless them with the sun, the moon, the tide, the rain that filled the clouds, the mountains that provided shelter from the harsh winds, the peacefulness of being guided to safety in death, and even love; in the many beautiful shapes and forms they came in.

And beings.

Ones that were not fully mortal, yet not fully gods. Creatures created by the gods to simply be enjoyed by the mortals; those that were lucky enough to find them. Maidens of rare beauty, and melodic laughter, that could be found in all parts of the mortal realm.

Some say they were a gift from Aphrodite herself, as a way to give her thanks to those that were ever devoted to her. Some say they were a gift from Apollo, another form of his muses to gift them with beautiful singing and subjects to paint. And some say it was Zeus, having to give away all of his lovely daughters to the mortals to appease his queen.

Either way, they existed too.

Nymphs, they were called. Nature deities that were beyond that of mortals, but not powerful enough to be labeled gods, or even demi-gods. They lived hidden away from all. Not wanting to be seen or disturbed by many, if any at all. But, if a lone traveler was lucky enough, they may spot a few bathing by waterfalls, or dancing amongst the forest's trees, or soaking the sun rays in a beautiful meadow.

They were everywhere. The oceans, the rivers, the mountains, the forests, the meadows, anywhere the gods had touched and blessed there were to be nymphs to plenish and restore. To keep alive what the gods had left behind; to love what had been forgotten.

You were what the mortals called an Anthousai, a flower nymph. The luckiest of all spirits that were contained to forests and fields; even your fellow wood and plant nymphs were jealous of what you were. A beautiful flower to be admired.

Though the tree stands tall, and grass gives plenty, they could not compare to the beauty that came from anthousai, not even if they were to give up their lives and transform; for a tree could not compare to the beauty of an everlasting flower.

Though you never knew what flower you truly were, whether it be a rose, bluebells, or peonies, your beauty was beyond compare. Even your sisters, fellow flower nymphs like you, over time grew to be spiteful at just how radiant you had become; overshining even them, and they were to be just as beautiful.

They were resentful of you, the one that was most blessed by the gods.

You never were to be invariably bound to one place, for no place wanted to keep you. You constantly were searching, trying to find a home to be secure within, to find sisters that loved you and would dance and sing and care for you as you cared for all that crossed your path. But over time it was made clear that those of forest and field would not want to keep you and call you their own.

So you fled towards the mountains, where the springs and rock would be; hoping they would provide you with what you needed to live.

And, as luck and fortune would bless you once more, you came upon a fellow nymph that was like you. An Oceanid, one that was to be associated with water, as the personification of the springs that dwelled within the land you stumbled upon. And much like you, she was blessed more than anyone else and cast out for it.

She took you to where she lived. A place hidden by rock and trees and held within it a large pond of water that was so blue and clear one could get mesmerized by the simplest ripples on its surface. Not far from it was a tiny home, cozy and sweet that made your heart fill with warmth when you stepped inside it for the first time. And right below it, a passageway that led to a path, that if a traveler was lucky enough to stumble across, could cut his journey through the mountains in half.

Not ideal, truly, for a nymph that wishes to hide away from any mortal; and though this path and place were hard to reach, it had a higher probability to have a mortal stumble upon it, and you, than where any other nymph resided.

But, where one saw misfortune, you both saw the opposite.

If travelers wished to use your sacred path, to hopefully gaze upon beauty that they will never see again in their life, to trespass and invade your home, then they must leave a gift upon your altar. Failure to do so meant traveling back to where they once came, and conquering the mountain with even fewer supplies. So it only made sense to give up a small token, or bits of coin and gold to you both to be able to pass through.

And oh how blessed with gifts you were. Piles of gold and silver coins filled tiny satchels that hung upon your walls; and made beautiful jingling sounds whenever the wind would shift them. Jewels that would glisten in the sun whenever you held them up to gaze at their beautiful colours. And trinkets, both old and new, that decorated any part of your dwelling with their unique beauty; with some you would wear or attach to your clothing with how much you adored their charm.

It was not long that the news of this passageway, and the creatures that were being treated better than the gods, reached the heavenly realm.

~~~

“It’s becoming ridiculous!” Ashido cried out, bringing a golden fan up to cool her heated face “They’re getting more offerings than me now! Me!”

Ashido threw herself down on a nearby chaise lounge, the pillows making a soft landing on her otherwise dramatic display, as she brought an arm up to cover her eyes. The fellow gods around her just rolled their eyes, more than used to the over-dramatics their friend and fellow deity was currently putting on display. They knew that, in due time, this would all blow over and she would be acting as if nothing ever happened.

“So, it’s all well and fine if we lose out on offerings. But the moment the Goddess of Love and Beauty starts to lose just a few, then it’s an issue?”

Denki smirked from his spot, chin in palm, as he retorted back to the fellow god that was throwing a fit, more than amused by it all - unlike his fellow brethren. His smile only became wider when he saw Ashido’s eyebrows furrow and a scowl form on her face.

“Oh don’t make such a face!” He laughed, throwing his head back so far he too was lying comfortably on his chaise “It’s very unbecoming of you!”

“Will you two knock it off?” Katsuki grumbled, hands working a stone over the blade of his sword with practiced ease “Who cares about what offerings two stupid nymphs get?”

“I do!” Ashido sat back up again, her glare now pointed towards the man sitting on the floor “They lesser beings! Lesser creatures than I am! And yet their beauty is being more devoted than mine! It’s not right!”

And while those words only received an eye roll from the War God, another god’s interest was now piqued. Sure he knew of the situation, it was all anyone could talk about up in the heavens, but to now know that these creatures were deemed more lovely and fair than his friend? Well, it was certainly interesting news, to say the least.

“Fascinating…”

“Oh come now Hanta!” Ashido cried once more, knocking the arrow he was absentmindedly twirling in his hands “Really? As a fellow love god, I figured you would take my plight more seriously!”

“It is your plight, not mine” He hummed in response, before scoffing in mirth “Come on, how can you not find this interesting? When in our lives has any nymph really claimed the hearts of so many mortals? To the point where they are mistaking them for Gods?”

“Well….”

“Never! We have only ever seen them as nuisances at best, or in Denki’s case a quick romp to let off some steam. Nothing more than a means to an end. Now they are controlling mortals, and even us to a degree! Surely you should find that quite amazing of creatures you half-heartedly help make, turning into something almost as beautiful and powerful as you.”

Ashido rolled her eyes at the last statement, not liking having her greatness compared to that of two lowly nymphs; but Hanta did have a point. Though she would never admit it, her scoff and abrupt standing proof she no longer wished to be in the same room as him for simply being right.

“If you find them so fascinating, then why don’t you meet them?”

Hanta, or any of her fellow friends, did not have a chance to reply before she stormed out of the room. It caused Katsuki to scoff once more before resuming his task, this time with more vigor. And for Hanta to roll his eyes, fingers deftly twirling his silver arrow once again as his mind began to wander.

Just how beautiful was the pair of you?

Before he could ponder the question any further, he stood abruptly too. Not wanting to waste another moment wondering about those thoughts, instead, he wanted to see for himself. He was a god after all, so why shouldn’t he know more about these beings that were creating quite a stir in his realm?

“Maybe I will…” He mumbled to himself, feet starting to take him to where he wanted to go before his mind could fully comprehend where.

“Like hell you are!” Denki stood in his way, effectively blocking the taller god from taking another step “Not without me!”

This caused Hanta to smirk down at him “Nymphs are cautious creatures, and due to their nature one must be careful how they interact with them. And if I actually want to interact with them at some point, my best bet isn’t to bring the one god known for sleeping with, and breaking the hearts of, almost everyone single one.”

“W-well! So what?” Denki’s skin became flushed as blood rushed to his face in embarrassment over his friend's truth, “You’re a god too, and it's clear they don’t like any! So what makes you think you can succeed with them, huh?”

“Because, my simple friend,” Hanta smiled, side-stepping the flustered god to continue on his way “I am the God of Flattery and Sweet Words, hard to lose the trust of such lovely creatures with that.”

~~~

Though it took a lot of effort, and even more flattery, to get just where in the mountains (and which mountain) you and your friend were calling home from Ashido, he still managed to get it. And with gleeful steps, strong winds to help his wings glide him swiftly through the air, and the gracefulness of his very being, he managed to find you both with no issue at all.

He perched himself upon a nearby tree, high enough that one would not notice he was there if they were to walk by, and just observed the pair of you.

Your friend (or sister, as you kept calling her), he would admit, was beautiful. She was the one that caught his eye first. The way her skin seemed to always glow under the sun's rays as she gracefully danced upon the meadow you were residing in was hard to ignore. He chuckled to himself at the thought of some mortal stumbling across her, just knowing they would mistake her for his dear friend Ochako mid-hunt with how ethereal she looked.

But then his eyes finally glanced over to you, unable to help himself from sparing you a glance when your sister had called out to you, and it was then he felt his heart stop in his chest and for the world around him to stop moving.

It was your smile, or so he thinks when he thought back at that moment again and again, that caused such a powerful reaction within him. How radiant it was, how it lit up the world around you brighter than a thousand suns. How warm it made him feel when it unknowingly was sent in his direction. And how it made him finally look at your beautiful face.

After he saw that smile he wondered why your sister had ever caught his attention in the first place. The way the flowers around you sat upon your head and fell into your hair, the way your eyes looked so bright as they gazed up at your companion, and how soft and small your hands look when they reached out to her, to allow her to pull you up into a dance, were all so captivating.

He may have been fascinated before as to why mortals were throwing themselves into danger just for a glimpse of you, but now he understood fully. You were the most breathtaking creature he had ever witnessed in his long immortal life, and he could not lie when he thought to himself that day that your beauty could rival that of Ashido’s. In fact, he could not lie and say that he wouldn’t choose you over his old friend if he had to judge who the most beautiful in all the realms was.

He wanted you.

He wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life, and he wanted for very little. But he knew that you would deny him from plucking you from where you called home; it was in your nature. And in a perfect world, he can simply walk up to you and say a few pretty words and you would be his.

But thanks to his friend Denki, you would not trust him in the slightest; nor his intentions, for you could sense that they would not be pure. For how could they, as nymphs really only existed to be temptresses to the gods and then have their hearts broken once they gave their flowers to them. And you knew you were a rare flower, one that would not choose so willingly to be plucked up and away from your life, home, and companion.

No. If Hanta wished to have you, all of you all to himself, he would have to be patient. And well, it was a virtue and he knew he was virtuous enough to conquer the lust that raged within him when he looked at you to see himself succeeding. To see you run into his arms and ask him to take you away and be his forever.

And what better way can he think to court you, to earn your favour and trust, than to leave you gifts at your altar?

Not just any gifts though. No, he would not waste your time with the meaningless trinkets and coins that those travelers gifted you, he would give you things only the gods could. To give you all the spoils known to them as a way of proving his devotion to you; for why else would a god willingly give up all his riches if not for love?

~~~

It was strange to you at first, the small gifts that were left at your door. Usually when there was a gift there was a traveler nearby, waiting for you or your sister to allow them to pass. But these gifts would just appear as if they came into existence by the wind.

And what gifts they were!

Robes made with the brightest and finest silks, always adorned with beautiful gold and silver embellishments, with a few jewels within the intricate carvings. Rings that were so heavy your hands always felt like lead when you wore them. Bracelets that could wrap and entangle all the way up your arms and legs, adorning your whole limb in its beauty. And necklaces that always perfectly sat upon your chest, with their large gemstones settling flawlessly in between your bosom.

You always shared these splendid and grand gifts with your sister, not wanting to be cruel and hoard all the splendor to yourself. But over time you started to grow nervous about where these gifts were coming from, about who was sending them to you. For who could afford to give you these things if not a god? And if it truly was a god, how did you catch his eye? And why would he only want to give you these things, never your sister?

Soon there were gifts being given to you every day. As every morning they would sit at your doorstep, waiting for you to collect them. There was little space for you to place them in your home over time, with many of the gifts being left unopened; them sitting upon shelves in the bindings they came to you in.

And one day, upon a pile of other treasures that awaited you that morning, a golden apple sat glistening in the sunrise. That was the day all your doubts and nerves got the better of you as you shut the door and hid yourself away.

That was the day you knew for certain a god was trying to court you, for no other being other than god could get ahold of golden apples. The heavenly fruit that they all ate upon as if it was nothing more than a common fruit; but to you and all other mortals it was more than that. It was the only thing that could grant any being immortal life.

Therefore the reason it was given to you, sat upon piles of other treasures, was a sign that a god had wanted to take you away; to call you their own. And the thought terrified you. For where would you end up? What would they want from you? And would they cast you aside as if you were nothing, like all nymphs were treated by them? And what would happen to your sister? Would you never see her again?

That was the thought that terrified you the most.

Heartache, terror, abuse, you could bear if it meant she was by your side. You had waited long enough to finally get the companionship you had always craved; the one you searched for in many lands, and you did not want to give it up any time soon.

So the gifts, and that apple, stayed outside for days as you stayed hidden behind your walls in hopes that the sender would take that as a sign of your rejection. A sign you did not want, or need, the lavish gifts anymore and for him to move onto a more wanting and deserving creature.

When Hanta saw that his gifts were left untouched, the apple still perched precariously upon the other lavish items he had wanted you to wear and adore, it made his entire being slouch in despair.

How could you not like them? Why would you not take them?

He knew they were no different from all the other gifts he had given you, and he knew you loved those. He watched as you glided through the forests, and that wonderful meadow where he first saw you, twirling in those gowns. Giggling with your sister when you were jangling those bracelets as you danced, holding those rings up to the light. Unable to let his eyes wander whenever his necklaces would sit between your breasts.

And though he was never a fan of whenever you shared those gifts with your sister, he only ever wanted you to wear what he gave, he knew that you did so out of excitement. Excitement that you would show with every new gown and jewelry you placed on your body you would always pair it with a new crown made of the very flowers you tended to.

He watched you, from his favorite spot in the trees, as you gleefully would make them. Hands always hurried as you tried to finish them as quickly as possible as if you could not bear to wait another moment without it upon your head. And though they always looked so beautiful upon your brow, he always promised he would give you a real one someday.

One made of gold, if you were to say yes to him; to be his. But there it sat, collecting dust upon your altar. A rejection of him and all other splendors he wishes to give you.

It made him furious, just as it did fill his being with sorrow. Not furious at you, no, he could never hate you. Furious that he overturned his hand and made you skittish. Made you untrusting of him and his intentions. Made it seem like you did not want him.

But of course, you did. Of course, you wanted him.

He just had to make sure you understood why you wanted him. How no one else could compare to him. How no one else would treat you with such warmth and comfort and give you any spoil your little heart could ever desire for the rest of your life.

And well, it seemed only fitting that you should finally meet him as he told you all these things.

~~~

It was in your springs where he found you that night. Though it was not Hanta’s intention to spy on you while you both bathed in the cool waters, he couldn’t help it. How could one resist that temptation? To hear the sweet laughter mixed with the splashing of water to lure one in, and then to see the sight of two beautiful maidens while they bathed. It was simply not fair.

If he were a lesser man he would have jumped out to try and take one of you then.

But he was not and found great pleasure simply watching the pair of you. How the moon illuminated your skin to make it that much more supple; that much more tempting for him to touch. How he could not stop his eyes from roaming your figure as you brought oils to your skin, to lavish and clean it before they disappeared into the water around you.

Hanta was almost envious of the suds, the small bubbles, that had a chance to touch your perfect body and soft skin. Of the water that elicited such sweet squeals of excitement when it was splashed onto you, to the soft sighs it cast from your lips when you would lounge back into it. And of your sister, the only one who was able to witness all of these things about you; and so selfishly kept it all to herself.

Though it was only when a twig snapped under his foot, an oversight he normally wouldn’t let happen, that he realized his mistake. Realized that his first meeting with you would be tarnished over impure thoughts and actions, which would only lead to you not trusting him even more.

For what nymph could trust a god they caught spying on them while they bathed?

But he had to try. And he leaped from his spot once he saw the pair of you scurrying for your clothing and out of the spring. He cared not for your sister, and allowed her to run towards your home, though he followed you closely; making it impossible for you to return to the place you felt the safest.

He managed to corner you once again, back to where it all started. The waterfall from the springs could be heard faintly behind you as you watched him approach the tree you had hidden behind. Your breathing labored as you held your clothing up to your body as best you could to conserve what was left of your modesty.

“I won’t hurt you.” Hanta called out to you, his voice soft to not further spook you “And I won’t cause you any harm, I promise. I just think you are the most beautiful maiden I have ever seen; so won’t you please come out and talk to me? For just but a moment?”

You glare at him, eyes holding suspicion over his claims. Though you finally relented when you watched as he stepped closer and closer to you, in your ever-vulnerable state.

“S-stop! Please stay where you are…” You called out, voice losing strength as you continue to cower away from him “I will speak with you, only if you promise to turn your head away and allow me to get dressed.”

Hanta gave a small smile, hands clasping behind his back as he turned his body away from you; making sure to keep his head and gaze straight ahead of him, to not make you suspicious that he was trying to catch another glimpse.

“Did you not like them?”

His question startled you, a small gasp slipping out as you stumbled with your garment; almost tripping over your own feet. You took a deep breath to regain some level of composure as you shakily slipped your legs through the gathering.

“I am not sure what you mean…” You pulled the fabric upwards, placing the final strap over your one shoulder; your eyes never straying from the back of his head.

“The gifts.” He replied, “I have given you plenty, but it seems that lately, you have not accepted any. I am wondering if you did not like them.”

“Oh, it was you…” You made your way from out behind the tree, the movements being heard by the man before you as he finally turned back around to face you.

He was taller than you by a far margin, one that kept growing as he made his way towards you; his steps were careful to show he was not to harm you. When he finally reached you, he crouched down as close to your level as he could and clasped your hands in his, gently squeezing them in his hold.

“I am.” His voice was but a whisper as he pulled you closer, trying in vain to get you to look up at him, wanting nothing more than to gaze into your beautiful eyes.

“Then you should know why I did not accept them” You voice soft but strong, as you turned your head away from him “You are a god, the gifts you have given proof of that. And from all the tales I have heard and seen, all a god does is take the chastity of nymphs before casting them aside.”

“How could I ever do that to you? I would never do that to you. In my eyes, you are far too lovely and beautiful to ever just be cast aside.”

He heard you scoff, head moving away from his deft fingers as they tried to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, clearly not believing him. His actions just displayed proof of why you were untrusting, and so he would have to use his sweet words in a different manner.

“In all truth, had I not come down this very night to see you, I am sure my brethren would try and take you away.”

You stiffened in his hold, fear gripping your being at his words. Frozen in place you finally allowed him to move your head up to look at him, into his dark eyes that told you what he said was true.

“W-what…?” Your voice was shaky, as was your body when you continued to scan his face for any semblance of trickery; only to still find none.

“My fellow gods, the ones I call friends from time to time, they heard the stories of nymphs in the mountains that had caught all sorts of mortals' attention.” Hanta began, “They were curious, and wanted to see for themselves just how beautiful you were. But my friends are more beast than gentleman; I fear of what might have become of you had I not scared them off.”

You collapsed into him, the shock of his words controlling your body more than your mind as you clung to his tunic. Though you could not see it, Hanta had an impish smile on his face as he comforted you; his hands running soothing patterns up your arms.

“But you needn't worry!” He pulled back to look at your face once more, squeezing your arms in comfort “I will protect you from them. All I ask is that you accept me, take my gifts, and allow me your company.”

“How… how will I know?” You looked back up at him, hands lowering from his chest “How will I know you are being truthful with me?”

“I am a God of Love, my dear,” Hanta fluttered the wings on his back to make light of that truth. “And as one, I never appreciated or cared for those that would take advantage of it; to abuse it and harm others with their lust. I can tell my friend's intentions are not pure, as I can with any being, and I cannot bear it if they were to harm a precious flower like you.”

Hanta watched you carefully. Watched how your eyes glanced at his wings, back to his face, and turned downcast once again as you took in his words. He has hoped the sweet words he was known for would work on you, to break down your walls to allow him in. He had to hide the victorious smile from gracing his features when you gazed up at him and accepted his protection and his terms.

“Tell me your name” You mumbled, taking a step away from him. “If I have to agree to all of this, then please allow me to know the name of my protector.”

“Hanta, you may call me Hanta.”

Your head shot back up to look at him, eyes once again glaring at him as you took another step away from him “There is no god named Hanta.”

“None named for the mortals.” Hanta smiled, closing the gap between you once more “None of us gods are ever named what mortals claim we are, even in their stories. Our true names are only spoken and used amongst each other, in the heavens. Only you, in this mortal realm, shall have the knowledge and privilege to call me it.”

“Hanta.” You whispered out, nodding your head in agreement with his words.

“Good, now be off.”

It took all of his strength to step away from you; not wanting to be away from your warmth now that he finally had it. But he did. Only if it were to prove to you he was on your side, that he wanted to protect you.

He watched with bated breath as you scurried away, back to your home. Only allowing himself a breath, and a mirthful smirk to appear, once he knew you were too far away to see it. His wings stretched out behind him as he took flight back home.

His meeting with you went far better than he ever planned it. And now he had plenty to dream of that night.

~~~

It was rare for the God of War to come to the mortal realm.

Especially seeing as there was no war to be had. No fight to participate in, no blood for him to shed, and no victory to be won for him once all the dust and debris settled. And it was even more rare that the God of Strength would follow alongside him into this plane when there was no battle to be had.

But there were never ones to turn down a mission.

Their pride and honor to strong within them to let a challenge go to the wayside simply because they thought it was stupid, pitiful, or a waste of their time. And though Katsuki thought what he was doing here, what he was about to do, fit into all three categories he simply could not tell his friend no.

Hanta never asked for much, especially from him. And Katsuki had to admit that his fellow friends served him very well in battles of past; always fighting on his side to help him claim his victories. So, he could swallow his pride for a moment or two so he can fulfill a small favour in return to the larger ones he was in debt to.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice either.

“Why are we doing this again?” Ejirou asked, scooting himself closer to his friend while still staying crouched behind some foliage.

“Because Hanta asked us to.” Katsuki mumbled, huffing out his answer as it wasn’t the first time he was asked.

“But it doesn’t seem right, doing any of this. And you normally don’t waste your time on such trivial things, especially when it comes to beings like nymphs, so why are you here? And why did you drag me into this?”

“Because!” Katsuki hissed, baring his teeth in warning “Hanta asked for us to do this! And the last time I refused that bastard made it impossible for me to be intimate with anyone for over 200 years!”

Katsuki huffed, watching his friend eye him warily before shifting slightly away, the action making him slump his shoulders in slight defeat.

“Listen. I don’t want to do this either. If I had it my way, we would all just leave these two idiots alone for the rest of their lives. But Hanta seems to like one of them, and we all know there is nothing we can do to stop him.”

“You’re right….”

Ejirou mumbles that last part, knowing that his friend was right. There was no way to change Hanta’s mind once it was set on something, much like it was impossible to change any of their minds. They were gods, and they were selfish. They took what they wanted and when they wanted it.

It was just that both of them were unnerved at the taking of a nymph away from the place they were bound to. Something that was never meant to be done. When they were created they were made to be invariably bound to the mortal realm, to avoid any chaos that may happen if they were to come to the heavens.

Hanta was playing a risky game, and though they trusted he would play his cards right, and well. They could not be sure that his actions would not cause a ripple effect that would turn into a grand-scale fight amongst them; like the choosing of the fairest once again.

Though they had no time to further delve into their thoughts on the matter, not when you and your sister had approached where they were hiding. Your giggles filled the air as you came into the springs once more; wanting a dip in their cool waters to help quench your thirst and cool you from the warm summer rays.

Both men tensed, breath hitching in their throats as you both started to slowly undress; taking off your charms and jewels, and placing them into neat little piles by the water's edge. Katsuki hated that you were lovely, hated that the stories of you both were true; for if they weren’t he would be able to justify what he was about to do as some sort of favor - to save those travelers all that time from trying to seek out a creature that turned out to be hideous.

Eijirou hated what he was about to do because you were so beautiful. Hated the fact that he would have to scar and torment such enchanting creatures for the sake of his friend; for if it were up to him, he would just bask in your glow until he was satisfied, and leave this place with a beautiful memory to last him eternity.

But it was not up to him, nor his companion next to him; and with deep, quiet breaths they both solidified their resolve and stood from where they once were hiding.

The startled gasps, the scrambling, and the screaming were all something they loathed to hear from you both as they made their way over to where you were. They hated how they had to play the part and chase you both down, to separate the both of you to further petrify you both. How they had to watch you stumble and fall, to scratch your perfect skin on tree branches and rock as you tried to get away from them; all of it.

They hated all of it.

But once they watched the pair of you rush into your home is when they stopped their chase. Made it seem like they had lost you somewhere within the trees; mumbling to each other how they would just come back another day before walking off, back to where they once were.

Sickness, that was all they felt at the bottom of their stomachs as they returned home. This victory was not like the one found in battle. Not one filled with glory and blood and sweat. This one was hollow, shallow as its waves crashed down upon them in a way that made them feel uneasy.

It was not the first time they chased a maiden down in hopes to garner their sweet bodies as their rewards. But somehow it felt like it was, and they could not look upon their friend when they told him of what had just transpired; couldn’t bear to see the glee in his eyes when he heard it all.

~~~

You both had not slept that night, for how could you when the one thing you were most afraid of happening to you, happened.

So, when Hanta visited you the next morning you couldn’t help but run out to him. Sprinting through the field of tall grass and throwing yourself onto him; clinging to him like he was the other tether keeping you to the ground.

“You cannot leave us again!” You cried out, tears flowing freely from your eyes and soaking into the cloth of his tunic “You cannot leave me again! Please! You cannot, not again!”

Hanta had to hide his smile, one that was filled with so much joy and satisfaction, from you as he further buried your head into his chest—allowing himself this moment to hold you close and shush you, to try and calm his body down and act the part of a confused and concerned friend.

“What has you so upset, my beloved?” He asked, pulling you from him to gaze upon your face, to allow you to see his concern for you. “What has gone wrong?”

“Y-you were right!” You wailed, unable to hide your sniffles and sobs as you spoke “T-they came! Y-y-your friends! They tried to take us!”

“Shhhh…” He cooed softly, pulling you back into him to try and calm you down “I know you must be terrified right now, but I’m here now. Nothing to worry about.”

“But you’re not always here!” Your voice was muffled due to your position, as you brought your arms up to dig into his side “You weren’t here yesterday! And that‘s when they came! You promised you would protect me!”

Hanta would admit, he hated seeing you cry. Hated hearing the way your voice, one usually filled with cheer, sounded so broken; so miserable. And he hated knowing he was the cause that set in motion the event that shook you to your core.

But it needed to be done, you needed to see how important he was to you. Needed you to see that your place was to be by him, that was where you were meant to be.

“I am trying to protect you, my honeysuckle…” Hanta brought a hand up to pet your hair, “But it is difficult for me to be in two places at once. My home is in the heavens, it is where I am to fulfill my duties to the mortals; it is rather difficult for me to make these trips to you as it means neglecting what I am meant to do. Unless....”

He let it hang in the air, a pregnant pause for you to become curious about what he might say. He knew he had you when you lifted your head up to look at him once again, repeating his last word back to him.

“Unless…” Hanta sighed, “Unless you leave with me, and come to live with me in my domain. Only then can I assure your protection.”

He knew you would not like his answer, especially as he saw new fresh tears starting to fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks with their hot streams. He cupped your face in his palm, wiping them away as he tried to comfort you once again, playing the part of a torn man in a tough situation perfectly, as he tried to reason with you.

“B-but my sister!” You babbled, head shaking at every word he was saying “I cannot leave my sister behind! I won’t do it!”

“Your sister can find solace in the mountains if needed! An anthousai is bound to meadows and fields! You cannot find that there, cannot find safety anywhere but where I can protect you!”

“B-but...”

“I know that it is a difficult thing to accept, a difficult choice you must make. But if you want the protection I can provide you must leave with me. I can promise you that nothing will harm you; not a finger to be laid on your skin while you are within my domain.”

You sniffle, looking into his eyes once more; to see if there was any trace of dishonesty within them. And, like always, there was none. With a shaky breath, and a nod of your head, you stepped away from his hold to walk back to your home to say your goodbyes.

Your feet felt like lead with every step. Your heart ached at every flower, leaf, and blade of grass that you passed for you knew it would be the last time you saw it. And as you made it closer and closer to where your sister was, to the home that made your heart feel warm.

Now it filled you with sorrow and dread, as you wondered if you would ever again feel the kind of happiness you felt when you first stepped within these walls. Wondered what would become of your sisters once you left this place for good. You hoped for nicer and better things, better companions, but your heart could not promise you such things, your mind could not ease its worries.

You couldn’t speak when she opened the door, asking you what was going on. All you could do was pull her into you, hold her in your tight grasp as you whispered how much you loved her. How brighter sunrises were upon her horizon, and how you would miss her so.

She watched you walk back down to him, your body shaking with the violent sobs coming forth. Watched as this man, this god, took you back into his arms and shushed you; claiming you down and whispering what she could only assume was sweet nothings to you.

She watched as you turned back to her once more. A broken smile, one that looked more like a pained grimace, appeared upon your lips as you brought a weak hand up to wave your last goodbye to her. A goodbye she never envisioned ever happening.

And then she watched him take you away; forever.

~~~

Hanta’s home was beautiful.

It was filled with golden pillars and furniture. Marbled rock adorned many surfaces, with plush pillows and linen upon beds, lounges, and chairs. You knew they would feel like clouds, be the softest things you could ever lie on.

But at this moment you couldn’t care for how soft anything felt, how plush and inviting the comfort was as it sank perfectly when your body had collapsed on top of it. Or how inviting it was to allow your body to enjoy it all, to allow it to lure you into a wondrous sleep.

No, for at this moment you were mourning the greatest loss you could possibly think of.

Hanta was kind enough to sit next to you through it. A hand running soothing patterns up your arms, your back, and even your hair as you cried out in anguish; never saying a word. Only murmuring out to you, after what felt like days of sobbing, to rest your head; to let yourself enter the land of dreams, and for Hitoshi to guide you to a sweet one. And you could not stop your body from finally agreeing.

For you would need your rest.

Hanta had waited long enough to finally have you here with him. He adored that you always believed him, that your naivete allowed you to trust him and his sweet words. To allow him to take you here, to the one place where you will never be able to escape him; for once a nymph was the enter the realm of the gods, she would lose her ability to transform - for how could a nymph become a tree, or a flower, while in the heavens?

They couldn’t. And now you were forever at his mercy. Forever to spend your days with him, indulging him in whatever splendor he wanted from you; for he was kind enough to indulge you for the months it took to woo you, it was only fair to pay him back in kind.

You, the sweet little anthousai. One too blinded by the God, whose sweet words and flattery made you melt, to notice that he had other titles too; that treachery and deception and craftiness came hand in hand with sweet nothings and empty compliments.

And oh, what a crafty web he had spun for you. The one who laid so sweetly upon his bed.

The one who called to him like a lost and sad child when you finally awoke. Your big eyes stared up at him, as you asked him for some food for your hungry tummy and something to quench your dry throat.

And who was he to deny someone so precious? A sweet little thing that asked him so nicely? He couldn’t and wouldn’t, and so he went to fetch you some of the finest fruits and ambrosia to nibble on as you tried to awaken your tired body. And wine, his special and most favourite wine for you to sip on.

When he held out the goblet to you, you hesitated; your arm halting before it could reach the drink. “I-it’s pink…”

“Yes, yes it is!” Hanta couldn’t help but laugh at your obvious statement, enjoying the way you eyed the pink liquid that seemed to swirl within its confinement with a mind of its own “A special kind of wine, the only kind reserved and enjoyed by the gods.”

The way you looked at him, eyes still showing trepidation over what he was offering. He couldn’t blame you for it, someone like you would not know the type of splendors the gods enjoyed from day to day; you were but a humble and simple thing.

Hanta shrugged his shoulders, bringing the goblet to his lips and taking a gulp of its contents. “Look see? Nothing wrong with it at all! Just a sweet wine, one that tastes like wild strawberries.”

He smiled when you finally relented, a sheepish smile gracing your own face when you finally accepted his offer; almost like you felt silly for doubting him in the first place. But again, you were just a sweet simple thing. How could you have known that gods are immune to the effects of aphrodisiacs?

How could you have known what they would feel like once they had taken hold of your body?

You couldn’t. And when you felt your breathing become labored, your body started to sweat as your heartbeat quickened, and for a strange heat to enter your belly; you grew scared. Wanting whatever heat that had entered you to subside and allow you to breathe; to allow the aching you felt to stop.

Hanta watched with mirth from the corner of his eye at you. Watching how your body squirmed and shifted, trying to get comfortable but never succeeding. Trying to ease your discomfort but failing to do so, not knowing how.

“Honeysuckle, are you alright?” He asked you, moving aside the platter of fruit to shift closer to you.

“I-I feel funny…!” You mumbled out, hand grasping around the wrist trying to check your temperature; unable to help yourself as you pulled him closer to you “I don’t know what’s wrong!”

You wished you could stop yourself, and show some form of modesty and restraint. But your body was on fire, and your mind had no way of stopping it from acting on its own. You clung to him, yet again. Though this time you had climbed into his lap, your hips stuttering as you inadvertently ground your lower half onto his leg.

“Funny how?” Hanta asked, eyes turning dark with lust as he watched you try to relieve yourself upon him so shamelessly, it made blood rush to his cock as he had to hold your hips in place; to help ground himself.

“I don’t know!” You whined, nails digging into the muscles on his shoulders - wishing he would allow you to move your hips again “I feel warm and funny, and it hurts!”

“It hurts?”

“Mhm!” You nodded, head ducking down to rest against his chest as you panted heavily, trying to get a level head once more, but failing miserably “I don’t know what to do!”

“I can help you” Hanta murmured, taking some of your hair and pushing it aside so he may be able to kiss along your neck, smirking when he heard you whine at the contact “Will you let me help you?”

You frantically nodded your head, but he tuts at that response; teasingly squeezing your hips in his gasp “Ah, ah, ah, I need you to say it love.”

You moved your head back up to look at him, and he relished the frustrated tears that were now forming in your eyes. The way your lips formed a pout, made them look more plush and delectable to try and bite and suckle on.

“Please help me Hanta” You whimpered out, unable to resist pushing yourself closer to him.

“Say that you’re mine, and I will give you everything you could ever need.” He baited, wanting to hear even more of your sweet voice.

“I’m all yours…”

You were going to say more; going to beg him further to finally help you; to ask him to stop prolonging your suffering. But you were silenced when you felt his lips press into yours. Felt the way they moved against yours, trying to get you to follow suit; which you do after a moment with fever.

You could help the moan that was muffled between you when you felt his tongue peak out, running along the bottom of your lip. You wished you knew what he wanted, you would be more than willing to give it to him. But Hanta seemed to understand this, and he moved your hips against him, allowing you to feel the hardness underneath. The gasp you let out was short-lived, as his tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring it slowly and expertly.

All you could do was melt into him; melt into his touch and the way he was kissing you. He left you breathless, panting hotly into the air when he finally parted from you; unable to keep the smirk off his face when he saw the blissed-out look you had acquired.

Hanta loved hearing the small gasps and whines you would let spill forth from your mouth, almost like you were unable to keep them hidden, when he started to kiss down your jaw. Moving slowly down your neck, leaving little nips to see your jump in surprise; your sweet little mewls going straight to his length that he was slowly rocking you onto

He was taking his time with you; he had waited so long just to have you at this moment and he wasn’t going to rush it; even if it was tempting with the way you kept pulling him closer and calling his name so sweetly. But he knew he needed to do everything right, everything perfectly, so you would crave him. Want him like this all the time.

He slowly pushed your shift down your arms, lips following closely behind his hands; to slowly caress and kiss every inch of skin you had allowed him to see and look upon. And what a sight you were to see; to him every inch of you was perfectly crafted and made him that more elated that you were all his.

“I know…” Hanta cooed, lips lavishing the skin of your breasts, fingers gently tugging on your hardened nipples “I know… it is uncomfortable. But let me take my time, love. I promise you it will be worth it. Let me worship you like you were meant to be.”

You jumped, unable to help yourself from placing a hand in his hair, tugging it harshly, when Hanta’s fingers brushed against your folds. He groaned, both at your harsh tugging and at how soaked you had become; just over some heavy petting.

Though, the feeling was foreign to you; one that kicked your senses into overdrive. You couldn’t help but clamp your legs shut, effectively stopping his hand from continuing, at the sudden and unfamiliar feeling.

“My love,” Hanta cooed, gently pulling your legs apart, “You asked for relief, and I shall give it to you. Put your trust in me, I can assure you it will feel good.”

He placed reassuring kisses along your chest, slowly petting his free hand up and down your thigh to help calm you; to help relax you and allow him access once again to your dripping cunt.

You sigh out after a moment, trembling legs finally parting for him, freeing his hand once again. Unable to help yourself from keening at his long fingers as they slowly started to up and down your folds. Being careful at where to touch, looking at your face to see which spots you reacted most to; centering in on them to hear you cry out for him.

Your little bundle of nerves is where he narrows in after he accidentally brushed against it; the way you moaned his name made his whole being shudder - wanting to hear you say it again and again and again. Wanting to watch you writhe and whine atop of him as you finally come undone by him.

You gasped, legs trying to close once more but unable to do so by a hand holding a thigh in place, when you felt his fingers start to circle your entrance, the one place that has never been touched or breached.

“Just breathe, I need to properly prepare you, my love.” Hanta groaned when he felt your quivering hole clench around nothing at his words “I promise you this will be just as good, if not better, than what I have already done.”

He truly had the hands of a god, the way they so delicately entered you; stretched you in such a way that you had no choice but to moan out for more. You never could have imagined this feeling, even in your sweetest dreams.

And it was accompanied by his words. Oh, how you could listen to him forever with the way he was groaning and purring our praises. Telling you how good you were doing, taking his fingers so well. How beautiful you looked like this, how he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight. And for you to come undone, allowing yourself to feel euphoria and grant him the chance to see it.

Who were you to deny such a tempting offer?

You were such a sight to behold. The way your body trembled, legs buckling as they struggled to hold your weight, hips unable to stop jerking away from his touch by still trying to keep the beautiful friction all the same. The way you cried out his name, unable to stop chanting it as you tried to breathe at the same time.

Hanta couldn’t help but push you down on your back, to hover over you as you tried to gain some semblance of thought once more. Hastily unrobbing himself, hissing when his cock was freed; having to take a deep breath and he stroked himself a few times before placing the blunt head at your leaking entrance.

“W-wait!” Your mind snapped you back into reality so quickly, you almost felt lightheaded “Hanta please wait!”

“For what?” He panted, hands gripping under your knees to lift your legs higher, “You are ready for me, my sweetest, and this will finally make all the unpleasant feelings disappear.”

“M’afraid!” You whimpered out, feeling the entirety of his length move between your folds as if to try and entice you once more; and the heat within you was proof it was working “Afraid it will hurt”

“You need not worry,” He purred, thumb rubbing little circles by your knees as he drank in the sight of you almost folded in half; how complacent you were. “For a moment it will, but only a moment. Then it will start to feel heavenly. Trust me, for I have not lied to you yet, have I?”

You shook your head, the action saying what you wanted to say - as words were failing you. He was right, he had always been honest with you, and even now he had shown you patience and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. So why doubt him now?

He started to sink into you, after you had asked him to do so. Hanta let out a long groan as he felt your tight walls clamp down on him, both in trying to prevent him further but also milking him for everything he had to offer, and inch by inch he carved his way into your heat.

The burn was as he claimed, painful. But once he was fully sheathed, that burn began to change from that of pain, to that of wanting pleasure. The agonizing heat that had come from nowhere was coming forth once again to consume you in its agonizing flames.

“Hanta, please!” You cry out, hands reaching out to grip where his sat on your legs “Please move! Make this feeling go away!”

He was never one to say no to you. He nodded his head, taking a shaky breath, before slowly moving his hips; taking his length almost completely out of your weeping cunt, before pressing it back into you. Watching your face carefully to see if any discomfort could be found.

When your pinched brows started to relax, your breathing changing from pained chirps into those sweet breathy moans, and when you start to cling to him once more - nails finding purchase into the skin on his arms - does he pick up the pace.

Though, Hanta knows he will not last much longer, not when your warm heat clings to him so tightly, begging him to claim what is rightfully his and paint your pretty cunt white with his seed; he knows he must first have you cum around him. To selfishly feel your messy cunt spasm around him like it has never done before.

He brings one of his hands from where it was placed on your knee downwards to your bundle of nerves, moaning when he feels you instantly tighten around him.

“Come on, my sweet love” He pants, hand rubbing messy, uncoordinated, circles upon it “Let go for me, please? Trust in your god, and let that coil within you snap. Make a mess of the both of us.”

You keen and whine, the pressure building to an almost painful level within you. Though the dam finally breaks when you felt his length hit a particularly sweet spot within you, one that had you seeing stars. Your back arched, as you felt your breath hitch in your throat; unable to make any noise as your mind and body ascended to that plane of euphoria once more.

Hanta could not help but follow suit. Only a few messy thrusts and he stills inside you, his grinding up against the swell of your thighs as he moans; painting your insides with his seed - finally claiming you, completely, as his own. After regaining his breathing, though not fully, and placing your legs back down; he starts to pull out of you.

“No please!” You cry out, eyes turning glassy as you wrap your arms and legs around him once more “Stay with me please! I don’t want you to go!”

“I am not going anywhere, I promise” He smiled gently down at you, tucking your head under his chin as he pulled you to lay atop of him.

Hanta watched your breathing, watching you try and calm down. He cannot blame you for being so emotional, after all the highs the aphrodisiac gives are much stronger than anything you have ever been used to.

He smirks to himself when he sees your breathing finally began to even out, sleep over-taking you in its grasp. For now, he finally has you right where he wants you. And now, thanks to that wonderful potion, you will never, or want to, leave him.

Much like a rose and its petals, once one is swept away by the wind it is gone; forever. You were his rose petal and he was the wind that snatched you away.

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