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anto-pops · 11 months

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The Promise of Tomorrow - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: “As utterly ravishing as you are in that dress,” he whispered against your lips in-between kisses, “I can’t deny that I would much rather see it on the floor.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips despite yourself, and you let your palms trail down Sebastian’s sides until you reached his waist. You hooked your fingers through his belt loops, tugging his lower half flush against you, and his hands fell away from your face to brace against the wall behind you, effectively caging you between him and the cobblestone at your back. “Have some things planned, do you?”

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian attending the Yule Ball together before he whisks you away to the Room of Requirement to do exactly what you might think.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, Garreth wearing Aunt Tessie's robes

This was HEAVILY inspired by @sallowly 's Yule Ball animation which can be found here ! The dress/Sebastian's suit are directly referenced from her work. I'm eternally grateful for being given the chance to build off of her creation ♡

The full fic can also be found here on Ao3 as per usual

“What in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

Sebastian gaped openly at Garreth, internally fighting the laugh that threatened to spill forth from his mouth despite his best efforts to smother it. The Gryffindor was decked out in quite possibly the most atrocious set of dress robes he’d ever seen, and judging by the look on the red-head’s face, he knew it too. It was frilly and lined with lace, and the material looked like a curtain that had been snagged off a window and stitched into something resembling clothes.

Garreth’s face contorted into a pained expression, chancing a look down at himself and curling his hands into loose fists. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Sebastian remarked, lifting his glass to his lips in a bid to hide his growing smile. “Can I guess? Please let me guess–”

“No,” came his flat reply.

“What is it?” Ominis asked curiously, turning away from the long table of finger foods to join in the conversation. Unlike Weasley, he looked like the epitome of poised finesse in his dark, tailored suit. “Whatever it is, it smells old.”

“Oh, it looks old too. Seriously, where on Earth did you find such an antique?” Sebastian teased, and Garreth’s eyes made a full trip around their sockets before he waved off the jab.

“Ha ha, very funny. If you must know, these have been in the Weasley family for years–”

“Clearly.”

“Oh would you shut up? I get it, believe me, I know. My mother wouldn’t let me get away with not wearing them though, she kept pestering me about ‘tradition’ and a bunch of other pointless nonsense. I was fighting a losing battle trying to convince her otherwise.”

Ominis chuckled softly under his breath and twirled his wand idly between his fingers, “And you didn’t think to just change into something more fitting of the nineteenth century because…” he trailed off, the question hanging silently in the air.

Garreth grumpily shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned, looking over his shoulder towards the massive entryway leading into the Great Hall. Professor Weasley was standing watch, ushering students in with practiced ease, and when she caught sight of her nephew staring, her smile was enough to give away precisely why the Gryffindor had been forced to endure his family's horrendous dress code. “My aunt would rat me out in a second if I did. Look, can we just forget about the hideous outfit already? I need a drink.”

Sebastian had half a mind to offer Garreth the stolen flask of Firewhiskey tucked away in his suit, but he was honestly more inclined to save it for himself. Unbeknownst to his friends, he was wound tighter than a spring, the anticipation coursing through his veins causing him to shake his leg to dispel the nervous jitters he’d been dealing with since arriving. While he’d gone on plenty of dates with you in the last few years, this would be the first time the two of you attended something so formal as a couple. Asking you to the Yule Ball had nearly put him in the ground with how anxious he’d been– but attending the dance together was a completely different story.

He wanted the night to go perfectly.

His expectations were driving him up the damn wall. If there was one thing Sebastian hated more than anything, it was surprises, and that’s exactly what tonight was. One giant, looming unknown that had him thinking circles around himself. Dancing wasn’t the issue– he was great at that. It wasn’t even the hundreds of prying eyes that would be glued to you both when you eventually arrived, because he was more than used to the attention that came with dating the Hero of Hogwarts.

No, Sebastian was simply nervous to finally put his long awaited plan into action.

Everything was already set up in the Room of Requirement for later, so all he had to do was make it through the bulk of the evening without combusting or making a fool of himself. He could do that… right?

“Your nerves are showing, Sebastian,” Garreth teased as he leaned over the endless selection of food and drinks. His green eyes were crinkled in amusement as he observed the nonstop tapping of the brunet’s foot, and Ominis hummed in agreement.

“I’ve been listening to him fidget for the last twenty minutes. I don’t know why girls take so long to get ready– I’m tempted to go and find his date so he’ll finally relax.”

Garreth laughed, and in the split second following, Sebastian saw his eyes land on something over his shoulder and widen comically. “No need for that… damn.”

Nothing could have prepared Sebastian for the sight that graced him when he turned around.

There you were, looking equal parts ethereal and powerful. Your dress was like nothing he had ever seen before; it was the darkest, most striking shade of black, rippling around your legs as though it were made of liquid as you strode through the arched doorway with your head held high. Embroidered down the side and along the strapless neckline were tiny gold leaves that reflected against the candles floating overhead, giving you a regal appearance that put even Ominis to shame. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Sebastian swore that as you walked further into the room, some of the leaves from your dress trailed behind you and dissipated into shimmering dust.

You twisted your hands together nervously as your eyes scanned the massive crowd, searching for the one person who could make existing in such an overwhelming environment bearable. Sebastian’s legs started to move of their own accord, carrying him away from the table and closer to you at the same time your neck swiveled in his direction, and the way your entire face lit up when you spotted him imbued him with the confidence that he’d been lacking minutes prior.

Everything else was muted during those tentative seconds it took him to reach you, and once he came to stop in front of you with his drink still loosely gripped in his hand, it was as if no one else existed within the cavernous ballroom– only the two of you. For a moment, all he could do was stare with his mouth hanging open like a fish. The flush that spread across your cheeks had his heart doing acrobatics in his chest, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat before setting his glass down on an empty platter floating by.

“Hi,” you said meekly, flashing him an easy smile in an attempt to conceal your timorous demeanor. He didn’t need to know that you’d spent five minutes outside with Poppy talking you off the metaphorical ledge and fanning you frantically with her hands.

“Hey,” he replied, instantly cringing at the dry greeting. He quickly added, “I don’t think words can do you justice, if I’m being honest. You look otherworldly, darling.”

Sebastian’s words did wonders to school your nerves, a wave of warmth settling over you like a blanket. The soft smile that spread across your plush lips made his heart flip in his chest, and when he held out his hand for you to take, the tension in your shoulders slipped away. “Thank you, you look rather dashing yourself. Green continues to be your color,” you mused as your palm met his upturned one, intertwining your fingers through his longer ones easily.

He steered you into the room, heading for Ominis and Garreth again to give you time to get settled before the dancing started. When your eyes fell on Weasley, Sebastian watched as your brows shot halfway up your forehead, and he could hear the laughter in your voice when you asked, “Oh gods, what is he wearing?”

“Don’t bring it up. Something about ‘tradition’ I think, but he’s well aware that he looks like a decorative rug.”

You had to hide your smirk behind your free hand as you approached the two men. Garreth’s grin was blinding as he raised his glass to you in silent greeting, and Ominis must have heard you walking up, because he turned fully to face you with his kind eyes crinkled at their corners.

“I obviously can’t say for certain, but if Sebastian��s inability to form words when you walked in was anything to go by, you must look beautiful.” The blond had a tiny Cauldron Cake pinched between his skinny fingers, and he popped it into his mouth without a second thought as a blush crept up your cheeks.

“Thank you, Ominis, you do too.”

“I look beautiful?” He mumbled around his mouthful, and the sound of his muffled teasing contrasting with his neat appearance made you chuckle.

You swatted his shoulder playfully and shook your head, “You know what I mean.” When your gaze shifted to Garreth, he seemed to hold his breath expectantly. “You too, Garreth. Pink looks good on you.”

The red-head rolled his eyes playfully, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told that lying gives you wrinkles, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He lifted his glass to his lips at the same time the enchanted orchestra in the corner ceased playing. Hundreds of heads swiveled towards the front of the room as Professor Black made his way to the podium, looking all too irritated to have to entertain students during the weekend instead of… actually, you had no clue what Professor Black did in his spare time.

Probably kick Puffskeins and style his mustache.

“Welcome all, to this year’s Yule Ball. I see the festivities are in full swing already, but I’d like to remind everyone that standard school rules are still meant to be followed even on a night such as this one. That means no floozy behavior, no consumption of beverages not otherwise provided for you, and for the love of Merlin– no smoking of Mallowsweet in school corridors. That has become a rampant issue that I would prefer to not have to deal with on top of everything else.”

As the Headmaster continued monologuing, you managed to tune out the remainder of his warnings in favor of ogling Sebastian. Your hands were still intertwined, and he had tugged you closer to him so your arms were brushing against one another in his subtle attempts to get closer to you. He really did look striking in his dark green suit; it was the first time you’d been privy to seeing him so dressed up, and you bit your lip hungrily as potent, lustful thoughts filled your mind. It wasn’t until the room was full of thunderous applause that you realized the introductions were finished and your boyfriend was side-eyeing you as you blatantly stared at him.

“Something on your mind?” He whispered the question directly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your toes curl in your heels.

Your hand in his tightened a fraction, and you cocked a brow slyly as your lips curled into a feline smile. “A few things, yes.”

“Anything I’d like to know about?”

“I’m sure you would, but there’s a time and a place. Don’t they say patience is a virtue?”

Sebastian hummed, trailing his thumb sensually along your knuckles as he smirked wickedly against your temple. “I find it to be more of a nuisance, but I suppose it would be a waste not to make the most of you in that dress. Would you care to dance?”

The Slytherin’s heart damn near hammered straight out of his sternum when you turned to stare affectionately up at him, the mixture of your love and desire so palpable in the air that he swore he could cut through it with a Diffindo charm. “I thought you’d never ask.”

—

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so weightless in your life.

Sebastian’s hand clasped in yours was like an anchor, keeping you grounded to the present moment as he tugged you along behind him up the winding staircase leading to the Astronomy Wing. He was moving fast– clearly eager to show you the ‘surprise’ he had waiting for you there– but he had the good grace to stay mindful of your dress and your inability to move as quickly as he could. The two of you had been sneakily stealing sips of his Firewhiskey throughout the night, so the faint buzz you had going was enough to make you slow down and consider every movement carefully as you ascended the steps.

When you reached the top landing, the brunet’s neck craned sideways to cast an exhilarated look your way, his excitement a tangible entity that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. All through the night, Sebastian’s eyes and hands had been stealing telling glances and coy touches as he twirled you across the ballroom. You knew there had been hundreds of eyes on you at one point; the charmed, gold leaves around the lower lining of your gown had fallen away in trails of sunset colored sparkles that were bound to draw attention as you’d danced. But none of it had mattered– not with Sebastian gazing longingly at you like you were the only thing that existed.

He was doing so now, and you found yourself burying your general dislike of surprises for the sake of the evening. Anything Sebastian had planned for you was something you were sure to love, you were already certain of it.

When the two of you reached the empty wall across from the familiar troll tapestry, Sebastian swiftly pulled you ahead of him and spun you around– more shimmering leaves wisping off of your dress as your back made contact with the cool stone behind it. You barely had time to register the brazen move before your boyfriend’s lips connected with yours, and then his broad hands were sliding up your neck to cup your face and tilt your head back to deepen the kiss impossibly further. He swallowed your startled gasp instantaneously, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones so tenderly that it made your heart fucking ache.

Merlin– sometimes your love for Sebastian overwhelmed you.

“As utterly ravishing as you are in that dress,” he whispered against your lips in-between kisses, “I can’t deny that I would much rather see it on the floor.”

“Of course,” he replied with that renowned Sallow-swagger that made you melt. “But not before you get to appreciate all of my hard work.”

You hummed thoughtfully as you leaned forward to kiss him again, breathing in his intoxicating scent of cedar and something akin to old books. His tongue slipped in your mouth easily, tangling with your own so fluidly that you suddenly found yourself all too eager to discover what he had in store for you. Sebastian let you drink in your fill of him, groaning softly when you shifted your hips to grind lazily against his steadily growing erection, and then he was pulling back with a heated look in his eyes.

“Riveting as this is, I don’t feel particularly keen on taking you in the middle of the hallway.”

On cue, you felt the wall against your back begin to change. The cool stone morphed into smooth wood, and the massive entryway to the Room of Requirement revealed itself as Sebastian seemingly gazed into your very soul. “No public canoodling? Your surprise must be quite something, then.”

For the first time since finding him in the Great Hall, Sebastian looked nervous. He stepped back and rubbed his neck sheepishly, giving you a half-grin that you could have honestly mistaken for a grimace. “I certainly hope so… come on.”

He extended his hand once again and you took it graciously, moving off the door to make room for him to push it open. The brunet ushered you in, letting you enter ahead of him, and you barely made it three steps inside before you were halting completely. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in silent shock as you took in the magical sight before you.

The Room was full of floating candles like the ones in the Great Hall, only these ones flickered with deep blue flames that seemed to cast the space in what you could only describe as pure moonlight. The ambiance had been changed as well, working in tandem with the romantic lighting so flawlessly that you were certain you had to be staring at a painting. You made a mental note to remember to thank Deek for his evident assistance. Bright red petals had been strewn across the floor, paving a rather telling path towards the slightly ajar bedroom door on the opposite side of the chamber. What was inside, you didn’t know– but the contrasting red glow from within had your mind flooding with unrestrained fantasies that made your stomach flip.

Your legs carried you deeper into the room as you took in every unique change to your secret space, and all the while, Sebastian watched you virtually glide across the floor. The enchanted leaves running down your dress added a new degree of magic to the whole scene; the trail of gold flakes that evaporated into sparkling dust made you look like some sort of enchantress that had snuck onto the school grounds, and he found himself following you across the petals towards the bedroom in a trance.

Sebastian had seriously outdone himself. You had no words.

Pushing the door open revealed more floating candles– the normal colored ones– and an amorous display that made your breath catch in your throat. He’d replaced the usual bed linens with silky, red sheets that reflected the candlelight beautifully. You spotted a bottle of wine perched between two glasses on the nightstand, and situated behind it all was a fresh bouquet of roses that left a distinctly floral scent in the air.

A large part of you wanted to cry from the affection that flooded your brain, but you willed away the urge in favor of turning around to face Sebastian.

He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed– a hungry, almost insatiable look spreading across his features. Those lust-dark eyes of his were scanning you up and down like you were a whole meal, and given the set-up in the room, you were willing to wager a guess that his mentality was exactly that. The warm lighting in the bedroom bathed him in a seductive glow, and as handsome as he looked in his suit, you suddenly wanted him out of it. Pronto.

“You’re speechless,” he observed, sounding almost timid as he spoke the words.

“That’s a word for it.”

“Good speechless or bad speechless?”

You gave him a nonplussed blink before your brows slammed down, “Why in Merlin’s name would it be bad speechless?”

Your ability to read Sebastian like a damn book allowed you to see the cracks in his confident facade as he dug the toe of his shoe into the stone floor. He shrugged, “I’m not sure. Maybe because I snuck in here and changed everything around. Although Deek did help some, so I guess I’m not solely to blame.”

There were no thoughts in your head other than the rapacious desire to be close to him, and your heels echoed off the bedroom walls as you strode over to him in the doorway to yank him down to your level. You all but slammed your mouths together, stealing his breath with the intensity of your ministrations, and the action left little room for doubt. Sebastian returned the kiss with equal fervor, winding his arms around you to crush you against his front as you bit and licked at his soft, freckled lips.

“You ought to stoke that confidence some more, because this is quite possibly the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Your praises did wonders to soothe his frayed nerves, seeing as you felt him relax under your touch as you sensually dragged your hands up to grip his strong shoulders.

He chuckled proudly, pulling away to stare anticipatorily down at you with a smug look on his face. That was an expression you were all too familiar with. “You should know that where you’re concerned, I’m a split-second confidence kind of guy. The things you do to me and you don’t even know it…” he trailed off in a gravelly voice, and you shivered as you felt his palms begin skirting down your lower back to play with the zipper of your gown.

“Oh really?” Your voice was airy, and your fingers dug into the smooth material of his blazer as you worked to maintain your composure. “Care to enlighten me?”

Sebastian tilted his head to the side curiously before leaning down to brush a tiny kiss over the tip of your nose, “I’d much rather show you. What do you say? You want to let me take care of you, darling?”

Your breath caught in your throat, rendering your tongue a useless paperweight in your mouth as it failed to form words, so you nodded excitedly instead and noted how Sebastian growled in response. Any awkwardness or uncertainty fell away when he claimed your lips again in a wet, needy frenzy, swallowing your surprised mewl as he walked you backwards towards the spacious bed. You felt his fingers return to your zipper and gently tug it down as the backs of your knees made contact with the mattress, and his hand on your hip kept you steady as his arm dropped ever-so-slightly to part the fabric of your dress. The velvety attire slipped down your body and pooled around your ankles instantly– a plume of gold sparkles erupting from it as it hit the floor.

Sebastian broke the kiss to look down at you, his long, dark lashes fanning out across his cheeks as he took in your nearly bare form from head to toe. You followed the tight bob of his adam’s apple as his chocolate brown eyes roved over your breasts before they returned to your face, and then he was gingerly pushing you down onto the bed.

As you scooted higher up the sheets, Sebastian’s gaze stayed glued to you while he shed his jacket, tossing it haphazardly to the side so he could begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. You watched him unblinkingly as he undressed– shamelessly licking your lips when his top fell open and revealed the taut plane of his stomach�� and the fuzzy trail of hair leading beneath his trousers had your knees clenching together in anticipation. With his button-up discarded, all that remained were the pants, and he elected to take his time undoing his belt with calculated movements as his eyes bored into yours.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admitted, and the metal clink of the buckle falling away punctuated the statement. “Gods– I was ready to leave the second you walked in, you have no fucking idea.”

You shuddered from the intensity of his words, boldly dragging one of your hands down between your legs to feel the wetness that had begun to saturate your undergarments. The sight of you touching yourself sent Sebastian into overdrive– and he wasted little time in shoving his trousers down and kicking them aside so he was donned in nothing but his briefs. His arousal was straining against the thin cotton– so much so that it had to be bordering on painful– but he made no signs of discomfort as he seductively started to crawl up the bed towards you.

As soon as Sebastian was within reach, you abandoned your soaked nether region to curl your fingers around his neck and pull him towards you, kissing him desperately. You ran your hands down his freckled chest, then wrapped your arms around his midsection to ghost the tips of your fingers along his spine. The shiver it elicited from him had heat pooling in your gut, and your need for him started to shift into something even more ravenous.

Sebastian dropped himself down onto his elbows to minimize the space between the two of you as your tongues tangled, and as he settled his lower half against yours, he ground his straining member against your clothed cunt. He groaned unabashedly, the sound low in his throat, and your lips took to wandering along his jaw, down his throat, before settling against the curve of his shoulder to sink your teeth into the soft flesh.

“Fuck– I can feel how wet you are already. How badly do you want it? Tell me,” he implored you, his eyes fluttering shut when you laved your tongue over the light imprint of your teeth. “Talk to me, darling, please.”

Merlin, his voice alone was doing things to you that rendered your vocal chords useless. You tried speaking anyway. “P-Please,” you rasped out against his spit-slick skin. “Please Sebastian, I need you– I’ve needed you all night–”

“All night, huh? What exactly were you thinking about while we were on the dance floor, hm? What filthy thoughts are swimming around in that pretty little head of yours?”

The way Sebastian was rutting against you– tempting you with every snap of his hips– was driving you absolutely crazy with lust, and your head fell away from his shoulder against the sheets with a low moan as your nails raked down his sides. To your dismay, however, he ceased his movements to sit up and plant his hands on your wiggling hips, pinning you down in place. His toned arms flexed as he applied a fair amount of pressure in a bid to still your writhing against the silky covers, and you bit your lip in blatant frustration, narrowing your eyes dangerously.

“Don’t look at me like that, I asked you a question. Tell me what you want– what you’ve apparently been craving all night. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Leave it to Sebastian to still find a way to make you beg for his cock. The nerve. You scowled up at him, “You’re really going to make me say it?”

He had the audacity to laugh at your impatience. “I would make you scream it if I wasn’t trying so hard to be nice.”

You had half a mind to taunt him further and clarify that really– this was him being nice? But then one of his hands fell away from your waist to trail closer to your drenched underwear until he had the pad of his thumb planted directly against your clit. That was the extent of his mercy, though. He made no move to provide you with any friction or stimulation– he simply stared at you expectantly.

Dammit.

Your hips twitched, unconsciously seeking the reprieve his fingers could offer you. It mattered little though; his strength kept you pinned firmly in place. “I-I want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, cheeks heating with slight embarrassment.

“Anyone could fuck you, sweetheart. You need to be more specific,” he fucking purred the statement, making your head spin and your inhibitions fly out the damn window.

“You,” came your wheezed response. “I want you– I want your cock, Sebastian, all I need is you. Please fuck me, I only want you, please.”

The sight of you flushed and panting, bathed in warm candlelight as your hands fisted ardently in the sheets, drove all of Sebastian’s blood straight to his cock. It twitched enthusiastically within the confines of his briefs.

You felt the pressure from his arm let up at the same time he removed his thumb from your aching center. Impatient didn’t even begin to cover how you were feeling, but you were all too pleased when his fingers finally pinched the fabric of your panties to tug the material down your bent legs.

Shaking his head in near disbelief, Sebastian groaned, “You sound like a fucking dream begging for it, darling. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”

His words soothed you, but you still tensed a little when you felt the tip of his finger slip inside your overwhelmingly wet heat. You sighed and spread your legs further to accommodate Sebastian’s kneeled position, and he took to trailing his free hand over your hip bones, then up your torso to squeeze at your breasts as he willed you to relax for him. Releasing your vice grip on the sheets, you wrapped your hand around Sebastian’s thick wrist while he toyed with your sensitive nipples– effectively losing yourself to the euphoric sensation until he was knuckle-deep in your clenching walls.

A keening sound resonated from deep in your chest as you rocked back onto Sebastian’s finger, testing the feeling, and you bit your lip hard at the rumbling groan your boyfriend gave in response. He leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, sucking at your collarbone and gently nipping at your neck, and when he thrusted his finger minutely and curled it towards your stomach, you shuddered and dug your nails into his forearm.

“Come on,” you whined, bucking your hips more insistently in response to his painfully slow pace. The brunet nodded, pumping his finger deeper, and he couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from his mouth at how fucking tight you were.

Sebastian worked you with the single digit for a moment before tentatively adding a second, his blood igniting in his veins at the airy gasp you let slip. Your name fell from his lips like a plea, and when he leaned up slightly to gauge your expression, the half-hooded look you bore was enough to make his stomach drop. “Gods, you’re perfect,” he virtually whispered.

By the time you were amply prepared for him, your hands had abandoned the sheets and his wrist to clutch tightly at his shoulders, your sounds growing desperate and needy. Sebastian continued to spread and twist his fingers, trying to map out precisely where to aim to reduce you to gasping screams just as he’d promised. You were beyond jittery, though, winding your fingers into his curly brown locs to tug his face towards yours and glare openly at him. “I’m about to jump your bones,” you growled, rolling your hips against Sebastian’s fingers urgently. “Come on, Sebastian, let me– fuck–”

Sebastian grinned wildly at the way your back arched clean off the sheets, the tight gasp you pulled into your lungs imbuing him with a need for you that rivaled his need to breathe. Without missing a beat, he withdrew his fingers and frantically set to peeling his briefs away to free himself from the restrictive material. His girth arched proudly against his stomach, swollen and red and so fucking tantalizing. Your eyes devoured him greedily as he tossed the pre-cum stained attire over his shoulder, and then he was crawling over you once again with an animalistic hunger reflecting in his eyes.

Hooking your legs around his waist, Sebastian braced his arms on either side of your head, gazing at you longingly as the head of his leaking cock brushed against your slick entrance. It took an insane amount of effort for you not to nudge him forward with your heels– forcing yourself to remain pliant as he pressed into you at an achingly slow pace. Your eyes rolled shut at the feeling of being breached, savaging your lower lip with your teeth as inch after inch of Sebastian’s incredible cock entered you. A contented whine weaseled its way from his throat as he bottomed out, and you cracked your bleary eyes open to find the freckled man staring at you with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“W-What?” You muttered, trailing your hands up his muscular biceps before interlacing your fingers together around his neck. “Don’t make me beg again, I already said please.”

“I was just enjoying the face you were making,” he said with a smirk, grinding his hips enough to have you trembling and arching. “Like you were trying really hard to hold back. It’s hot as hell.”

You fought a smile, tugging him down by his neck to capture his lips in yet another dizzying kiss. Sebastian bit and licked at your mouth with reckless abandon as he swallowed the sounds his efforts pulled from you, and he sighed before pulling away to brush a few strands of hair off of your forehead. He thrusted suddenly into you– catching you off guard– and your breath hitched at the same time your head fell back, effectively killing the remainder of Sebastian’s patience.

Dropping one of his hands to your waist, Sebastian withdrew his throbbing member enough so that when he snapped his hips forward, you were jolted up the bed slightly. “Ah–” your sharp cry reverberated off the bedroom walls, and his hold on you instantly became possessive.

Grasping onto you like his life depended on it, Sebastian dug his feet into the bed to lend some force to his thrusts as he worked himself into an even tempo. It felt mind-numbingly wonderful to finally be encased in your warm walls after day-dreaming about it all night. His mouth fell open with a shaky groan when he pressed his balls against your raised ass, the friction doing you both a slew of favors, and his vision flashed a brilliant white when he felt you clench around his cock and suck him in even deeper.

“Oh fuck– fucking hell–” Sebastian grit through clenched teeth, pushing himself up fully so he was no longer hunched over you. You unhooked your ankles from around him so he could maneuver your legs over his bent ones, gripping your thighs with a bruising strength that made your mouth dry up in a heartbeat. He had a perfect view of you laid bare under him this way, and he shamelessly watched as his cock glistened with your slick when he pulled out right before plunging back in.

Your spine rounded, a guttural moan ripping its way from your chest as Sebastian picked up his pace while simultaneously pulling you down onto his quick thrusts. It was pure rapture having his hands on you– demandingly shifting you around to steal his pleasure from your tight heat as he sought out the deepest parts of you. At one point, he released his hold on one of your legs to plant his broad hand on top of your stomach, relishing in how he could feel his cock each time he slid home. It was addicting– you were addicting— and the thought lit a fire in his very soul.

“S-Sebastian,” you whined, gathering the silky sheets in your clenched fists as wave after wave of sheer pleasure washed over you. With your legs held in the brunet’s strong grip, he had the freedom to fuck harder into your slick folds, pulling noisy cries of his name and desperate pleas for more from your kiss-swollen lips. Your voice was loud in the humid room, your moans echoing off the walls around the two of you– and when Sebastian bucked harder so the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space– you gasped frantically and writhed beneath him. He had to be hitting a good spot.

“You’re stunning, darling– so fucking good to me–” Sebastian managed to grunt out, pounding his cock into you with temerity that made your looming finish all the more potent. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

“Right there, S-Sebastian, fuck me right there, gods–”

The muscles in your stomach were tensing, and you were honestly shaking from the vigor of his thrusts. Sebastian groaned, the sound of your pleading little whimpers driving him mad with undiluted need, and he watched you blearily try to figure out what was going on as he hoisted your legs up and threw them over his shoulders. He moved over you, bending you in half at the same time he rammed his thick cock back into your cunt, and you were hardly given the space to breathe before your boyfriend was fucking you hard— his hips bucking rough and deep and so fucking good that you were left mewling and grasping helplessly at the sheets.

Sebastian pinned you to the bed and fucked himself into you, his own moans dripping loud from his lips as his hands tangled in your hair and tightened around the strands. The sting was delicious and left you with no choice but to allow your lover to pull you closer to him while he filled you up over and over. He drank in the sounds you made as your back arched off the sheets the best it could under his added weight, your thighs shaking and muscles tensing until you were barely holding on.

“Like that– fuck, Sebastian, just like that, I’m gonna come–”

Unable to give a more coherent response than a gasping whine, Sebastian dug his nails into your scalp and was rewarded with the sweet sound of you wailing his name as you came violently, riding your hips down into his as much as you could. Your hands flew to his back to rake angry red welts down his sides, and Sebastian let your legs fall from his shoulders so he could wrap his arms around you and bury his face into the crook of your neck. He sank his teeth into the sweaty skin as he gave you the last of his deep, quick thrusts before he was coming inside— your name tumbling over his lips like a mantra as he fell into bliss.

By the time Sebastian was anything approaching coherent, you were still shaking under him, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Fuck,” he murmured into the hollow of your throat, untangling his hands from your hair and smoothing the mussed locs down.

Sebastian pulled out with a small groan– your hips seemingly lifting to chase the marvelous feeling of being filled– but then he was planting his elbows on either side of you to brace himself as he kissed you breathlessly. You melted under him, curling around him ardently when he finally let himself tip sideways beside you. His chest was heaving with the deep breaths he sucked into his lungs, and you happily nestled your head atop his shoulder as your hands took to tracing invisible shapes and patterns along the taut expanse of his stomach.

You dozed off sometime after Sebastian had started murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, and when you awoke a few hours later, you were still draped over him, his fingers idly trailing up the shallow dip of your spine. Stretching the best you could without disturbing the peaceful vibe, you craned your neck to look up at Sebastian sleepily, and his eyes crinkled at their corners as he smiled down at you.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Mmph,” you grunted, voice thick with sleep. “Is it morning already? You should have woken me up.”

He shrugged and glanced at the open bedroom door, noting the lack of sunlight streaming in through the skylight. “Early morning, but not daylight hours quite yet. I figured you needed the rest.”

Humming appreciatively, you closed the minuscule space between the two of you to kiss him gently, and he sighed against your lips as his hands roved up your back once more to play with your hair at the nape of your neck. Everything about the moment was pure, and you found it all too easy to get lost in the sensations dancing over your still-sensitive body.

Sebastian broke away first, gazing at you strangely before he abandoned your hair to reach for the nightstand. “I was going to do this earlier before everything, but I uh… got distracted.”

You couldn’t hide the flush that crept up your cheeks at the reminder. “Hm, I wonder why,” you teased. “Do what, though?”

He finally found whatever he’d been rifling around for blindly and met your inquisitive stare, swallowing nervously. “I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen after we graduate. I’m sure you have your own ideas, but I just thought– well, I’d obviously like to stay together. I can’t imagine not having you beside me, but that being said, I’ll respect whatever you decide, even if it isn’t what I want to hear.”

Your stomach flipped over on itself, and your eyes went wider than saucers when Sebastian revealed a small, velvet box gripped tight in his hand. Pushing yourself off of him, he flicked the lid open with trembling fingers, and your gasp was drowned out by the hammering of your heart in your ears.

Inside was a thin, gold band adorned with a tiny, emerald gemstone that sparkled brilliantly under the flickering candlelight. Your mouth fell open as the implications of the ring bore down on you, and when you looked back at Sebastian, his eyes were scanning your face to gauge your expression.

“Is that…?”

“It’s only a posy ring, but I thought that it might make the next few months easier to anticipate. You’re my whole world, darling. I can’t fathom parting ways after everything we’ve been through, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope you felt the same.”

Warm, fat tears welled in your eyes then, blurring your vision before they were streaking down your cheeks without restraint. His anxiety leading up to arriving in the Room of Requirement suddenly made a lot more sense to you, and you realized that he’d planned all of this well in advance. How long had he been waiting to ask you? How long had he held onto the ring in the hopes that you would say yes?

He still looked nervous, but it was drowned out by the complete adoration that glimmered in his dark eyes.

“Yes,” you choked out, somewhere in-between sobbing and laughing as you sat up fully. “Yes, Sebastian– of course I feel the same.”

Sebastian’s smile was blinding, and he plucked the ring from the box and slowly slid it on your extended finger, both of your hands shaking with barely contained excitement. It fit perfectly, and you gave yourself all of two seconds to admire the look and the feeling of it on your hand before you had flipped yourself to the side to straddle him. Your hands cradled his cheeks as you dipped your head lower to kiss him over and over, his soft laughter warming your heart and filling you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t known existed until now.

“I love you, Sebastian. I’ll travel to the ends of the Earth with you, never doubt that. My future is your future– my heart has always belonged to you– of course I’ll stay with you. Whatever is to come, facing it with you is all I want.”

You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look so elated in all your time knowing him. His face lit up vibrantly at your declaration, and in a flash he had wrapped his arms around you to flip you back over so he was situated on top of you, gazing down at you with his hands running down your bare sides.

He assaulted the entirety of your face with fervent kisses, laughing softly under his breath as you returned his affections with equal force. “I love you so much, darling. You’re my everything, I wouldn’t change a damned thing about the past knowing that it landed me here with you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The remainder of the night was spent with the two of you beneath the silk sheets, the promise of tomorrow suddenly all the more exciting to imagine now that you knew Sebastian would be with you for the rest of your life. Posy ring or not, you’d already known that only death could take you from him– and even then you were certain you would find a way to keep loving him long after you were gone.

Neither one of you would have it any other way.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female! reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #my writing #dusting my hands and wiggling my fingers as I finally post this #I don't know why it took so long

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yuuuhiii · 15 days

Note

Hi :33 for the match up eve!! Reader who is quiet but really funny and reader is like the mad scientists they show on TV. A freak fr. Has a dull vibe to her. Thank you :3333

I match you with SATORU GOJO ᥫ᭡

Satoru is so intrigued by your unhinged presence. He can’t get enough of you honestly.

Whether it’s the way you snap back at his remarks or the way you’re chaotic in your way.

You seemed so quiet at first glance he never expected you to be so sarcastic and maybe others would describe you as a bitch but he loved your personality.

Satoru was annoying to you but along the way, you were accustomed to his presence. He’d act bold but never expected you to go a step further. You always did. You always knew how to shut him up.

And today you did.

As soon as he sees you with Shoko he abandons his best friend.

“Hey, what ya ladies up to.” He wiggles his brows at you and you roll your eyes.

His face is immediately in front of your face. Your hand moves to grab his cheeks, pushing him away.

“You have no concept of space whatsoever.” You smile as you squeeze his cheeks.

He slaps your hand away and scoots his way in between you and Shoko. He man spreads like no other, his leg touching your thigh.

“With you? I never do.” He props his elbow on his knee.

He leans on his hand as he stares at you with an almost taunting grin. When you turn away, he rests his fluff of white hair on your shoulder, pouting. You huff, rolling your shoulder to shoo him off.

“Geto get your dog.” You grit and everyone laughs. Suguru sighs, slightly bowing.

“Sorry about him.” He begins walking towards the both of you.

“Hey!” Satoru shoots up glaring at you, you grin at him and dust off your thighs.

“Come on Sho’, I’m bored let’s go do something.” She hums and begins walking away and Satoru groans.

“Hey! Where’s my kiss goodbye!” He jokes with a pout, Suguru cringes.

You turn around and glare at him however you’re walking towards him. He watches you with a grin leaning up from his seat on the bench. When you reach him you don’t even have to lean down to be face to face with him, given his height.

His brows contort in confusion when your face doesn’t move away yet he stands his ground. You slap your hands on his cheeks, placing a swift and soft peck against his lips. His eyes shoot open, and even Suguru’s mouth cracks open. You pull away, shoving his forehead with your finger.

“Goodbye~”

Satoru’s eyes flutter to your retreating figure, his glasses a little crooked and a huge blush on his face.

“There’s no fucking way,” Suguru says.

Once Satoru finally snaps out of his daze he’s grinning like a lovesick idiot.

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venus-giirl · 10 months

Text

"A enemies to lovers"

Gyutaro Shabana x fem reader.

Fandom: Demon Salyer.

Word count: +1.8K

Rating: fighting, insults, fluff, anguish, enemies, harsh words.

N/A: I'm back, bitches. This last month I've been with final exams and couldn't find motivation to write. So last night I sat down and decided to write an enemies to lovers with Gyutaro, since I saw that the last post had been well liked. Enjoy reading, sorry for the hurtful words, but in this story the two of them hate each other… or not.

THE BOY IS A MONSTEERRRR

The room was dark. School supplies were cluttered all over the space, which was already cramped. Balls, tennis racquets, strings, mats, etc. Everything smelled like gym equipment, covered with the typical layer of dust that was hardly cleaned unless the equipment was being used.

Both of your breaths were labored, breathing hard due to the little air left inside along with the dense layer of dirt. You were angry at the stupid situation you were in.

"You shouldn't have come, it was me who was tasked to go get the mats." he growls in a serious tone, almost sounding like a dog facing his opponent.

"I've already told you a thousand times, he sent me to help you too, the mats are heavy…". you retort.

"I don't need your help, I am much stronger than you".

"You're an idiot if you think a woman can't fend for herself, Gyutaro."

"The idiot is you if you thought you were going to help me with those weak arms." His breath hits your face. It wasn't unpleasant to you, despite his hideous appearance. It smelled like a mixture of mint and body odor.

You shake your head shaking your thoughts away. My goodness, you disliked him for over two grades. He was so cruel and mean to the other students and envious through and through. He was always complaining about those who were better than him, especially in sports.

"Oh my god, you're unbearable, you know that?". You don't know what to respond and the only thing you can think to do is try to vent your anger by making him feel bad. Even though that really wasn't what you wanted, but you couldn't help it.

"Unbearable is your stupid voice and to top it off the door was locked with the keys out because of you, you clumsy girl." He had snuggled closer to you. Although the room wasn't very well lit, because the light wasn't working either, you could see his face with the small solar halo coming in through the small square window located above the wall where Gyutaro was.

His hands had reached your arms to shake you helplessly for the situation. You wince as he digs his fingers in that it almost hurts and you let out a whimper, trying to pull away from him.

"Let go of me, you brute." You fight back, trying to wiggle out of his grip. "I hadn't even seen the keys." When you had entered the materials room you didn't notice that the keys were in the lock, so you assumed that the trainer had already opened the door and that he had them hanging around his neck, as usual.

"Oh, of course. Because the girl is so dumb that even at that she's not able to figure it out." His comments were starting to hurt and tears were beginning to sting the edges of your eyes. You were not going to allow yourself to sink with his hurtful words. If he could insult you with no regard for your feelings, of course you would too. You hated him.

"You are inconsiderate, sarcastic and unbearable." You scream and press the palm of your hands on his hard chest to push him away from your body. "If you were in a different mood maybe we'd be out of here by now." You press your nails into his shirt and manage to rip a button off. He grunts and squeezes you tighter in his grip. Your arms hurt too much. It might even leave a mark on you.

"I didn't need your help!" He yells and shakes you.

"Fuck, Gyutaro, this isn't about help!".

"Then why do you always show up everywhere I go?". His question left you unsettled, blank. In fact, you also had the same feeling of running into him, in the hallways, at the lockers, when sometimes you were late because you overslept, in fights you were always around or even when he was expelled from class for confronting some teacher, you would show up by the punishment room to put some papers.

"What… What? For God's sake, I'm the deputy. It's normal for me to be doing… delegate stuff." You weren't crazy and you weren't chasing him, it's just a coincidence. right?

He laughs in a low, vile tone, not believing anything you say. "And it's also a coincidence that we're here right now?".

Your cheeks were starting to heat up from anger. "Honestly, I'd rather die than be locked in the same room as you." You spit out in a stern tone.

Gyutaro responds with a laugh too unpleasant for you "Dare to say that again and again and I'll break you". The glint of malice could be seen in his gaze. His teeth chattered with every word and his jaw tensed, you almost thought he might snap his teeth from the strain. His grip and his voice were harder and harder.

"Fuck you." You grab his shirt and try to shake him too.

"Oh, I'm flattered, but no thanks." You take a few steps forward and out of sense take a few steps back. You don't want him to touch you. You can't stand it. His touch feels rough and horrid to you. Cold and hard. Painful and… Fuck, stop thinking about it.

"I hate you, I hate you. I can't stand you and you think I'd be after you? Jesus Christ, you wouldn't believe that yourself. From the moment I saw you I couldn't stand you." Gyutaro is silent for a few moments, seconds in which a silent emptiness takes over the room, which, seconds before, had been filled with screams and voices, insults and confessions too painful and cruel to be able to say them to another person.

Seconds in which your body is pushed forcefully backwards. The air leaves your lungs abruptly and gravity takes hold of your body pulling you down. Your back crashes heavily against the mattresses and you feel a large, angry body looming over you. The vibes shook your skin and it bristled at the numerous sensations you were experiencing, fear, terror… But you were not going to show weakness before him. No way, he couldn't see you crying or in a vulnerable state.

Your breaths were agitated, loaded with words that wanted to leave your mouths to hurt again. Hands and legs move, squeeze, and you try to pull away. You sit up, but he places his palm on your chest and sinks you back down to the mattresses. You claw at his arms and groan, trying to overcome his enormous strength. He grunts gutturally and tries to grab your hands again. When he finally succeeds, he spreads your legs apart with his knees and stands over you, his bony pelvis now between your thighs, preventing you from closing your legs or kicking him. You gasp and grunt, arch your back, but nothing, you can't free yourself from him. From his prison. God…you were almost sure you'd never get out of there.

"I hate you you know." Desperate you attack him again with the only thing you have left.

"I know." He replies in a dry tone and smiles showing his menacing teeth.

"I hate your smile."

"I know." He repeats. His face moves closer to yours. Her hair, always messy, now falls around your face, forming a curtain between the two of you.

"And your face, you're so…you're so obnoxious." Your nose brushes against his, his breath hits your mouth and cheeks. If you could sink even deeper into the mattress you would have made it by now.

His weight on your body burned you more and more. "And I can't…I can't….". Your eyes widen as you feel his lips rest on yours. You don't know it at the time, as the darkness prevented you from seeing, but his eyes looked into yours with a glow…an unexplainable glow. His dry, chapped lips encircled yours in a chaste kiss.

Your breath catches and you let out a soft sigh, half-opening your lips. Gyutaro pulls away just an unbearable millimeter and you already feel the cold from the absence of warmth. In an uncontrollable impulse you sit up and kiss him back. You suck in a breath of air and crash your lips against his. Gyutaro grunts in an attempt to control himself and crushes you back against the mat without separating from you, without breaking the kiss again. His mouth opens and he sticks out his tongue to open your wet lips which you open, inviting him in. Your tongues meet, slippery with saliva. Oxygen is depleted as your kiss becomes more intense. Now it has become a war to see which tongue can dominate the other. Your mouths open in a kiss. His breath caresses your right cheek and you tilt your head so you can get more of him.

His hand held the back of your neck. Since when did his hand hold the back of your neck? His thick, calloused fingers curl and pull at it. Your body arches and his body hovers more over you, the mats supporting the weight of both of you. Gyutaro grunts and begins to eat from your mouth as if it were the last meal on earth. You follow his rhythm and you both create a dance, in which your mouths devour each other with anger, rage, hatred and uncontrolled passion. His teeth sting and graze your lower lip. From time to time he gently bites your tongue and curses, in words that crash over your lips, incomprehensible confessions.

You feel and hear Gyutaro's nails digging into the mat and breaking it as he clenches his fists. Your hands now embrace his neck and you pull at his hair, causing him to growl. At an indeterminate point, you become dizzy and can almost feel his pelvis shift between your thighs, searching for something to relieve himself with.

However, the crazy magic of that crazy kiss is interrupted by the jingling of keys and a male voice shouting, "Is someone inside, the door is locked, hello!". Everything falls apart when Gyutaro abruptly pulls away from your body and growls. His weight, his touch, his breathing, his hands…everything is now cold to you. Your mind gradually comes to its senses and you awaken your mind cold again, assessing the matter. You are still there, lying on the mats, trying to calm your breathing and organize the bomb of events in your head.

"Shit…" Gyutaro curses and turns his back on you. Before he leaves he gives you one last look showing his teeth and walks away, leaving his scent, his trail. You hear the professor hurling questions at Gyutaro who ignores him completely, until you stop hearing his footsteps. Your hands rise by inertia to your red, swollen lips and you again hear footsteps running into the material shed.

"T/n, are you okay?" Mitsuri's soft voice sounds concerned, but you don't manage to hear it. Not after what's happened.

"I… I hate him…". You whisper still feeling the trail of Gyutaro's kiss on your mouth.

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eugenoid · 6 months

Text

After some hesitation, I decided to post a piece of a fic draft I've been working on (the very start of it, really). Aziracrow, post season 2, and if I manage to see it to completion, it'll be a hurt/comfort, fix-it fanfic (because of course it is).

People frequenting Whickber Street have noticed a peculiar weather phenomena: for a good couple of weeks now, dark storm clouds wouldn't leave the small area surrounding the "A. Z. Fell & Co" bookshop, and every day a heavy rain would fall, lasting precisely 66 minutes and 6 seconds at a time. What they haven't noticed, however — an amusing coincidence, really — is that it all started on the day the owner of said bookshop disappeared, and would end the day he came back.

"Why are you not inside?"

Crowley's demon heart starts racing from hearing a familiar voice, but he makes an effort to not move an inch from his spot, and not even acknowledge the angel's presence. Crowley is sitting on the cold roof of the bookshop, drenched in water; damp, gross clothes and hair sticking to the skin. He hears a poof and there's a big, blindingly white wing over his head now. He stays silent. Instead of getting an answer, Aziraphale is met with the rain getting worse, almost turning into a hailstorm. It starts hurting his wing, but the angel is determined to stay right where he is until he gets a response.

"Haven't showered in a while. Figured, why not," Crowley finally says flatly after several minutes of silence with a shrug. He refuses to look at Aziraphale, instead observing people rushing down the street.

"You are being silly," Aziraphale responds without fondness.

"Can't you see I'm rain… uh, bathing? Move- move your stupid wing out of the way," Crowley stutters in a rush, feeling nervous all of a sudden. And stupid. And small.

"I am just trying to protect you."

"From my rain," the demon says, getting irritated now.

"No, from everything. Well, including your rain, I suppose.” Aziraphale wishes he was better with words.

Crowley shuts his eyes and squeezes a damp roof tile with the force of a python choking its prey to death. It crumbles into scorching hot, dry dust on some poor bastard's head. The demon still doesn't turn to face Aziraphale.

"You are not protecting me from shit," he hisses through gritted teeth.

"Alright, this is getting ridiculous," Aziraphale sighs and with a wave of hand makes the rain stop. Clouds finally part, sun rays hitting the ground below for the first time in a while. He begins to put his wing away.

Crowley's response is to wildly flail his hands in the air which brings both the clouds and the rain back. Aziraphale groans in annoyance and raises his wing over the demon again.

"This is a bit melodramatic, even for me," the angel says under his breath and waves the rain away, again. Crowley brings it back with a snap of his fingers.

"I can do this all day," Crowley responds without even a smirk Aziraphale would expect from him at a moment like this. Angel realizes he longs to see it again. He wants to say something about it, but decides against it.

"You are attracting quite the crowd," he notices instead.

At this point most of the people on the street pulled out their phones to record the rapidly changing sky. Crowley wiggles his fingers, and suddenly everyone remembers they have urgent business to attend to, leaving no time to be standing outside videotaping the weather or (especially) the two figures on the roof.

"Crowley, please,” Aziraphale says with the hint of desperation in his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed by Crowley. “We need to talk."

Crowley lets his head fall. Puffs his cheeks and lets out a sigh. Taps fingers on his knee. Frowns. Clenches and unclenches his jaw. Frowns again. Finally, he looks at Aziraphale over the shoulder as the sky gradually clears and the last rain drop falls on his face, and begrudgingly manages:

"Fine. Let's talk."

OKAY this was my first attempt at writing in about... 8 years, and my first ever time writing in English, a kind feedback would be appreciated!

#aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #good omens #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #azicrow #fanfic draft #and no they are not going to make up on that same day despite what the first paragraph suggests

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disenchantedif · 11 months

Text

A ko-fi commission I completed for the Theo/Cam poly route!

“You got sand on my toes,” Theo complains, staring down at his flip-flops.

Cameron freezes from where he’s trying to shove an umbrella into the ground, and you can’t help but laugh at his expression. This, of course, makes Theo laugh as well…and earns you a side-eye from Cam.

“You’re not helping.” Cam says, exasperated as he watches the two of you laugh, “You know he gets worse when people laugh at him.”

“I get worse?” Theo gasps dramatically with a hand pressed over his heart like a distraught church-goer, “I’ll have you know-”

“See?” Cameron cuts the cambion off as he looks at you, gesturing sharply with his hand, “Look what you did.”

Theo nearly cackles, going over to wrap an arm around Cam’s shoulder to place a messy kiss on his cheek, “You love it.”

“Unfortunately.” The sorcerer says witheringly, “Also, it’s a beach, Theo. There’s sand everywhere.”

“I know, it’s awful!” The cambion says mournfully, “I’ll be digging it out of places for a month.”

“Sand in various crevices aside,” You tilt your sunglasses down to glance around the beach, “Why the hell is it so quiet today? It’s a mid-July Saturday. The height of summer. Where are all the families and annoying tourists?”

“Uh, well, it might just be slow…for some reason.” Cameron shrugs, wholly unconvincing, “What do they say? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Bet the Trojans wish they had,” Theo says as he digs through your cooler to find a drink.

You both pause, looking down at him.

“Sometimes I forget he’s actually smart,” Cameron says, glancing at you, “Then he says stuff like that and I’m brutally reminded.”

Theo pouts, slinging the cold water on his fingers right at Cam. In retaliation, Cam kicks sand all over Theo.

“Children,” You interrupt blandly, “Back to the matter at hand, please?”

“I mean, Sam is right.” Theo says, trying to dust his swim shorts off in vain, “Maybe something to do with that sign over there?”

Posted on the bulletin board right near the beach entrance is a sign that read ‘BEACH CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT’ in big, bold letters.

You jolt, going to grab your bags, “Shit! I didn’t even see that! Let’s go, like, now. Before whoever rented it out shows up, preferably.”

“We don’t have to leave,” Cam sighs, finally getting the umbrella to stick up straight, “We’re the, uh, private event.”

It’s quiet for all of two seconds before Theo starts laughing.

“You rented the beach out for our date?” The cambions says between bouts of amusement, “Seriously?”

“Technically, my aunt did.” Cameron grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck, “But, uh, yeah.”

Your eyebrows raise, “That’s…actually sweet.”

“Thank you!” Cam gestures to you while narrowing his eyes at Theo, “And that’s how someone reacts to a thoughtful gesture from their boyfriend, Theo.”

“From their boyfriend’s aunt, you mean.” The cambion snickers.

You cough to hide your laughter, but Cam notices. He huffs, shaking the towels out.

“Sam doesn’t like people around,” He snips, “I thought it would…be nice, I guess…”

Smiling slightly, you grab his arm and pull him down for a brief kiss.

“It was nice.” You say as you part, “And I do appreciate it, Cam. Thank you.”

He flushes, his cheeks turning a dark red, “Uh, no problem.”

“Yeah, Cam.” Theo comes closer with a grin, “Now we don’t have to worry if anyone sees us naked.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. You lean down, grabbing a fistful of sand and swiftly dumping it down Theo’s swim shorts in response.

“Oh, come on!” The cambion gripes, shimmying as he tries to brush himself off.

He has little to no luck.

Cameron is the one cackling now, “What was that about digging sand out?”

Theo flips him the bird, losing his shorts quickly and practically sliding into the water in an effort to defeat the itchiness.

“You know, Sam, if you wanted my shorts off, you only had to ask!” Theo calls out from the water.

“I don’t think being nude was necessary for success in this case.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “But whatever. Not like anyone will see.”

You both join him in the water, Cam carrying his shorts along and insisting he put them back on after a rinse in the seawater. Theo complies only after demanding a kiss from you both in compensation for his so-called ‘sand-related emotional trauma.’

He gets two kisses, along with two eye rolls.

“You know, the wings actually make floating in the water easier,” Theo says, lounging on his back as he uses said wings like a glorified raft.

“No shit.” Cameron blinks, brows furrowing, “They make all kinds of floating easier. They’re wings.”

“I was simply pointing out an observation.” Theo laughs before flipping around and submerging himself in the water once more, “Hey, Sam! Cameron! Wanna play mermaids?”

“You’ll lose,” You say with full confidence, “I’ve been going swimming with Penny in the Athletic Center every Wednesday.”

“That’s not even fair,” Theo says, “Playing mermaids isn’t even a competition and you’d kick our asses. You have, like, professional mermaid training.”

“Professional mermaid training…” Cameron repeats the phrase slowly, “That’s not something I thought I’d hear today.”

“But I’m right! Sirens are scary, real-life mermaids, and Sam got training from one.” Theo points out, “She would wreck us playing mermaids.”

“Training is a strong word,” You admit, “But I would wreck you, yes.”

“What about…Marco Polo?” Cam suggests.

Theo gives him an incredulous look, “Are you forgetting the time we played hide and seek in the Rec Center while Sam and Vik were in Intro to Alchemy? You glamoured yourself and followed me around while I looked for you!”

“That was pretty funny.” Cameron chuckles.

“It was humiliating.” Theo mourns.

Your brows furrowed, “Why have I not heard this story?”

“Because it was humiliating!” Theo re-affirms.

Cam only shrugs, “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“So, no to Marco Polo. I’m never playing any game involving seeking with you ever again.” Theo pokes Cam’s chest with a finger.

“I have an idea,” You announce.

They both turn to you, their full attention focused on words that never come. Instead, you use your arm to make a giant wave that hits them both in the face with water.

Theo throws his hands up, “Hell yeah! Splash fight!”

Things only devolve from there, and you’re suddenly very glad Cam’s aunt rented out the beach. You don’t know how tabloids would spin the story of The Chosen One, The Unchosen One, and a cambion having a splash fight in the ocean, but you can imagine it wouldn’t be an attractive story for any of you.

#disenchantedif #theo parker #cameron fletcher #commission

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ascendthisday · 2 years

Text

World On Fire

gif by veilofmegiddo

Pairing(s): Slash | Saul Hudson/Fem! Reader, (Implied) Slash | Saul Hudson/Myles Kennedy, Slash | Saul Hudson/Fem! Reader/Myles Kennedy, Myles Kennedy/Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3,300~

Info: Cuckholding, Vaginal Sex, Smut, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Creampie, RPF, Gential Piercings, Dirty Talk, Cock Shaming

Summary: Myles loves his wife. Myles loves his guitarist. He'd do anything for them, even if 'anything' means letting his guitarist fuck his wife while she sits in his lap.

Authors Note: hiii!!! I've finally decided to slowly move some of my tamer stuff onto tumblr so im trying to post a fic or two a day! everything posted here is already on my ao3 so if you want more or anything go there (all fics are linked via titles) ! that's all cuz this 1 is just kind of cute and sillyish but be warned im not THAT familiar w how the tumblr fic girlies want stuff formatted so this might be a little bumpy until i get it all figured out! be nice 2 me or whatever

"Just let me, let me have her one time," Slash whined. Now, he was no man to beg, he's Slash for God's sake! But he didn't want to disrespect Myles. He adored both Myles and his wife, his ever so gorgeous, wife which is why he's begging for one night to shoot his shot. Despite what it sounds like, he does not want to steal Myles' woman. He just wants a taste, and is it wrong to want to share with friends?

The brown-haired man simply stared back for seconds that elapsed into minutes. "Fine." were the final words that escaped him. This is exactly how Mr. Myles Motherfucking Kennedy ended up being the bottom slice of bread in this fucked up Hudson/Kennedy sandwich. His dear wife haphazardly splayed across his lap and part of Slash's, which would be innocent enough if the guitarist hadn't begged to fuck the same legs that were innocently thrown across his lap. Occasionally, she'd lean into Myles' ear and whisper dirty little things to him, babbling about the cute new underwear she had bought the day before, and then press a kiss to his ear.

Myles loved those sweet little kisses, always basking in the pure love they represented, but now, he felt almost dreadful. When a smile had yet to cross Myles' face, she knew something was wrong.

"Baby, hey, you feelin' particularly good?" she murmured into his ear once more. Seemingly caught in a trance, Myles snapped back to his usual gentle self and smiled at her, "I'm doing great, why? Do I look sick?" He questioned as the girl placed the back of her hand on his forehead and bit her lip for a moment. "No, no you're fine you just looked a little upset, that's all." She quipped and gently slid her hand into his.

"You know, they say there's an erogenous zone," Slash uttered, suddenly snaking his hands around the girl's leg, feeling up her calves "just up around the calf and behind the knee." He finished with a whisper as his fingers softly ghosted upon her skin. Something wasn't right. Yes, Slash is dirty and a little perverted but it was never serious. Now it sounded and felt so real. He lacked the sweet pink that dusted his cheeks when he grinned and goofed around. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found, only leaving a piercing stare in their wake. He was just different today.

Slowly, he found his hands trailing up the woman's legs, and following their path, he began to leave little kisses. She nervously giggled and leaned into Myles' ear once more. "Is this a joke? Am I missing the punchline?" She questioned, trying to lightly shake the guitarist's hands away from her legs with a little wiggle. "Just let it happen, okay? As long as you want it, I mean." Myles mumbled back, trying to promise that everything that may happen tonight is on her terms.

As the kisses he peppered along her legs got less and less innocent, his hands also busied themselves with slowly bunching up the pretty floral sundress she had worn on this fine August day around her waist. Though some parts of her were terrified, she had a husband for God's sake- a husband whose lap she's lounging in, every other part of her wanted this so much. Truth be told, she had always loved Slash but he was forever unattainable and just when he had gotten divorced and publically announced himself as back on the market, she had fallen head over heels for a particularly charming vocalist.

It's not like she was unhappy with Myles, she practically kissed the ground he walked on! It had always just been a little schoolgirl crush that she was pretty sure Slash was aware of. Sometimes while she was lost in her head, the guitarist had managed to get himself down on the floor and had pulled her with him. Now, she sat more directly in Myles' lap. "Hold these for me, will you Mr. Kennedy?" Slash teased from his position on the floor and tapped on the girl's legs. Myles obliged and helped to keep her legs thoroughly spread. His hands, which had been otherwise absent throughout this experience previously, stood firm in keeping her laid out.

Small nips and kisses blended on the girl's inner thighs and she felt herself grow wetter with every moment she stared down at the guitarist. His hands still ghosted along her legs and massaged their way up her midsection, just resting on her breasts.

"Myles? Be a dear and give me a hand here?" Slash gestured towards her underwear with one hand, the other still content on playing with her nipple through the sheer fabric of her dress. Myles shimmied the girl's underwear off, choosing to stuff it into his pocket instead of throwing it to the floor out of fear that some poor venue worker will be forced to dispose of it. "Oh, panty thief. That's dirty, Kennedy, I like it." The older man grinned up at both Kennedy's for a short moment before gasping as if all of the hair had been sucked out of his lungs.

"You're gorgeous. Genuinely, you have a pretty pussy." He drawled. Maybe it sounded stupid in hindsight, but at the moment it made the girl tingle from the top of her brain to the very bottom of her toes. She simply whined and rocked, or attempted to rock, her hips at the man. As much as she loved her husband, she began to spite him as their position currently made it difficult to squirm and gain friction, but maybe that's what Slash wanted. After all, this seemed to be a planned attack.

He placed many small kisses and bites along her inner thighs, all while Myles softly panted in her ear. Weirdly, he seemed to be getting off on this more than Slash was, despite him receiving the least affection. Perhaps Myles Kennedy is a cuck. Maybe he's got the most intense boner of his life from watching his best friend go down on his wife, so what? All he could see was the way his life partner squirmed and moaned at the curly head of hair between her legs.

Finally, Slash made his approach. He placed one sweet and simple kiss on her clit. That was it, just one teasing little kiss and it caused her to groan and throw her head back onto Myles' shoulder. She locked eyes with him and gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

Between her legs, the guitarist went to town, thriving in the jumbled words that flowed through the girl as he ate her out. He was thorough, lapping at her as if this were to be his final meal. Occasionally, the cold metal of his nose ring would touch her skin and she'd break a little more, longing to grab and pull on handfuls of his big curls. Like he could read her mind, Slash pulled away and muttered a calm "Keep your hands to yourself." before returning to the work at hand. She moaned in response and chose to grab handfuls of Myles' belt instead.

Slash's leather pants disgruntledly crinkled as he adjusted his position on the floor, curiously bringing a hand up to her clit and lightly smacking it. She curled upwards in surprise and reeled in the slight pain while releasing little moans and huffs. He just grinned. Though he chose not to hit the girl anymore, he stored the idea in his head, just in case this was to happen again. The bracelets that adorned his arms jingled as he slowly began to tease her entrance. Before choosing to finger the girl, he removed some of the thick rings on his fingers.

"Hold these, and don't you dare drop them." He grunted as he placed the rings between the girl's teeth, catching her in a moment of surprise as she hadn't noticed the way her mouth hung slightly open. His hands found their way back to her entrance and rather quickly inserted themselves inside her. He started with not one, but two thick fingers. Immediately, she bucked her hips at the intrusion.

"Jesus Myles, do you even try to get her off? C'mon man, she's so desperate." The man between her legs started with his rude comments but chose to never leave his spot on the floor. Myles just buried his head deeper in her neck as a response. After a couple more minutes of fingering the girl, he reapproached her with his mouth. He did juvenile things, such as drawing the letters of his name on her clit with his tongue, just to bask in the way she reacted with her sweet little muffled moans.

Just as she began to get closer and closer to her peak, Slash quickly stopped both of his ministrations. "Let's make a deal, yeah? I get to come before you, and in return, I'll let you come. If you're good, maybe even Myles can get himself off after this." She nodded, unable to reply without dropping the rings he had placed in her mouth previously.

He rose from his knees, beginning to pull off his 'Vaginas are way cool' shirt. "You like my shirt, right?" He snarked "Oh, wait. Let me take those. Thanks for holding them, by the way." He mumbled as he pulled the rings out of the girl's mouth and slid them back onto his fingers. "Anyways, you like the shirt? Maybe I should get you a matching one. 'Penises are way cool' you know?" He grinned as he finally pulled the shirt off. "Scratch that, let's get you one that says 'Slash's penis is way cool' since obviously, Myles' poor excuse of a cock can't please you as I do." The words burned, he adored Myles and it felt wrong to berate him like this, but Myles asked for it so nicely. The girl almost immediately went to jump to Myles' defense but was cut short by the sweet, almost feminine whiney moan that cut through the air. Holy shit. Myles was getting off on this.

Sure, she had been able to feel the way he rocked his hips at the elder man's words occasionally, and yes she had heard the little breathy moans in her ear, but she assumed he was just into dry humping! She didn't have much time to linger in her thoughts, though. Instead, she was pulled into a long kiss. Kissing Slash was like nothing you could expect, he tasted like birthday cake chapstick and raspberries. As her tongue explored his mouth, she realized that Slash had fucked up teeth. Very fucked up, uneven teeth. For some reason, this made perfect sense for who he is as a person, and it turned her on even more. Her hands found themselves buried in fistfuls of curls. His curious hands wandered down until their found the zipper to his leather pants. She whines as he pulls away to wrestle with the ever-so-tight pants.

When he pulls his pants down, she's met with the biggest, pierced cock she's ever seen. It's pretty, with a nice pink tip and the lightest bit of pubic hair at the base, not quite long enough to curl and look messy, but not entirely shaved. She couldn't stop staring. "Oh! Sorry, I should have warned you. I got that done in, hm, 98' or so? around then. It hurt like a bitch, but doesn't it look nice?" He rambled off into your neck, tempted to bite kisses into the soft skin, but holding back for Myles' sake. She curiously approached it with one hand, enamored by how his cock stood tall against his midriff despite the heavy-looking jewelry.

He lightly smeared the metal-clad tip against her lips, simply in the name of teasing. She groaned at the steely cold that softly prodded at her lips.

"Do you think it'll fit?" he mumbled as he lined himself up straight with her, yet he simply let his cock rest on top of the girl's abdomen. He let out a low, deep whistle. "Jesus, look at that. Whaddya think, Myles? Will it fit?" He questioned as he looked the vocalist dead in the eye, grinning ever so predatorily. Whatever Myles had uttered back was entirely unintelligible but, how important was his advice anyways?

"C'mere and fuck me already." She demanded and Slash obeyed. In one motion, he was inside of her. The two of them groaned out handfuls of curses at the first thrust. Slash grabbed her hips, burying his head in the other side of her neck, parallel to Myles. "Holy shit, fuck Myles! I understand why you didn't wanna share. She's a fucking, uh, vice, man." Slash groaned as he gripped her waist.

"Oh, Myles! He fucks me so good! Oh my god." She moaned as her hand frantically found his, running her fingers over the cold metal of his wedding band. Slash had been his best man. Maybe he had always wanted her, maybe there could be a way where the three of them worked as more than fuck buddies. Myles whimpered as grew more desperate for any sort of friction, I mean, come on, it's his wife getting fucked here! Let the dude jerk off, for God's sake.

Now, normally when touring with Slash, you walk backstage to the green room and he's either taking a quick nap or fucking with a guitar, not fucking chicks. It's not the 90's anymore, and he's calmed down quite a bit. So imagine the collective shock between Todd, Brent, and Frank when they open the door and get an eyeful of Slash's ass. There are maybe three thoughts that are passed among the men, and they go as such; Oh my God, Slash is fucking someone backstage. Oh my God, Slash is fucking Myles' wife backstage. Oh my God, Slash is cucking Myles Kennedy and fucking his wife. What. The. Fuck. The men gawk at each other, and then Todd starts to giggle.

"This, oh my lord, this is fucking- fuckin' absurd." He doubles over laughing as Brent and Frank frantically shush him. Frank's got his head in his hands as he murmurs a chorus of "What the hell, "s and Brent is silent. Truly, he's almost bug-eyed as he just stares. Slash pays them no mind, even as the girl under him reaches to cover herself or as Myles asks him what they'll do about this.

"C'mon, they want a show. Let's give them a show, dirty girl." Slash murmured to the girl below him as he began to resume his thrusting. She tried to stifle her moans, she really did! But, alas, she couldn't help herself, especially when Slash leaned toward Myles and began to rant about how ashamed he was of the vocalist. "Jesus Christ, man! Everyone thinks you're such a strong, bold frontman yet here you are, letting your wife get fucked on top of you." He slammed Myles, his voice starting quiet but growing in volume rather fast as his thrusts got harder.

"It's fucking pathetic, you know that? Imagine what people would think if they found out. Imagine the headlines 'Alter Bridge's Myles Kennedy Is A Cuckold, And You'll Never Believe Who The Bull Is!' Would you even be able to show your face again?" He questioned, ignoring the way Myles moaned and gripped at his legs. "Please, Slash, thank you. Thank you for helping my wife, thank you for helping our marriage." He knew these words weren't true, Myles had an ideal relationship even when his wife and he had been fighting, but it felt so good to let the words tumble out.

Sure, Myles didn't answer the question at hand, but that's okay. Discipline is learned after all. Slash could no longer push aside the tight feeling that lingered in his abdomen, he knew the fun of tonight would be over soon. He knew that tomorrow, he would be forced to sit down and have a grueling talk on how this most likely wouldn't work out, so he decided to live in the moment. He had sworn to Myles that he wouldn't even think about coming in his wife. Yet, his mind was swimming. "Oh, god. I'm so fucking close, you're so tight. Where do you want me to come? Where? Do you want me to come in this tight little pussy?" He didn't have a second to think before the words had left his mouth.

"Yes! Please Saul, Please come in me!" she begged. Slash was no fan of his legal name, but when it left her mouth, he saw it in a new light. Previously his name was just the man he was before, Saul was that awkward teenager with a curly mullet and Slash was the Guns N' Roses superstar, but the way she said it was new. It was unlike when fans had used it to try and dig into his personal life, it was as if it was the most sincere pet name leaving her mouth. It made him want to melt.

"What do you think, Myles? Should I come in her? You think she deserves it?" Slash leered at the younger man, ever so tempted to just let go now and ignore his input entirely. Myles only got a solid nod and a half in between Slash froze, pushing the entirety of his length into her. He panted and shook, throwing his head back with a long moan. He wouldn't quite describe the feeling of it as fireworks, more so like he was punched in the chest repeatedly. She wrapped her legs around him, as to try and keep him inside her as deep as possible.

The guitarist could vaguely hear the scattered wolf whistles that echoed through the room, but there wasn't a lot of time to think about how he may have permanently changed the way his bandmates viewed him when he still had a job to do. He leaned over once more, quickly mumbling a "Thanks." to Myles and pressing a small kiss to his collarbone before resuming his attack on the girl below him. He found himself desperately kissing her, unable to keep up the strong persona he had put on display previously. After a couple more minutes of making out, he slowly began to rock his hips once more.

"Sorry, it's ah, still sensitive." He huffed as he began to lightly twitch when the girl tighten around him. It was weirdly feminine, that tingly butterfly-esque feeling that chased Slash throughout all of his nerve endings as he worked to draw her closer towards her own finish. His thickly jeweled fingers played out their own rhythm on her clit. God damn those ever-so-skilled guitarist fingers.

He was unnaturally needy, desperately leaning in to receive kiss after kiss from the girl below. She pulled away first and he groaned. In an instant, she was reaching and drawing red lines along his back with her nails while she mumbled a series of curses with the occasional "I'm close!" sprinkled along her lines.

Finally, she came. She came with a babbled mix of both Slash and Myles' names. She was vaguely aware of the way Slash quickly adjusted her dress to keep her decency at least somewhat intact before tucking himself back into his own pants. It was all such a blur, a blur that was similar to the way you could hear everyone talking while you're underwater but every word is warbled and warped. She could feel herself being gently shimmied out of Myles' lap and placed on the couch beside him, nestled next to Slash.

Her tired hands reached for Myles' belt but were quickly stopped while she mewled something about how he hadn't finished. The hands that had intercepted hers belonged to nobody but her dearest husband. "Later, if you're up for it." He sweetly smiled at her and guided her hands into his own while the other three curious onlookers stared at the three lovers.

There was only one thing she had recalled before she had promptly passed out and that was a question asked by their beloved drummer.

"So, are we gonna talk about that? Or like, is this a normal thing? Have I just been missing out super hard?"

270 notes · View notes

1000punks · 2 months

Text

bonding. //melting

bonding. //masterlist

pairing: spawn!Astarion x named!Tav (non-binary OC)

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. self-harm, graphic violence, canon-typical manipulation, gaslighting, bondage, non-con, dub-con, r-pe, (past) abusive relationship.

word count: 7,693

summary: two gays remodel a house domestic fluff and some character background building, set in post-game baldur's gate. two people who are weird and traumatized work on their relationship and reclaim their sexuality through a shared kink. lots of gooey romantic smut while these two slowly figure out their future together.

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

header credit: in-game capture by me, uwu

They had always preferred sharpening their weapons by hand. The act was mundane to them, more focused and relaxing than using a whetstone wheel. Lae'zel had always chastised them in her unsubtle way about it during their travels together. Festé had always smiled, heard her out, and politely declined, opting to sit in front of the fire some nights after dinner, sharpening their swords painstakingly. Eventually, Lae'zel had studied them enough to comment positively on their commitment to their craft; and sometimes, she had even joined them at the campfire, making small talk. Most of those times, though, a comfortable silence settled between the two colleagues.

They had always preferred it, and beyond that, they preferred having beautiful scenery all around them. In this case, they had set a small stool under the eaves near the back door of the townhouse; and looked out into the bay every so often. The rain and mist swirling above the surface of the water was every bit as calming as their work. It allowed them to sit and think while their hands were occupied. Astarion was sleeping indoors, or resting. He had been more prone to fatigue as the weather changed, and cited a "Feline nature, darling." The tiefling had smiled warmly, tucking him into bed with a slow kiss, a hot water bottle, and a crackling fire in the hearth, in their own absence. It was still hours before dawn, so they had set out their stool again and began to work by lamplight.

When their thoughts strayed to their elf, their grip on the whetstone block became suddenly loose. As if on cue, they slipped, opening a shallow slice in their palm. "Damn it," the imp muttered, setting the block down for the moment on their thigh and raising their hand above their head in front of them, at least attempting to stem the trickle of blood. It flowed effortlessly down their forearm, and they looked up at their hand, judging the depth with practiced accuracy. They hummed and wiggled their fingers. Definitely not deep enough to be serious. A chuckle came from deep in their chest, relishing the soothing temperature of the wind and the spray of the mist against their face. Finally, they let out a full-bodied laugh into the wind when it blew their unruly hair back. Always, now, they were able to see the brighter side, and they took in the small moments like this one as easily as their lungs took in air.

Their laughter tapered off as they leaned forward, letting the rain rinse their hand. Pain like this was so secondary; and life hadn't always been this good. Their eyes closed, and they could smell the smoke of the crashed nautiloid ship, feel the scorching sun on the back of their neck. The tiefling had just turned their back on the pale elf. Before they could react, he had them on the ground with a dagger pressed to their throat. Internally, they had scoffed -- it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time, they had imagined. Easily, they pushed him away, getting to their feet and calmly dusting off. Astarion, once he introduced himself, had looked affronted at their nonplussed attitude. Well, at least they had his name. Now they knew what subject it was they were given to study. He agreed to join them, and the tiefling kept a close watch on him afterwards.

Festé had wondered if Astarion knew how obvious he had been at the time. They observed him quietly sneaking out of camp nearly every night of that first week, even when he had checked to make sure that all of his companions were asleep. The night before the party had come across the bloodless, dead boar, they had sat up fully in their bedroll, watching the elf's back while he stalked into the treeline. The next day, they shot him a sidelong glance of consternation when he loudly explained away the boar's corpse. Did he not realize that he camped next to a ranger every night? They had not only seen vampires before, but were often in league with them, having hunted one as part of their very first mercenary gig. Of course, they had thought, laying their gaze back on the boar, he didn't know that. At the very least, however, any ranger worth their salt could recognize two clean puncture wounds at the throat and a bloodless corpse. Festé decided he was a very strange man, indeed; but also a fascinating subject to study.

Festé's gaze turned to the bay, watching the crests of waves that the wind was starting to whip up. They had never understood exactly why Astarion had picked them to try to feed from that first time. They had theories, of course: he was starving. He saw them as the leader, and maybe he wanted to assert his dominance. He saw them as a threat. He saw them as an easy target, because of their more or less established kindness to everyone on their travels thus far. In the present, they thought that the most likely explanation had been that he was seeking to establish some control where he felt he had none; and they decided that they couldn't fault him for that.

His panic and confusion that night had been palatable, regardless. They had never admitted it to him, but they had been tracking his movements from the moment they heard him stir from across the span of the firepit. When they felt him bend at their side, Festé decided it was time to open their eyes; and they watched his widen significantly. They kept their silence as he backed away from them, starting to stammer out an explanation. The tiefling's gaze had been steady, and they crossed their arms. They knew they had the upper hand, as they had taken up the habit long ago of sleeping with a knife in their boot, and one under their pillow.

"I'm just too slow right now. Too weak," he had murmured, trying to keep his tone even, presumably to not wake the others. "If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please." Festé had considered it for less than a heartbeat, and their reply was confident, but cool.

"Why didn't you tell me?" It had been a question that puzzled them for days, mostly because the situation was obvious to anyone who cared to look.

"At best, I was sure you'd say no." They cocked their head to the side. Was that the impression they had left on him after seeing them agree to help their kin at the Grove? "More likely, you'd ram a stake through my ribs." Wrong again, nobody had paid them to hunt a vampire, after all. And, up until now, he hadn't done anything outwardly alarming. They watched his brow furrow slightly, mirroring the expression but dropping their hands to their sides. One sudden move, they thought, and it was going to end badly. He clearly wasn't telling them everything, at best, and they were intimately familiar with his brand of manipulation. The next thing he said piqued their curiosity, all the same; deciding in the moment that they would test him.

"No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me." Astarion's tone had shifted to something more sultry, as he slipped back into his façade. Doubtful, they wanted to scoff, but held their tongue, thinking of their companions. Festé couldn't knowingly leave him to feed on one of them, could they?

"I do. I believe you." Their voice was as unwavering as their gaze, and they suppressed a grin at the surprise in the elf's eyes.

"Thank you," he sounded unsure again. "Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste, I swear." Right into the palm of their hand. It was never wise to give someone leverage over you, if you could help it. They couldn't hide the barest hint of a smile at figuring out Astarion's game, and decided they were comfortable to push just a little more.

"Fine. But not a drop more than you need." The tiefling had felt smug when he invited them to lay back, but they hadn't - and they suspected the elf hadn't, either - expected what happened next. Astarion's fangs pierced their neck, and even the initial pain had been pleasurable. Even more so as Festé felt Astarion's body tense up as it brushed against their own. They were vaguely aware of his breathing, and theirs hitched in a near-silent response. Then in their peripherals, framed by the firelight, they saw his fingers dig into the soft earth. Oh, this… was altogether more amusing than the last time a man had dared to stab them. They shamelessly adjusted their body beneath his, finding the comfort where they could in the somewhat forced intimacy. Still… they raised their hand, finding the front of his shirt deftly.

"That's… enough," they sighed deeply. Moments later, when they had sat back down on their bedroll and watched him walk away into the night, was when they finally considered the thought that nagged at the back of their mind. He had still gotten exactly what he wanted. Festé had lain awake for a long time that night, thinking it over as they watched the fire. Even when Astarion had eventually made his way back into camp, they had simply closed their eyes until they knew he was stretched out and resting. They took a deep breath, and reached out; grabbing one of the burning logs and letting the sizzling pain ground them into their own restful state.

They had probably overcompensated: over the next weeks, Festé repressed their emotions in favour of studying Astarion's. Every morning after they braided and tied their hair up, and after everyone had eaten breakfast together, they had calmly made their way over to the elf's tent. Every morning, they offered their neck to him again; and every evening, he made his way to them, partaking in the offer. They studied his reaction every time, cataloguing each. Slowly, they made note of his tells. His smirk was practiced, but the way his gaze fell away from their own betrayed his confusion and hinted at something more complex brewing beneath the surface. Days went by, but the ranger caught each movement, expression, breath, vocal pattern, and gesture that was uncharacteristic to Astarion's façade. In return, he opened up, albeit gradually, about the Gur, Cazador, and his life before he was kidnapped; and Festé had taken each piece of the puzzle in stride. They were still wary when he propositioned them, though, given the history that he had shared.

Festé had taken him up on his offer, and while the first encounter had been amicable enough overall, they couldn't help but think about the hushed whispers they had heard as they entered the clearing. As Astarion emerged from the trees, the pieces fell into place. His smirk was carefully practiced, and his bare shoulders were set in a way that revealed decades of precise composure. Beyond that, Festé observed the way that his forehead creased, as if the pale elf were fighting some physical reaction. Their scent? No - they looked deeper. His eyes looked blank and glassy, distant. He had mentioned briefly that Cazador would send him into the city to hunt, so they had to assume that he was as familiar with the art of seduction as they were. What a pitiable fate the two had shared, to have gone through such a similar chain of events. The tiefling supposed that, whatever the elf's reasoning for choosing to sleep with them now, they would do their best to not be judgemental. As well, they would try to make it a somewhat pleasant experience.

When he mentioned that he had been waiting to have them, they narrowed their eyes. His smile was slightly pinched, and a line formed between his eyebrows. Astarion didn't really want to do this, did he? Not this way. They smiled though, relenting. He could make his own choices, and he was making this one for a reason. Festé couldn't help but be interested in what reason it was, especially when the elf spoke up once again.

"That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?" The line had sent them reeling, especially paired with the defeated look on his face. Festé was struck dumb for the briefest moment, remembering the occasions when they had said something eerily similar. It only bolstered their resolve, and they nodded firmly to Astarion's question. "I thought so," he had whispered, and smiled sadly.

The tiefling had been abnormally shy about undressing in front of him, even given the fact that most of the companions had already seen each other in various states of indecency. They had all bathed in the same river, after all. When his lips touched theirs, they were surprised to find how cold they were. They found themself leaning against him when his arms circled their waist, and enjoying the chills that went up their abdomen and chest. When he unceremoniously pushed them to their back on the forest floor, Festé felt their stomach turn over in an oddly comforting way. Astarion's eyes met their own briefly, and they lifted their chin in a half-nod before his lips sought their neck. This was it, surely? One hand found his shoulder, while the other was splayed among the leaves. This was it, they closed their eyes and sighed out as he fed. It had truly been a power-play. To what end, though? He pulled back from their neck, sighing harshly and shaking his head a bit.

Festé had leaned up on their elbows slightly, looking up into his eyes, which had once again gone glassy. Nevertheless, Astarion seemed to persist with the encounter; though, his movements were decidedly stiffer and more disciplined as the night went on. After they had spoken, somewhat awkwardly, the next morning, he didn't seek out their company for several days. Festé felt cold, oddly enough. They weren't usually emotional when it came to sex, but this had been an especially perplexing encounter. The air seemed to have changed between themself and the elf, yet they still offered him their neck every night without fail. Just as a kicked dog went back to their master. It was simply transactional, there was no deeper meaning than that. At least, that's what they told themself at the time. Festé was always perfectly polite about their silent deal, and made light conversation with Astarion at the mouth of his tent each morning and night. Over time, they found themself wanting to linger near him a little longer. They caught him, more than once, shooting them confused glances, and would smile to themself. He didn't want them, but they would content themself with being his friend.

Festé thought that they had him figured out, but he caught their sleeve one night in his fingertips, pulling them away from camp. The elf's tone was almost too airy, until the point where he confessed his feelings for them. They hid their reaction to the barb fairly easily, since it was clear that Astarion had never been in a situation like this before. They flinched imperceptibly when he called them a 'complication,' but supposed that he didn't have any other language to describe his feelings. The tiefling infringed on his personal space cautiously, weighing each step while they looked into the proverbial lion's mouth; and they threw their arms around him with a hoarse sigh. When he stiffened, the tiefling imagined that he would violently shove them away. He didn't. Slowly, his arms curled around them in return, and he lay his forehead on their shoulder. They pulled away slowly after a moment, and he eventually offered his hand to hold. They stood together for a long moment, and Festé felt, for the first time, that Astarion was studying them as intently as they were studying him. He spoke up after a moment, and told them that he didn't want to sleep with one another for the time being.

"I don't, either," they admitted calmly. Truth be told, they were probably as uncomfortable with the prospect as he seemed to be. The tiefling had never had a storybook romance - not that they craved that narrative, specifically - they had only ale-soaked memories and one-night-stands that they would rather forget. It had been a long time since someone afforded them the basic respect of wanting something 'real.' If Astarion wanted to give it an honest try, they would do it with him. Together. They judged his reaction, one of quiet surprise, and he had nodded. The first genuine smile they had seen from him slowly crept over his features, and they returned it.

It wasn't until later, when Festé rose from their bedroll fitfully and walked off out of camp, that the gravity of the situation hit them. The others were asleep, and they dared not stray too far out of the light of the lanterns, so they planted themself on one of the jutting roots. The tiefling curled around themself and began to cry, silently. How could they dream of being vulnerable with someone after what happened last time? The entire night, they were tormented by the spectres of their own past.

Once upon a time, they told themself as they set down the dagger they were sharpening and took up another, there was a talented young thief. A talented young thief that should have never been in the business in the first place. A talented young thief, they smiled grimly into the darkness, hearing a different voice in their head than their own; and feeling it nauseate their stomach. Even after all these years, and several layers of earth between them and his memory.

Not long after their parents' passing, Festé was looking for work. They travelled south from Baldur's Gate for a time, and found what they were looking for in a small Guild in Amn. They hadn't been lying when they told Astarion about the interrogation. The tiefling had all but waltzed into the headquarters, green and only seventeen summers old, and the Guildmaster had his underlings tie them up while he chastised them. Festé was cocky, and said they could slip the knots in under two minutes. They had shifted in their seat, spreading their legs subtly, and the Guildmaster had leered at them openly with a scoff of annoyance.

"Fine. Slip them before I lose my patience, and I'll consider letting you run a job," he laughed. The imp joined in, holding their hands up as he opened his mouth to continue. Then three of the other Guild members jumped on him when he drew the longest dagger that Festé had ever seen and started towards them. They were in, that much was sure.

The man, a tall half-elf, had later introduced himself as Caeusan. He told Festé in no uncertain terms that because they stuck out like a sore thumb in a city full of humans, they would be doing grunt work. "And you can expect," he sneered, "To be treated like the hellspawn that you are." The tiefling was unfazed, and grinned at him. He had a temper, presumably because he was just as bottom-of-the-barrel as they were. They wondered off-hand how many times he had been reminded of that very thing when he threw a simple set of leather armour at them over his desk. In a matter of months, he would be the one bending them over that desk and taking them roughly.

They had lost count, over the years, of how many times it had been, but they had memorized the pattern of the rough wood grain, and could still smell the oiled surface. Caeusan decided that their innate talent needed to be rewarded when they brought him home bags of gold; and punished them when they returned empty-handed. As such, they made him, and the Guild, a lot of money those first few years. Sometimes nights with the half-elf had been genuinely good. He trained them to be a better thief, and they spent a lot of time in his office learning dagger tricks. He took them under their wing as a teacher would with a young acolyte, and he could be tender and caring when he tried.

One night, shortly before their twentieth summer began, he had taken them to his bed. Festé had gotten into a scrap that evening with a mark and had escaped, only narrowly fulfilling the contract. However, it was not before the mark had sunk a morningstar into their upper chest. The tiefling's collarbone was broken cleanly in two, and their shoulder had been dislocated. The latter had been an easy fix, Caeusan had popped it back in himself, then forced them to suck laudanum off his fingers. They watched his eyes the entire time, shifting their arm in its sling when the pain subsided gradually and letting out a sigh of relief. The half-elf caressed their cheek before undressing them, then himself. He made love to them that night, slowly and rather tenderly. The two fell asleep, side by side, and he had held them until morning. The behaviour repeated for weeks on end as the tiefling healed, not only sex, but sharing a bed. It had gotten to the point where Caeusan could simply lay his palm against their back, and they would be wanting for more. The iciness that had initially characterized their relationship was slowly melting away.

"I want you to remember, Festé," he would breathe into their ear in the darkness, "That you are a special one. You are a talented young thief, and you'll have the realm on its back if you stay by my side." Slowly, he would roll his hips to theirs, chuckling deeply when it would force breathless moans from their chest. One night, they finally had the courage to answer him. It hadn't been unlike others; he was chasing his pleasure between their thighs, and caging him on the bed with his body.

"Why… do you always say those things, Caeusan? Do you want me by your side, truly?" They rested a hand on his chest when he kneeled above them. His dark hair was tousled, and his forehead was slick with sweat. He had glanced down at their hand, considering their gentle touch with a devious smirk.

"Because you're my secret weapon, lover. And I intend to make use of you." It was the closest thing to a compliment that Festé had heard from him. At the time, they hadn't realized just how true his words would become.

The next time that Caeusan had given them a job, they were stunned, and had expressed as much, in their way. "You cannot be serious," they murmured to him, leaning back in the chair with their hand over their eyes. The half-elf leaned across the desk, his bark of a laugh ringing out in the small room.

"Oh, but I am. This is the way to get the target to talk. He needs a… soft touch, if you will." He stood, walking around the desk and pulling their hand down by their wrist. "And you have two choices, as always. Do the job, or…"

"Or get out," Festé sighed, and it earned them a soft caress on their cheek.

"That's right, my beloved pet. Run along, and don't come home if you can't bring yourself to spread your legs. We do have our coffers to think of."

It went on for so long that it became their specialty, and they eventually gained a reputation not unlike that of a black widow. Caeusan paraded them happily, because it was the most gold that the Guild had seen in years. Festé came to see it as second nature, as a simple routine to follow; and they kept their mouth shut. They had the sense to recognize when they were well-fed.

There was one night that stuck out to them in particular from those days, not because the target was especially memorable, but because of what happened when they reached Caeusan's quarters afterwards. The target had been a rather dashing middle-aged human, and Festé had found that when he touched them, it was more out of care than a need to quell his own physical desire. He had even taken a long foray between their legs; licking over them sweetly instead of fucking them raw and unprepared, as many of their marks had been wont to do. The tiefling had found real moans escaping from their throat alongside the carefully rehearsed ones. A sudden tug behind their navel had pulled them under a wave of ecstasy, and they felt the man chuckle against their thigh before sitting up and wiping his lips slowly with the back of his hand.

"First time?" he had murmured. "You darling little thing, I'll make sure to be gentle." And he was. For the first time in four years, Festé knew pleasure as would befit a lover, not simply a plaything. He had kissed them slowly as he had slipped inside them, and been notably delicate when pulling their legs around his waist and resting his weight on top of them. The feelings of warmth, though foreign, had stuck with them until the moment they entered Caeusan's office at the end of that week. He had asked them about the job, not even looking up from the letter he was penning, and Festé had blurted out the truth.

"It was… pleasant. He seemed to be a very tender man. He made me…" they dropped the bag of gold on the desk absently, and the half-elf looked up, his eyebrows drawn together.

"He made you what, pet?" Caeusan murmured, laying down his quill.

"He… He finished me off, I suppose is the term. I didn't realize that things could feel… that way." They remembered tilting their head at him, how confused they had been when they continued. "When you and I fuck, it doesn't feel like that. Why not?" There was a beat of silence between the two, and, well… Caeusan had lost his temper. He hadn't even bothered with the desk that time, instead favouring a position where he could grind the tiefling's cheek against the rough stone floor, their wrists pinned behind their back in his other hand. Initially, they had struggled, but found it was less painful to submit. The half-elf was stronger than he appeared, and had more weight on them. He withdrew when he was finished, leaving Festé on the ground, their chest heaving with muffled sobs.

"Come now, pet. Don't you want your question answered? Sit up." Caeusan hissed, and they gingerly did as they were told. He reached down and grabbed the front of their shirt, wrenching them halfway off the ground to face him. "It's because you don't deserve it. You're a weapon. A means to an end. No more important to me than a common tavern whore." He let them go, and they fell hard against the cobbles, catching themself on their elbows and looking up at him. "You've only ever been worth the gold you bring me; and the somewhat satisfying heat of your cunt. I am not here," he paused, pressing the toe of his boot firmly between their thighs. A threat. "To coddle you. Clean up, and get out of my sight." With that, he had stormed from the room, leaving Festé frozen for several moments before they blinked, their gaze catching on the hearth in the corner. They all but crawled across the room, kneeling there and hesitantly raising a hand, before bringing it down on top of one of the flame-licked logs and stifling a scream of agony. They held it for several moments, focusing on the way their palm crackled and started to blister from the heat. It had an almost sedative effect on them. Panting, they dropped the log and left the room in silence.

Over the next month, they had tried to push the encounter from their mind. One night, while out in the city, they paused in the street as people hurried all around them, looking up at the moon. Festé sighed, taking in the simple beauty, smiling at the fullness, and how the light drowned out the stars. They sighed out and continued along the street, finding a tavern room for the night. Caeusan's temper hadn't gotten any better recently, especially since they avoided sharing his bed. They had decided they would rather use their cut from a job to pay for a room than have to deal with him for the time being.

The morning brought a wave of nausea so strong it had wrenched them from sleep and the inn's threadbare blankets alike. After emptying the contents of their stomach into the room's single chamber pot, they sat splay-legged on the floor. The tiefling was lost, they didn't tend to have a weak stomach, and had only ever thrown up when they were very ill. Maybe something they ate had been poisoned? They closed their eyes, retracing their steps the previous night. They had finished a short job, mainly entertaining a low-ranking noble, and he had fallen asleep before they could make it to bed together. Festé had left, taking supper in the form of stew at the inn… Wait. They had left, and stopped to look up at the moon before reaching the inn. Their eyes snapped open. The full moon, their blood had always come by the full moon. "Shit," they hissed, resting their hand on their roiling stomach. The nausea was beginning to ebb away as they looked down. Their thoughts strayed to their mother for a moment, and her insistent warnings to always consume nararoot before joining with a man. Festé had always done so, often brewing a tea or chewing the root itself before departing for a job. The only time they had been caught off-guard was very recently.

"Why now?" The tiefling sighed, resting their head back against the edge of the bed; and sat for a long time, closing their eyes. Caeusan wouldn't want to keep it, for Hells' sake. Maybe he could tell them where to find a healer, at least. They got up gingerly, considering the alternative briefly before pushing the idea from their mind altogether. They made their way back to the Guild, feeling as if they were floating above their own body the entire time. Once there, they knocked at Caeusan's door, entering when they heard him grunt from within.

"So, the prodigal thief returns, hmm?" he murmured, rising from his chair and crossing the room to take their face in his hands. They flinched as he raised his arms, and he tutted at them, giving them a condescending smirk. "Oh, calm now, little pet. You know that your mentor would never dream of harming you." Festé's skin prickled as he spoke, and their breath seemed to die in their throat, choking them.

"I… Caeusan," they rasped, "I need your help, I'm…"

"What is it?" he purred.

"I need to find a healer. I need something… taken care of." The tiefling squirmed in his grip.

"Why is it my concern, then?" the half-elf arched one eyebrow at them.

"Caeusan, I'm… I'm with child. It's yours." They closed their eyes, bracing for impact, but it didn't come. Instead, the half-elf hummed, before laughing out loud. He pet their cheek, and when his eyes met theirs, they were steely and cold.

"You don't want to carry my child, Festé?" he mock-pouted. "Why not? You would look simply precious with a swollen belly."

"I don't want a child at all," they whispered, and he turned them around in his arms, pulling them so that their back met his chest. He began to kiss slowly over their neck, locking one arm over their chest. His touch was almost comforting, and the tiefling relaxed minutely.

"Very well. I'll grant your wish, pet." His tone was velvet against their neck, and distracting. So much so, that they only noticed the dagger when the firelight glinted off the blade in the corner of their eye. There was only searing pain after that, and the tiefling collapsed forwards on their hands and knees, gasping and heaving. They were too surprised to even scream, dazedly bringing one hand to the hilt of the weapon. "I hope you meant exactly what you said, though. Do you understand how much of a liability you've just become for me? I ought to…"

The rest of Caeusan's words were drowned out by the blood rushing in Festé's ears, and the pain momentarily drained away. Something in their mind snapped, then. They straightened up slightly, resting on their knees. Their movements were mechanical, working the dagger free, ready to apply pressure with their free hand once it was. Something feral entered them, and they were on their feet in a split second, boots sure on the rough stone as they turned. Time seemed to stand still as they let out a bloodcurdling scream of fury, thrusting the dagger upward. They only needed one good shot, they thought; and to their satisfaction, their aim was true between Caeusan's jawbones. Festé's eyes were wide, a snarl ripping from their chest as they watched the blade peek up through his tongue, sinking through his hard palate with a crunch. They bared their teeth, continuing to scream in his face unintelligibly as he started to choke on his own blood. They pushed the hilt up firmly, drawing on strength they didn't know they had, until the dagger was fully buried in the half-elf's head. His hands came up, closing weakly around their neck. They screamed until their ears began to ring and their throat ran hoarse. Panting, Festé pulled the dagger out of its new sheath, and Caeusan's body went down, twitching. He was drawing breath in short, gurgling gasps. They stood over him, silencing him with one strike of their boot.

Their own hysterical laughter filled their ears when they began to dart around the room, slipping all of the bags of gold and valuables they lay eyes on into their empty shoulder bag. A small penance for the abuse they had been put through at his hands. After that, they ran. Festé ran out of the Guild, surprised by the energy coursing through their limbs. Their hand was still tight against their abdomen, and their breath was coming ragged. Hadn't there been a temple nearby? Their mind gradually became foggy, and they groaned, feeling blood leak from between their fingers. The imp stopped, revolving slowly on the spot in the city's square, and hummed through their teeth when they found their mark. They began to stagger in the direction of the modestly-sized building, collapsing against the door after a matter of moments and sinking down, losing their footing in the process. The final reserve of their strength went to their right hand, lifting it shakily and pounding on the wood with the butt of the dagger. It opened after a moment, and they collapsed again into the front room.

"Help… me…" the tiefling gritted out, before the darkness closed in on them.

"…lost so much blood already!" one voice hissed out of the darkness.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Festé didn't know how long they were under, but each time they came to, they were only aware of their right hand clutching the dagger tightly.

"Their insides are mangled, Ilmater save them…" Festé drew a wracking breath, vaguely aware of their armour being cut open and removed, along with their shirt. Their vision was double, and they sank under again when the pain peaked.

They blinked their eyes open again, this time a spoon was at their lips, and they felt an arm curled around their back, holding them upright. The air felt chilly on their bare chest as they sipped. The liquid tasted like warm mead, and the tiefling began to drink greedily. Their head lolled back as they passed out again, and the arm lay them back down. Somewhere in the dark, gentle hands were beckoning to them. When two familiar faces swam into view, Festé shrank back from them, crying out. It couldn't be real, they had to be having a fever dream.

"Hold on." An assertive voice. Festé's mother.

"Wake up, my child." A soothing, rich voice. Festé's father. Then they were alone in the darkness again. Their breathing evened out to something deep and calm, and they slept.

An indeterminate amount of time later, they awoke, stirring gingerly and looking around. They were resting on a stone dais, and their stomach was bandaged with clean linen, they could tell by the way it caught on their fingertips. The dagger was still clenched in their right hand, covered in dried blood. Festé tried to sit up, and groaned.

"I wouldn't move, child." They turned their head to the left, laying eyes on a wizened human woman, presumably a cleric, who smiled warmly at them. "You're quite the fighter, aren't you, little imp? You lashed out when we tried to take that from you." She inclined her chin toward the dagger. "I like having both of my eyes, so I ordered the acolytes to leave it be. Now," she got up from her seat, an unassuming wooden chair, "Tell me your name, and I will ask my god to lay a blessing on you so that you may leave."

"Festé…" they coughed. Their throat felt as if it were coated with sand.

"Festé. What a beautiful name, child." She started forward, resting her hand on the linen, and her eyes glowed. The woman never broke eye contact, and the tiefling was momentarily transfixed. A dry heat seemed to melt down their body from the crown of their head, and they began to weep in relief. The woman helped them sit up and held them, and Festé dropped the dagger at their side, clinging to her by her robes.

"Thank you, gods. Thank you for helping me…" they trailed off, they hadn't been given her name.

"Sarius. You'll need my name if you're to come visit again, dear. As for thanking me, I need you to know that…" Sarius drew them away, looking into their eyes once more. "As you have healed, there has been a significant amount of damage. It is unlikely that you will ever have children."

Festé nodded slowly. "How unlikely?" they whispered.

"You're barren, child. My colleagues and I did what we could, but…"

They cut her off, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. I understand, and I appreciate everything you've done for me."

It was still several days before Festé had bid Sarius goodbye. While resting, they had a long time to think. They had stayed at the temple for three weeks, and their twenty-second summer was nearing. Their things were packed neatly in a large backpack, and Sarius had given them a tent and a bedroll. The valuables and gold they had taken from Caeusan were stowed for travel. Their plan was to make the journey back north to Baldur's Gate after resupplying in Athkatla. Beyond that, Festé had no idea what was supposed to come next. They had grown tired of the ways in which people were cruel to one another. Sarius had talked with them about it, and suggested living off the land for a while, Maybe, they thought. Something was missing, though.

They crossed the room - a room that Sarius had put them up in, with a simple bed - to take in their reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, the tiefling laughed, drawing their long hair into a bunch with one hand, and drawing the dagger - their dagger, now - with the other. One slick of the blade, and they brought their fist down, smiling fondly at it. A fresh start.

They had done the same, the night after Astarion had confessed. He had smiled at the change, and told them that they looked dashing while winding his fingers into their hair. Thus began a new kind of intimacy for the both of them, one that was relatively innocent.

Festé remembered the conversations the two had about boundaries adoringly. They had felt as anxious as Astarion had looked, but eventually the two worked it out.

"Are you still comfortable with me feeding on you, darling?" His voice was quiet against their shoulder, playing with their fingers as the two lay in his tent. It was their final night in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Festé opened their eyes, chuckling a bit and pressing their fingers between his gently.

"Of course I am. But you don't have to do it while I'm unconscious anymore. I'm not some sleeping princess." There was silence for a moment, then the elf had burst into laughter. It was genuine, and had warmed the tiefling's heart. "What?" they chuckled. "You're a hunter too, I'm sure you appreciate live prey." He only laughed harder at that, pressing his face into their neck to muffle the sound.

"That's a relief," Astarion murmured when he caught his breath. Festé glanced down, only to see a single red eye peeking up at them.

"Good. Are you okay with me sleeping with you in your tent, or would you prefer if I didn't?" The elf had lifted his head slowly, chewing his lip as he considered it. He opened his mouth, closing it again and tilting his head.

"I think… that I would like to try that. I've… I've never done that before, I'll confess." He looked sheepish, smirking at them.

"I haven't done much of it either, to be honest." Festé smiled reassuringly.

"Am I supposed to…" he shook his head a bit. "Am I allowed to, rather. Am I allowed to hold you?" he whispered. They had noted the concern in his tone, and chose their words carefully.

"You're allowed to, yes. But you're not required to. Does that sound fair, Star?" They had no time to react before the elf threw his arm and leg over them.

"Giving me pet names already, darling?" Astarion had tutted at them. "You must really be smitten, mustn't you?" They watched him hesitate for a moment, and wondered what he was thinking. He leaned over, planting a soft kiss to their cheek. "May I… Hmm." He pulled away from them. "Do you trust me, darling?"

"I do," Festé said simply. They wanted to; if he had wanted to hurt them, he would have already. The elf nodded, and gently guided the tiefling to lay on their stomach before he straddled their hips. They felt his weight shift as he leaned forward. What was he doing? Their heart started to pound when one of his hands pushed into their hair, brushing it aside. He paused, resting his hand above their shoulder on the bedroll. Festé shivered when his lips brushed over their skin, and they felt him inhale slowly.

"You smell…" Gingerly, he rested most of his weight on top of them. "Intoxicating, love. I must say it's rather distracting, especially in such close quarters."

"Pinned on my stomach in your one-man tent does count as close quarters, I suppose," Festé sighed out, relaxing under his touch.

"Indeed, and I suppose you wouldn't mind it if I…" he trailed off, his voice husky against their shoulder. That was all it took, Festé thought. Each of their interactions was to be a trust fall from now on. When they nodded and rested their head on their crossed arms, Astarion held them as a lover would, pressing his fangs into their neck. Somehow, the objectively violent act melted all of the tension and confusion away.

Festé watched the tides change, a smile growing on their face when they saw the first rays of sun stretch over the horizon. The imp rose from their stool slowly, stretching along with it. They so desperately wanted to greet a future sunrise with Astarion. Together. With a deep sigh, they crouched to gather the weapons they had finished sharpening, and stole into the house to put them away. They were halfway to the bathroom to clean their palm wound when Astarion called out to them softly.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

To any outside observer, Festé mused, their relationship with Astarion might look the same as their relationship with Caeusan had been. A relationship in which one party gave all they had; and the other took, greedily and relentlessly. Festé didn't see it that way, they intimately knew the difference between danger and safety now. Blood had been shed, of course, but never without their consent. Both of them had chosen this, and each other. Not for survival, not for fear of disobedience, and certainly not because either of them were obligated.

"Darling, did you stay out all night? Honestly…" they laughed, soaping up their hand and ignoring the twinge of pain it brought. There was a moment of silence, and they assumed he was sniffing the air. "You cut yourself again? Gods below, You…" he fell silent when they came through the doorway, if only for a moment. "You're hopeless."

"You love me regardless," the imp smiled warmly at him. They glanced down at the hearth for a moment, the happy flames dancing around the last of the logs. Once, they would have been drawn to the pain those flames offered.

"I do, my dear. Come here," he whispered, "I missed you."

They turned back to him, tears welling in their eyes, though they still smiled. Things were different now. They didn't want to hurt anymore. The tiefling lay down with their elf, soaking in his cool embrace.

"My love… What's the matter?" His fingers found their cheek, and his eyes were wide with concern.

"It's nothing that can hurt me anymore, Star. However, I do have a very long story to tell you. Will you indulge me?" Festé whispered.

He smiled at that. "Until the end of time, my dear."

notes/extras:

Caeusan is pronounced "Sey-uh-san" ♡ and he is neutral evil ♡

i looked into the lore of Amn (including population distribution) and humans are the most common race in the province(?), with half-elves making up very little of the demographics; and assumably, tieflings make up less than a blip being that it's roughly 1481 DR at the time Festé arrives in the area

from what i could glean: laudanum is a general anaesthetic in FR lore (so, he kind of gave them drugs but they were for pain-relief); and nararoot is an "infertility treatment" type birth control- like the Pill; and! apparently in FR canon, healing potions taste like spicy honey (hence the mead)

i know, festé committed the cardinal sin of removing the object one is stabbed with when they get stabbed, but consider: it would be so satisfying to kill the person that abused you with their own weapon

this chapter has been the easiest to write out of all of them so far- which is surprising considering the themes, good golly :'D

i actually didn't start crying until typing up the last part in the tent while i was listening to First Light. LMAO i'm ovulating give me a fucking break hahah

i really wanted to include the graveyard scene but it wasn't tenable with the sheer length of this chapter- it will be linked here (and in the masterlist) later as a oneshot

last thing: go back and listen to the playlist again (or, if you haven't already) i can guarantee that some of the songs take on a bit of a new meaning after this journey into festé's backstory

if you read this chapter, just stumbled on this fic, have supported it from the beginning, or are just here for fun, i appreciate you! you rock! if it intrigues you, check out the masterlist at the top of this post! thank you!!

#.fic #fic: bonding.#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #spawn!astarion x named!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #i'm all pointy ears #oc: festé #cw violence #cw non-con #cw dub-con #cw s/a #cw self-harm

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resiotcage · 9 months

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Originally posted on Twitter Jan 6, 2023.

Summary: Some KhunBam Hurt/Comfort for those that enjoy heart palpitations and chest pain. ♥

Khun carefully tightened the thick cloth around Bam's hand and set the knot on the inside of his wrist. He had done a good job cleaning the grime and blood off, but there was still some stuck under Bam's fingernails.

He made a mental note to help him clean it before bed later.

"You need to be more careful," chastised Khun, but it held no bite, only warmth that was conveyed further when he bowed his head and placed a light kiss on the bandage that covered the back of Bam's hand.

A finger brushed across Khun's cheek, wiping away a smudge of dirt. "Funny you should say that when you look worse than I do," quipped Bam.

Their laughter was soft, the weariness of the test seeping out of their bones as they drew a little closer to find comfort in each other.

"It's just superficial. I didn't fracture anything by punching a hole in my opponent. Seriously Bam." Khun swallowed, trying to soothe the growing knot in his throat. "You need to be careful about using your power."

Bam turned his hand over, grasping Khun's hand in his and squeezing. "He was going for you," he whispered, the worry thick in his voice.

"I can fight, Bam. I can defend myself—"

"I know. But..." Bam loosened his grip, but Khun's fingers tightened, not giving him a chance to let go. "I couldn't help it. I won't let my friends get hurt."

Khun sighed, letting his head hang for a moment. He felt the dust shake off himself when he moved, the debris from the explosion of Bam's impact probably matted to his hair. A shower was badly needed, but he could wait. He needed this more.

Khun bumped his fist against Bam's thigh. "You need to let that go. We will get hurt, but we will survive—just like you. We need you to trust us like we trust you."

Bam looked down at their hands laced together. "I know. I'll keep working on it, Khun. It's hard, but I understand."

Khun let go of his hand and stretched out his arms. "That's all I ask."

Bam smiled, his face glowing as he leaned forward to hug Khun tight.

"When did you two get so touchy? Yuck." Endorsi, who was leaning against the infirmary doorway, finally made her presence known.

An annoyed growl rumbled in Khun as his arms tightened around Bam.

"I'm surprised you two haven't been caught making out yet." She waved her hand nonchalantly, a grin spreading when she noticed Khun's ears starting to burn red.

Bam tapped on Khun's back and was released from the crushing grip. "No, not yet," teased Bam over his shoulder. When Khun choked on air, it took all his will power to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

Endorsi sneered, but quickly changed to a soft smile as she dropped the charade. "At least you're aware. Catch you two lovebirds later." She wiggled her fingers at them as she turned and sauntered away.

"Bam, stop giving her ideas," grumbled Khun. His whole face was as red as a tomato.

"What ideas? That we've ever kissed? We both know the answer to that."

Khun pouted, and he tried to hide it by letting his forehead land on Bam's shoulder. "We're just—"

"Friends," finished Bam sharply. "Right."

Khun took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "How cruel would it be to indulge in something that was destined to end in tragedy?"

Bam closed his eyes and nuzzled into the side of Khun's head. "How cruel would it be to deny yourself such joy?

Khun's arms came up as he moved from his chair and sunk into Bam's lap, pressing himself into his arms as he held on tightly. "I don't want to let you go."

Bam hugged him back with as much desperation. "Then don't."

"I'll have to one day."

"I won't let it happen."

"It's not up to you, Bam."

"It is, though. It's my life and I'm going to live it how I want."

Khun let out a sigh and stayed quiet. His fingers circled a hole in Bam's shirt—another victim of his recklessness. Worry swirled in his guy, heavy and nauseating. But there was still a glimmer of something strong in the middle of it. "I hope... I hope you're right," he finally conceded.

Bam smiled against the crook of Khun's neck. Under the smell of smoke and earth, was home. It was where he wanted to be and where he would come back to, just like now.

"I am. I promise."

#tower of god #khunbam #khun aguero agnis #twenty fifth baam #fanfic #Resi's works

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juniormint1125 · 2 years

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A Beautiful Landscape - Lee Jihoon

THIS POST CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT!

Please read with that in mind.

A Beautiful Landscape

Lee Jihoon x Reader

The end of the semester was always hectic, but three things had made this last term chaotic. First, I had begun working on a research project that was proving to be the death of me. I had never imagined there would be so much controversy surrounding Neolithic pottery. Then, I had moved into my own apartment after living with the same circle of friends since undergrad. The peace and quiet I had dreamed of felt unexpectedly lonely. Lastly, I had met someone who had changed my life, quite literally running into him when I least expected it. A few weeks into the project, I had been at my wit’s end, searching for a physical copy of the book I was certain was the answer to the question my research team had been stumbling over for days. Even with everything I had access to as a professor, I had only been able to find snippets of the information I needed. Well over seven hours into a final effort to find my elusive source, the sun was creeping over the horizon, beginning to glare on my laptop screen. Just one more site, I told myself. If I can’t find it, then I’ll give up.

I clicked on a link for the online catalog of an obscure bookstore. Crossing my fingers, I reminded myself not to get excited. Nothing so far had managed to pan out. And I am not that lucky. Scrolling through page after page of books I had never heard of made my fingers were numb. I wiggled them to try and bring back some circulation. While stretching, I knocked my mouse off the desk. I reached down to pick it up, accidentally clicking the button. “Damn it!” I yelled, looking at the screen. How the hell had I managed to lose the results I had been sifting through? I decided to give searching a rest. Moving to close the window, something familiar caught my eye. Under the heading of “Special Collections” was the book I was looking for! I had to be dreaming. I frantically looked for to find how to find the book. At the bottom of the page was the store’s address. It sounded familiar. That street was only about a ten-minute walk from my apartment! I looked at the clock. If I hurried, I would have enough time to shower and grab something to eat before the store opened. I wanted to be there when the doors were unlocked. I wasn’t taking any chances. After a quick shower, I felt refreshed. I might be able to make it a few more hours before collapsing. I was now running on adrenaline from the excitement of finding the book. I was about to head out the door when my phone rang. It was the research team leader. I thought about rejecting the call, but I knew he would just call again until I picked up. I was short as he drug me through the same questions that I had answered a million times in the last few days. He asked if I had found the manuscript. “Actually,” I chirped, “I may have. I’m on my way now to check out a lead. So, I really need to go.” I looked at the time. I had already missed the opening, so I needed to hurry. I flew out the door and sped down the hall. I was certain my luck would run out and somehow, I would lose the priceless manuscript. I was distracted looking for an employee and didn’t see the stack of books by the entrance until I was falling. My embarrassing descent was slowed when I crashed into another of the bookstore’s customers.

I threw out my hands to catch myself, but it was too late. I landed on top of him, hovering inches from the bill of his navy-blue baseball cap. I scrambled to my feet, my entire body burning crimson. Standing upright, I apologized.

“It’s okay,” he said, dusting off his jeans. “Accidents happen.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I babbled as I bent to pick up the sheet music scattered on the floor.

He chuckled as he knelt beside me. “It was definitely a little awkward.”

“God, I am so sorry,” I repeated, putting the music back in the bin. “Sometimes I’m a little…oblivious…to my surroundings.”

“It’s really okay,” he smiled.

An employee appeared from behind a nearby bookshelf. I apologized once more and excused myself. I needed to find the book. Once I had it in my hands, I was elated. I would finally be able to get a full night’s sleep!

In my state of delighted relief, I had forgotten about my earlier embarrassment. Then I found myself standing at the counter beside the same man I had pummeled. He was speaking with another employee, holding a sizeable stack of music. I studied his face as I shoved my change into my purse. He had been shockingly kind despite my clumsiness, and I hadn’t even bothered to look him in the eyes. I had been too embarrassed. I flinched as he turned in my direction. His deep brown eyes disappeared as he smiled, and tiny dimples appeared above his mouth.

“Uh…hello again,” I stuttered. “I really am so sorry about earlier.”

He laughed and told me again not to worry. As he turned to go, I blurted out, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee to make up for it?”

I scolded myself. What the hell was I doing? He had just been courteous. Now, he probably wanted to get as far away from me as possible.

To my surprise he agreed. I felt elated. Something about him was comfortable and calming.

As we saw more of each other, we easily fell into a routine. His good morning texts awaited me when I woke up and every evening, as I wished him good night, I reminded him not to stay up too late working. Friday nights were movie nights and Saturdays were for breakfast in bed.

Our routine was disturbed when he started preparing for the first comeback since we started dating. Face to face meetings were replaced by Facetime and movie nights turned into “I’m sorry, I can’t make it” texts. I had fallen in love with Jihoon’s passion for music, so I disguised my disappointment with homemade cookie deliveries to the practice room. Each time Jihoon would pull me aside and wrap me in his arms. He’d whisper his thanks, and each time, he’d be pulled from my arms by a member’s call back to practice.

It was lonely, but the quiet moments we spent in each other’s arms when he finally crawled into bed at dawn made everything worth it. To the outside world, he was blunt, unemotional, and unapproachable. But when he lay in my arms, with the rising sun streaming through the windows, he laid his heart out.

My sunrise Jihoon was soft and gentle. His words were caring and full of gratitude for my presence in his life. He never held back his feelings, telling me I was his safe space. He shared his worries, his frustrations, and his glee, always asking for and thoughtfully considering my opinions.

When he had cleared his mind and healed his heart, he would wrap his strong, steady arms around me and let his passion free. He was a gentle lover who took his time making sure I was always satisfied first. But, sometimes, when he returned from a particularly stressful day, undercurrents of a rougher, more dominant Jihoon would swirl to the surface. I was dying to test the waters and be utterly ruined.

Despite his openness during our sunrise cuddles, Jihoon was still shy when it came to our sex life. He was unrestricted in his interests, but hesitant to make the first move. When he did work up the courage to say something, he would blush and stutter. His flustered disposition was adorable to me, but he hated his embarrassment and inability to speak freely. So, I had learned, through close observation and slowly pushing limits, how to make him comfortable while giving him the utmost pleasure.

So, for a while, I had been testing him, doing little things that would be unobvious, to gauge his reaction. A webpage “accidentally” left open on our home computer. A magazine article I just happened to come across while he had been leaning over my shoulder. A new skirt, just shy of appropriate, hanging in the closet next to his favorite hoodie. A matching lingerie set in his favorite color that I somehow left lying on the bed after I put the laundry away. I dropped a thousand hints and waited for him to take the bait. He might be quiet and shy, but inside his mind, I knew the wheels always turned a thousand miles a minute.

The winter term was ending, and the culmination of my research project was close. I was absorbed with work, not always reachable. The “Did you eat?” and “How did you sleep?” texts started to come more frequently and the time he waited for my reply became increasingly smaller. It wasn’t like him to be clingy, but it seemed the less time I was available, the more passive aggressively he sulked.

Things started to slow down for both of us, and we finally managed to secure a few consecutive free hours that we could spend together. So, I laid all my cards on the table. I put on the matching lingerie in his favorite color that I hadn’t yet worn. I zipped up the less than appropriate skirt that had been hanging beside his hoodie. I refreshed the spicy amber perfume that drove him crazy and swiped on a glossy shade of crimson lipstick. If he doesn’t let go now, I thought, he never will.

I could feel his gaze burning through me as soon as he spotted me in the coffee shop. He was running late, so we decided to meet there. I had already ordered his favorite and it was delivered as he sat down beside me. His hand came to rest on my thigh, and he kissed my cheek to say hello. I noticed how firm his grip was as he asked me about my day.

“Will you go to the studio with me?” he asked as I finished my second cup of coffee.

“Ji!” I whined. “This is supposed to be a date night. No work.”

“Please?” he pouted. “There’s something I want you to hear. It’s not really work, I promise.” He ran his thumb across my knuckles, making me shudder.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

He helped me with my coat and as we exited into the cool night air, I shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked. I nodded. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around my neck. “Maybe you should have worn something that covered a little more skin,” he grumbled as he took my hand.

I smirked. So, he had noticed. HIs studio was warm and inviting. He led me over to the desk, handing me the headphones. He sat down at the keyboard, and I stood beside him, my heart exploding to see him living his passion.

A slow beat began playing quietly in the headphones. It was beautiful. Every song Jihoon wrote was amazing, but this one was ethereal. The notes flowed from the headphones, washing over me like the voices of angels. I couldn’t believe how talented he was.

From behind, I felt the warmth of fingertips trailing the inside of my thighs. Powerful hands gripped my waist. A firm, easily recognizable pressure bore down on my back. I took off the earphones.

“What do you think?” His gruff voice echoed in my ear.

“It’s hard to say,” I teased. Nails dug into my skin. “Did you just start working on this?”

Roughly, he spun me to face him. He planted his hands on either side of me, and leaning in, forced me backwards with each inch of space he annexed. Devilry glinted in his umber-colored eyes.

“No, I didn’t,” he growled.

“Oh,” I replied, feigning ignorance. “It just sounds a little…raw.”

Jihoon inclined his body closer until I could feel the solidity of each muscle igniting the entire length of my torso. His voice was dark and laced with passion as he whispered in my ear.

“I’ll show you what raw sounds like.”

Internally, I was having a full-fledged victory celebration. My clever boo had taken every one of the puzzle pieces I had left him and fit them together to create a beautiful landscape neither one of us had visited, except in our dreams. I raised an eyebrow, challenging him to prove his declaration.

His lips crashed into mine as he forcefully lifted me onto his desk. Prying my legs apart, he pushed my barely there skirt over my thighs.

“Don’t ever let me catch you wearing this again,” he warned. His hands slid roughly inside my skirt, kneading the skin of my thighs. “This is mine and no one else gets to see any part of it.”

I gasped at the feral tone his voice had found. I was certain that he could feel the wetness soaking through my panties as he held his grip on me. I still had one more test for him.

“Okay,” I replied nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders. I looked away from him and waited to see how he’d respond.

He gripped my chin, pulling me back to face him. He slid my panties to the side and my dripping core allowed him to easily thrust two fingers inside. My back arched and I moaned loudly as he commanded.

“You answer with ‘sir’ only.”

A huge smile spread across my lips as I responded. “Yes, sir.”

He smiled shyly back at me and tucked my hair behind my ear, stepping out of character for a split second. I understood what his smile was telling me.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

His soft smile faded, replaced by a menacing grin. I was reminded that his fingers were still inside as they began to barrel in and out of me. His other hand firmly cradled my neck. Then he was back, whispering in my ear. His voice was raspy and sent chills down my spine.

“Every part of you belongs to me. And right now, I want to see what’s mine.” He tugged on the collar of my shirt. “Take these off. Slowly.”

Withdrawing his fingers, he took his place back in the chair. His eyes were dark with lust as he waited for his directions to be followed. Jumping down from the desk, I turned away from him. Reaching behind me, I unzipped my skirt, sliding it past my hips, so that it would fall to the floor. Bending over, I heard a hum of approval. Before I could stand back up, his hands grabbed my ass roughly.

“Next time you buy lingerie,” he growled, “I choose.”

“Yes, sir,” I cooed sweetly, standing upright, turning to face him. His satisfaction was clear, so I continued my show. Slowly, I began unbuttoning my blouse.

“My angel is so beautiful,” he praised me.

“Thank you, sir.” I smiled, coming to the last button. I reached to slide the shirt from my shoulders, but he stopped me.

“Let me,” he ordered. As his hands slid the fabric from my arms, his lips trailed kisses in its wake. His teeth nipped the inside of my arm. “Mine,” he declared.

Sitting back down in his chair, he motioned for me to continue. I reached behind to unfasten my bra, dragging out the process of sliding the straps form my shoulders. Looking him in the eye, I hooked my thumbs under the band of my panties. Inch by inch, I slid them down. Taking them in my hand, I tossed them in Jihoon’s direction. He snatched them from the air, putting them to his nose and inhaling the scent of my arousal. Eyes never leaving mine, he groaned, then rose from the chair to join me.

With one hand wrapped firmly around my waist, he used the other to spread my legs. I heard his hum of satisfaction as he slid one finger up the length of my folds. I could see my wetness, slick on his finger, as he put it to his mouth, sucking slowly.

“Delicious,” he moaned. He stood back, eying my nakedness, but making no further moves.

“Please Ji,” I whispered a minute later.

“Please, sir,” he corrected me.

“Please, sir,” I repeated.

“Please, sir, what?” He drew out his words, each one making my core throb.

“Please touch me, sir,” I begged.

“Where do you want me to touch you, angel?” He teased, running his fingertips down my naked side.

“I want you to touch my clit,” I whined. His fingers traced circles around my nipples, and I could barely concentrate to form my words. I was becoming an incoherent mess under his touch.

“Here?” he asked. His thumb landed on my clit, drawing small circles around the already hardening bud. My eyes closed and I nodded my head furiously.

“I can’t hear you, angel.” His tone was a warning as his thumb stilled.

“Yes, sir, there,” I mewled. I was falling apart under his authority. I had never come that fast in my life, but I was so close already to reaching my high. He could tell I was by the way my body tensed.

He leaned in and whispered. “I want to hear you when you come, angel. Don’t hold back.” I was dangling on the precipice of ecstasy and his next words pushed me over the edge. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Jihoon,” I cried as my orgasm washed over me. He gradually slowed his movements as I rode out my high. I felt as if I would collapse in his arms, but his grip on my waist held me firmly upright.

“So beautiful,” he cooed as he kissed my forehead. His tenderness was over in a second as he spun me around. I heard rustling as he unfastened his jeans, letting them fall to the floor. He rubbed the tip of his cock against my wetness without hesitating.

“Now,” he roared, “I’m going to take what’s mine.” With his last word, he rammed his length into me, slamming my pelvis against the desk with each thrust. His nails were again digging into the flesh of my waist, the pain registering as pure pleasure.

As my moans grew louder, his pace increased. He grunted with each drive. He only did that when he was agonizingly turned on, needing to come for relief. So, I was surprised when he stopped abruptly, whipping me around again. His actions were savage, but his look was tender. He was still my Jihoonie, no matter what had been unlocked inside him.

“Look at me while I come inside you,” he ordered. He thrust back inside, continuing the pace he had set moments ago. I held his stare, never looking away as he reached his climax. It was the most intimate moment we had shared. He rode out his final throes of passion and sighed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes still locked on mine. I smirked and pulled him close, burying my face in his neck.

“I love you too, Jihoonie.” I could feel his smile against my hair as I whispered.

“Sir.”

#woozi #seventeen woozi #svt woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen lee jihoon #svt lee jihoon #smut #kpop smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi smut #seventeen woozi smut #svt woozi smut #lee jihoon smut #seventeen lee jihoon smut #svt lee jihoon smut #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader

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imagineanime2022 · 2 years

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Shigaraki’s Guard Dog (Male)

Tomura Shigaraki X Male!Reader

Word Count: 2020

Summary: All For One happen to get his hands on another kid that he trains to be Shigaraki’s bodyguard and friend and you take your job very seriously.

A/N: working on making a male version as well, which isn’t going to take very long so hopefully that’ll be up tomorrow for those who are interested in that, I’ll put a link on this post when it’s up :) Also thinking about a part 2 if anyone is interested in that.

Female Reader

Shigaraki remembered the day that All For One brought you to him, you were his age, he watched as you sat next to him and put your hands out to him “You can touch him.” One For All encouraged, he looked at you for a second and you smiled pushing your hands forward.

“He’ll turn to dust.” He shook his head. “No, I won't, I promise.” You smiled, it was the first time that you had spoken but you seemed so happy when he didn’t move you rolled your eyes and dove forward with extraordinary speed and wrapped your hands around his, he waited for you to disappear but your weight stayed solid and he opened his eyes to see that you were still there unchanged and smiling brightly. “This is your new friend, there will be times when even I can be with you but he will always be with you.” All For One promised as you nodded, sitting with your legs crossed. “What’s his name?” Shigaraki asked. “You get to give him one.” All For One answered waving a hand at him before turning to leave, “I’ll be back later, get to know him.” “W-what do you want to be called?” Shigaraki looked at you but you shrugged your shoulders smiling. “I don’t know that many names, what do you think?” You asked, Shigaraki seemed to think about it for a while before speaking again. “I’ll call you (Y/N). What do you think about that?” He asked. “Mmm.” You nodded your head as you hummed, sticking your pinky finger out. “What are you doing?” He asked. “Well he said we’re friends right, so lets make a promise.” You suggested. “No one ever keeps those.” Shigaraki mumbled and you shook your head. “I promise that you can count on me, no matter what I’ll follow you.” You wiggled your little finger and he looked at it for a second “Come on I kept my other one. I didn’t disappear.” Shigaraki finally looped his finger with yours and a bright smile took over your face as you nodded in confirmation.

From there on, you were never apart, while Shigaraki changed from a scared little boy to a villain on the rise, you had become his loyal dog, you spoke when you needed to otherwise you kept to yourself until you were needed, it was easy for him to see that you were broken and you had been for a while conditioned to listen to and protect him and him alone, he could remember days when you ignored something had asked, you were dragged away and brought back the next day. Now that he was older he knew that they must have taken you to punish you in some way but at the time it was just another thing that he didn’t understand. It was clear that the reconditioning had you relying on him as much as he relied on you, it became clear that you didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t around and with you being the only person that he could physically be in contact with, he held you closer than anyone else. However, now that the League was gaining potential members, you both seemed to worry that you wouldn’t be needed anymore.

You were sitting in the back corner of the bar with a drink in hand as you waited for your next order “Are you interested in the child Izuku Midoriya?” Kurogiri asked as the door to the bar opened. “Shigaraki your League Of Villains has been the talk of the town these days.” You leaned forward putting the drink on the table and leaning your elbows against your knees as Giran walked into the bar, he glanced at you for a second before continuing to say “word on the streets is your about to start something big.” “And who did you bring?” Shigaraki asked as he disintegrated the picture that he was looking at, he turned and left two people walking in. “So it’s really you?” The taller male asked, you looked over at him, was dressed in a long blue coat, white tee and dark trousers, but the thing that kept your attention was the burn scars that he was covered in. “I’ve seen your pictures but your way creepier in person.” “Woah it’s the weird-hand guy your friends with my hero Stain right?” The younger girl, who seemed to be dressed in a school uniform cheered as she moved her hands in an exciting motion. “Let me join the league, I want to be part of your crew.” “Kurogiri, get rid of these two, I can tell they’re exactly the kind of trash I hate.” Shigaraki gestured to the two in the bar and you tensed ready to move should the need arise. “A brat and a guy with no manners.” “Now, now Tomura Shigaraki, they've come all this way, the least we can do is hear them out.” He suggested. “Give them a chance plus this man is a trusted broker they are bound to be valuable assets.” “Like them or not you still owe me a finders fee, in cash, I suppose that I can introduce them before I go.” He said as he walked forward. “This one looks like an adorable school girl but she’s currently the suspect in a series of murders where the victims all bled to death, currently her face and name are being kept out of the media.” “Toga here, Himiko Toga.” She cheered, your eyes moved over her as you quietly grabbed the knife from the inside of the shoe. “Life is hard, I just want to make it easier to live in this work, I want to be Mr Stainy, I want to kill Mr Stainy come on handyman let me be in your league of villains.” “You’ve got to be kidding me, is she crazy?” Shigaraki asked. “Well, she can hold a conversation for the most part, at least come on she could be useful,” Giran answered but you didn’t take your eyes off her. “And this guy hasn’t committed any flashy crimes but he’s taken Stain’s ideology to heart.” “I don’t like this, is your little group really dedicated to the hero killers' mission, I can imagine that you are if you're going to let this little psycho join you.” He leaned around to look at Toga who just laughed. “Grow up she may be a psycho but at least she knows how to introduce herself to people.” Shigaraki fired back. “Don’t just stare, what's your name?” “Right now I’m going by Dabi.” The guy answered and you frowned, you gathered that it wasn’t his real name and it seemed so did Shigaraki. “No, I want to know your real name.” He lifted his finger to point at him. “I’ll tell you when you need to know it.” Dabi dismissed the request easily and you knew he was the one that you needed to be careful with should they stick around. “In any case, my new mission is to carry out the Hero Killer’s will.” “That wasn’t what I asked you patchwork, why is everyone so caught up on Stain?” He asked as he rose from his chair “He’s all I hear about every damn day, it’s really pissing me off. You two are done!” In that split second your eyes connected with Kurogiri as you seemed to appear in front of Shigaraki, kicking Dabi away and disarming Toga putting the dagger to her neck instead, she giggled. “Where did you come from?” She asked. “What do you want me to do?” You asked, waiting for Shigaraki to tell you. “Tomura Shigaraki please calm down, if your dream is to be realized then we have to increase our numbers, now that we’re in the spotlight our chance is at hand, I implore you to be more accepting.” You saw out of the corner of your eyes that he snuck around to whisper something in his ear, he relaxed behind you, he moved past you carefully before pushing past the others. “I’m out of here, (Y/N) stay here, watch them.” He ordered. “Yes Sir.” You nodded, stabbing the dagger into the bar and walking back to where you were sitting before leaning back into the chair, eyes trained on the new arrivals, Dabi was righting himself after you kicked him and Toga was grabbing the knife that you had left on the bar. “I try to make it a point not to complain about clients but that guy is too young, too immature,” Giran said. “Careful or I’ll put a knife through your neck respected broker or not?” You warned downing the last of your drink before putting the glass back on the table. “I really thought that he was going to tell him to kill us.” Toga laughed. “That guy makes me want to vomit,” Dabi commented and you glared at him but didn’t say anything more. “Shall we get back to you about recruitment at a later date, I believe our leader knows what he has to do, that’s why he left when he did, he understands the circumstances, first All Might, then the Hero Killer he has been humbled twice very recently, I’m sure that he’ll give you an answer one that will satisfy both of you and himself.” “Alright so what's your story? How’d you find yourself with a creep like him?” Dabi asked, throwing himself down in the chair opposite you. “Call him by anything but his name one more time and you’ll lose a finger for-” “(Y/N) careful, the young master may still need them in working condition.” Kurogiri warned, you glanced at him for a second. “It’s none of your concern how I ended up here.” You finally answered. “Aw come on! Give us something!” Toga slid into the booth next to you, her hip hitting yours as she settled. “What I’ll give you is a concussion.” You warned. “(Y/N)!” Kurogiri warned again. “Trust me that’ll be an improvement.” You argued. “Alright I get it.” Dabi mumbled from where he was sitting, he had been silent this whole time apparently analyzing everything that you did. “Get what?” You asked as you looked back at him and he smirked. “Don’t you worry about that Doll.” He leant back in the chair as you leaned forward. “Don’t call me that.” You warned him.

A couple of hours later Shigaraki was back, Kurogiri had long since shown the other two to their rooms for the night. It was the first time that it had been silent for a long time, the other 2 argued constantly when you stopped entertaining them. “What are you still doing up?” Shigaraki asked as he pulled down the hood of his jumper. “You told me to keep an eye on them.” You reminded him, he walked over to the booth that you were sitting in and sat opposite you. “Well?” He asked. “They’re annoying.” You answered immediately. “And?” He rolled his eyes as you slid your drink across the table for him to finish. “They’re dedicated, smart for the most part, but they’re not enough on their own.” You answered honestly. “Not for what you want.” “Mmm.” He hummed. “It's going to get crowded around here isn’t it?” You asked as you looked around the bar as if trying to commit the image to memory before it all changed. “Mmm.” He hummed again as he looked around for himself before his eyes landed back on you again, you had your pinky finger outstretched to him. “Promise you won’t.” You almost pleaded and he rolled his eyes before wrapping his finger around yours. “This is so stupid.” He grumbled but you only smiled as you stood from your seat. “Get some rest, you’ve got a long day of recruiting tomorrow.” You reminded him. “We.” He corrected “you’ll be there too.” “Of course I made a promise, remember.” You smirked before leaving him alone and going to your own room, not seeing the small smile on his lips at the confirmation.

*Part 2*

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#my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia reader insert #my hero academia oneshot #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki imagine #tomura shigaraki oneshot #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #male reader #x reader

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tabletennis20 · 5 months

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(NSFW) Godrick x Tarnished

Heavily edited to fix dialogue and characterization. Thank you to everyone who's been supportive of my writing so far! I usually don't post my work, but it's been fun :) Godrick needs more love.

Summary: Godrick is eager to show his consort all they've missed once they arrive back at Stormveil.

Thanks to @tarnussy for encouraging horny Godrick thoughts.

“Well,” Godrick drawled, one of his auxiliary hands lazily swirling a nearly empty chalice of wine. “Finally, my consort cometh to service me.” A relieved smile crept onto his face at the sight of them, as it marked the end of their absence. The Lord of Limgrave sat reclined upon his throne, legs kicked out as his gaze slowly trailed up the Tarnished’s form, pausing at every sliver of revealed skin. He made a show of his approval, tongue snaking over his crooked teeth as a bony finger beckoned them closer.

The Tarnished loosened the strings of their tunic as they strolled towards the foot of the throne, no stranger to Godrick’s typical lusts. The light fabric blew from their shoulders in the constant draft, baring their chest. “What is it you need, my lord?” they asked once they reached him, their hand tracing delicate shapes on his thigh.

Muscles quivering under the Tarnished’s gentle touch, Godrick reached down to caress them in turn, one of his thumbs brushing over their exposed collarbone. “All of thee,” he said, squeezing their shoulder to assure himself of their presence. “I found myself aching for thy touch during the late hours of the night in a way mine own hand couldst not temper. Thou wouldst be quite cruel indeed to deny me relief.”

“Aching, hmm? Sounds dire,” the Tarnished said, smiling coyly and patting Godrick’s leg before slipping their arm under his robes to teasingly rake their nails against his inner thigh.

Too impatient for foreplay, Godrick grabbed the Tarnished around their torso and lifted them effortlessly, pinning their arms to their sides and smirking as he squeezed a gasp out of them. He took a moment to savor how perfectly they fit within his left hand, their frame shuddering in his grip as they took a deep breath ragged with quickly building arousal. Bringing them to his lap, he sat up straight and grinned. “How puny thou’rt.”

As Godrick craned his neck down to kiss the Tarnished’s lips possessively, the scent of wine filled their nostrils. The taste soon followed as he ineloquently shoved his tongue into their mouth, rich hints of something above their class dancing across their pallet. They felt fingers card through their hair, curling harshly into their scalp once they gently bit down.

“Enjoying your drink I see,” the Tarnished purred into Godrick’s ear as they broke apart. Hands wrapped around their legs at their honeyed voice, a gnarled finger prodding incessantly at their entrance through their pants. Up close, the Tarnished easily caught onto the hungry, tipsy mess Godrick had gotten himself into prior to their arrival. A light pink hue dusted his face, his eyes blown wide and breath heavy with greed. Already he throbbed beneath them, beginning to stiffen enough to lift his waistcloth.

The Tarnished shifted in Godrick’s hold until it loosened enough for them to wiggle their arms free, placing their hands upon his to dance teasing touches around his knuckles as they ground their hips down firmly into his groin. It never took much to rile him up, a trait worsened by his intoxication. Simply rubbing themselves against their lord caused his grafted legs to tense wildly in excitement.

With a starved groan, Godrick tugged his robes up enough to free his lengths. Precum beaded from their slits as they struggled to rise against their own weight. “So eager, Lord Godrick,” the Tarnished said, reaching down to stroke his dual cocks with both hands. The heads were already exposed and ruddy, the skin of his shafts feverishly hot compared to their own. His pulse beat against their palms from where they gripped him.

A low, animalistic growl echoed from Godrick’s chest, and he brought the chalice to his lips, tilting his head back to drain it before tossing it to the side where the metal resonated off the cold floor. The Tarnished looked from where the last drops of wine stained the floor to Godrick’s eyes, which appeared even foggier than usual in his fervor. They raised an eyebrow and hummed their approval as his hand released them to skate across their chest, groping at random.

“I hast been left waiting since thy latest adventure took thee far beyond my castle,” Godrick complained, roughly tugging on the Tarnished’s tunic until it ripped clear of their body. Thumbs quickly found their nipples, rubbing hasty loops around them. “I demand the warm embrace of thy body, lest I perish on the spot. A lord’s appetite should never be left unsated, be it food, drink, or flesh.”

The Tarnished sighed pleasurably as calloused fingers toyed with their nipples until they hardened into sensitive nubs. “Well, you’ve had plenty to drink,” they said, watching one of Godrick’s auxiliary hands fist into his hair to tug at it. Truly insatiable. “I also trust the cooks have been filling your stomachs. Should I be so flattered as to assume your current state is my doing? After only a handful of days?”

“Aye!” Godrick snapped, his drunken mind confused as to why his swollen cocks were not yet stuffed in his consort. He lifted the Tarnished again to rid them of the rest of their clothes, uncaring as the threadbare cloth tore. Keeping them trapped among his many hands, he sucked on the two middle fingers of his left hand and cupped their ass as the spit-slicked digits plunged into their hole.

The prompt sensation of being filled wrenched a moan from the Tarnished’s lips, and they dutifully tilted their hips to meet Godrick’s fingers, each one as thick as a human’s cock. Truthfully, once the patrolling knights had told the Tarnished upon their return to Stormveil of their lord’s desire to see them immediately, they knew little time would be spent preparing. Godrick’s demands were never to be taken lightly. “Ah, Lord Godrick,” they gasped, thighs quaking as his fingers curled deep within them.

“Ha!” The demigod grinned and added a third digit to the Tarnished’s steadily-loosening hole. “Thou shall be begging for my seed, and I shall give thee more than thou canst bear, since thou hast been away for so long.”

The Tarnished could only squirm and choke back noises as Godrick’s many hands assailed their body, groping and caressing their skin. The sensation of such a large variety of touches overwhelmed them, some worn from rough work and others almost soft and unblemished in comparison to the rest of him. They would be forced to imagine a group of people descending upon them if not for Godrick’s possessive mouth.

“Mine,” he snarled simply before biting the join between the Tarnished’s neck and collar. He broke skin instantly and his tongue swiped across the shallow wounds before he pulled back, looking pleased with himself. “There,” he said, licking the blood off his teeth. “Marked with mine affection.”

The bite stung mildly in the cool air, and the Tarnished panted softly. Trapped among Godrick’s arms, they were acutely reminded of their drastic different in size. Their arousal kept them tense, and they yanked one of Godrick’s hands to their genitals to get relief from the mounting pressure.

“Mmm, thou’rt right,” Godrick said, giggling and rubbing his consort enthusiastically. “We ought to skip to the fun bit.” He slid his fingers out with a wet squelch and spread the Tarnished wide as he gripped one of his shafts, nudging the leaking tip against their resisting entrance. “Yield for thy lord,” he urged, voice trembling with drunken anticipation.

“O-oil!” they yelped, digging their nails into his skin. Surely he brought some alongside his intentions. It would be slow and painful otherwise.

Though Godrick wished to simply have his way, he only muttered his frustrations and blindly searched beside the throne for a moment before producing a large pot of olive oil. He haphazardly coated his lengths as his hands shook, oil spilling across his robes in his rush. “Thou’rt satisfied?” he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“Yes,” the Tarnished replied. “I know you ache. Let my body ease your suffering, Lord Godrick.” Before they could do anything else, his slick cock jammed its way into them, forcing past any resistance and knocking the air out of their lungs.

“Aye, finally!” Godrick cried, nearly sobbing and not wasting a second before rocking his hips. His shaft sunk deep into the wet warmth, but he found it difficult to thrust while sitting. Unsatisfied with his limited movement, he gripped the Tarnished as one would a toy, bouncing them on his lap with ease. “There!” he exclaimed, throwing his head back as the Tarnished’s twinging hole rekindled the need in his cock.

The Tarnished watched Godrick fuck them open with bleary eyes, unable to focus on anything but the firm stretch of him. “Praise me,” came the simple demand from above them, and they let out a breathless laugh. Pulling Godrick down by his braids, they met his searching expression and pressed their lips to his, moving a hand to cradle the back of his head.

“You’ve been so patient for me, Godrick,” the Tarnished murmured as they broke apart only enough to breathe. “Waiting for me to return. Defending Limgrave in my absence. Such devoted lords deserve rewards without comparison.”

Godrick rumbled his approval, thrusting harder as the Tarnished’s words sent his mind reeling. “Continue.”

“S-so big, Lord Godrick,” they gasped, grabbing onto his arms to steady themselves as pleasure shot along their spine. “It’s so good. You’re so good, so big, fuck—!” They quickly deteriorated into babbling and closed their eyes.

When Godrick’s cock left them without reaching its release they groaned inwardly, realizing the demigod’s lusts would not be easily sated. As expected, the full feeling returned after a moment as Godrick pushed his other shaft inside, fresh noises tumbling from his mouth as though their coupling had just begun. The stretch of him sent pleasure scorching down their nerves, and a delicious warmth slowly radiated throughout their body as he resumed pounding their insides. They flushed as his thorough fucking pushed obscenely wet noises from their hole.

A level of desperation came over Godrick as he continued to alternate which shaft he rammed into the Tarnished, struggling to enter them smoothly each time in his haste. They knew the solution to his urgency before he did. His golden stare caught theirs, wild with frustration before he suddenly beamed as he came to the same conclusion as his consort. He lifted the Tarnished off his cock, their hole only left gaping for a moment before he pressed both of him to their entrance. “G-Godrick—,” they started, wondering if he could be persuaded in a different direction as he began to truly push against their abused hole. They wiggled for a moment to try and escape the sharp pain before giving up and gritting their teeth together to brace themselves. The gentle sensation of Godrick petting their skull was barely discernible next to the boorish jerking of his hips as he forced himself in by the inch.

“Still thyself,” Godrick crooned as his lengths roughly spread the Tarnished apart. “Thou hast only taken the heads.”

“Only?” they managed, insulted. “You—ah—you complain thrice as much taking an average girth.”

Godrick had the decency to look embarrassed, scowling as the Tarnished gave him a smug look. Having nothing to say in response, he thrust up harshly. “Silence. Thou’rt lucky thy honeyed words and stubborn affections charmed thy lord into being wed to thee.”

Shaking under the strain, the Tarnished cried out as Godrick worked them viciously on his cocks, wishing they could humble him further. Each plunge he made into them gradually became easier until finally his hairy sack brushed their skin. His relieved groan resonated in their head, their own pleasure building rapidly in the absence of raw discomfort.

When the Tarnished finally glanced up at Godrick’s face, an amused snort escaped from between their choked gasps. Their lord’s head was tossed back in bliss, his eyes firmly shut and his jaw hanging open as he panted helplessly. Already, the shafts crammed into them twitched noticeably. “Are you close, Lord Godrick?” they asked, starting to slowly roll their hips as their body stretched to accommodate the massive intrusions. The pain had turned to pleasure surprisingly quickly, the oil and Godrick’s generous amount of precum easing the way.

A long, drawn-out moan was the only answer they got at first, the demigod’s whole body trembling through waves of pleasure as the Tarnished moved atop him. “Aye,” he gasped, overwhelmed by the hot vice around his lengths. “Thy tight heat matches the radiance of the Order itself,” he said reverently, drunk off both wine and lust. “Taking both of thy lord’s shafts to the hilt as though thou wert created for me.”

The Tarnished’s heart hammered loudly in their ears as Godrick began to rock his hips, the sheer pressure of his cockheads pressing much deeper than they should causing flecks to dance in their vision. With each push forward, they felt as though he would pierce their body entirely, ending them in a bizarre fashion, and every pull back out tugged their loose walls with him, ruining them from within. Between the excruciating pleasure of Godrick hollowing them out and the unsightly bulge his thick shafts created in their gut, their peak rapidly approached. Talking proved an impossibility as Godrick sped up his thrusts, effectively keeping them breathless. They could only cry out in a raising pitch as he fucked them towards orgasm. Boneless in his hand, they craned their neck to watch his slack-jawed expression, his drunken body mindlessly pursuing bliss.

The Tarnished’s climax hit all at once, their hole fluttering weakly around Godrick as they groaned his name. They could only wheeze as it enticed him to double his efforts, his eager thrusts lifting his hips to the point where he was no longer sitting on his throne. “Prithee!” he whined openly, his balls slapping against the Tarnished’s skin.

Beginning to truly sweat, Godrick desperately tried to push himself over the edge. A few perilous seconds passed before his breath hitched and his whole body stiffened, bruising the Tarnished’s skin beneath his grip. The moan that ripped its way out of his chest bordered on a scream, and his hands desperately clutched onto the Tarnished as though they could anchor him. His cocks jerked deep within them before filling them with enough of his warm spend to round their stomach out slightly, each pulse accompanied by his relieved noises.

“Oh, aye,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut again as he rode out the last of his high. “Thou servest me so well, my consort, taking all of me to the base. Such a wonderful harlot.”

A tired laugh came from the Tarnished, and they leaned against Godrick as they shifted enough to let his softening cocks slide out. Cum ran between their legs as it poured out of their ruined hole, staining Godrick’s waistcloth and dripping onto the throne. One of his arms wrapped around their shoulders to hold them close to his chest, and they settled into his form.

“Do you have any more of that wine?” they asked after a quiet moment, idly playing with the patchy hair on his grafted chest. Surprisingly, there was no response, and they nearly asked again before they heard a low snore.

Ah. They would ask again in a couple of hours.

#i'm pretty proud of this one :)#godrick x tarnished nsft #godrick x tarnished #godrick the grafted #tarnished #elden ring nsft #elden ring

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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comparing hand sizes

prompt: "comparing hand sizes" from my 4k follower event characters: albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli w/ gn!reader warnings: reader has smaller hands. words: ~0.9k a/n: this prompt was requested multiple times, so i'm throwing all my responses into a single post! part of my 4k follower event :)

albedo

when you tell albedo that you have an idea for an experiment of your own, his expression immediately perks up. sure, you hung out in the lab a lot, but that didn't necessarily mean you were into all of the alchemic studies he concocted. however, his smile falls when you tell albedo to take off his gloves.

"that is not proper lab protocol," he declares, but after some coaxing and pleading glances, albedo eventually pries off his gloves after putting any dangerous materials away. for someone who willingly ingests his mystery potions, albedo is rather specific about his gloves. and yet, as you line your hand up with his to compare hand sizes, albedo mentally beats himself up for not taking off his gloves sooner, especially as his hand dwarfs yours.

"you have big hands," you note, but before albedo can worry about your statement, you grin at him. "i like it!"

the alchemist's cheeks dust with a rosy hue of pink at your words and your hypothesis has been proven: comparing hands with albedo makes him flustered.

childe

measuring hands is childe's idea. before you can even comprehend what he's asking, the harbinger is slipping off his partial gloves to fully revealed his worn and scarred hands. sure, the two of you haven't confessed your feelings to each other yet, but isn't there fun in the pining? at least... that's what childe tries to convince himself, especially in this moment, especially whenever he acts a bit too forward.

and yet, you don't seem to mind. with a soft smile adorning your face, you splay your hand out against his. your brow furrows slightly as you focus on lining your palms up and childe swears his heart nearly stops. he's sure his face is a deep shade of crimson, yet he's determined to act like everything is completely normal and that you don't affect him so much.

"huh. your hand dwarfs mine, huh?" you murmur, lost in thought as you look at the two hands, but childe only realizes that he hasn't responded when you finally look at him questioningly.

"oh um, yeah, haha!" childe finally adds and, much to his mortification, you giggle at his mystified expression.

diluc

"we have held hands before, i am not quite sure why you deem this to be necessary," diluc says, but shrugs one of his gloves off nonetheless. sure, he wasn't sure why you wanted to do this, but he'd be damned if he denied you such a simple request, especially with the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight as you plead for him to go along with your little plan.

he holds his hand up for you and you flatten your own palm against his and align your fingers. tentatively, diluc bends his fingers slightly to match the height of yours before flattening his fingers back out again. diluc might not entirely understand the appeal, but he appreciates the fascinated expression that decorates your face as you stare at your aligned hands.

cute, diluc thinks, but when you thank him for the compliment, he realizes with embarrassment that he said such thoughts aloud.

kaeya

when you propose the measuring of your hands against each other, kaeya doesn't move to take off his gloves. they're fingerless -- there's no point in him wasting the time when you can see his fingers with utmost clarity already. you waste no time in placing your hand against his and kaeya playfully wiggles his fingers against yours.

his hand is easily larger than yours, but kaeya gives you little to no time to dwell on the fact. instead, he slides his hand slightly to the side and loops his fingers through the spaces between your own. kaeya's fingers clamp down, capturing your hand in his own and he grins at you.

"caught you," he teases and a look of determination crosses over your face as you fold your fingers down to rest on the back of his palm.

"no," you refuse. "i caught you. look."

you wave your joined hands in front of his face and kaeya's shiteating grin only widens into a genuine smile.

zhongli

"it appears as if my hand is quite larger than your own," zhongli notes as the two of you splay a hand against the other's own. you grin at his simplistic observation. sure, it had been obvious from the moment he first held your hand, yet the wonder in the former archon's tone awakens butterflies in your stomach.

"yeah," you giggle. "i wonder how that happened."

zhongli looks at you, confused by your words. "well, when i took on this form, i chose a rather tall form, with both large hands and feet to match."

you grin at his matter-of-fact nature. "really? i couldn't tell." your words are teasing and zhongli's face contorts in confusion before a soft laugh escapes his own lips.

"i was concerned for a brief moment, darling," zhongli confesses and you use the opportunity to lace your hands together. you scoot over closer to your lover and rest your head against his shoulder as he sits next to you.

"ah, that i forgot how tall you are? or that i just never realized?" you ask, unsure as to what exactly your lover meant with his words.

"hmm... i was nervous about both possibilities, if i must be honest," zhongli states and a teasing tone creeps into his words. you squeeze his hand playfully and a light laugh escapes the both of you at the soft jokes being exchanged between the two of you.

#albedo x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #albedo #childe #diluc #kaeya #zhongli #genshin impact #axia's 4k follower event #axia's writing

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judeswhore · 3 years

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Please one where you are in SB with wren and she is so happy and proud of her daddy who just scored a hatty, and after the game she goes to meet him at pitch and she 'steal" the ball, runs out on the field and "scores" a goal (mendy lets the ball pass) and then the whole team rushes to celebrate with her and the fans celebrate too. The cute moment end up on chelsea's media and everyone is gushing her with the cute moment. SORRY FOR BEING SO SPECIFIC AND THANK YOU SO MUCH, YOU ARE THE BEST

first part of this fic is based off this tiktok also SPECIFIC REQS ARE THE BEST BC MY MIND IS BLANK SOMETIMES SO THIS IS GREAT BUT ALSO THANK U!!!

little scorer - mason mount

The second you and Wren got to the pitch she demanded you put her down, her mind set only on finding Mason. You’d spotted him getting pulled into hugs by Kai and Ben when you’d first left your seats but now you’d lost him in the sea of blue, gaze searching the pitch as Wren immediately took off, shouts of “daddy” getting lost in the cheers from fans.

“Be careful, Wren!” You were still standing by the tunnel, watching the way Wren made her way through the sea of legs and you could see the slight panic in her posture when she couldn’t find her father. Jorgi was just making his way back towards the tunnel when he spotted Wren and his smile brightened as he crouched down, one hand on her arm as he pointed a finger towards where Mason was waving towards the fans.

The immediate shift in her body language when she finally spotted Mason again sent a fuzzy feeling through you and you laughed when she went barrelling towards him, her soft hair flying out behind her in the wind. Mason heard the sound of her voice and his entire face lit up when he turned and saw her, falling to the floor as she ran into him. He fell back against the grass, Wren directly on top of him, his arms pulling her in for a tight hug.

He pressed soft kisses all across her face, nuzzling into the softness of her cheek, his happiness from the hat trick multiplying tenfold because of the little girl currently trying to return his kisses with extra sloppy ones. “You scored three goals!”

"I did! All for my little girl." He nuzzled his nose against hers as she giggled, clinging tightly to his neck when he pushed himself up off the ground. He set her on his hip and reached for the match ball Jorgi had given him, holding it out for Wren to take. "And we got a ball to take home."

"Does that mean I get to play with it?"

"Sure does, you can show me all those special skills Uncle Benji has been teaching you." Excitement filtered into Wren's eyes and then she was wiggling free of Mason's grip and sliding to the floor.

"I can show you now." Mason fixed her coat for her and then Wren dropped the ball on to the floor, grinning up at him. They were standing pretty close to the goal and she pointed towards it, lightly kicking the ball so it rolled a little further away. "Uncle Benji showed me how to score a goal."

Mason's heart flipped in his chest when she started running, kicking the ball messily as she went, his mind wandering to the fact that if she wanted to Wren could pursue the same dream as him. She was slightly clumsy on her feet, her little boots a tough match against the fresh grass and she stumbled a few times in ways that had Mason almost running after and sweeping her up before she got hurt. But she was in her element.

He could hear her soft little giggles as he slowly followed behind her and briefly registered the fact that some of the team who were still celebrating on the pitch had turned to watch her. Mendy was still standing beside the goal post, bottle of water in hand but he paused when he saw Wren rushing towards him and his lips tilted into a grin.

“She showing you my skills?” Ben sidled up to Mason, arm resting against his shoulder as he also watched the little girl. She tumbled to the floor and Mason made to run to her but she was on her feet in no time, quickly trying to dust off the grass stains on the knees of her white tights but eventually giving up.

“I think she’s convinced she’s the next best footballer.” Mason hummed softly.

“That’s because she will be. Look at her, she’s a star in the making.” Wren stopped just feet from the goal and eyed Mendy up as he settled himself in the centre, arms out to his sides.

“Come on, Mini Mount, show me what you can do.” Wren giggled even louder at his words, pushing her hair back off her face. She turned her head to check that Mason was still watching and he gave her a thumbs up and an encouraging nod as Ben gave a loud whistle.

Wren gave a little wobbly run up and then kicked the ball towards the right side of the net, Mendy, always a team player, diving and sliding the opposite way. As soon as the ball rolled over the line Wren started cheering, her little fists pumping into the air. Mason was on her in a second, swiping her up and holding her in the air as he spun, cheering loudly as she erupted into fits of giggles, Ben, Mendy and Kai, who appeared out of no where, crowding around them. They were all loud and dramatic in congratulating her, teasing her about being better than Mason and how they were gonna swap him out of the team for her instead.

Mason was surprised when he realised the cheering had gotten louder, clearly coming from more than just his own teammates and when he peaked out over Ben’s head he noticed the fans sitting in the stand behind the goal clapping and cheering. He held Wren against his body and Kai pointed towards the fans.

“They think you’re amazing.” He tapped her chin playfully, grinning at the shy look that suddenly passed over her face. The cheering made her cheeks go pink and she was quick to hide her face in Mason’s neck, her arms wrapping around him. Noticing her hiding, Ben lightly patted the back of her head.

“Our best scorer has gone all shy on us.” She ignored him, clearly not wanting to lift her head and have everyone staring at her. She was fine on the pitch when she thought no one was paying attention to her but Mason understood having hundreds of people clapping for you and watching you would be overwhelming for his little girl.

He tucked his nose into the side of her head, his hand gently rubbing up and down her back in a comforting manner. “Wanna go find, mummy? We can tell her about our goals.” Wren just nodded, a soft yes being muffled into Mason’s shoulder and then he was carrying her back across the pitch, careful in letting her keep her face tucked away.

He hadn’t even noticed the cameras had still been panning around the stadium and was shocked when both you and he got tagged in a video by the Chelsea account the following morning. Wren’s goal and the boys celebration had been recorded, the camera clearly capturing the pure elation on his daughters face when the ball hit the net. They’d also captured Wren hiding away before Mason carried her through the tunnel and his heart burst with love at the entire video, smile tugging at his lips when he read the caption and the overload of comments gushing about how adorable Wren was.

A first hat trick for Money Mase but Mini Mount takes it up to four with a beauty of a goal 💙💙

#england nt #chelsea fc #football #football imagine #money mase #mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount fic #mason mount blurbs #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader

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happyandticklish · 2 years

Note

How about 😈 + J.D?

Yes, my carefully devised plot to reblog that ask game so you would request J.D and I could finally write about him is all coming to fruition, just as planned.

*evilly strokes cat in background*

Jason Dean (J.D):

. Okay, so technically you already made a post about this, but I'm putting it in here because it's true and needs to be said. His neck is stupidly ticklish, and he cannot handle being tickled there. Even just teasing the spot, like wiggling your fingers inches away, will make him scrunch up his shoulders and duck his chin down with this silly grin, a blush dusting his cheeks. He gets super giggly when tickled there, and starts protesting immediatelly, all while trying to chase your hands and get you to stop. Neck kisses, subsequently, take him the fuck out.

. Wasn’t actually tickled a whole lot when he was younger aside from the occasional poke here and there, so I don’t think he even realizes that he is ticklish until he meets Veronica. He was doing his whole dramatic rambling shtick, and she decided to squeeze his side as a playful way for him to lighten up. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to jump about a foot in the air with a very un-J.D-like yelp. So of course she had to experiment further. He doesn’t have a lot of defenses when tickled due to his inexperience in that area, and he usually ends up flailing and shoving weakly at the ler before giving up and curling into a laughing ball.

. He’s absolutely the kind of person to laugh before he’s tickled. Which is funny because he’ll try to act tough and insist he’s not that ticklish, but even slightly wiggling your fingers above his skin has him a giggling mess. Also, he fucking giggles, and does these cute little snorts if you get his neck or knees. Eventually it just goes silent, followed by gaspy hiccups every once in a while as he gathers his breath before falling into another silent, shaking fit. He has a love/hate relationship with his sensitivity, because on one hand he’s embarrassed that it gets to him so much, but on the other hand he craves the physical intimacy and playfulness of it all, and will absolutely act like a dramatic shit to Veronica just to get her to wreck him (she catches on eventually and stores that information away for later use).

Thank you for the ask!

#heathers #jd #tickle headcannon #ask game #asks #answered ask #tickling #jason dean #headcannons

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

Note

Hi I’ve recently stumbled across your new Dolan twin stuff and the way you write is amazing!! Are your requests open? If so can you do something w gray where he’s all soft and needy and cuddly and she needs to get school work done so she just sits in between his legs doing work and he plays w her hair etc etc.??

thank you!! and yes, requests are always open! ^.^

Finals week was possibly the hardest and most stressful thing you’ve ever done in your entire life on Earth. Studying for midterms during your junior year of high school, applying for colleges, applying for jobs, studying for your driver’s test - all of that was a piece of cake. You checked it off as though it was a grocery list, moving on to the next thing in order to finish your day. But finals week for your final year of college was a mix of Adderall, panic attacks, no sleep, and bitten nails and nail beds. You’ve never experienced such stress, and it worried not only you, but Grayson as well. You rarely ate, barely showered - he even had to buy you blue-light glasses because you complained about your vision being blurry and getting intense migraines.

He deeply and terribly missed you. He understands how difficult finals can be, and he supports you till the end. But what you’ve been doing is unhealthy. You don’t have a steady schedule to separate your academic life from your personal life, and it’s been causing lots of issues. You’ve been unintentionally snapping at Grayson, especially over the littlest things. For example, Grayson was incredibly sweet enough to clean up your desk area. He stacked your books in chronological order, neatened up your notes, wiped away dust that caused his allergies to spike. Accidentally, he misplaced your glasses. And you had a fit and nervously paced back and forth while biting your already bitten nails.

“Baby…” he softly spoke. “They’re over here.” And he had pointed to your side of the bed where he had put them. You didn’t mean to raise your voice, and you had broken down to tears, to which Grayson quickly pull you into his arms and hushed you quietly while giving you kisses. He understood and he never once held that against you.

Today, you had finished one of three finals. You had one thesis paper you had to research for and a chart project for your liberal arts class. So far so good, you mentally told yourself. Your laptop was open to numerous tabs as you had your books open in front of you. Highlighters, pens, and pencils were spread around the bed. Your back ached and you repetitively cracked and stretched your muscles. You desperately needed a massage, specifically from Grayson because he is the king of back massages. Just thinking about his large, warm hands kneading into your skin while whispered praise in your ears had you sighing softly and closing your eyes.

“What’re you thinking about?” You heard Grayson’s voice as he enters the room, holding a plate of vegan sausages, cauliflower nuggets, roasted potatoes that are seasoned so well that you can smell it from your spot on the bed. He holds a glass of cold green tea in the other and motions for you to scoot over. “You gotta eat, babe.”

Your mouth instantly waters as you take the plate and thanks him with a tired smile and a gentle nudge on his shoulder. Grayson observes you silently as you dig into the delicious vegan dinner he cooked. The small moan you let out as you continue eating. He almost wanted to do a happy wiggle because you were eating without telling him “one more minute” or “i’ll eat later.”

“I missed you,” he quietly told you, pushing you hair away from your face as it gets to close to your chewing mouth. He tucks it behind your ear with his thumb. He strokes the back of your head, smiling you when you nudge your head back further against his hand. “When you’re done eating, we’re gonna set a healthy schedule together, okay? And then you spend time with me for a little bit.”

You sigh quietly and hand him your empty plate. “Gray, baby, I’d love to… but I have so much work to do and have zero time to relax for even two minutes,” you told him in a quiet apologetic tone.

“Okay, it’s okay,” he quickly reassured you when he saw the panic in your eyes. He gave your cheek a few small kisses and put your plate and cup on the table. “I just… missed you, ya know.”

“And I missed you more.” You felt him sit behind you, legs on either side of your crossed arms. His arms wrapped around your stomach, immediately pulling you into his hard chest hidden underneath his Dolan Twins merch sweatshirt. “Gray..”

He whined deep in your shoulder as his arms tightened when you tried to move away. You stifled a laugh by biting your lip and looking up at the ceiling. He always got so needy when you didn’t give him enough attention. If you two are in the same room and sitting too far from each other, he’ll send you a text and look at you over the top of his phone, feeling giddy when you roll your eyes jokingly and get up from your seat to go to him.

“Just a few minutes,” his voice muffled behind your shoulder. You laughed at his childish antics and brought your laptop closer to you. Grayson was happy that you didn’t shrug him off. You allowed him to do as he pleased while you finished your small project. “So pretty..”

“Thank you, baby,” you laughed quietly when he pulled your hair behind your shoulders to braid it. You remember him telling you a while ago that he learned how to braid from Cameron. He was always a curious kid growing up and wanted to learn something new everyday.

Grayson hummed in content as he finished the braid and tied it with the small hair tie he kept around his wrist for his own hair, which is getting a bit long, but he knows you’ll throw a huge fit if he gets a haircut. He wrapped his arms back around you and laid his head against your back, eyes shutting and body slouching. The weight of him got more and more heavy, slowly pushing you forward. You tried sneaking a look over your shoulder, pausing your typing for a second. The movement made Grayson let out a sluggish hum.

“Baby, come lay down on my lap,” you told him, stacking up the books you didn’t need and putting your writing utensils into your case.

Grayson lets out a small “yay!” and quickly moves down next to your lap. When he lays his head down, he gives your thigh a kiss and wiggles his shoulders. You shake your head down at him and use one hand to slowly type while the other makes its way into his thick hair. The slow clicks of your keyboard mixed with the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp and playing with his hair has him lulling to sleep. When you hear small snores, you look down and felt your heart melt. You quietly grabbed your phone and took a picture, his cheek smushed against your thigh and his lips parted.

When you posted it to Instagram, the caption was:

thank you for always supporting me and making sure i’m mentally here. i don’t know what i’d do without you. 💜 @/graysondolan

#this was really soft #im soft #grayson’s soft #we’re all soft #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan #this one is for bubba because she deserves soft grayson 🥺#grayson dolan fluff

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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

Text

We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you.

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together.

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten.

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation.

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all.

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned.

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms.

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present.

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?”

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up.

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously.

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it.

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious.

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box.

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away.

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt.

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss.

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this.

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you.

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was.

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully.

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was.

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place.

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

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