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angelsforthenight · 3 months

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BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader (pt. 2)

a catholic boarding school AU… read pt. 1 here! ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

after the humiliating sports day accident, ellie seems to take direct notice of you. your uncontrollable desires and bodily reactions cause you to feel horrible, until one night in the chapel.

cw: mdni!!!, long (but worth it 😛) heavy religious (catholic) talk, hinted religious trauma, ellie has piercings, inexperienced!reader, dom!ellie, sub!reader, player!ellie, v brief masturbation, brief drugs, fucking in an inconvenient place, intense foreplay, teasing, cursing, finger-sucking, nipple-sucking, cunnilingus, fingering, sorta mean!ellie, kiiiinda brat!reader

taglist: @shewantstoknow @iluvgrlsblog @kitaanah @yumimak @babesmwah @lawofblla @elliesfavgf @4ftergloww @circe-is-struggling @seraphicsentences @we-loveebony @marrycv @lavenderhazelsworld

“…God forgives all, does He not?”

days go by and within each one, ellie plays a more prominent role in your routine. everywhere you go she’s just there. you also catch her looking at you: whether it’s in class or in church service. this begins to be a massive bother since she’s making things incredibly difficult.

your body is also starting to experience changes. every single time without fail, whenever your gaze would meet hers, you would feel your heart start to pick up the pace, and a strange yet eerily familiar throbbing sensation between your legs occur. whenever your cunt would flex, you would try to squeeze your thighs together, hoping to ease it, but it’d only make things worse.

as much as you’d hate to admit, you subconsciously know exactly what’s wrong with you. these nights, whilst trying to fall asleep, you’ve been letting your mind wander. thinking all these sinful thoughts surrounding ellie that you in the past would’ve never even dared to. you don’t even know where this is all coming from — all because of the sports day incident, really?

you feel disgusting, but you can’t seem to stop. it’s as if a little creature inside you has been roused awake and is starving.

it’s currently 12 in the morning. every girl in your dorm is overcome with drowse — gently snoozing away and filling the room with the sound of soft breathes. every girl but you, who’s wide awake. you, who can feel the creature within you snarl and whine with hunger, you who can’t stop imagining what it’d feel like if ellie were to fuck you and you who’s fingers are starting to creep down your white cotton night-gown. your head begins to be overclouded by yearn and arousal as your fingers prudently brush up against your clothed cunt. your breath hitches and you slightly squirm; ellie’s face and her demeanour embellished in your mind. you’re about to continue trailing down this path of wickedness until you hear somebody stir in their sleep, making you jolt and immediately pull your hand away; snapping you out of the indecent daze.

your eyes glance up at the huge crucifix held above the door. you can feel Jesus’ hard, judgemental gaze cast upon you and you feel morbid. this influences you to get up and skulk to the school’s chapel. you need to thoroughly apologise for your godless actions after all.

as you kneel, you feel your knees sink against the cold cushion of one of the pillars. you take a deep breath, doing the sign of the cross and clenching your eyes shut.

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

but then your mind goes blank. you have no idea what to say, too afraid to mutter what you’ve been doing aloud. your mouth slightly opens, expecting words to spill out, but there’s nothing.

as you’re still figuring something to say, you suddenly smell a strong poignant scent of earth and musk. your eyes immediately shoot open. it’s way too smelly to be incense. you scan the area only to see that there’s nobody there, but the smell is just way too distracting for you to continue your prayer. you feel compelled to figure out where the scent is coming from — leading you to an abandoned curtain in the far corner of the room. you immediately draw the curtain open.

ellie stares up at you like a deer caught in headlights, a lit blunt hanging out of her lips. she’s sat on a plastic stool, wearing a fitted black tank top and flannel pyjama bottoms. your jaw slightly drops at the sight of her. her eyebrows raise as she stares you down, seemingly relieved it wasn’t one of the sisters that had caught her.

“nice nightgown.” you frown. you couldn’t believe what she was doing. in the holiest place in the building, to add!

“you want?” she continues, holding it up to you. you gasp softly and vigorously shake your head.

“what are you doing?” you ask dumbly. ellie chuckles amusedly.

“if you’re gonna tell on me, just tell.” cockiness oozes from her tone. it pisses you off.

“why are you smoking?” you hiss, “i mean, do you have at least an ounce of respect?”

ellie stares at you with half-lidded eyes, carelessly taking another drag. she exhales a little plume of smoke.

“sorry princess…” she drawls, her gaze trained on you as the corner of her lips arch up into a small smirk. lo and behold, the same old throbbing makes itself known again — only this time with such intensity that it surprises you. you’re speechless.

the cocky little smirk never leaves ellie’s face. she gets up, flicking the joint away. besides, it’s clear she’s now interested in something someone else. she walks over to you whilst you feel your brain slowly turn into mush.

“joint’s gone… you happy?” she mutters, her tone low and sultry. the air suddenly feels too thick. ellie slightly cocks her head to the side when you don’t respond. you can sense the starving creature inside you salivate for the taste of ellie’s lips. you helplessly wonder if they taste sweet, or maybe bitter from the weed.

you sigh, your eyes briefly fluttering closed.

“it’s all your fault…” you find yourself muttering.

ellie’s eyebrows raise. “oh?”

“do you know what you’ve been doing to me?” you continue, your rage beginning to re-surface. you’ve spent years trying to resist the constraints of sin yet ellie’s brought that all down in a week.

“enlighten me.”

“you’re—“ you purse your lips, feeling butterflies furiously swarm in your stomach. “you’re driving me insane.”

ellie’s smile slightly falters, shifting into a more serious look. she steps even closer to you, now only mere inches away.

“well, the feeling’s mutual.”

“that’s not supposed to be a good thing.” you retort, despite the inner storm brewing inside of you. you’re great at playing it cool, though you subtly sink your nails into your palm to check if you’re not dreaming.

“mmh… you wanna know what was a good thing though? when you sat your pretty ass on my lap the other day.” she gauges your reaction, biting her lip in amused anticipation.

your jaw drops before you look around as if anyone else is in here but you two. “don’t say stuff like that!”

ellie giggles, the sound of it echoing through the chapel. it sounds like vanilla. she enjoys how flustered you look. her eyes drift down to the way you’re not-so-subtly squeezing your thighs together: one leg in front of the other.

“you good?” her gaze hinting to your legs. you glance down, not even realising you were doing that.

“i‘m fine.” you spit, lying through your teeth. you ask yourself if you should leave, staring at the floor so not even realising how close ellie has just stepped right now.

she stares at you before her thumb and index cup your chin, making you look back up at her. your eyes slightly widen, clearly not expecting that. ellie’s eyes drift to your lips.

“it’s okay, you know? God forgives all, does He not?” she whispers, her thumb tracing along your bottom lip. you don’t pull away. the devil was chipping away at your chastity and you were letting it. you were letting it.

“not much of a talker…” she mutters, her thumb slightly dragging your lip down. you feel something unleash inside of you.

and then you do the unthinkable.

way too stimulated and awoken, you abruptly lean in and press your lips against ellie’s. turns out they do taste sweet after all. ellie’s eyes widen in surprise before happily kissing you back; latching her hands against your back and pulling you closer. your creature hums in satisfaction as what was once a light kiss quickly shifts into a sloppy make-out sesh. tongues gliding together, the sound of smooches filling the room. you can feel her spider-bites plink against the right side of your face. its coldness feels both refreshing and ticklish. you have no idea what’s come over you, but you’re enjoying this. a muffled whimper escapes your lips as you cup ellie’s cheek, feeling dizzy. ellie pulls away; a line of drool briefly connecting your lips. she grabs your hand and sniffs it. you stare at her in bewilderment — is this what people normally do before fornicating?

“you been playing with yourself or something?” ellie snorts. and here you were thinking that there’s no possible way you could embarrass yourself more…

“keep talking and i’ll change my mind about this.” you return, so obviously avoiding the question. ellie giggles, before leaving a small wet kiss on the back of your unclean hand. your blush deepens. grinning, she decides to take things a step further by putting your middle finger in her mouth, sucking it as she makes sure to maintain eye contact. your lips part, staring at her in disbelief. she‘s clearly teasing: her flattened tongue curling against the tip of your finger. you’re so turned on that it’s hard to think.

“you were playing with yourself. it tastes good.” she murmurs in a smug manner before pulling you into another kiss — this one, a lot more intense. everything seems to be going so fast, but you don’t care. you thread your fingers through ellie’s hair, chest pressed against chest.

whilst you two practically eat each other’s faces off, ellie’s hands slowly snake down your back; grabbing your ass. you gasp but before you’ve got the time to properly react, ellie’s already gently pushing you down onto the discarded altar behind you two.

the small cross on your necklace is merely an accessory by now; you’re far too gone, way beyond salvage.

“close the curtains.” you mutter breathlessly, your eyes glazed over, pupils dilated. you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“yes ma’am.” she then comes back, shifting attention to your neck. you let out a shuddered sigh as she peppers your neck with sloppy little kisses. when she finds your sweet spot, your breath hitches. she smirks against your flesh before abusing that spot some more; nibbling and sucking on it. you bite your lip as to suppress a loud whimper.

at the same time, her hand finds your breast; lightly cupping it between her palm. her thumb brushes against your dressed nipple and you shiver. next thing you know, she has her mouth on it — which, at this point, is as hard as a pebble. your body jolts when you feel her tongue slowly circling around the bud; the fabric covering it turning transparent. she does the same with the other nipple. you feel your warmth mingle in with hers; her scent invading your nostrils. she smells like a forest, and you’re willing to burn in it. with a “pop” she pulls away, staring at you.

“you sure you want it?” she asks, her gaze never leaving yours. she needed to make sure. losing your virginity in a chapel is a pretty huge thing after all…

yet you don’t just want it, you need it. hence why you nod in an almost frantic manner. ellie beams, planting a tender kiss on the top of your knee before slowly spreading your legs apart. you’re glad you’re in a secluded space in the chapel. you weren’t up for seeing emblems and statues of Jesus leering at you. nor Mary, nor Moses, nor Gabriel.

ellie raises your dress up so it’s laying on your stomach. her thumb traces circles on your outer thighs whilst her lips are set on the inner part; implementing kind kisses. you can already feel tingles coarse through your body, and you appreciate how ellie’s taking her sweet time, but you do also want her to get on with it already.

“hurry.” you whine. ellie chuckles.

“am i not allowed to make this the best experience for you?” she quips. her lips are starting to enter dangerous territory; pecking the edge of your panties. your body involuntarily jerks, evoking yet another amused reaction from ellie.

“so sassy for someone who’s so sensitive.” she taunts. you pout and clamp your legs shut in response — too embarrassed at the way ellie’s staring at your crotch and poking fun. ellie giggles.

“oh no, no, no.” she says, forcing them back open again. “act like a brat and maybe i’ll be the one changing my mind about this.”

she then places a heavy kiss right in the middle of your crotch. despite your underwear still being on, you felt that strongly. an uncontrollable moan escapes your lips; a noise accidentally too loud.

“shhhh… you know what? open your mouth.” you do as she says, and she leans up and stuffs the raised up section of your gown in your mouth; like a gag. you stare at her with big eyes.

to tease even more, ellie leans down and slowly trails her flattened tongue up your dressed pussy. you let out a muffled moan, your back slightly arching.

“yeah… that’ll shut you up.” she says smugly before her finger twirls itself around the side of your panties, pulling it down. you feel the fresh breeze hit your cunt and your eyes momentarily clench shut. this is it. finally.

ellie never stops with the kissing. it’s pretty damn obvious you’ve never done this before so she wants to be initially polite; saving the roughness for later. she kisses your clit, the tip of her tongue swirling around the nub. you groan in pleasure, your teeth sinking hard against your dress. despite her obnoxious behaviour, ellie’s pleasing you like you’re a goddamn queen: head slowly bobbing up and down, lips tugging at your folds.

she’s savouring you as if you’re a precious meal. your hand quickly finds itself in ellie’s hair; gripping it tightly the more ellie goes down on you.

“fuck.” ellie groans. your hand on her hair increases her arousal and it drives her to slightly pick up the pace. you don’t notice, but she’s lightly grinding against the table; letting out a few muffled moans of her own.

she increases the pressure on her tongue — to which you respond to delightfully: arching your back and your moans beginning to crescendo. you twitch and quiver as ellie devours you; going to town on your sensitive cunt. you start to feel overwhelmingly good, causing you to unintentionally squirm away from ellie’s mouth.

“don’t run away…” she coos. as she pulls your thighs back to her, she plunges her middle finger in your cunt. caught off guard, you let out a suppressed cry. ellie smirks as she resumes the movements with her mouth. you feel so good that your hips buckle up: desperate for more. her finger curls up against your g-spot and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

eventually, ellie adds her ring finger too. the erotic noises of ellie finger-fucking you fills the room. ellie grips your thigh with her free hand so that you don’t escape again; pleasuring you relentlessly.

your head is completely blank and you’re pulsating with pleasure. you can’t stop shuddering. ellie can tell by the way your walls are eagerly squeezing around her fingers that you’re getting close, so she leans up and takes the dress out of your mouth; a thick tendril of saliva clinging from your mouth. the sight of it turns her on in unimaginable ways.

“feels good, huh?” she mutters, her fingers banging up against your g-spot repeatedly. you bite your lip, trying not to be too loud but it’s hard. you’re a hot mess; eyes half-lidded, needy whines escaping your lips, jaw slack.

“can’t even speak…? come on, i wanna hear you.” ellie taunts, fucking you harder. you squeal; feeling a knot starting to untie in your stomach.

“feels so good… i love it. sweet jesus…” you babble, almost incoherently.

“jesus? jesus isn’t making you feel this good, i am. say my name.” she demands.

“e-ellie… something’s happening…” you mewl. ellie smirks before planting wet, sloppy kisses on your chest. “good girl… such a pretty fucking girl…” she mumbles, leaning down and sucking on your pussy yet again. she can’t seem to get enough of how you taste. your hand grips the back of her head and you push it closer, her nose rubbing against your vulva.

you swear you’re starting to see stars, your muscles beginning to unclench. you scream ellie’s name; forgetting how loud you’re being.

“let it out. make a mess all over my mouth, my fingers.” ellie sounds like she’s almost pleading, her voice hot and husky, fanning your aching cunt.

and that was your cue. you feel your wind get knocked out as you attempt to cry out, feeling as if you’ve lost your breath. your eyes once again roll to the back of your head as you endure an insanely pleasurable orgasm; trembling as if your life depends on it. ellie keeps going just for a little moment in order to extend your high. tears stream down your face. ellie takes her fingers out, and even that feels good.

“haa… you okay?” she whispers, wiping the tears from your face with her thumb. you don’t even feel real. too weak to speak, you simply nod.

ellie smiles: a warm, tender smile compared to her usual conceited attitude. like a gentleman, she pulls your panties back up and your dress back down. she glances at you — enjoying the spent, hazy look on your face. she’d like to see that more often.

“that’s weird… i thought the guilt would kick in by now.” you mutter, feeling exhausted instead. ellie giggles.

“shit, maybe tomorrow.”

“maybe.”

a/n: omfg i swr i got possessed whilst writing this JFC!!!!! also such a coincidence i’m posting this on sunday… the day of the lord… hhahahaha….

— free gaza from the river to the sea 🇵🇸 please remember to keep talking about it and spreading awareness!!

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #tlou2 smut #tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #preachers daughter #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us 2 #lesbian

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brain-rot-central · 3 months

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Home

Rating: E, but a soft E Pairing: Spawn!A/Fem!Tav CW: 18+, dry humping, breeding kink, non-penetrative sex, trauma mention, intimacy issues, soft Astarion (emotionally, not physically), possessive Astarion, verbalized consent Word count: 1.9k Summary: Astarion and Tav have resumed being intimate, though sometimes, Astarion can't quite commit to the full act. Not to worry, there are still other activities to enjoy!

They barely make it up the stairs of the Elfsong Tavern and back into their rented suite.

Articles of clothing come peeling off in a flash as soon as the door clicks shut behind them. With the elf’s deft hands, the lock is sealed, now steering the couple back toward the bed.

His human partner’s knees bump against the edge of the bed, and both bodies are suddenly toppling over onto the sea of silken sheets adorning the mattress below.

The human’s legs instinctively bend at the knee as the elf slots himself between them, grinding himself down into her warm, inviting center. He lowers his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that speaks to the depths of his lust.

Teasing his tongue into her mouth, his rutting grows more heated and desperate. The woman moans softly against his mouth, inviting his tongue to a dance as hands find purchase in the silver curls atop his head.

Bare from the waist up, they continue grinding, the human hooking her ankles around the small of the man's back for leverage. He groans in response to the added friction, cock now straining against the front of his pants.

Physical intimacy is still something they’re easing back into, though tonight it’s taken a leap into new territory.

The elf breaks the kiss as he pushes himself up onto his hands, saying, “Scoot a bit higher, Tav, darling. I need more leverage for what I have planned for us.”

A shiver runs across Tav’s body, and she nods her head in agreement. She unlocks her ankles from around his hips and drags herself back until she’s in the center of the bed.

He follows close behind, bringing himself up onto his knees between her splayed thighs. His arms wrap around the underside of her thighs.

Tav moans again as he sinks his fingertips into the clothed flesh, pulling her roughly against his crotch. She can feel the evidence of his desire with every roll of his hips into her center, a familiar heat and pulling sensation filling her abdomen with every press of his clothed length against her.

“These need to come off,” the elf growls out, and within seconds his fingers hook into the waistband of her trousers. Pulling them down her wide hips and off her legs, he throws them across the room to join the pile of previously discarded clothing, promptly returning to his place between her legs.

She’s left in just her underwear, bearing a deep wet spot at its center on full display. A rich, ruby blush sits high across her face as she watches her partner survey her clothed sex. She feels exposed like this, and yet, incredibly fulfilled. She knows the effect her body is having on him, as well.

The pale elf growls in anticipation above her as his hands make quick work of undoing the laces of his own leathers. He slips a hand down the front of his pants, a soft sigh escaping his lips, eyes rolling closed for a brief moment as his hand wraps around his erection. He adjusts his length, now laying up against his abdomen, and groans as he unwillingly peels his hand away.

Tav’s eyes fall upon the bulge now straining against the undone laces of his pants. A small dark spot can be seen on his underclothes, where the head of his cock lay hidden.

“Can I touch you, Astarion?” she asks, shyly. Her hands begin to trace the outline of his biceps, gently stroking his skin with the tips of her fingers.

Astarion hums, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips before replying, “Oh? Where exactly do you have in mind?”

Tav meets his gaze, eyes traveling between his and the spot between his legs, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

The elf huffs, sitting up on his knees. He narrows his eyes, looking at her from under his lashes. “Cheeky pup,” he purrs, “at least offer some assistance first.”

Her cheeks burn at his bold invitation and she rises from her position on the bed, placing one finger on his sculpted chest.

Astarion's eyes look to the single digit pressed into the center of his chest, rising and falling with the uptick of his breathing. He allows Tav to begin pushing him back to the edge of the bed. He stands up off the bed, his crotch now at level with her hands.

Tav hooks her fingers into the hem of his leathers, tugging them down his toned thighs until they pool on the floor around his ankles. Astarion kicks them briskly to the side to join the other articles of clothing littered about the room.

“Are you okay?” she asks. She knows the challenge that physical intimacy imposes on him. She wants reassurance that he’s still comfortable, still willing to continue.

“Quite,” he replies, voice husky, watching her finger trail down toward his underwear. His undergarments do little to conceal the outline of his cock, her finger settling on the small wet patch gathering right at the tip of him. Laying her palm against his clothed shaft, he sucks in a sharp breath as she squeezes him gently.

With genuine concern, Tav inquires, “How far can we go?”

Hips twitching into her touch, he answers, “T-this. This is, aahh, good.”

She smiles before asking, “Can I ride you?”

Entire body seizing under her touch, he moans, loud and uncaring as to who might hear. “Fuck, darling,” Astarion huffs out, hips bucking involuntarily. “There is nothing I'd like more.”

Tav’s gives him a few more pumps along his length. “You should lay down, then,” she states.

He nods, cautiously climbing onto the bed. She gives him space to make himself comfortable, which doesn't fall unnoticed.

Suddenly, he feels small, anxious - his stomach churns as she climbs over his hips to settle herself in his lap. He's slept with countless others in the past, including her. Why feel this way now?

Because this is Tav, Astarion tells himself.

Something about this being with her makes it… different.

She's careful not to apply much pressure too soon, testing the waters as she sinks down onto his lap.

The elf hisses as her clothed center envelopes his covered cock, biting his lip to stifle his moan. His hands find purchase atop her thighs, keeping her steady.

“Is this okay, Astarion? Please, tell me,” Tav says, beginning to grind slowly against him.

Astarion's mind is a battlefield, filled with shame, lust, disgust, desire, but above all, love.

He loves this woman. He's known this for quite some time, though too afraid to admit it.

Love has always meant pain. Attachment meant control.

But, with Tav…

Love is safe. Attachment is freedom.

Free, and safe, to be his own person. To live life for himself.

“I'm okay, dear,” he affirms, holding the hands she has over his chest. “I'm still here.”

Tav smiles down at him as she grinds over the length of him again, bending over to capture his lips in a chaste kiss. “Good,” she tells him, “I really like when you're here.”

Astarion tangles a hand in her hair, holding her close. She relaxes under him as he rolls his hips up against her core, a moan escaping his lips.

“I- I want-” he chokes out between broken moans.

Tav hums softly against his ear before asking, “Want what, Astarion? Tell me.”

“I… I want to come inside you,” he tells her, punctuating his statement with another thrust of his hips.

She moans against his ear, meeting his thrusts with her own. “...Right now?” Tav asks.

“N-no,” he admits, “not now. Eventually.” His other arm wraps around the middle of her back, holding her tighter to his chest. The pleasure begins to coil like a spring, tighter and tighter, eyes falling closed as his head falls back against the pillow.

“I… I want to feel you around me as I fill you.” Astarion opens his eyes, turning his head to meet her gaze through heavy lids. “...I think about it often,” he further admits.

Tav giggles, grinding down harder before saying in a sultry voice, “That can get me pregnant, you know.”

Eyes closing again, Astarion groans, hips bucking against her core. “I don't care,” he growls out. “I would show you off to the entire world, everyone knowing what we've done.”

“You want to knock me up, Astarion?” Tav asks, more in acknowledgement than in question.

“Fuck, darling, yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

Tav pushes herself upright in his lap, bending back to brace herself on his thighs. “Would you still fuck me, Astarion?” she questions, continuing their prior rhythm.

“What a silly question,” he replies, placing a hand on her lower abdomen. “I would lavish every change of your body as it swells with my child.”

Humming, Tav tosses her head back, losing herself as he bucks up into her from below. Her own arousal is quickly mounting, threatening to spill over.

“Lucky for you,” she tells him, her voice strained, “I, too, wish the same.”

Tav feels his cock twitch under her as she confesses. The waistband of his underwear has slipped under his glans from their activities, pre-cum starting to pool against his lower abdomen.

“But,” she adds, breathily, “only when you're ready for it.”

Astarion’s hands quickly drag her back down over him, and she holds her arms out just in time to brace herself above him. His hips buck up into her heated center as he holds her face, bringing their lips together with a throaty groan.

“Gods, I love you,” he tells her, breaking the kiss momentarily. He tugs at her bottom lip with blunted teeth before capturing her lips again, their tongues intertwining.

They find a rhythm to their seemingly ceaseless rutting, breaths hitching. They're panting now, hard, Tav running her hands through silver curls as she nears completion.

“Astarion, I’m almost there,” she pants against his neck.

His arms wrap around her lower back as he brings his face to her ear. “Tell me what you need, darling,” he purrs, nipping at her earlobe with a fang.

“My… my neck,” Tav says. “K-kiss my neck, please. Your favorite spot…”

Astarion's lips descend upon her neck, suckling at his usual spot. He's fed from this particular spot enough that she's beginning to develop scars - the same scars that he himself bears.

She's given so much to him, he realizes. Her blood, her body, her trust. Never once has she doubted him, even if it was the more reasonable thing to do.

Astarion teases her skin with his fangs, applying enough pressure to feel like he's going to bite, without actually piercing. Tav’s body shakes above him.

“Gods, fuck, Astarion-!” Tav cries, toppling over the ledge. Her hips grind messily over his crotch. He quickly follows her, ropes of his spend shooting between their stomachs as they lay pressed together, mouths agape as they drift softly down from their high.

Astarion groans softly against her neck, planting soft kisses against her jawline as her hands play idly with his hair.

They lay together for some time before Tav speaks up, “Hey, Astarion?”

He hums in acknowledgement, giving her the confidence to continue.

She lifts herself up by her arms, looking into his eyes and she tells him, “I love you, too.”

A relieved smile fills Astarion's face as she settles back against his chest.

Neither mind the mess between them as they continue to lay together, enjoying the genuine peace of co-existing.

I'm finally safe, he reminds himself.

This is home.

#bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 #astarion #fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader

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bi-writes · 2 months

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bff!roommate!simon comes home from deployment. it is the first time that either of you feel the distance thousands of miles can bring.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 10/?)

word count: 3.4k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, aNgSt, mean!simon, mentions of simon's canon trauma, military service criticism, pet names (luv, kitty), vague smut (18+) ⚠️🔞

large blocks of italicized text are flashbacks.

she hasn't called.

it was something that simon realized only a week in. normally, he spent his evenings sheltered in his room, his earbuds in, your voice on the other end. even if he didn't talk, you spoke. normally, you would tell him about your day; about the customer that gave you a hefty tip, the kids that left the tables a sticky mess, the meal you made that you think he would like. simon listened, and he would close his eyes and let the lull of your voice put him to sleep. sometimes, it was the next best thing to get him rest; it was impossible to know the comfort of you in your bed across from him when he was so far away.

more recently, those calls had become something else. you would still tell him the same stories, but sometimes your voice would drop a few degrees lower, and you would ask him if he was thinking about you--about all of you. and there simon would be, a pathetic, choking mess as he fucked himself to soft sound of your voice on the other end--so good, simon, miss you so much, need you, need you--can't wait for you to come home, n-need to feel you--

but it was quiet now. there was no one calling him, no one leaving him texts that he couldn't wait to read in the morning. his phone was silent; but the thoughts in his head were not.

the inevitable loneliness faded to anger after the weeks apart; his sergeants were quick to learn to stay out of his way. there was to be no conversation, no jokes, no playful banter before and after their ops. there was complete silence, because if they spoke about anything other then their direct objective, simon was an unleashed dog, and no one wanted to be on the spitting end of his berating.

he thought about you even when he wasn't supposed to. when he was supposed to be focused, when he was supposed to have his eyes on the target, sweeping the horizon--you were there, behind his eyes. remembering the look on your face before he had left.

the gloss of your eyes. the tears that collected at the edges. the drawing in of your knees to your chest, the tremble of your pouty lip. the stain that he was leaving on you--he didn't even have it in him to turn around and tell you that he was sorry.

he was sorry. the things you asked for weren't unreasonable--you wanted answers. you wanted him to tell you what this was, what this would be. it wasn't enough anymore to pretend this wasn't real. the reality was that there was no one else--and his eyes had yet to go anywhere else since the first moment he tasted your sweet cunt. he knew, deep down, that this possessiveness had started long before that--when you were just kids, holding onto each other for some kind of comfort away from what waited for you at home.

you cradled his head in your lap. a damp towel was in one hand, the other holding his trembling face to your chest. when you pulled the towel back, you flinched at the sight of blood.

"simon? y-you...y-you wanna talk about it?"

all he could was shake his head. you picked him up, sitting him back gently against the bench, and you used the towel to wipe at the blood drying under his nose. his eyes were red with the tears he wanted to cry, but he held them back, swallowing them down.

you leaned in, looking down as you rested your forehead against his.

"what was it this time? was it tommy?"

when he just shrugged, you reached down, smoothing your hand over his. his hands were smooth, soft--they had not seen the other side yet.

"n-no one's gonna be at my place," you whispered. "why don't you stay tonight?"

you ate instant noodles on the roof that evening, your head leaning on his shoulder as you both looked out into the dreary city. there were dark clouds overhead, and you knew it would rain tomorrow. fitting, and you hoped then that it might wash away the pain of yesterday.

it was the first night that simon was encased by silence. on his back beside you on your twin bed, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about how he might explain the bruises on his face when he went to his classes the next day--about what he might say this time.

when he turned his head, there you were. eyes closed, face pressed into your pillow as you breathed gently. real. alive. here. some kind of respite that he didn't think he deserved.

the papers he had taken were burning a hole in his desk at home--just waiting for his signature. it was time to take control. to take his life back. that was the only way that he could keep this, whatever it was--this was the only way that he could protect you. protect himself. protect tommy, his mother, his sanity.

the only thing he prayed for that night was that you would forgive him when he left you behind.

you had always been his. you belonged to him. and he could keep pushing you away, but it wouldn't erase the fact that he lived in your bones and you under his skin, and whatever this was meant forever.

and simon wouldn't fucking die--no matter how hard they tried--and he needed to fix this.

but he was angry. and half of him came from something else. something not real. something sour. something that bled dark, not red but black, poison. sometimes he could feel that half of him right under his tongue. he could taste it, the sour and rot that part of him was made of, and he could feel it multiplying under his skin like mold.

he would never be rid of this kind. he couldn't throw away half of himself without losing all of himself; and normally, simon could swallow this down, keep it underneath, but fuck, it's coming, going to be fuckin' sick, it's coming--

when he saw her, he just took her. glaring at her under a dark mask didn't deter her, and when she kept pushing, he let her. he let her follow him home, let her through the threshold of a space that had only ever belonged to someone else.

he let her in. he let her in. he let her in.

she didn't taste like you. she was too loud. her voice was too shrill, moans that made him flinch rather than relax. between her thighs, it wasn't the same--it wasn't warm like it was with you. she was wet, dripping actually, but she smelled like something else. foreign. poison.

her eyes were too wet, too harsh, a glare there that didn't belong. this was wrong, it felt wrong, but he was so angry, and he needed something to bite. maybe something to tear about, he wasn't exactly sure, but as soon as he had her here, under him, knees pressed to her chest as she let him fuck her senseless, he realized that it was painful.

there was a disconnect between what was real and what was not. it was so real with you, and now he just felt so far away from himself. he felt like someone else. and he thought, he really thought, that the other half of him was so fucking real that it would come easy.

to hurt. to inflict pain. to growl and claw and take and eat, shouldn't this be easy? pain was in his genes, it was a part of him. trauma ran in his blood and into his veins, and when his heart pumped, it trickled into every soft place that lived and breathed inside of him.

isn't it? isn't this a part of me? why does it hurt? why doesn't it feel good? why is it worse, why does this hurt, why can't i breathe--

the front door shut behind you. you let out a shaky sigh, shrugging off your jacket and putting your bag down. you tossed everything onto the kitchen table, and just as you went to put your shoes away by the door, you noticed something out of place.

simon's boots were haphazardly tossed beside the shoe bench, laces hurriedly untied, one boot fallen onto its side. strange, and it stood out to you because simon wasn't someone who didn't put things away where they should be. he was adamant about this practice. but the strangest thing was the pair of shoes thrown beside them--heeled suede boots, with a pointed toe.

but they didn't belong to you.

you froze, your lips parting when you heard the shuffle of noise behind a closed door. you stepped backwards in the foyer, your back hitting the wall, and you put your hand over your stomach, suddenly feeling like heaving.

simon had come home; and there was someone else here with him.

your entire body suddenly felt hot, on fire. you looked towards the window, the one that faced the street, and when your vision went blurry, you realized there were tears coming down your face. the heat must've been your falling heart--it was dropping, fast, sliding down your chest and into your stomach, and it was like the acid there was crawling right back up your throat. you couldn't see anymore, warm tears wetting your cheeks and gathering in your mouth and staining your jaw and your neck.

simon had come home--and there was someone else here with him.

it had felt so real. hadn't it been real? wasn't this real? wasn't he real? weren't you real? this was real--it was fucking real.

right?

you hurried. you went right for your bedroom, shoving the door open, and you frantically went for your closet, pushing it open and scrambling for one of your bags. you tossed items off the shelves, blind through your tears, and as you grabbed one that hid behind a box of your memories, the lid popped off of it, its contents spilling onto the floor. you stepped over polaroid pictures, over moments captured in time, and you couldn't focus on them because you were blind--the tears just wouldn't stop, they won't stop, please stop.

you tossed the bag onto the bed, ripping the zipper open, and you flung the drawers open, just scooping handfuls of your clothes into the bag. whatever would fit--anything you could pick up until the bag was full, until you could barely force the zipper closed and swing the bag over your shoulder. you looked around the room frantically, looking for any essentials you might need, and you froze when you heard voices outside your door, the padding of more than one pair of feet. simon's footsteps were easy to point out, but then there was a lighter pair, a voice a little high-pitched wafting after his own.

suddenly, the idea of running away, of crying--it felt so stupid. he wasn't your boyfriend. he wasn't your lover, not your significant other, there was nothing that tied you together. the string you always thought that connected you wasn't that at all; simon had you on a leash, and you just hadn't realized he just let go.

he leaves me behind. he always leaves me behind.

there was nothing in those dark eyes that belonged to you. there was nothing here in this apartment that told you otherwise. separate rooms, separate things--you were just two people that lived in the same place, so what if he eats my cunt and puts his fingers inside of me and calls me a good girl? he's not mine, not mine, he doesn't belong to me.

and the only thing worse than the truth of it was that you belonged to him. and he had ruined you for anyone else.

the door swung open. you stopped moving, your hands shaking as you turned towards the sound of it. you knew how it looked--the bag over your shoulder, a few cherished knickknacks cradled in the other arm. the red in your eyes, the tears on your face--the rawness of your sadness so exposed and so there, right in his face, right where he could see you.

he was dressed down, sweats pulled on haphazard, a wrinkled shirt pulled on so hastily that he hadn't realized it was inside-out. and that fucking mask, crooked and damp on his sweaty face. he was gripping your doorknob tight in one fist, his knuckles white from how hard he held it.

"oi," he looked around your room. disheveled, messier than usual. ransacked drawers from your frantic packing, items knocked over as you searched for your precious possessions. "wot's this?"

you swallowed.

"i'm...i'm going on...on a trip. i..." you tried to laugh through your tears, "i thought i told you. i-i must've forgot."

"'cause i just got home," he muttered, stepping into your room. you stepped back at that. simon had been in your room before, of course he had. but something wasn't the same. something was different, and now instead of feeling like every corner of your apartment was safe, it felt like he was invading this place. he was too big, the room was too small, the distance between you was too short. you were suffocating. you couldn't breathe. and when he reached over and snatched the bag off your shoulder, you flinched.

when simon met his own eyes in the mirror, he nearly choked. he didn't recognize himself. the eyes that stared back at him didn't belong to him. not simon, not ghost, not the someone he pretended to be--no. no, no, no--that isn't me--i'm not like him--not him, not him, not him, anything but him.

he dropped your bag, holding out his hand suddenly. he was careful, slow, as if he might startle you, and you stepped back again, shaking your head.

"kitty--"

"don't!" you cried, and the yell of your own voice startled you, so much that you put a shaking hand over your mouth. you looked away from him. "d-don't call me that."

and just like that, he felt it. the spool of thread, cut. the line connecting you--severed. the apartment you had made a home, the sacred door that you hadn't opened to anyone, fuck, it was gone so quick. the years of trust, the undeniable bond, just gone, it was gone, how the fuck was that possible?

had it really been that easy? had this thing between you that had been so real been so fucking delicate?

your hands were shaking. trembling, and it was hard to read the papers that you held, and it was even harder to read them when the tears you shed was making the ink bleed.

your bedroom door creaked, and you looked up. simon ran an uneasy hand through his hair when he realized what you were holding. his signature so clear at the bottom, and all he had to do was walk back into the recruiting office. he didn't want to take anything with him--he didn't have any possessions, nothing he needed to pack away.

nothing he needed to pack away. nothing he needed to pack away. nothing he needed to pack away, nothing, nothing, nothing.

"when were you going to tell me?" you asked, but it was more of a strained whisper. you let the papers slip back into their place, and when you met his eyes, he was sympathetic, but you knew that look. you weren't going to change his mind about this. it was all made up.

"i...i-i hadn't thought about it. i...no, i just...i don't know."

he swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. he was uncomfortable, but he came closer, settling onto the ground beside you, sitting just next to you.

"when...when are you leaving?"

a beat. and then, "in a few days."

you looked down at your hands, and as you watched them continue to shake, simon reached over, putting his own hand over them and clasping them together, stilling you. just like that, so easy--how much power did he hold over you?

"b-but...but why?"

"need to do this. not just for me," he murmured. "not just for tommy. not just...for mum. you. have you seen the fuckin' news? haven't you seen what's going on?"

and what about what went on behind your closed doors? his own? simon gets to decide to be hero when the real war is right here, right under his fucking nose?

selfish. he's so selfish. i hate him. i hate him. i hate him.

"so...what?" you breathed. "those...those towers get hit, so that means i-i have to lose something, too?"

he turned to face you, frowning. "don't say that. that isn't...that's not what this is. i need to do something. i can't...i can't just keep watching this happen. it's not right." he squeezed your hand. "i can do something about this. i can help."

you had no idea simon had suddenly become some kind of martyr. that he suddenly felt some kind of obligation to saving the world.

he was your world. weren't you his?

"'m gonna come back," he said softly, but it didn't feel like a promise.

it just felt like goodbye.

he was calling your name, but you pretended not to hear. her boots were gone, but the trace of something unfamiliar still lingered in the air. you grabbed your purse, the keys jingling, and just as you were going to move again, reality hit him.

i'm going to lose her. i'm going to lose her if i don't say something.

"would y'just let me fuckin' say something?!"

the sharpness of his voice stopped you, and you turned to face him, your bottom lip trembling.

"what do you want from me, simon?" you breathed. "what the fuck do you want from me? i-i...i didn't ask for this."

"luv--" he came closer, and you sobbed when he gripped both sides of your head. his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you tight, firm.

solid. grounding.

"it's okay," you shook your head. you smiled through your tears, blinking through them, meeting his eyes. "simon, it's okay...it's...it's my fault..."

"..wot?"

"i wanted more," you whispered. the tears were wetting his hands, and as much as he tried to wipe them away, more kept falling. "i wanted more, and i..." you laughed a little, but there was no humor in it. just sadness, echoing and hollow, just how you felt inside. you lifted a shoulder in a defeated shrug. "it's never been that way."

simon shook his head. "no. kitty, 's not true--"

"you've never fought for this before, simon, don't start begging now," you gasped. "just don't. you leave me behind. that's my fucking fate with you, getting left behind, and i keep thinking you'll change, but you won't--"

"that's not--!"

"you won't change, simon!" you cried, choking on it, and you were so sad, and for something that supposedly wasn't real, it felt like a gaping wound, something splitting apart his skin and crawling from the inside-out. "you...you won't change...but it's okay...s-simon, it's okay..." you tried to smile again. "i've always known. i-i think i've just...i've always known..."

the glass around him shattered when you spoke again.

"i-i've always...i-i...i think i've always been yours," your voice was so soft. it was the pain of accepting a truth you never wanted. "a-and...and you've never been mine."

it wasn't true. that wasn't true. you had no idea what kind of things you held over him. you had no idea the power you had, the kind of things that your touch made him feel. you had no idea how tightly he was bound--he had no room to breathe.

if this wasn't love, if this wasn't the kind of pain that love brought, then what the fuck is this? isn't this real? aren't we real?

but half of simon was poison. and when you left, it was quiet. there was no one to hear him scream. there was no one to take the glass out of his mouth, the shards of them that he swallowed, to watch the black of his blood choke him.

when he looked in the mirror again, he recognized those eyes. he had been too afraid to see them for what they were before, but now he knew who those eyes belonged to, and he thought it would be easier to cut them out than look at his reflection again.

a dream, a nightmare, not reality.

left behind.

always yours. and never mine.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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punching-pentagrams · 2 months

Text

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 11

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.8k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity, sexual tension, kissing, light teasing smut

Lucifer laid up in his bed the room up in the apple shaped penthouse that was made just for him at the upper left side of the hotel. He had made this room thinking he was be here more often, and then he stopped coming. The last few weeks may had been more tolerable if he had been here... Oh well, too late for that. Now he laid there thinking of the things the hotel people had said about you and him. Could there really be a way of fixing this?

Lucifer sighed, he was really trying not to get his hopes up. He wanted to be able to get a chance to fix things with you, pick things back up with you, if you would let him, he was willing to do practically anything to make things right with you. He'd fight 100 Adams and Alastors at the same time just for the chance to hold you again. But all he could do was lay there, in his bed, wondering if Charlie and Angel were talking to you. Would you be mad? Would you give him a chance to talk to you again? Would the report back from this exchange be the last he ever hears about you?

After what felt like hours, he heard a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Lucifer called out.

"Dad, it's me! Can I come in?" Charlie called from the other side of the door, Angel next to her and you a few steps back.

Your heart was racing, and hearing his voice on the other side of the door made it so much worse.

"Ya!" Lucifer yelled back, still staring at the ceiling. Charlie entered his room followed by Angel, you stayed outside of the door just out of view. "How did it go? Is she ok? Was she mad?" Lucifer asked Charlie and Angel, the pain laced in his voice was apparent. It broke your heart to hear it, but it made you feel less anxious to hear him prioritize concern for you. Care... as always.

"It went well, Dad, so well in fact... that we have someone here to see you," Charlie said, turning to the doorway.

Lucifer froze as he heard another pair of footsteps enter the room. He slowly sat up to meet your gaze, those beautiful (e/c) eyes, so full of their same gentleness and care, but also indescribable pain.

"(y/n)", he whispered, as if we was afraid that saying you name too loud might make you disappear.

You smiled, "Hi Lucifer," you said softly in return, his name sounded like music dripping from your lips. No malice, no anger, something... soft and beautiful, like you had been holding your breath for years and in saying his name you finally felt like you could exhale.

All you could do was stare at each other and take each other in. Charlie and Angel smiled at each other, then looked at you both as they started to back up.

"We'll just... give you too some space to talk," Charlie said, and then closed the door behind her and Angel. They pumped their fists with a quiet "Yes!" before running downstairs to tell the rest of the hotel crew what was going on.

You and Lucifer were now alone.

The air was tease and silent, neither of you knowing who should speak or make the first move.

At the moment you started to open your mouth, Lucifer moved to slip off the bed and onto his knees on the floor, hands on the ground in front of him and forehead pressed against his hands... bowing to you?!

"(y/n), darling... I... I'm sorry, I'm so... so sorry... Please... please believe when I say I don't remember what happened that night. I was drunk, I was nervous... I- I can't forgive myself for whatever I could hav-", Lucifer rambled as he started to shake as he kept his deep bow on the floor.

"Lucifer..." you say softly cutting him off, he jumped up a little, your voice suddenly being much closer than her expected. He looked up to see you on your knees in from of him, tears also starting to well in your eyes.

"You didn't hurt me that night," you said, tears starting to fall.

"I- I didn't?" he said through tears.

"No!" you cried, "I thought I had mad you mad and that's why you didn't call for me."

Lucifer's eyes went wide, "What?! No, of course not! I was so scared, I couldn't remember what happened that night and then I got a call from the Lounge that you were calling our appointments and I was banned from seeing you!"

"No! No, Lucifer I never banned you. You never hurt me, I- got scared, I was worried, you weren't acting like yourself, you were so drunk... you told me something... and I... I- I didn't know what to do... so I just ran! I ran and I disappeared for a little to figure things out. I came back and I waited, I waited and their was nothing! I thought you hated me and were done with me!"

"No! Never, never! Hells, Duckie, I've been a mess without you! I need you!" Lucifer cried. You and Lucifer were both a mess of hysterical tears at this point, and you collapsed into an embrace as you cried, reassuring each other through heavy sobs that you were not mad or upset at the other. It was a deep cry that you had both deeply needed in the arms of the other.

After several minutes, both of you started to calm down, tears still falling but now they were able to talk without heaving as hard through their sobs.

"So... what happened, exactly? Tell me your side of it all, please..." Lucifer finally choked out. You took a few more deep breaths before starting.

"You... you showed up at my apartment... you were drunk, stumbling, had a hard time teleporting. You were sweet but very touchy, you got more drunk and touchy as the night went on. I thought you were having a really bad day, then I thought you were nervous about may wanting to try being intimate again. But then... you told me something... something I didn't know how to respond to... I was scared about responding to it the wrong way, especially because you are the King and I am just a prostitute... I didn't know if you actually cared about me, even though it always felt like you really did, and the power dynamic was just so... confusing... so I pushed you away. I ran, I disappeared on a trip for a few days to think about things, to give us space in case... well, in case I had upset you... You were supposed to be told I was just on vacation for a few days... but it sounds like you were told something else... something to split us apart," you explained, looking down at Lucifer who was snuggled back into his old position in your lap. Lucifer nodded as he listened to your explanation. "I came back, and I waited for you to schedule... and you never did. I had no way to check in with you... and I didn't want to overstep in your life by expecting a real connection if I had just misread things, or going to the hotel to ask Charlie, especially because I wasn't supposed to tell anyone... I was just so confused."

Lucifer tightened his fists in his lap, what is it that he had told you that made you so scared? That would make you run but that had also apparently not hurt you. "I'm sorry I made you keep this a secret for so long, I didn't realize how much it was hurting you... both of us... I guess I just let my pride really get in the way, and that was stupid," Lucifer paused, "Whatever I told you that night... was it bad?" Lucifer asked looking up at you.

You took a deep breath, "It's ok, I understood why you wanted it to stay quiet, I never held that against you. And...no, not bad, but it did scare me. I didn't know what to think of it."

"Can... can you tell me what I said?" Lucifer asked with big worried eyes.

You thought for a moment, this was the part you were most scared of at this point. This is where everything could fall apart again. "Can you tell me your side of things first, before I do?"

Lucifer swallowed hard, not liking how you were dodging the question, but he nodded.

"Ok," Lucifer started, "I... was really nervous that day, for a while... I'd been wondering how much of your care was real versus an act. It hadn't felt like it had been fake for... well I mean it really had never felt fake. I remember... I wanted to ask you or tell you something related to that. I had talked to a friends about that earlier in the day..."

"Asmodeus?" you asked.

"Yes! Did I say something about him? About that conversation?" Lucifer asked.

"You said he started dating someone, but not to tell anyone. I never have," you replied.

'Wow, why was that the point I had brought up? I really was out of it,' he thought.

"Well, anyways, he encouraged me to talk to you, but I had a drink to calm myself down because I was so nervous, but one became two, became four became... way too many..." Lucifer continued sheepishly, "And then I couldn't remember the rest of the night, I woke up the next morning with a crazy hangover, trying to jog my memory, and then I got the call from the Lounge. They did tell me that you were on vacation... but then added that "the truth" was that you had put me on your ban list, that you had come back saying you "couldn't take this shit anymore" and that you were a good actor, that you were a heartbreaker, that you would "even break the King's heart if you had the chance".

You gasped and more tears welled up in your eyes, "Lucifer, it's not true! You have to believe me," you hugged Lucifer tightly in your lap, "That's not who I am, yes I can act, but I swear I haven't ever once lied to you!"

Lucifer held your face, "I know."

You stared down at him as tears rolled down your cheeks, "You do?"

He nodded, "I didn't in the moment, when the call happened, but the others did. Husk and Angel. The whole damn hotel sat me down to have an intervention to set me straight. I was still hesitant, but between your reaction now and them... I believe you. You do care about me, you always have."

"Yes, of course I care about you!" you say holding his face with one hand. Lucifer smiled and nuzzled his face into your hand.

"Lucifer, the person you talked to on the phone. Do you remember anything distinct about them? Their voice or the way they talked," you asked earnestly.

Lucifer thought, "I remember it was a feminine voice, very hissy ssssss sounds the entire time they talked."

You saw red, that was all the proof you needed.

"Cynthhhhia," you snarled. Lucifer's eyes widened, he had never seen you mad before.

"Who is Cynthia?" Lucifer asked, an edge in his voice.

"She is the biggest bitch at the Lounge, the girl I always talked about cutting down to size? That's her. She was on phone's that day as a punishment for hurting me the night I ran back to the Lounge," you seethed, "Larry must have stepped away and she must have a had enough time to slip you that lie..."

Lucifer sat up more in your lap, eyes turning red, "You think this Cynthhhhia bitch lied to get us apart? Why?"

"Yes... she always hated that I was getting paired with more "high rollers" as we would call them, well-off powerful people, she hated that I was more popular with customers than her... she must have taken the opportunity to sever our relationship to make me suffer..." you stopped as Lucifer got up from your lap stepping a few feet away from you breathing heavily with his hands balled into tight fists, "Lucifer?"

You watched as the air seemed to shake around him, his wings snapped out from his back and started to flap, his eyes burned with blind rage as this horns and tail erupted from his body, a flame appearing above his head, his claws growing large and sharp. Flame escaped from his mouth as with a demonic voice Lucifer bellowed, "HOW DARE THAT BITCH SEVER YOU FROM ME?! HER LIVE IS FOREFIT. I WILL GRIND HER BODY TO DUST. I WILL BEAT THE AFTERLIFE OUT OF HER. I WILL RIP HER APART WITH MY BARE HANDS AND FEED HER TO THE CANNIBALS. I FASHION HER FLESH INTO BOOTS. I WILL..."

You ran up and wrapped your arms around Lucifer's waist, the air stopped rumbling, his body started to relax, his flames dissipated, and he looked down at you with a softened eyes, still glowing.

"Lucifer please, I'm mad too... but please stay with me. She's not worth the energy! You can turn her into snake jerky boots tomorrow!" You say, clinging to him tightly, "I need you here now..."

Lucifer blinked back to his regular red eyes before letting himself drop back to the ground, wrapping his arms back around you, "I'm sorry, Duckie... I'm just so mad that one lie over a phone call caused so much pain for you and I..." he pulled away a little and cupped your face with one hand, "I just want to make her pay for what she has done to us."

"I do too," you say carding your fingers through his hair, "I'm sure the others would too, I'm looking at you readers, but... how about we ruin her day tomorrow. Ok? Let's not let her ruin this, she's not worth it."

Lucifer hummed into your touch and closed his eyes, allowing himself to revert back to his normal soft appearance, "Ok... on one condition," he said opening his eyes again to look into yours.

"What would that be?" you ask nervously.

"Tell me what it was that I told you. Please?" he asked with bright eyes.

You looked away briefly and then met his gaze again, you felt your face grow hot, "You sure? You're not going to get mad?"

Lucifer gave you a confused smile, "Why would I be mad at you for telling me something I said to you? Just... tell me." Lucifer still held you in a close embrace, looking into your eyes.

You breath deeply, and look down at Lucifer, "You... you told me that you loved me."

Both of your faces turned bright red as you starred at each other in tense silence.

'Are you shitting me? I told her I loved her while I was shit face plastered?! Fuck, ya... ok her reaction makes sense now' Lucifer thought.

"Oh... golly... haha... I can see why that might make you uncomfortable" Lucifer said looking away from you with a nervous laugh.

You look at Lucifer, noticing deep blush running across his pale cheeks, and smiled. You steeled yourself for the next question.

"Did you mean it?" you asked.

Lucifer looked up into your eyes, studying your face. This was the moment he had wanted so many weeks ago, this was how it was supposed to feel. Vulnerable, terrifying, but the only place he ever wanted to be. This was the moment that would change everything, but now, he knew she cared, this would not be the end of everything.

"Yes, (y/n), I love you. I've loved you for months."

You heart swelled with joy to hear him say it this time, and with him being sober and so nervous, all of your worries from the past didn't matter now. You couldn't keep your eyes from welling with tears of joy. You moved your hands up to Lucifer's face to hold his soft cheeks.

Lucifer sat in swirl of emotions as he watched you react to his statement, 'Does she... feel the same?'

"Well..." Lucifer got out, before freezing up, trying to figure out what to say.

You laughed, "I... I love you too, Lucifer."

Lucifer's eyes go wide, taking a moment to process your words, before he moves without thinking, pulling you in closer and pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss sent waves of electricity through both of your bodies. You had kissed a lot of people for work, but nothing had ever felt like this before. You felt gripped by a want to fuck Lucifer in a way you had never wanted to fuck someone before, you ached for him, you ached for only him. In that moment you were ruined for watching to touch another soul ever again. Your tongues explore each other's mouths, passionate and desperate, as if you both relied on the other to breath.

After a few minutes, you both break the kiss, pressing your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Fuck..." Lucifer heaved, "That was amazing... You are amazing."

You laugh, tracing a finger down Lucifer's chest, "Just wait til, I get me hands on the rest of you... If you want that... of course."

Lucifer's eye glazed over with pure lust as he looked you over, "Oh, Duckie... I have wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and take you to Heaven since the day I met you... but I don't want to be selfish and I feel like I would want to be. I want you to be mine, all mine, only mine," he purred into the skin of your neck. You tip your head back and let your eyes roll back with the pleasure of the sensory.

"Then you can, have me," you say. Lucifer gives you a look.

"I'm all yours, I'll quit the Lounge, move into the hotel like I wanted, and I will be only yours, if you'll have me," your eyes looked with Lucifer's.

He smiled, putting his forehead against yours, "I accept, you will be mine and I will be yours. Tomorrow, we will go down to Lounge, give them your 2 minute notice, and then... we make that little bitch Cynthhhhia rue the day she ever messed with us." Lucifer planted another long passionate kiss on your lips.

"But for now... I get the feeling that we may have some people downstairs that want to see the results of our conversation. What do you say?" Lucifer said, offering you his arm. You smile and take his arm, going out the door and making your way downstairs to the hoops and hollers of your hotel friends, especially when Lucifer kissed you again in front of all of them.

You spent the rest of the night partying and talking with the hotel crew until you grew tired. Then, Lucifer picked you up and took you up to his room in the hotel, where you and Lucifer fell asleep in either others arms again, the way you would every night from then on.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, you wake up, tightly snuggled against Lucifer's chest, and you look up to see him unabashedly looking down with love filled eyed at you and running his fingers through your hair. He smiled warmly as your eyes met his.

"Good morning~" he cooed as he dipped his head down to kiss your lips. Your bodies moved closer to each other as you kissed, starting to get drunk off of the taste of the other. Your face and chest grew hot and red, until eventually Lucifer broke the kiss you hold your face, staring into each other's dilated eyes. Lucifer was pleased by the love drunk look on your face.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I would take you as a pent up, untouched virgin instead of a seasoned sex worker with the way you're reacting to a simple kiss," Lucifer says smugly, taking in the deep red tone of your cheeks and the glazed look of your eyes.

"Well... I mean... I may have had plenty of physical intimacy... but it's always been for money, survival... this, however~" you says as you pull him in for another deep, desperate kiss, hand running down the side of his body before stopping on his thigh, releasing him from the kiss while keeping your lips as close to his as possible without touching. "This is something completely different entirely... unbridled desire like I've never felt in life or death... and I'm famished," you whisper.

Lucifer swallowed hard, blinking hard as his own face burned red and he felt himself get more dizzy and love drunk on your words. "Fuck... oh, Duckie... I want to do... so... many... sinful things to you. I have for months... but I do think we should prioritize taking care of your status at the Lounge... and that bitch... Because I don't know about you, but..." Lucifer rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed, lowering his head to be next to your ear, "when I finally get to fuck you... I want you to be mine. Only... mine... Don't you agree, my Apple?" he planned a soft kiss on your neck.

You're breathing was ragged, your heart pounded in your chest, you had never been so turned on in your life. You couldn't even speak, all you could do was nod.

Lucifer looked down at you, committing the image of your body beneath him to memory before sighing, chuckling a little, giving you a kiss on both checks and then on the lips before getting off of your and getting up to start getting dressed.

You had to take a minute to let yourself breath for a minute before getting up. Lucifer smuggly looked at you over his shoulder as he buttoned up his vest, "You doing ok over their~?" he cooed.

"Shut up," you say playfully. 'Fuckkkkkk', you thought, how was this the same man that wanted to be dominated so desperately the first night you met? Should have known he was a bratty switch. He was really proving his status as the Sin of Pride with that smug ass attitude this morning, and goooooodddd was it hot.

Eventually you did get out of bed and got dressed for the day, Lucifer giving you a longing look as you did. Before long, it was time for you and Lucifer to head to the Lounge, together. Others from the hotel had learned about the reason for the miscommunication and lack of contact with you during the celebration the night before and many people wanted to come with to watch the confrontation unfold. So soon, you, Lucifer, Charlie, Angel, Cherri, Niffty, and even Alastor, much to Lucifer's dismay, were ready to make your way out to the Entertainment District. Husk and Vaggie also wanted to go, but someone needed to stay behind and man the hotel, so they just asked for a play by play of the events when everyone returned.

"Ready everyone?" Lucifer called out before tapping his cane on the ground, opening a portal right in front of the Lounge. Lucifer offered you his arm, which you took before stepping out of the portal onto the street in front of your place of work, followed by all of your friends. Immediately upon stepping out onto the street, onlookers started to look, whispers, point, and take pictures as they saw the King with you on his arm, followed by the Princess, a famous Porn Star, and the Radio Demon, with Niffty and Cherri tagging along.

Lucifer opened the door to the Lounge and walked in, striding up to the front counter with you on his arm. Larry turned around to greet the new customers just to find himself facing the King of Hell and company.

"Y-your highness, with (y/n), and the Princess, Angel, t-the Radio Demon, and... uhhh," Larry stopped looking down at Niffty.

"Hi! I'm Niffty!" Niffty gave a sharp smile while waving a knife in her hand. "And I'm Cherri Bomb," she added.

Larry blinked looking at Niffty before looking back up at Lucifer, "Right... uhh... Your Majesty," he bowed, realizing the should have done that the first time. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? And with one of my girls," he said shooting you a quick 'What the hell is happening here?!' look.

"Haha, well! You must be Larry! Let me introduce myself to you my fine man. Hi," Lucifer says extending his hand to Larry, "I'm Lance", Lucifer said, darkening his eyes.

"Oh!" Larry said shaking his hand before the realization kicked in, "Oh..." he looked at you, then Lucifer, back to you, then back at Lucifer, "OOohhhhhhh...." Larry let go of Lucifer's hand, his body starting to shake a little.

Lucifer smirked and wrapped an arm around you, "We were wanting to talk to you able a... troubling customer service issue that miss (y/n) and I experienced a few weeks ago that interrupted my services with her... if you have the time that is..." Lucifer said with as smile in his face that did not reach his rage filled eyes.

Larry panicked, "Uh.. uhh yes! Of course! Uhhh... would you like to come back to my office or..."

"Oh, no, my good sir, out here is just fine," continuing his sharp smile, looking out at the sea of girls and customers watching the interaction with growing interest.

"O-Ok, ya sure," Larry clears his throat, "So, uhh... what seems to be the issue?"

"Well... you see... your associate here and I had not scheduled any appointments for the last few weeks due to a... concerning miscommunication issue. You see, while this one was out on her much deserved vacation, I was called and told that she was out for a few days... but then they corrected themself and told me I was banned from scheduling with her again... but that I was free to utilize the services of other girls," Lucifer said distain slowly slipping into his voice, his smile starting to strain.

Larry's expression changed from fear to frustration, "Oh... that is troubling, I can confirm that (y/n) did not express any desire to ban you, sir. I apologize... I had no idea that happened... You... wouldn't happen to know who it was that you talked to that day, would you?"

"I didn't catch a name, but it was someone with a feminine voice and elongated "S"s.... kinda... serpentine sounding. You... wouldn't happen to know of anyone on your staff that would fit that description... would you?" Lucifer said, his smile now fully flat with half opened, unenthused eyes.

Larry balled his hands into fits, "As a matter of fact, your highness... I do... I'll... be... right back..." Larry made his way to the back to find the girl that matched the description, the sea of people parting as he lumbered through.

Lucifer looked up at you and winked, "Showtime" he mouthed to you. You smiled back at him as you started to hear the familiar screams of Cynthhhhia as Larry dragged her up to the front lobby, tossing her on the floor in front of Lucifer and you.

"AAHHHHH!!! Larry what the fuck! I wasssss in the the middle of a sssssession! What's the big ide-" Cynthhhhia finally looked up to Lucifer and you standing in front of her, glaring down at her, with his arm around your waist at his side. "Ohhhhh! Y-your highness, itssssss and honor, w-wha-what is thisssss all about?" She tried to smile at him, here eyes darting to you and to the others watching around the room.

"Apparently, a few weeks ago, you had a little of a communication issue with Mr. Morningstar here, or should I say... Mr. Lance... Care to explain, Cynthhhhia?" Larry hissed through clenched teeth.

"Lance, wha-" Cynthhhhia finally remembered, she now looked at you, then Lucifer, back to you, then him. Then she looked back at Larry, then around the room, to Charlie and Angel, then back to Lucifer. In that moment, she didn't not understand how this happened, but she knew she was absolutely fucked.

"Well... I feel like you already know... but I'll just ssssay it. I lied, I lied to Lanc-Lucifer... about (y/n)'sssss vacation, I had no one around ssssso I told him he had been banned, he didn't ask any questionsssss and didn't try sssssscheduling another appointment... Ssssso I reported that I had called and that he would call back to ressssschedule... I thought I was in the clear..." Cynthhhhia said looking at the ground, then looked up again, "I guess there were sssssome factorsssss that I didn't not account for.."

"Ya! Like us!" Angel added.

"Like her developing friendships and bonds during her time with my dad that cared to ask why she was not around anymore, and we figured out that these two had two very different understandings of why they were not able to see the other," Charlie said with a triumphant smile, gesturing to her dad and you.

"Cynthhhhia, why would you do this?" Larry asked coldly.

Cynthhhhia hissed, "For the same reason as alwaysssss, I hated her sssssuccesssss! I saw a chanccccce and I took it. The real question issss, why did you all care sssssso much. She's is just a ssssstupid, ssssselfish, fake, whore!"

In an instant, Lucifer's demon form emerged, horns, wings, red eyes, tail and all, and he flicked his sharp tail to her neck, lifting her head to meet his gaze, "Because my dear, ssssssweet, idiot," he spat, "She is actually none of those things. She is the kindest, sweetest, warmest, most loving, and selfless woman I have ever met, and because of that... I fell in love with her."

The room gasped, including Cynthhhhia and Larry. "You're little stunt simply caused us to be apart before we could talk it out. Thanks to my daughter, we figured it out, we figured you out. So now... my question for both of you is... how do we rectify this.. little problem? This certainly caused myself and my love much grief over the last few weeks, and it sounds like this putrid snake was causing my dear problems long before that at this establishment... and I simply cannot let that stand," Lucifer said, starring daggers into Cynthhhhia's soul.

"Well uhhh... as far as I can control... Cynthhhhia is fired from my establishment and will be backlisted from every brothel and porn studio in the Pride Circle effect of immediately, she will be kicked out of housing with us, and I will turn a blind idea to anything that becomes of her outside of this establishment... Does that seem fair?" Larry asked. Cynthhhhia seethed on the ground.

Lucifer smiled, "A good start but not enough, there is more I will require, and I have a list of demands."

Larry shifted uncomfortably, "Of course your highness, what would those be?"

Lucifer looked at you and smiled, "I request the release of (y/n) from her work contract here, as well as her housing contract," Lucifer looked back at Larry, "She will not be needing to be here anymore now that she is with me."

Larry made a displeased face, and looked at you "Is this what you want Babydoll?"

You nodded, "It has nothing to do with you, Larry, you have been good to me..." you look to Lucifer and the others, "I just finally found where I belong... and I need to see where this goes."

Larry nodded, "Consider it done. I'll miss you, kid."

Lucifer nodded, "Well..." he clapped his hands, " I guess we are done here then! Duckie, I will have your stuff taken out of your old room and moved to the hotel. As for you," Lucifer said looking down at Cynthhhhia, who was on the floor trying to crawl away, but froze in place when addressed, "We are not quiet through with you." Lucifer wrapped his tail around her waist and pulled her along as he walk out the door, followed by the other hotel crew and some interested patrons and girls.

Cynthhhhia screamed as she was dragged and tossed out onto the street in front of Lucifer and the others.

Lucifer looked to you with a slight bow, gesturing towards Cynthhhhia, "My darling, would you like to do the honors?" he purred.

You shrugged, "I don't really wanna touch her, but I'll start her off," you say stretching your arms as you walked towards her.

Cynthhhhia cowered and pleaded with you, you wound up your arm and slugged Cynthhhhia in the face, sending her flying back several feet. You were met with a crowd of cheers and yelps, Lucifer nodded approvingly at your punch. Lucifer next rolled up his sleeves and pummeled her into the ground a few dozen times before getting up staying he had enough. Cynthhhhia was still conscious, but barely.

Lucifer then offered the chance up to the rest of the crew. Niffty ran up and gave her a few quick stabs, then to your surprise, Alastor stepped forward with a sinister grin on his face. You and Lucifer gave each other a confused look, then looked back at him.

"Now Cynthhhhia, darling, as much as I enjoyed seeing how much torment your little stunt caused, I do say I that I am not very fond of how it impacted the overall morale of the hotel, and I simply cannot have that," Alastor said as his horns and body started to grow larger and more sinister, his face turning more into the radio face you had seen it become before in battle. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm going to need to make an example out of you, to show everyone what happened when you mess with the Hazbin Hotel and it's residents. And besides! ...my radio broadcast has been in need of some new screams!" Alastor laughed maniacally before engulfing Cynthhhhia in his mystical black tentacles and carried her off to be ripped apart and have her screams added to his collect on his broadcast.

You and the other's starred off after Alastor in horror as he took of with Cynthhhhia. "Wow..." you said, "That uhhh... that was not the ending to her I expected. But I'll take it!" You smiled looking at Lucifer who smiled and rolled his eyes. He then grabbed your waist, pulling you into a dip and kissed you deeply for all of Hell to see.

"Come on," he said breaking from the kiss, "Lets get you home."

Home.

You liked the sound of that.

______________________________________________________________

One last chapter I think! And IT.WILL.HAVE.SMUT. xoxo, dany As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop! xoxo, dany (OMG there are so many of you!😍 Please let me know if the tag isn't working for you) Taglist :(red names are not tagging for some reason 😢) @froggybich @wonderlandangelsposts @glowinthedarkbones1150 @marydragneell @crescent-z @superdinosaurnacho @jam0001 @kyo-kyo1 @so-get-this-sammy @lilzebeth @kelppsstuff @loquacious-libra @pinkhoneydrop @luleck @writer-girl99 @lavenz @stormz369 @littleladydemon @soujiswife @melday0105 @luluxx118 @sseleniaa @futureittomainn @cktkat @zaneyyyy @uravitsy @liecoris @starlitvenus @hannahrose130 @elleofdragons @butch-medusae @concentratedconcrete @erosamasan @stranger-chan @aquaamethyst96 @lxkeee @holyspacething @hulyenl @leximus98 @lu-ferri12 @mixplara @katnisspeetaprim @rebecca-hvnstn @roboticsuccubus83 @nekemewlita @femboyfatalle @thelethex @cryptidghostgirl @snowlotr @bangchansdirty-slut @glowymxxn @mcueveryday @hotvillianapologist @oneiric-rotaerc @wolfdaddyalphasworld @sleepypottersworld @wisterialagoon @theredviolets @theperfectmangovoid @lemonmoonmochi @sapphireravensworld @ezi0724 @undertalephanjackandmark-blog

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 3 months

Note

Hello! Could you please write full headcanons on the M6 getting home one day to find MC dead? They're not actually dead, their body is just vacant after a spell went horribly wrong, but M6 have no way of knowing that.

Thank you!

The Arcana HCs: When M6 think MC is dead

~ @arson-the-ace oh, this. this is going to hurt, isn't it. ~

CW for descriptions of panic attacks, bodies that seem dead, references to past trauma, and your beloved in lots of pain

-- to set the scene --

It was supposed to be an experiment, to see if it was possible to put your body in a preserved or frozen state when you left it behind to visit the magical realms. You did not expect the result to be your body looking and acting like a fresh corpse, or for the spell to have a three hour cooldown time before you could reinhabit it. Your incorporeal self sighs and sits next to your body, resigned to the boredom of waiting it out.

Until, minutes later, the door opens and your beloved walks in, and you have no way of telling them what happened.

Julian

Already fears the worst as soon as he sees you sprawled on the floor - his plague doctor experience with visiting the sick has his instincts fine-tuned for recognizing an unrecoverable patient

Trips over himself in his scramble to get to you and gets a nasty bump on his knee, but doesn't register a thing because he's finally reached for you and he's looking for a sign of life

A pulse. An exhale. The twitch of your eyes moving below your eyelids, anything, anything to tell him that you can be saved

He rolls you onto your back and tries to give you CPR, but he's breaking down too much already for any of it to be effective

Chest compressions turn into him ripping his gloves off, trying to find any of the warmth you've shared with him

Mouth-to-mouth turns into a choked sob against your cold cheek

He can't bring himself to keep going. Each failed attempt at reviving you gets his hopes up only to rip them to shreds again

He doesn't want to move forward. He doesn't want to go ahead with laying you to rest. He doesn't want to leave this drafty wooden floor, without a blanket or a pillow to keep you comfortable

And he can't stand up

He sits cross-legged on the floor, lifting your head onto his lap and laying his coat over you in lieu of a quilt

You watch him droop over your body, shivering in the drafty room without his layers, voice catching and breaking on quiet sobs as he sings you the lullaby his parents sang him before the shipwreck

By the time your eyes flutter open, his voice is gone

He's happy to see you - he's so, so happy to see you, but he keeps hovering over you like he never knows if you're about to collapse for good next time

If you love him, you'll wait a long, long time to do any more magic

Asra

They thought you were playing some kind of game, at first

He walked into the upstairs apartment to see you sprawled on the floor and teasingly called out your name, playfully asking what new mischief you were up to as he hung up his coat

And then you didn't answer them

As soon as he felt that old dread seize his stomach, he was hurrying across the room and asking you what was wrong

They can feel their own body growing cold as they touch your frozen one, pressing a trembling hand to your chest in search of the heartbeat they moved heaven and hell to give you

He's panicking, breaths coming quick and short. The motions of his arms trying to pull you closer to him are far too similar to his frantic digging in the ash filled sands of the Lazaret

They don't know what's worse - the images flashing across their eyes of your charred bone fragments splintering in their bleeding fingers, or your lifeless face lying heavy against their knees

His heart can't take it. The tears give way to an ongoing numb tremor. He places a preservation spell on your body as his last conscious thought before he lies down next to you on the floor

They put their arm under your limp neck and cuddle up to you like it's just another day's end, just another snuggle before sleep while they lay their head down on your icy, silent chest

You watch him hold your body in shock. He seems like he's caught between worlds, alternating between staring at your unmoving stomach while his shaky tears land and pool on your shirt

And reflexively whispering apologies as they mop up their tears with their sleeve, asking if they're squeezing you too tightly

He's quick to check your memories when you wake up, but no matter how healthy you are, he can't leave your side for a week

Nadia

Her intuition is telling her something is wrong as soon as she's approaching her chambers. Seeing you on the ground is her worst nightmare coming true

You're cold to the touch. You don't respond to her voice. You don't respond ... at all. She needs help, you need help, you need help now, she's going to get you everything you need, just hang on

She lifts you into her bed, and the chilly deadweight of your body is more than she can take. When she throws open the door and yells for a doctor, every servant in earshot hears her panicked sobs

She hasn't had a panic attack like this in years

Servants rush in and out in a blur, hurried murmurs and muffled exclamations fading into the background. She feels like she's been plunged underwater, unable to scream as her lungs fill with salt

She sits by your side with your hand in both of hers, clinging to the only part of you she's allowed to touch while the closest physician pokes and prods at your lifeless body. She can't see you anymore

And everyone else? They can't see their Countess at all

They see a broken-hearted woman holding steadfast to her lover's limp hand, breaths jagged and unpredictable as she wails through her teeth. Mercifully, her hair comes undone and hides her wrenched face and streaming tears behind a curtain of purple

You woke her, first from her dreams, then from her apathy, and finally from her loneliness. Watching you succumb to a sleep far stronger than the one that trapped her is wretched beyond words

When you finally stir awake, she refuses to leave your side as the doctors work to ensure that your vitals are stable and to try to figure out what happened and if there are any repercussions

She's glad you're back, but she can't stop herself from waking you in the middle of the night to make sure you're just sleeping

Muriel

He's already convinced of the worst before he can prove it

He knows what a body collapsed in sudden death looks like. He's seen them countless times on the sand of the Coliseum floor, slaughtered at his own shackled hands, but now it's you

Now it's the only person he trusted to never leave his side

He can't register Inanna beginning to whine and pace, he can't register the sounds of the forest outside, he can't register the fire slowly burning down and out in the back of the hut

A lifetime of trained alertness, muted, because his subconscious has decided it can't take paying attention to a world that doesn't have you in it any more

He's finally able to move again when he takes his first shuddering breath in minutes, and he begins to walk and reach towards you in the vague hope that all is not as it seems

But that's when some small, sick part of his brain starts up its tiny chant that he deserves this, that this is the effect of giving in to your misguided desire for his touch, that this is somehow his doing

But the larger part of him, the part of him that loves you and aches for you and is dedicated to you, leans past the furious pain and lifts your head and shoulders off of the floor, enough so he can lower his head and listen for a heartbeat, feel for breath on his cheek

And there isn't any. Your body is as still and lifeless as his hope for something better, and he can't breathe. He can't breathe, and he's curled up in a ball with you in his arms, and he can't breathe

It takes a few hours before he can master his thoughts enough to think. This has happened before, and it was possible for you to come back. Asra, he has to bring you to Asra, he'll give anything

You wake up as he's carrying you through the woods, and it's the first time you've seen his body go so completely weak with relief

Portia

At first, she thinks you're feeling a little silly and sleeping on the floor just to mess with Pepi. Though the way you're lying, you almost look like you've collapsed. That can't be comfortable

It's when she crouches down to wake you up that she can tell something's wrong. Your shoulder is cold - way too cold

She's already got tears running down her face, but never in her life has she let her sadness stop her from caring for those she loves. She shakes you, back and forth, calling your name over and over

At some point she realizes that it's too late, there's nothing she can do, and that's when she starts wracking her brain for someone who can do something. Anything. She's not giving up on you

She's small, but she's strong and she's in pain. She lifts your body and begins to stumble through the Palace garden with you. She leans into the volume of her wails, using them to call for help

First through the gardens, then through the Palace halls, unable to recognize the blurry faces through her tears, but determinedly blubbering out what's happened and how she needs help for you

When someone who might have been the Countess informs her that the physician is out, she walks out the front gates of the Palace. Her ears are deaf to the offer of a carriage into town

Vesuvia still remembers its plague. It has never before heard cries as anguished as the ones Portia sent echoing down the canals as she ran and stumbled with your body to Mazelinka's house

Mazlinka will be there. Ilya will be there. They both know plenty about medicine, they should be able to help, just hang on. Hang on, she tells your cold body, hang on for me

You stir awake just as she crosses the threshold into the basement dwelling, and the emotions she feels are so overwhelming that she almost punches you for scaring her. She can't stop crying

Lucio

When he walks into the room in the inn after his trip to the outhouse, he avoids the sinking feeling in his gut by telling himself you're just napping. On the floor. Without moving

And then he can't take the way his conscience is nagging at him, so he snaps and (not unkindly, but brashly) tells you to get up and get moving already, we're wasting daylight!

But you don't move. You don't give him a disapproving look. You don't grumble when he shakes your shoulder, or open your eyes when he pats your cheek, or smile when you hear your name

He doesn't understand. You're brave, you're strong, you're loving, you're good, you're full of goodness and you're better than anything he ever deserved after what you suffered because of him

Because of ... him

This must be his fault. This must be his actions catching up with him. This must be the fallout of all those rash deals, some forgotten deity must have run out of patience and come to collect

Of course this would happen. It would take a hundred lifetimes to sift through the pile of selfish bargains, of course he missed one, of course he failed to make up for his past deeds, of course ...

Of course an oversight like that would cost him you

But he's not going to let this go. You deserve better. He hauls you into his arms, ignoring the way he chokes at your dangling limbs, and rushes out of the inn and into the deep, deep woods beyond

He screams and cries and yells and threatens and pleads and begs until his voice falls silent and he can taste blood in his throat

He calls out to any angry being listening to tell him, tell him what this is in payment for, tell him what he can put on the bargaining table that would pay back the debt that demanded your soul

You wake up before he can do anything rash, but he squeezes you in his sleep now, as if to challenge any more soul thieves

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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gogh-with-the-flow · 4 months

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Angst for no reason incoming (cw: cheating)

Johnny had been off ever since you picked him up from the airport last night. It wasn't unusual for him to be distant sometimes when he first got home. It was a difficult adjustment going from live fire back to civilian life, and sometimes he needed time to get back into the swing of things. But this time was different. He couldn't look you in the eyes. Instead of falling exhausted into your arms, he shied away from your touch. His body was stiff when you hugged him. He didn't rest his hand on your thigh the whole ride home. He didn't even kiss you.

You assumed he had seen or done something worse than usual. You assumed the deaths had been more brutal, more numerous. Maybe he had lost someone close to him this time. It's not like he could even tell you, all his operations were black. Strictly confidential. You were just a civilian.

You did your best to comfort him. You made him a hot meal, drew him a bath, offered to massage his sore muscles; but he picked at his plate until it was cold, locked the bathroom door, and slept with his back to you all night.

Something in your gut told you it was wrong. You ignored the pit in your stomach that warned you. You boxed his dinner up for him to eat when he was feeling better. You pulled the blankets tighter around you to drive out the cold you felt without him beside you as you slept. You pretended to be asleep when he silently rolled out of bed and crept out of the bedroom. You pretended not to hear his low voice talking on the phone in the living room. You pretended not to hear him cry.

He avoided you the next day, too. Answering in one or two words, barely eating, leaving the room as soon as you walked in. He barely spoke to you until that evening.

He called you into the living room, where you found him sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, eyes unfocused staring out at the wall. His wedding band glowed in the lamplight. You sat beside him. Your hands reached to comfort him, but landed instead in your lap when you noticed how he tensed when you reached for him.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low and monotone, his words careful and measured. He wouldn't look at you. His blue eyes were cold and stony, his jaw hard and clenched.

Oh no.

"What is it?" You asked, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Your eyes scanned him for any sign of bruising, but his skin was clear.

He shook his head, a slow, even movement. His hands shook as he dropped his forehead onto them and closed his eyes tight. The faintest shine of wetness gathered at his lashes. He took a deep, trembling breath.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the sound leaving him as if his soul were rushing out through his mouth.

God, please, no.

"John..." you uttered. Your stomach twisted. You heard the thump-thump-thimping of your pulse in your ears. "What is it?" You repeated.

Please, not this. Anything but this.

"When I was away..." No... "Bonnie, I-" Please, God, No- "I had sex with someone else."

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. His words echoed in your head as you processed his confession. Everything clicked into place as the seconds passed into minutes. His behavior since coming home wasn't that of trauma. It was guilt. He couldn't look you in the eye, couldn't even bare to touch you, because he couldn't carry the weight of his shame.

Your body and mind operated separately. You tried to sort your thoughts out, but your heart was running away from you. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with your wedding ring. Your throat felt as if you had swallowed a stone whole. Your face was wet with tears you hadn't even felt fall.

"Who?" You asked. Your voice sounded more like nails clawing at a closed door. Johnny gasped as he strangled down his own tears.

"My lieutenant," he confessed, his voice saturated with guilt. The watery words erupted from his chest like a violent geyser, as if he couldn't get them out fast enough; as if saying them burned his tongue, his throat, his stomach.

You sobbed at the revelation. You knew him. You'd shaken his hand. You'd thanked him for looking after your Johnny. Your Johnny! Oh, you were going to be sick.

Your legs carried you away from him, away from your husband and the future you two had together. They carried you into your shared bedroom, your marital bed now sullied by infidelity. Your hands locked the door behind you. You collapsed onto the floor. His arms didn't catch you. They didn't hold you close, they didn't comfort you. There was no comfort to be found on the cold tile of the bathroom you'd crawled into. You emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet and cried with reckless abandon.

You screamed and wailed like a widow. You mourned your marriage, your love, the future you could never have now. Your trust was broken. How could you ever repair what you had?

---

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

I honestly don't know where this cane from. I'm sorry guys. Maybe I'll continue this idk

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish angst

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percy-puppy · 3 months

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Headcanon: Thinking of the 141!men having an afab!partner with body hair.

About: CoD Men || Task Force 141

CW: 18+ Blog/Post | MDNI, afab!reader, reader with body hair, pubic hair, talks about bullying in school, judgment, puberty, insecurity, sex (oral/reader receiving, PIV/penetrative sex, switch!dynamic, body worship, s&m), hair pulling, not proofread

A/N: Anyone else struggling with posting on the smartphone app? Like Tumblr? What's going on? Anyway, this is for my bestie who ranged about the lack of representation. @mothymunson 💕

🎀Price: Price is a hairy, hairy man. God, he is so fuzzy, and it's so hot. Obviously, he doesn't care if his partner is hairy, either. It would be hypocritical of him, really. In fact, he would be an encouraging force. It's lots of work to keep shaved and smooth, and should you feel comfortable with just no longer shaving, then why not? He is happy when you are, and just because society expects something doesn't mean you have to obey. Price would support it fully, showering you with praise as you unlearn the old “values” taught from a way too early age and drop the trauma all the comments in your puberty gave you when body hair became more prominent. He teaches you a new, healthy form of confidence and, in the shortest time, “It's just hair, love.”

🎀Soap: Johnny is… Let's be honest; that man is a feral mutt. He might shave sometimes, not often, though honestly, but body hair on his partner? He can't explain it, but that bush gets him going. He is one to drop the “the wilderness must be explored” sentence when you first get together and are insecure about his reaction. He will beg you to let him eat you out, swearing on everything that's holy to him that he doesn't mind your pubic hair at all. And, damn, he isn't lying. He doesn't care, although he does—It makes him feral. The following hours are spent with the scot’s head between your legs. Also, before you bother to worry, a hair on his tongue will just be removed, “It's locks, bonny. Happens sometimes,” he’d laugh, and go back to work, nose buried in your hair as he sucks on your clit.

🎀Gaz: That boy is always shaved. It's his personal preference. When you first mention your difference (cause a man with a negative reaction isn't even worth your time), he is surprised. It's not in a bad way, though. He just knows enough people are giving in to the pressure of shaving. He is curious, ashamedly so. You see, the curiosity effect when somebody tells you they have a piercing down there? That's what it feels like for him now. He’d sheepishly ask to take the next step, unsure what he even expects since it's just hair at the end of the day. But once you take things to the next level, it suddenly clicks. It's your confidence—the raw, unashamed, natural being. You're unashamedly yourself, every imperfection perfection, and your most potent weapon. When he hit puberty, he was insecure for a long time before he had his glow-up. He was never tall or beefy enough, just always picking himself apart by comparing himself to others. Today, he is confident as hell, but the 13-14-year-old boy he once was would be on his knees worshipping a person like you, just fully defying social expectations. He always felt a little bit like worshipping you, but your naked form bouncing on top of him absolutely breaks him. He babbles praises between panting and moaning, hands moving over every inch of your body. “You're so hot. Shit, don't stop, you're just so- fuck. Fuck me. God, please.” He did not know he was a switch, and all he needed was a confident partner.

🎀Ghost: Simon isn't nearly as hairy as the other men. He sometimes trims his pubic hair, but mostly, he just isn't hairy enough to even care about it. He also doesn't care about your hair. It's just hair. But at night, his sadistic side comes through. During sex, he will tug on your bush for fun, sometimes just shortly before slapping your tit, sometimes he’ll just pull and pull like a maniac while fucking into you. The delicious pain sends electric shocks through your sobbing cunt as he pounds you toward orgasm. Should you ever shave or trim it, he will most definitely pout a little as he lost his favorite toy. Thankfully it's just hair, it’ll grow back, and until then, he’ll focus on slapping your clit and pulling your nipples. It's okay. He’ll survive.

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darby-rowe · 4 months

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maybe could we do a sub!coryo getting pegged by dom!reader and shes going super hard on him like spanking him,grabbing his hair and pulling him back against her cock? could we add some mommy kink in there too 🤭🤭

im so sorry i keep leaving my asks in the dust akskfks i write so slow im so sorry 😩

but anon this is such a hot idea. as a society we need to acknowledge the fact that coryo more than likely has a mommy kink

18+ | nsfw | mdni

cw mommy kink

coryo has a major attitude problem due to his unresolved trauma, and a common outlet he uses to vent his frustrations and express his emotions is letting you fuck the absolute shit out of him.

you can't recall how it happened the first time, but after coryo finally let you peg him, cooing in his face and calling him a good boy, he became obsessed with your silicone dick. and now you use this newfound kink as a way to 'tame' him when he's being exceptionally bratty.

you'd go out shopping in public, and you'd have to withstand coryo's complaining on how hot/cold it is outside, or how it's too crowded, or blah blah blah, etc. and by god did it get on your last nerve. was there anything in this world that coryo didn't complain about?

the last straw came and went whenever you wanted to try on a few dresses and coryo just let out the bitchiest sigh you ever heard. he didn't even say anything, and yet it made your blood absolutely boil.

so now fast forward and you have coryo on his knees in between your legs as you fuck his throat with your strap, watching his pretty blue eyes well up with tears as he gargles and gags on your silicone cock.

"that's it, baby," you purr, tangling your fingers in his soft blonde curls and guiding him back and forth on your dick. "such a nice little cocksucker, aren't ya? i guess those pretty lips are good for something else other than being a fucking brat,"

you softly wipe his tears away before plunging your cock down his throat, groaning at how hard he grips your thighs before letting him come up for air. and those wet baby blues of his never fail to get you going.

“say you love sucking my cock, brat,” you command, gripping tightly onto his hair. the whimper that emits from his throat has your knees feeling like water.

“i love…” he pants, gulping down saliva. “i love sucking your cock, mommy,”

absolutely delicious.

and one thing about coryo is that he is loud; especially when you have your cock balls-deep inside his ass, pulling him back by the hair and thrusting with everything you have. your pelvis smacks against the flesh of his ass, and he is nearly in tears from how rough you are. but it feels so, so good.

“mommy, please,” coryo babbles incoherently how good your cock feels inside him, or how you’re being too rough. his whimpers and mewls sound so fucking good coming from his swollen, spit-covered lips. “please, slow down. you’re so big. so deep. i can’t take it, mommy,”

“no, baby, you’re gonna take this cock like a good boy,” you pant, planting a hard smack! against the pale flesh of coryo’s ass. he lets out another whimper. “if you want me to slow down and be nicer, you’re gonna have to learn to not be such a fucking pompous brat. in the meantime, you’re gonna take my cock, and you’re gonna cum as many times as i see fit,”

and so you proceed to fuck him until he’s so dumb and blissed out that you can barely understand a word he’s saying — until he’s only repeating, “mommy, i can’t stop cumming”, and “my ass feels so good”, and “thank you, mommy”.

at the end of the night, you of course bring him the absolute best aftercare you can muster. you run him a bath, give him sweet kisses all over his pretty, tear-stained face, and make sure you tell him how much you really love him.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #darbyrowe.ask #darbyrowe.doc

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pursuitseternal · 5 months

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“Master me:” the Sub!Ascended Astarion x F!Reader fic of your nsfw dreams, update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 5.1 K of Sub!Vampire Lord

Summary: It’s all yours, the power, the wealth. But your Vampire Lord wishes to give you something he’s never given willingly before… his submission.

CW: NSFW, Dom/Sub Dynamics, soft!dom for his trauma healing, ThroneSex ™️, body worship, oral s3x, orgasm denial, orgasm control, “only come when you’re told,” begging, pleading, whimpering Astarion, praise kink…

Read here if you prefer AO3

For @marimosalad and @anaisbaillon

Continue and accept the gift of his submission…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

He has summoned you, his lady, his bride, his beloved. The right hand and consort to the Vampire Lord. Of course, you didn’t come right away when the servant knocked on your door. He had been attending business all day. So many deals and promises and threats and examples to be made, he’s been attending from his throne all day. Yes. He held his court from his magnificent chair, staring down from his mighty gilded seat of power, glaring with vermillion eyes at anyone who entered the presence of the Ascendant Lord.

Now he calls for you, after hours behind closed doors. You give it… a little time. Not so much as to try his patience, but enough that you don’t go running into his arms in front of all of Baldur’s Gate. A delicate balance, one you can excuse by flouncing your dress, changing the jewels around your neck. You settled on something dark and sheer and elegant, nearly see-through in places, enough to catch the eye and make the mouth water.

Make his mouth water. That’s all you cared for anyway.

Leaving your chambers, you sweep through the halls, every servant, every guest, or Patriar, or merchant in your palace stops to bow and curtesy. Careful not to disrespect you. For you are his.

You arrive at last to the large, thick doors to his great hall. You can feel his eyes on you before you even turn the corner and breach the room. Astarion sits, reclined. Bored. Distant. But the moment you sweep into his presence, he claps his hands.

Silence falls on the crowd. “Leave,” he hisses quietly. It slices through the din. People retreat in an instant. They cleave around you, separating around where you stand just inside the grand chamber, distances away from your lover, enthroned, and yet you can almost feel his breath on your skin. Even from here.

It takes but a moment for you to finally be alone. His eyes rake over you, his back reclining in his throne, his knee crossed over his leg. But his gaze is only on you. He crooks a finger at you as the doors close, pushed by his magic and sealed by his power.

It is just him now. And he wants you to come… closer.

You obey, feeling more than seeing as his smirk curls his lips and skews his brows. One step, then another, you climb the dais. Then, you stop. Waiting. Eyes locked into one another, his breathing is rapid and shallow. And you furrow, sensing something swirling beneath that cold exterior. You see it then, a slight tweak at the corner of his eyes, a clench of his jaw. And then he lets out a muffled, half-swallowed sob.

“Everything, my love, it’s all ours. Sovereigns of Baldur’s Gate. King and queen in all but name…” his chest shakes. His eyes, wide and wet, look up at you. “It feels… wonderful… horrible… I- I don’t know…”

Without another thought, you hurry to his side, wrapping your arms around his head, cradling him into your breast. His tears are wet on your chest. You can almost feel it, that facade of his power and callous attitude crumbling in your arms. He takes a breath, inhaling your scent, his arms clutching hard around your waist.

“I thought you wouldn’t come, when you were late. For a moment… I thought you had…” he swallows the rest of his fears.

“I would never leave you,” you whisper, warming your words with all the feeling in your heart, running your hand through those silken, silver, unruly curls.

“I… I want to give you something, my love,” he steadies his voice, pulling back from your embrace, arms tugging you into his lap.

“Name it, and I will gladly accept, Astarion,” you smile, gently, settling yourself on the spread of his thighs.

“I want…” he swallows again, his face so close to yours. Haunted, troubled. Something is gnawing at him. “I want to give you everything…”

“You already have,” you smile sweetly, palming his cheek.

“No,” he shakes his head, “I don’t mean…” he clears his throat, eyes scanning the room around you as the shadows begin to lengthen, the colors of sunset pouring in through the arched and vaulted windows. “I… we have won. I have power; influence, riches, comfort…” his brow arches a bit rakishly, “…love. I have everything that Cazador deprived me of for centuries. More than he ever did. I am the most powerful vampire in the realms.”

You pause. Waiting. Watching those eyes flickering with the embers of his power. His voice rings with his pride, those traces of shattered confidence evaporated. But then he looks square in your eyes again.

And all that pride and power disappear.

“And I want you to have me submit to you, my love,” he breathed, his voice hissing between his teeth. As if he is in pain. In agony. “I want to give you my submission.”

“Submit to me?” you drop your hand from his face, letting it rest on his chest.

“You are the one thing that grounds me, you know, that pulls me back from becoming a… the very thing I once feared. I want… I want to give you… everything,” he leans in to place a shaking, hesitant kiss on your lips, “I want to grant you even this favor, darling.”

“If you wish,” you reply, tapping your hand on his heaving chest. “I do not require it of you.”

“I know,” he smiles so, so slightly, “that’s why I can give it to you. That's why I can… trust you.”

Your breath catches. The need in his eyes bores into you. He’s waiting. Waiting for you. For your command. “Very well, if it would please you.”

“Greatly, but you’ll have to be harsher than that to make me submit.” He flashes his teeth, a bit of that wicked, cheeky flare you know and love in him.

“I don’t want to be too harsh, I don’t want to hurt you…” you bite your lip, careful how you mention your worry. You can almost hear the ghosts of Cazador’s voice from… you shudder to remember.

He purses his lips, thinking. “Don’t call me boy, or belittle me, don’t starve me, just be the decent person I know and love, and I’m sure this will be pleasurable for both of us…”

You nod, gently. “Then kneel,” you whisper. Sweetly. Too sweetly. He raises a brow at your tone.

“No,” he pushes, that irascible smirk teasing and twitching the corner of his mouth.

You fight the foolish grin that your mouth aches to show. But you keep yourself stern. Commanding. “On… your… knees… Astarion,” you order, warmth in your voice even as you bite at your words.

He moves you by your waist, reverently sliding you off his lap to make his way to the steps of the dais.

“Too far, my love,” you chuckle, savoring his quick little turn as you settle yourself in his throne. “There…” you give a sigh for affect, nestling yourself in the gilded confines of this chair, running your fingers over the gold filigree arms. “Kneel at my feet, lover, and take that doublet off while you’re at it. It’s far too expensive to be ruined by the things I am about to have you do….”

Oh, how he obeys. Shivering and shuddering in delight. A coy, contented smile on his face as he slinks off the heavy- embroidered jacket to leave in a pile on his floor.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees at the top of the dais, close to you. So close, you can see his nostrils flare with every breath, you can watch the muscles of his bare chest clenching as he sits back on his heels. He places his palms on his thighs, one on each, eyes looking right into yours.

Waiting. And eager.

You smile, ready to lavish him with praise. “What a good darling,” you purr. “Quite the sight, the most powerful vampire in all the realms… kneeling before me. It can make a consort quite heated…” you fan your face. “Perhaps I need to remove some of these trappings,” you pluck the black fabric between your fingers. Slowly, you slink the hem of your dress higher. Higher. His crimson eyes darting to watch your unfolding display.

“Might I be of… assistance?” He offers, honeyed tone even as he remains perfectly still.

A laugh leaks from your throat. “You may, only, don’t touch my skin just yet, Astarion. Soon you can, but not… now…”

You watch him rise slowly, licking his lips as you lean forward in the throne. His hands are slow, reverent as they catch up your hair to part it over one shoulder. The lacings at the back of your dress bared for him to attend. It’s deliberate, filled with care, his long fingers deftly pulling the bindings out, lace by lace. His touch is heavy, making certain you feel his every ministration through the fabric of your dress. His hands skate lower, ghosting over the silk to your waist, bunching the fabric to reveal your skin, to expose your shoulders and arms.

You turn your head to look at him, rising to your feet. “Finish the job, my love,” you order, keeping that edge to your voice. Hand raising to his cheek, you caress him, softly, slowly, running your hand down the column of his neck to press on his shoulder. He smiles at your touch, slinking back to his knees… looking up into your face as his hands ruck your skirts in his fists. Pulling, shimmying your skirts to reveal the bare pale flesh of your belly, your thighs.

You step from the puddle of fabric at your feet, closing right into the distance between you where he kneels. Your hands bury in his hair, pressing his eager face into your embrace. His lips caress you, sucking and licking into the soft center of your stomach. His voice hums low, reverberating into your flesh. “Such a reward for so little,” he whispers against your skin, “you can push me harder than that, darling…”

“Really…?” You purr, canting a brow, mischief rising within you. “You just be sure, my love to say when it is too much.”

“Like too much sugar in my tea, I’ll say when, I promise,” he chuckles, slow and languorous, his face creeping lower and lower until his tongue barely laps between your folds. His breath stirring in the soft curls of your mound.

“Then, darling, you can touch,” you step away, seating yourself back in his throne. The velvet lining cushions your bare skin, the metal cold and shocking to the touch. But you recline, the same posture he had assumed at your arrival. “Come and give me your worship, my love,” you toss at him, hearing his steps slowly round on you. His eyes glow with hunger, his teeth glinting as he smiles. He laughs, eyeing you as your thighs part for him to give you more.

His hands rest upon the tops of your legs, settled on his heels before your seat.

“Tch, tch,” you tut at him, brushing his palms from your skin. “Your tongue alone, darling,” you smirk, watching your command making him fairly salivate. “Since you insist on using it, it seems,” you feign disgust, wiping the trails of his saliva from your belly.

He laughs, lowering his kisses to where your hand just touched. “Yes, my love,” he clasps his hands behind his back, glancing up with eyes of red fire, making certain you saw his obedience. “It would be my… pleasure,” he growls, nose pressing into where you ache. You gasp, the demanding dart of his tongue between your folds sending an instant curl of heat in your belly. Attentive, aggressive, he growls into your thighs, and you watch the muscles of his forearms clenching behind his back.

With every lick, he pushes hard, struggling to get just where he wants.

“Something the matter?” you coo, sliding your hips closer to the edge of the chair.

“You could be helpful and master me, you know darling? Give me a little to gain a lot…”

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers spreading yourself wide after a few caresses of your own fingers deep into your channel. You hear his breathing heavy in his chest, watching every muscle in his body wind tight like a spring.

A predator who would love nothing more than to pounce and devour you to his satisfaction. But you pat him on the head, throwing one leg over the cool metal arm of the seat.

“Better?” you dare, your answer is nothing more than his tongue diving with all his hunger deep into your channel, lapping and circling your clit, fangs catching the edges of your folds. You feel it creeping up with each pass and swirl of his tongue. So close, that wave of heat. You can hear his voice rasping, breath heavy as he works inside you. “Touch me,” you order. “Do it, Astarion.”

Released, his hands are on you, everywhere all at once. His fingers claw into your sides, tugging your hips closer. You slide on the velvet aimed right for his hungry, devouring mouth. Long, strong, his fingers delve hard and fast into you as he sucks on your clit. He groans to feel you tighten on his hand, to feel your juices flowing, your back arching and hips bucking on the seat of his throne.

Your hands fist into his hair, pushing him away as he insists on lapping you through the very last wave of your orgasm. He trails his drenched tongue to the delicate inside of your thigh, tracing a circle over the spot he loves most. “Just a bite, darling? May I have some reward?”

“Just a bite,” you pant, still easing down from the writhing muscles, warmth releasing through you.

His fangs pierce your thigh, a moment of pain, quickly masked as he slips his fingers into you again, crooking and stroking your channel.

“That’s enough I think, for now,” you hum, gripping gently into his hair to lift his face. “I said a bite and just a bite it will be.”

He bares his teeth at you, the points of his fangs barely dipped in red. “Darling…” he pushes, voice barely more than a growl.

“Just for now…” you softly stroke his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his trembling lower lip as he sneers. “Just until you make me come again…”

His lips sneer wider, twisting into a barely contained feral smirk. “As you wish,” he croons, “may I use all the… tools at hand?” His eyes glance down his own body, his hips shoving against the bottom of the chair.

You tilt your head, feigning consideration. “Not yet,” you sigh. “But you may kiss me, my love.”

The last thing you see before he pounces on you is that smirk that makes your heart rap against your ribs and sucks your breath from your lungs at its beauty. His knee shoves in beside you, his lips dancing and plying yours. The tip of his tongue darts between your lips, salt and tang from your blood, your cum, a heady concoction as he tangles it with yours.

One hand claws into your neck, trapping you, pinning you to his ravenous mouth.

Those fingers conjure magic inside you. Twisting and thrusting, sweeping through every ridge inside you just the way you like. It’s a dance, the darting of tongue timed in perfect rhythm with the pumping of his fingers and the scoring of his thumb on your clit. His humming, growling into your mouth. “Oh, so wet and tight, if only I could feel that same release…”

You smile into his kiss, your hand grazing lightly against the cool, clenching muscles of his chest. Stroking, scratching your nails down to the edge of his trousers, you barely brush over where his erection stretches against the straining fabric. Those hips buck into your palm, making you press against as much of his length as you can hold. He grinds into you, his breath heavier than ever, you can almost feel his cock hardening, tightening, his every movement chasing his own release. You ease your fingers away, stroking just a single finger over the edge of his waistband, feeling the soft skin of his seeping head bursting out the top.

“Me first, darling,” you breathe between his fangs. “Then, you’ll have to choose…” you graze your hand down your neck, “…feed…” You grab that bulging cock, gripping it between your thumb and finger to run hard over. He grunts, fingers stilling inside you at the delicious, painful pleasure, “…or fuck, my love.”

“But first,” he hums, fingers renewed as he lightly tugs you clit, “you come.” It isn’t an observation. It’s an order. He pinches you, hand gripped into your neck, holding you fast as you do rip in two, rent apart to shatter in his hand.

You gasp, panting, trying to strain and arch as you writhe in exquisite bliss. His hand stays you, pressing you to his shoulder, savoring the way you clutch your hands around his side, letting you shudder and clench until you are still at last. His breath rattles in your ear, for as relaxed and limp as you feel, his body writhes with his fervent need, bound and cramping with his unsated hunger. “Is it… my turn?” he hisses, teeth already scraping your neck, hands pawing your hair back to reveal that pale flesh he craves.

“Say please,” you give a single laugh, one you swallow the instant you feel his hands raking up your body, palming your breasts and plucking your straining nipples.

He swirls his tongue, bringing your breast into his mouth, one hard suck makes you instantly flush and writhing again. “Please,” he purrs around your nipple. Fire floods your veins, his lips and hands kneading you, molding you as he waits for your command.

All you can do is clutch your hands into those locks, cradling him softly, moaning your assent. “Yes, my good, good darling, yes.” You tilt your head again, waiting for his fangs to mark you, to claim his well-earned reward.

But the second you feel his low-throated chuckle on the top of your breast, you gasp, your breath burning in your lungs. Fangs slice into the sensitive softness, his fingers plucking and twirling your nipples even as he feeds from the blood that runs down into the valley of your chest.

He laps at you, greedily, famished, growling with little noises as he drinks from you, his consort. His love.

But you feel that power begin to shift, that possessive edge crawling under his skin with every suck of his lips and every clasp of his fingers around the fullness he caresses.

“Enough,” you whimper, hands pushing at the broadness of his shoulders. He resists, another long suck on your breast, licking at the blood that bathes it. “Don’t be greedy,” you hiss, finally getting him to raise his face from your skin, his eyes glowing, insufferable and provoking as he licks his bloodied lips with a smile.

“Yes… my treasure,” he fights to reply, struggling to find that restraint. You can see him gritting his teeth, concentrating on moving his body off of yours. His eyes spark, barely bridled power almost tickling your skin, but he manages to stand before you. Before where you sit, naked on his throne. He lets the sight fill him, his chest rising and falling as he breathes in your scent.

“You’re so good,” you purr, slowly rising to your feet, feeling that surge of desire, of power swirling under his skin, as you stand just an inch away from him. “And if you stay good, I might even let you free this…” You clutch at his erection, palming it with a twisted smirk. Savoring the grunt he makes as you run that grip over his confined length. “Yes, that’s it, my sweet, sweet lover…” You stand on the tips of your toes, craning to whisper right in his ear. “How badly do you want to come, my love?”

“More than anything,” he growls, turning his face sharply towards you. “I’d give anything for you…”

“Anything is a lot, you know…” You smile, running your hand over his cock until you feel him shiver under your touch. That’s when the thrill hits you, the control, the power he has given you. It’s… intoxicating, that restraint he gives only for you. That trust he shares only in you. The weight of that responsibility sobers you for a moment, and you break, reaching for his neck encircled in your arms, pulling him down into your lips for a kiss. “And I’d give anything for you too,” you breathe into your hungry mouth.

“Not getting soft on me, are you?” he growls into your mouth, hips bucking into your waist. But the slight softness in his eyes makes your heart thrill, a look of total affection. Of love, swirling behind that veil of domineering power.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, not when you’re as hard as you are, my love,” you purr arching against his body. He’s rigid, careful. Watching your every little movement as he breathes heavily under your touch. You stroke him, that soft fabric of his breeches straining at the seams to be released. Fingers slowly draw the laces out, one by one, your nails dragging sharply over his skin, as inch by inch, you let out that straining cock. As inch by inch, he grows harder, more ravenous, under your featherlight, scoring touch. You finally let him out, making him shuffle off the rest of his clothing until he’s nothing but skin and fangs and a ravenous smirk before you.

“Sit,” you grip him by his arms, spinning his frame as you shove him into his own throne. His eyes flicker in delighted surprise, shifting his body in anticipation for yours to join him.

“Yes, darling,” he croons, giving his ass a clench that makes his cock twitch and pulse. And you can’t look away. You want this, so badly, your entire body trembles for him inside you, that heady concoction of your lust for him and his unwavering trust in you goes right to your head, and to your loins.

You calculate your every move, every sway of your hips, the way you let your hands caress your curves, tracing your fingers into your folds. And you savor that way he licks his lips, his eyes glossy with his need, his hands clenched into the arms of his throne. “You’re trying so hard to be good,” you purr, tossing your hair down your back, crossing to slowly straddle him. You wrap your hands around his length, so hard, pale marble beneath your fingers. You give it a slow stroke, his lips twitching as he gives a groan of pleasure. “You deserve some pleasure for all you’ve done for me,” you lean against his chest, catching his lips in a shallow kiss. “But you’ll have to ask me nicely before you come… darling.”

Astarion whimpers, his lips baring his fangs as you raise your folds above that seeping head of his. Letting your slick just barely graze over him. “Please,” he groans, a swiveling thrust of his hips into you, one you avoid as he tries to sheath into your wetness.

“Not yet,” you tutt, teasing that blunted tip over your clit as you moan, eyes shutting as you make yourself the perfect picture of reckless abandon. A swivel of your hips, a nibble of your lip, as you tear his cock between your thighs. So silken and so hard, you groan with each sweep of him you make down your seam, each tantilizingly shallow dip you give of it into the clenching walls of your channel.

“Darling,” he groans, thrusting up into you, claiming just a little more traction into your cunt, “please… can’t I at least touch you?”

His eyes are wide, hands still clutching at the golden filigree of his throne. You can see every muscle in his neck taught and straining, balancing on the edge of his submission and his overwhelming need to fuck you.

“You may,” you moan, cupping his cheek, “but remember… you only come when I say… darling…”

His brows tweak, pained, but his hands rake up your arms, ghosting over your shoulders to cup your breasts. Even where your blood is drying yet.

You moan, the little teasing of his fingers making your honey drip even more over his shaft. It’s too much for you. So you sink onto that stiff and pulsing member. He bites his lip, clawing his fingers into your flesh, eyes half-lidded as he gives a muffled groan. His breathing is harsh. Unsteady. And you flash him a devious smile, just sitting on his lap, letting your belly stretch to fit that long length of his. “Shhh,” you wipe the sweat that’s formed on his pale brow, “wouldn’t want to have anything this sweet end so quickly.”

“Of course,” he pants. “Not when it’s so deliciously painful…” his brows furrow in agony.

“Oh, the pleasure will be…” you sigh heavily, “far greater than the pain…” his lips smirk as he hears his own words thrown back at him in your lustful voice. “Once I let you have that pleasure, of course…”

His hands tingle, featherlight as they skate up and and down your sides, he softly holds your arms, bringing them to his neck. Reverent, gentle, despite the inferno that rages behind his eyes. He places a kiss against your arm as you brace yourself on his shoulders. “Take your time, my treasure,” he groans as you treat him to a canting of your hips on his lap, “just don’t forget about me…”

“Never,” you groan, not at the way he fills you, but at how his arms wrap snugly around your waist. As if he can’t bring you any closer to him. You move, grinding up and down on him, riding that length as you look him square in the eyes. At how they glow, how they brim with unshed tears, so dilated and dark with his desire for you. At how the sweat begins to drip down his brows, his thin creases at the corners of his eyes deepening their grooves as he twists his face in relief. In the anticipation of his building pleasure.

But he barely blinks, that intensity boring into your soul. You bite your lips, riding the ridges of his cock through you, every sense of your body uniting with his as he gives you his everything. You can almost feel his ascended heart in his chest beating in yours.

Your fingers lock at the base of his neck, clawing into the silver tangles of his hair, even as it dampens with his sweat. You grind on him, keeping your pace agonizingly slow, his poor, neglected cock so hard and so thick, you know he’s not going to last long after what you’ve put him through.

But that only makes you smile harder, your breathing heavy between your grinning, slack lips.

“Hngf,” he groans as you give an extra hard slap of your cunt on him. “Please, my love,” he pants, nearly drooling with his unquenched lust. “You’ve had some fun…”

“Oh, just a little more,” you moan, “you wouldn’t deny me a little more fun, would you, my love?” You give a breathless laugh, reaching your hand around beneath you to grip those smooth, tight balls of his in your palm.

You feel him twitching inside you, his manhood in your palm so hard and tight. Ready to burst. After all, he has been good.

You look at his face, strained and red and sweating. You watch the way he can’t control his mouth, his tongue darting haphazardly over his teeth to lick his lips. His hips beneath you buck at random, hitching out of rhythm with how you ride his shaft. He has never been more handsome, your pleasure wave cresting at the mere sight of his unraveling.

“Please, please darling,” he’s panting, hand gripping so hard on your hips as you gyrate, you know he’s drawn blood. “You’re so good, so tight and wet. Please, let me come…”

You say nothing for a moment, letting your ears fill with the wet slap of your cunt on him. He begs you again, louder, his groans hurtling you into your own climax. You writhe. “Yes, darling,” you moan arching away from his chest. “Yes you may.”

His eyes go wide with your release, the centers so wide, so feral and unbridled. He shifts his ass to the edge, legs braced on the floor. Bouncing you, spearing you. Just that wild, growling, snapping desire is enough to shove you into orgasm. Every muscle grips around him deep inside you. You scream, pleasure tearing through you, but he doesn’t ease his pace.

No you’ve released him from his binds, set him free to fuck until he’s done. So you ride, you jounce, as he begins to hitch his pace. Arms clutch around your body, trapping you, supporting you as your own frame threatens to go limp in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Astarion careens into you. “Thank you,” he moans, over and over again. His breathing rasps, fast and hot in your ear. Deafening you. Overstimulating you, making your neck and spine twitch as he slams into you over again. With one last grunt, the loudest of all, he fills you, the heat of his cum spurting and slipping out from your folds. “Thank you, darling…” he rests his head on your shoulder, an edge within him easing, slipping away.

Dissipating.

Dulling.

And then you feel him breathe. You can feel his heart beating into you as he holds you so tight.

Nothing but his absolute love, his submission, a pulsing rhythm between you. “That was…” he sighs, his breath cascading down your front.

“Delicious?” you offer, stroking your fingers through the damp curls of his silver hair.

He looks up slowly, eyes soft, that same subtle smile that you would see from before, the one that would play around his lips when it was just you two in those fleeting moments on the road. Those moments that made you both who you were. Just you and your rogue. “Precisely,” he purrs, catching your lips delicately in a kiss. “So delicious, I’m sure I’ll need another sampling…”

His kiss turns on the edge of a knife, consuming, tearing. All fangs and tongue in your mouth.

“Tut, tut,” you press your hands against his chest. “If you insist, then at least let me take you somewhere more.. comfortable. Somewhere I might spread you out… tie you up, for once.”

“Oh, darling,” he pouts his swollen lips with a langurous lick, “how could I say no?”

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Thank you for the reblogs, likes, kudos, and comments 🥰. You are truly all darlings!

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

any chance you'd be willing to do disassociating!reader with sirius as a fade into you prompt?

Thanks for requesting!

join the party

cw: mentions of blood, reader is in shock/dissociates after injury-related trauma

Sirius Black x reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’ve long since stopped shaking by the time you get back to your apartment, but it still takes you a few tries to get the key in the door, your movements robotic and seeming somehow separate from you.

“Hey, you’re home late,” Sirius greets you as you walk through the door. “I was just starting to think about dinner. How would you feel about…shit.” He stops as he comes into the living room, gaze snagging on your legs, dried blood staining them from the knees down. Your shoes, which used to be white but are now a rusty brown. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not mine.”

“Okay.” He’s still standing a good few feet away, like you’re characters in a play, reciting your lines without moving. “Whose is it?”

“Macy’s.”

“Alright.” The word is meaningless, but not any more than the rest of them, you suppose. Sirius steps closer, slowly, as if wary of spooking you. “Is she okay?”

“She, uh.” You swallow. “Yeah, she’s okay. Or she will be. She fell and hit her head, but they said she’ll be okay.”

“Who said, darling?”

“The nurses. I just got back from the hospital.” You remember the ambulance ride there, the ridiculous quiet of it all. You’d thought that when someone was hurt that bad, hospitals were all beeping and yelling and people running around. But they’d only asked Macy questions in calm, measured voices, no beeping or alarms to be heard. What did you have to eat today? Do you know why you fell?

“Sweetheart.” Sirius looks gutted, and you don’t know why he’s using that tone with you. You’re not the one who cracked your head open. “You should have called me, lovely. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“You were at work.” It’s simple, a fact. “Anyway, there was nothing you could do.”

Sirius takes your face in his hand, and it feels like he’s touching someone else, your skin waxy and foreign. “I would have left work to be there with you. It sounds like it was an awful thing to have to deal with by yourself.”

You guess it probably was. You’d had to put pressure on Macy’s head until the paramedics got there, kneeling in a pool of her blood as it seeped from the wound and time seemed sluggish and unreal. You know, objectively, that it was one of the more awful experiences you’ve had, and you’ll probably be dreaming about it for years. But it doesn’t feel that way right now. Nothing feels any sort of way right now.

“How long were you at the hospital for?” Sirius asks. “When did this happen?”

You don’t know. It was…the sun was still out, when she fell on the sidewalk. But the length of time you were sitting there with her, or the time in the ambulance, is all stretched out and murky. You know you got back to your car and drove home, but you can’t recall any part of the journey. You leave that last bit out of what you tell Sirius, but his frown deepens anyway.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? Here, let me take those off.”

He bends over, untying your shoes for you, and you watch as dried blood flakes off the laces where they bend unwillingly. Sirius doesn’t comment on it, slipping your shoes off one after the other and setting them by the door. His hands are delicate about your shoulders as he steers you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. You’re distantly cognizant of him moving about, opening and closing a cabinet and turning on the faucet, but it’s not until he crouches in front of you that he enters your awareness again.

Sirius takes your ankle in his hand and begins just below your knee, rubbing a warm, wet washcloth over the blood staining the skin there. He’s talking, still, in a low voice, but the murmurings don’t seem to have much importance other than placation. It’s more ambient noise than anything else. He works the washcloth down your leg, the rough fabric scrubbing gently at your skin. He presses harder in some areas where the blood is stubborn, and that’s where you feel it most. The beginnings of real sensation, connected to you rather than some shell that you occupy and that moves when you tell it to.

By the time he starts on your other leg you feel as though you’ve been thinking through a dense fog that’s beginning to lift; you’re able to feel the warm droplets of water running down your calf and make out some of the quiet words spewing from your boyfriend’s mouth. He finishes with your legs, and you hold up your hands, now trembling again. The blood there is cracked around the lines of your palm, and Sirius takes your hand in his, wiping it away gently. You can feel the cloth even more there, where it brushes against your sensitive fingertips. You can tell now that Sirius is telling you stories, various anecdotes of when he or his friends had gotten hurt.

“It’s scary to see someone you care about in pain,” he goes on at a murmur. “Even when you know they’ll be alright, I think it hurts worse than when we’re in pain ourselves.”

A tear dribbles down your cheek, landing with a splat on your thigh, and Sirius looks up, surprise morphing into heartbreak when he sees your expression. He drops the cloth on the floor, rising to an awkward height so that you can put your head against his shoulder when his arms come around you.

“I know, baby.” His voice sounds almost fragile, as though he’s feeling this as acutely as you are. “I’m so sorry you went through that. Are you feeling a little more like yourself?”

“Yeah,” you sniff. Your tears are still coming slowly, and you know the majority of your panic is still buried somewhere safe inside of you, but this is enough for now. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Sirius pulls back, thumbing away your tears as he studies your face, eyebrows set close together in concern. “I think you’re in shock, sweetness. It makes sense, that’s a lot for anyone to have to see.” He strokes at your hairline, just beside your eye. “Do you want to talk about it? If not, we don’t have to. We can just watch a movie or something, try to forget about it for tonight.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the voice inside yourself that usually tells you who you are, what you want. It’s still quiet, but you think that’s answer enough. “The second one, please. I don’t think I’m ready to think about it yet.”

“Alright, whatever you want.” Sirius nods, rising and offering you his hands to help pull you up. You take them, and he presses a kiss to your forehead as soon as you’re standing. “Whenever you feel ready, lovely, I’ll be here.”

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bi-writes · 2 months

Text

bff!roomate!simon has nothing left to lose. and it's time to face the music. (part 11/?)

more bff!roommate!simon

word count: 3.5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, aNGST, mean!simon, toxic!simon, depictions of simon's canon trauma, pet names (luv, sweetheart, kitty), lots of angsty pov shifts, possessive!simon (not healthy), allusions to smut (18+) ⚠️🔞

large blocks of italicized text are flashbacks.

he found a box of tipped-over memories some time ago. at the back of your closet, between the hastily tossed clothes, a box had fallen onto the floor. when he picked it up, pictures fell from it, scattering at the bottom of the closet as he set the box down.

he leaned over, picking up the polaroid pictures.

he had his head down as he walked. there was a sound--as the doors opened, a plethora of cries and happy calling of names surrounded him. families seeing their recruits after the grueling weeks away at basic training.

this was supposed to be reprieve. the chance to see sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, cousins, aunts, uncles--to see the people they loved ever since they had been cut off from the outside world as they learned to build themselves from the ground up.

he didn't know what that felt like. he didn't know what it felt like to look into a crowd for familiar faces. to search for his father and mother in a sea of happy, supportive people--that wasn't something he understood. when other recruits talked about their families, about the partners they had left behind, simon didn't really understand.

this was his escape. this was the place that felt normal. duty, subservience, the act of giving off control and finding it in the job you were given to do--it had been comforting.

but now he was back on the outside. now he was back to remembering how dysfunctional and unusual and lonely everything had been before this. so he kept his gaze on his feet as he pushed through the laughing crowd of warm smiles and excited voices. he just needed to get out of here. he just needed to keep walking, to not think about--

"simon?"

his head shot up at the call of his name, and he turned to look to the left of him. a few people shuffled out of his way, and then he blinked when he saw someone waving at him from just a few paces away.

it was you. you had your purse slung over one shoulder, in a simple pair of light blue denim and a soft cardigan. he swallowed, closing his eyes, squeezing them shut before opening them again to look at you, to make sure that you were still there.

"simon--" you pushed through a few other people before you came in arm's reach, and simon didn't hesitate. a rough hand wrapped around your elbow, tugging you forward, and you squeaked when he forced you into his chest. your eyes closed when his other hand dropped the backpack he was holding, and you let out a shaky sigh when that hand wrapping into the back of your head, into your hair, crushing you in a warm hug.

you tucked yourself into his chest, your cheek pressed to the fabric of his uniform, and you sniffled as your hands found purchase on his sides and squeezed him close.

"simon--"

"luv..." he breathed, and you pulled back, standing on your toes, your lips kissing his cheek as your arms came around his neck. simon felt his knees almost give out when you pressed your forehead to his, your hands sliding down to cup his cheeks. "i...i-i...missed you--"

"missed you more," you whispered, wiping a shaking hand along your face to rid the happy tears you shed. "'m so proud of you, simon."

"you came."

"wouldn't have missed this for anything."

one of your hands fell, tracing the lapels of his new uniform. he looked so good in it. he looked older. he looked so much better--stronger, more confident, eyes not so dark and dull and sad. he had put on some weight, and there was something so nice about feeling the solidity of him.

"hey! smile!"

both of you turned to see someone holding up a camera, waving at the two of you. you shuffled, breaking into a big smile, and you posed for the picture. you cradled simon's face to your own, pressing your lips to his cheek, and you giggled after you heard the click of your picture being taken. you were handed the photo back, and you shook it gently to develop the ink.

and there it was--fuck, it was so obvious. you were looking at the camera as you kissed simon's face, a happy shine in your eyes, bright and easy and soft.

he couldn't be bothered to look at the camera. all he could focus on was you.

he didn't really know what he had been waiting for. it would never be a good time, a right time. he had been at death's door more than once, and every time he was there, all he thought about was how much he regretted not knowing more about you, not taking more, not giving more.

in his room, alone, in the barracks of a place he no longer saw as he home, he thought about you there, too. thought about your soft skin and your pretty curves, the weight of your breast in one hand, how solid and grounded and real the space between your thighs was. he thought about how difficult it had been to find the meaning and the love that sex could be with another person, and how easy it had been to sink back into that place with you.

he didn't see pain behind his eyes when he tasted you. he didn't feel the burn and sear of some other memory when he thought about spreading you wide, giving you his burly fingers, fucking you senseless with his trigger-happy hands. those memories were erased. they were numb and far away, and he dreamed about saying thank you for making him feel just a little more human again.

maybe that was why he hadn't really fucked you yet. maybe that was why he hesitated every time he thought about sinking his cock inside of you, taking that soft, drooling pussy and making it his own, really his own--maybe he thought twice before getting that far because deep down he knew this would happen.

he knew he would lose you.

it was spring. flowers getting their color. soft sounds in the trees. sunlight warm against your face. it was too bad it was doing nothing to soothe the ice in your chest.

it was so heavy. it hurt, it was painful. in a matter of weeks, more like days, you had lost every person you had ever loved.

your second mother. the warmth of a brother. the kiss of loving sister, the soft hands of a nephew. the truth of it, the reality of it, was that they were your family. not by blood--chosen, because you chose them, and they chose you.

a friend. the love of your life, you thought. no, you knew, because the depth of what he left in you was too deep to be anything else.

it felt trivial to call him your soulmate. it felt stupid to call him your lover. it was more than that, you knew it was. now that you thought again, it didn't even feel right calling him the love of your life--what the fuck do you call the better part of what you are?

what do you call the thing that has always been the same? what do you call the constant, the unchanging variable, the thing that makes your sky blue? what the fuck do you call the thing that pumps your blood and kisses your scars and always makes it back home?

every terrifying goodbye. all the letters sent back and forth, the late night phone calls, the whispers of i love you that you knew were more--why didn't you just tell him?

why didn't you just tell him that this was what you felt? why didn't you just confess every suffocating feeling?

because now he will never know. he will never come home, he will never hear you tell him you miss him--fuck, did he think about me? when they killed him too, did he have time to think about me? did he think about tommy? did he think about what would happen to me, did he wish he could say something, too, do you think he had his own regrets?

because it was real, wasn't it? he loved you. he had to have loved you, because you loved him, you knew this, and you still do, and it hurts, and i want to die, too. and you hate him now, because he did this to you, and there was nothing you could do.

your hand shook as you shoved the key into the lock. you turned it, opening the door and closing it behind you.

you hadn't been inside of your apartment in a long while. it wasn't safe, they told you. but now, it didn't really matter to you. dead, alive, you weren't either anymore. you were somewhere in between, and you would rather be one of them then none of them.

and dead felt like it might be relief, too.

it was dark. every surface with a thin layer of dust, the curtains drawn, locking out the spring. it was still winter inside of here, a moment in time that you wished so badly you could go back to. when they were here. when he was here.

you blinked when you saw the sway of the curtains. a soft ray of sunlight peeked through them as they moved with the wind, and you swallowed hard.

you had left it closed.

when the fabric pulled back, you held up a hand to block the glare of the sun. you stepped backwards, back into the dark, and when the curtains fell again, you rubbed your eyes before opening them to focus.

no. that wasn't right. a figure stood there now, standing tall and imposing. big shoulders, a solid chest, the gait of someone you once knew, but not anymore.

a ghost. i'm seeing a fucking ghost.

you stepped forward, opening your mouth to speak. for a second, you could pretend it was someone else, but as your gaze adjusted back to the dark, you met those eyes. eyes, his eyes--you would recognize them anywhere.

he wore a mask, but he couldn't hide from you. not anywhere.

"si...simon?"

fuck, you couldn't stop the break in your voice. the bloom of something horridly happy in your chest--because your family was gone, but fuck, fuck, fuck--

sobbing. you were sobbing, dropping your things, running because even a second longer without him, and you would lose your mind. you shoved the table out of your way, kicked the chairs, you heard something crash onto the floor and shatter--but then your arms were around him.

he called your name, but you didn't respond. you cried out again, and when you tried to jump, he couldn't catch you. he fell to his knees with you in his arms, weak from injuries you couldn't see, but he didn't complain about the pain. he held you just as tight, cradling you to his chest, and you both fell to the floor in a messy, tearful embrace of two people who couldn't believe their blood-soaked luck.

because you had lost your family, but hadn't lost each other, and even though it sickened you to feel happy, you did, and you couldn't care yet about what that might mean.

"i thought...i thought they..." you had never heard him this way. his voice so low, so hoarse, and you knew what had happened. he had accepted your undoing, just as you had, and he was struggling with the mix of nauseous happiness and deep-set guilt. "thought they had you, luv--"

you shook your head, cupping his head, smoothing your fingers over the mask. you did not ask about it, not about why he covered his face or what he had gone through to get back here.

they can't kill him. he's mine, they can't take him from me, they can't, they can't, they can't--

you didn't remember how long you laid there. how long you spent with him draped over you, his head buried in your neck, the sounds of his shaking breaths.

you love him. i love him. he loves me. but you don't tell him that. and he does not tell you.

he lied. over and over again, he lied to you, and you never batted an eye. and there had been moments when he knew that you knew--you would look him over, knowing what you were hearing was not the truth, and yet you stayed.

accepted the keys to a shared apartment. wrapped his wounds after he had let go of the anger, sinking it into soft, supple flesh of revenge that had tasted so good. when you washed his clothes and saw the water run red, you did not blink twice. all he remembered was you nodding to his pants and telling him that cold water and peroxide would do the trick.

bonded. that was what you were. bonded, through trauma and death and blood and the look in your eyes when he ate your pretty pussy. the naked, glorious truth of you, it was cruel, and now you weren't here.

an empty room. pictures he couldn't bring himself to burn. a mug he won't throw away, the hairbrush still rattling in the bathroom drawer, the shoes you left in the hallway. you were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and he was fucking sick.

he ached. he hated; hated what, he didn't know, but he hated something, and he wanted to tear it apart. there was someone he loved in another place, and he needed to bring her home.

she needed to come back to where she belonged. needed to come home. needed to lay on his bed and listen to him apologize, and he needed to fucking have her.

he was going to bring you home. whether you liked it or not, whether you believed what he said, whether or not you would forgive him, you were coming home, you were coming home, you were going to fucking come home.

he waited for you. you could see him from down the street, sitting there on the steps, elbows resting on his knees. you stopped walking, skidding to a halt, and you adjusted your jacket as you turned to look around the street.

it was empty. and you were just desperate to get back to your apartment. you took a shaky breath before moving again, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

you tried to walk past him. tried to sidestep him as you walked up the steps--but that was stupid. he reached over and grabbed ahold of your shin, holding you back, and you huffed as you gripped the stair railing for balance.

"let go."

the hairs on the back of your neck stood tall when you heard the low chuckle, and then--"no."

you kicked his hand off, turning to face him, looking down at him.

"how did you find me?"

"not a fuckin' corner of the world y'can go without me findin' you, kitty."

"what did i say about calling me that?"

he shrugged. "dunno."

you gritted your teeth, "get the fuck out of here, simon. i won't ask you again."

you were forced backwards when he stood up, to his full height, and although he was a step or two below you, it only made you at eye-level with him. you glared nonetheless, trying not to let his size intimidate you.

"i don't want to see you. ever again. leave--"

"no," simon muttered, and he narrowed his eyes under the mask. "not goin' anywhere, kitty. i came to get you."

"i'm not going anywhere with you," you spat. "fuck you."

you blinked when all you saw was the crinkle of his eyes, the tell-tale sign of a smile. your heart squeezed a little at the sight of it. it was unsettling. it didn't make sense.

"i told you--not ready for that," he said lowly. "now go get your things. we're leaving."

you leaned in, shaking your head. "i'm not going anywhere with you, simon," you repeated. "leave. get out of here. i...i don't want anything to do with you, i--"

"liar--" he snapped. you jerked back at that, and before you could respond, he reached up and cupped the expanse of your throat with the meat of his hand. you gripped his wrist to relieve the pressure, but it was no use. simon had an iron grip on you, and he pulled you closer, the front of your lips pressed to the mouth of his mask. "you're lyin'. it's olright, sweetheart."

"simon--"

"no, you listen t'me," he growled, and your lips trembled. you couldn't decipher the feelings you were having. fear, uneasiness, arousal--it was all at once, and it confused you. "y'didn't let me fuckin' talk before, but you will now."

you whimpered, clawing as his gloved hand, but he clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"made a mistake, didn't i?" he hummed. "wrecked the only good thing i ever had, yeah? 'cause i'm a right bastard, kitty, but you knew that, hmmm?" he smoothed a rough thumb over your bottom lip, and you spat, but this only made the crinkles around his eyes grow. his smile, fuck you. "shagging girls i don'even know, fuckin' them, 'cause i was angry--" he tsked, shaking his head, "dunno wot i am...wot i was thinking. was just...so fuckin' angry."

"fuck you!" you breathed, your eyes watering. "i hate you."

"y'don't, luv," he whispered. "y'don't hate me, and that's what bloody kills you, yeah? y'never could. not after everything."

your lips trembled, and your face scrunched up in pain as you started to cry.

"it's not fair, simon," you gasped. "i-it's not fair. what did i do wrong? what did i do?"

maybe that was the cruelest part of this. simon had been the one to make a mistake, but somehow it was supposed to be your fault?

simon had let you go for too long--you were thinking, and he couldn't have that. you were thinking too much, letting your mind fester and spill over and make a mess of what really was the truth.

you just needed to come home. that was all.

"nothin'," he murmured. "did nothin' wrong." he pressed the face of his mask to yours again, harder this time, a kiss that took your breath away. "could never do anythin' wrong, kitty. somethin' wrong with me, th's all."

"i-i can't--" you sobbed. "i-i can't do this--"

"'m not leaving without you," simon growled. he reached behind with his other hand and gripped your hair roughly, shaking you, biting against your mouth. "not fucking leaving, you understand me? i will follow you wherever you go."

you cried, and all he did was hiss, shaking his head.

"simon--"

"you could run all you want, kitty, but i will fuckin' come for you--" he cupped your face with both hands, making you look at him. there was something in his eyes. something insane, something unhinged, and you wanted to be afraid, but simon would never be able to scare you, not really. you were shaking, tasting the saltiness of your tears, but you stared right back at him. "y'can even die, kitty..." your eyes fluttered shut, and his breath was warm. "i'll crawl into your fuckin' grave and pull y'out. n'if i can't get you then, i'll find y'in every other life y'live--" your mouth fell open, slack-jawed and wide open, just like always, just like he knew you would be, "--i'll follow y'there, and i'll bring y'back. bring y'home."

when you opened your eyes, he was still staring down at you, and your gaze found his immediately. maybe simon wasn't the other part of you. maybe he wasn't the love of your life; maybe he wasn't what made the stars align or the pieces match up.

maybe this was fuel to fire. a cup that never goes empty, one that simply overflows. the igniter to something that neither of you would be able to control.

but when the fuck did you ever care about control? maybe you just needed to let go.

if he took from you, then you should take from him. steal and take and bite and growl and make him bleed, because that was what he did to you, and you wanted it, too, i want him to beg, too, want him to lose his fucking mind the way i do, because it isn't fair, and i deserve it, and it is what i'm owed.

for the first time in your entire life, you saw the same in his eyes that you knew was inside of your own. something hungry and territorial and fucking angry--and i am sick and tired of burying it.

simon was yours. yours. and you were going to fuck him until he understood that, too.

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