#//always remember to keep them in your thoughts and prayers

[kusanagi-haruno]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ NIGHTS LIKE THIS !

ఌ sum: Ever since Gojo saw you, he’s been nothing but love struck. And as time passes, you find yourself feeling the same.

wc: 3.2K

Warnings: Fem!reader, Gojo is basically obsessed with you, Uni AU, Modern AU, Eventual smut, Porn w plot, Making out, Oral (F receiving), P in V sex, Light choking, Praising, Pet names: Pretty girl, beautiful, sweet girl.

a/n: originally this was written for my friend with a different character, but I decided to change it to gojo so I can post it here for you lovelies :)!!!!

Lovestruck Gojo! who forgot how to breathe when he first saw you enter the lecture the first day. His eyes raked over your form, taking in every detail from when you first entered through the door to when you sat down. He bit the inside of his cheek when he saw you sit a few rows in front of him. He ignored the stinging pain that followed after biting the wall of his mouth, too entranced by you to even care.

Lovestruck Gojo! who grew more frustrated as the weeks passed. He cursed his inability to go up to you and just talk. The way your lips seemed to shine every time he looked at them, how the outsides of your eyes creased when you smiled just made him so nervous.

Lovestruck Gojo! who swears his prayers finally have been answered when you two were paired up for a project. He sat up a little bit straighter when the professor announced your name next to his. He swore the sun shined a little bit brighter that day.

Lovestruck Gojo! who’s heart raced when he noticed you make your way towards him at the end of the lecture. He pretended not to notice you, which was hard because he knows he’s noticed just about everything you had to offer. His heart raced when he heard your voice speak to him, in his head was a million thoughts scrambling through his mind.

Lovestruck Gojo! who’s voice cracked when he spoke his first words to you. “I’m sorry?” He questioned when he realized he didn’t respond to you. “Want to exchange contacts? It’ll be easier to keep in touch this way,” he heard you ask. It felt like his breath got caught in his throat, the softness, the perfection of your voice paralyzed him. He knew he had to answer this time, he had to make a good first impression.

Lovestruck Gojo! who hurriedly agreed to give you his number. After that brief conversation, he watched you walk away. He swore his heart would jump out of his chest any moment now, however he wouldn’t even be mad, not when the reason his heart was beating was because of you.

Lovestruck Gojo! who swears he’s on cloud nine. Ever since the both of you have been partnered up for that project, the both of you have slowly gotten closer and closer. Everyday he would wake up with one thought in his mind, you. When he got ready for your guys’ daily meet up to slowly progress on the project, he made sure to look his very best. He always double checked to see if his hair was laid correctly, that his teeth looked white as ever, and that his clothes smelled perfect.

Lovestruck Gojo! who silently congratulated himself every time he made you laugh. Sometimes you would catch him staring, but you found yourself not being bothered by it one bit. You couldn’t deny that you undoubtedly caught feelings for the man in front of you during the time you guys spent together. You found yourself blushing everytime he remembered your coffee order, even more so when he paid for it everytime.

Lovestruck Gojo! who felt like his world was destroyed when the project came to an end. He should’ve felt any form of happiness, but he couldn’t. Not when he had no excuse to see you anymore. When he rolled over in his bed, he felt like sinking into it just to never come out again.

Lovestruck Gojo! who groaned when he heard his phone buzz signaling he got a notification. He silently debated on ignoring it, almost positive it was a random notification from a random app. Although he twisted and turned, soon facing his phone on the nightstand beside him with a small hope that maybe, maybe, you texted him.

Lovestruck Gojo! whose heart went from 0 to 100 the moment he saw it was you who texted him. He immediately opened the notification and read your text, he smiled so hard that it hurt. “Party tn, wanna come? We can let loose a little as a little celebration for finishing that stupid project :).”

Lovestruck Gojo! who never got ready so fast in his life before. He made sure to reply to your text before doing so, he’d rather die than have you think he purposefully ignored you.

Lovestruck Gojo! who had no idea just how fast your heart was beating. Your friends pressured you into texting him, knowing just how much you liked him. You didn’t know whether to curse them out or hug them, but the thought diminished as soon as you saw he replied to you, agreeing to come.

Lovestruck Gojo! who felt the same as he first did the very first second he saw you when he saw you tonight, in front of him. He clenched his fists when he took note just how many other men were in the same building as you, almost hard enough to draw blood. All negative feelings vanished when he locked eyes with you, and instead new ones blossomed. He took note how you styled your hair, and wore a little more makeup than usual. His eyebrows furrowed when he thought that you wanted to look good for somebody else.

Lovestruck Gojo! who slowly lost himself in your eyes. The both of you agreed to dance with each other, mirroring each other's smiles. He lost track of time, not that he cared though. The only thing he cared about was the feeling of your arms around his neck, your eyes looking right at him and fuck the glossiness of your lips. Everything about you was perfect, and he wanted to kill every man who looked at you tonight.

Lovestruck Gojo! whose body felt like it was on fire right now. He doesn’t know who leaned first, but he couldn’t give a fuck about that. Not when the feeling over your soft, plushy lips against his sent his mind, body, and soul to heaven and back. He could only focus on the small, shaky breaths that escaped your lips when he sucked particularly hard, and fuck he loved it more than he should. What’s new though, he always loved you way more than the normal amount.

Lovestruck Gojo! who almost whined when you finally broke the kiss, but what you said after instantly made up for it. “Wanna get out of here?” He didn’t know how a person could be so fucking adorable, but you break his expectations everyday.

His silently nodded, little pants escape his lips as you take his hand and lead him out of the party.

As soon as the two of you barely make it to your dorm, you’re pushed up against the door. You let out a gasp when your head meets the firmness of your dorm door, but quickly the pain turns into pleasure when he takes the opportunity of your opened mouth to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You feel his hands touch every part of your body, trying to memorize every part of you. You hear him chuckle against your lips when you let out soft whines when he touches a particularly sensitive spot, and fuck did that make you wet.

“Such a fucking pretty girl,” he mumbles into your mouth. You let out a whine at the praise, your hands resting against his firm chest. His hands rest on your hips, squeezing them whenever he finds himself feeling too much of everything.

He often found himself denying that you were real, but you were here, under his touch, kissing him. Him, of all people. If he told his past self that he’d up like this with you, his past self would laugh, or faint, either or.

You find yourself slowly backing up until you hit your bed with him looming over you. The both of you take a second to just look at each other, a million things spoken with just one look. Both of your eyes gazing at each other full of lust and love before leaning back into each other with more passion than before.

“G-Gojo..fuck,” you moan out as you arch your back. The man on top of you started to slowly roll his hips against yours, the feeling making pleasure flow through the entirety of your body, no area left untouched. “I- ah..I know baby I know”, he coos, feeling the same if not more.

You feel his big hands tug at your shirt, a silent demand to take it off, and you do with no hesitation. Gojo is awestruck, absolutely entranced with how beautiful you look. Every part of you is absolutely perfect, fuck he feels like the luckiest man alive right now.

He detaches his lips from yours, a small string of spit hangs between the both of you. His hands move from the side of your face to your chest, then slowly down to your hips before resting on the side of your stomach. He leaves soft kisses against different areas of your stomach as his hands roam your torso, silently worshiping your body.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he praises, his thumbs stroking the sides of your torso. You let out soft airy breaths in response to his delicate touches, each kiss igniting a small flame in the same area he kissed you.

When he finally makes your way down to your waist, he looks up at you, silently asking for permission. You give him a slight nod and lift your hips to help him remove your pants. Once Gojo throws your bottoms on the floor somewhere you start to get flustered. Almost your whole body is exposed while he’s still fully dressed. Guess you’re going to have to change that.

You softly call out his name, to which he answers with a small hum. His face is near your clothed pussy, so when he hummed you felt every little bit of it. You subconsciously opened your legs to the feeling of pleasure that sparked through your body as, and let out a squeak when he places a small kiss to your clothed pussy.

“Gojo..” you whine. “Y-you’re still dressed,” you pant out. You feel him chuckle from in between your legs and you let out another small moan in response. “Aww, is my poor baby embarrassed?” He mocks, a small smirk gracing his features.

“N-no..” You mumble with a small pout, but the both of you know otherwise. Gojo quickly rids of his shirt and leans down to give you a quick peck before moving down to your pussy.

You feel your panties are wet, and he sees that they’re wet, and you should feel embarrassed but you don’t.

Gojo tears off your panties and before you can complain, he licks a long stripe from your pussy to your clit. You buck up in response to which his hands fly to your hips to hold them down. After that he makes quick work of making a mess out of you.

You release moan after moan when he repeatedly laps your clit, showing no sign of stopping. The lewd noises of your wet squelches and his sucking fill the room, along with your whimpers and his groans.

As he eats you out the small praises he drunkenly says are lost on your ears. The only thing you can focus on, can even comprehend, was the feeling of his tongue against your wet pussy and oh, the finger he slipped in your poor little pussy.

“Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well,” he praises when he sees you take his finger with no struggle. When your legs twitch he knows you're close and speeds up the thrusting of his one finger and the speed of his tongue against your clit.

“Ah, ah fuck! G-Gojo,” you scream out, so close, just one more second and…

You let out a sob when you feel his finger quickly slip out of your sobbing pussy, and the feeling of his tongue no longer working on your clit. You could almost cry at the lost orgasm.

“Y-you’re so mean,” you sniffle out. “Can’t have you cummin yet baby,” he says shakily. His breaths come out in pants, his thoughts all over the place but the only constant is you.

He leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh, sucking on them every few kisses. He mumbles soft praises in between, “You're so beautiful, my pretty girl, doing so well.”

When he decides your thighs are littered with enough marks, he moves up your body coming face to face with you. His two fingers prod at your mouth, silently telling you to open your mouth. You obey, your tongue swirling around his thick fingers, tears threatening to spill your eyes.

While you’re working on his two fingers he took the liberty of slowly rolling his hips against yours. He kisses your cheek when he removes his fingers from your mouth, and slowly trails them along your body till he reaches your pussy.

The both of your lips connect when he slowly drags his fingers lightly down your body till they stop at your entrance. He coaxes you to breathe, staring into your eyes as he teases your clit.

He starts to pump his fingers into you, your juices coating his fingers. As you start to loosen up even more he slides another finger into you. The feeling of his thick hands inside of you make you feel impossibly stretched. It feels so good, everything feels so good fuck.

As you near your orgasm you pull him close to you, whimpering and panting wanting, needing to finish as his fingers ruthlessly attack the spongy spot inside your pussy.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whine fucked out on his fingers. “Please Gojo let me cum,” you lean in to kiss him but he pulls back, teasing you. He pretends to think, already knowing the answer. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he growls out. Matching his thrusts with his words. “Guess I should let you,” he finishes and kisses you.

His fingers speed up making your legs twitch as you reach your climax. Your moans are beautiful against his ears, he can never get enough of you. You’re so perfect.

You call out his name when you cum, your juices spraying out and coating his fingers. He slows down his tempo to help you ride through your orgasm, swallowing your cute little pants and whines.

“How’s my sweet girl doing?” He coos, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to caress the side of your face. You lean into his touch, still blissfully fucked out on his fingers. You let out a hum to signal you’re still with him.

Red coats your cheeks when you hear him say that you taste so fucking good. You use both of your hands to grasp on his forearm that’s attached to the hand on your cheek. “Mm Gojo,” you softly whisper out his name, not completely sure what the real goal was. You just wanted to say his name.

“I know baby, I know,” he quickly places a peck on your forehead before leaning back and quickly undoing his belt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers. Still in your fucked out state you don’t notice just how big he is.

He makes quick work of his boxers, throwing them in a random corner of the room before leaning down over you. “Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asks, and you could almost laugh if you weren’t out of breath. Of course you were okay with this, more than okay. “Yesyesyes, just let me feel you. I want you. Please,” you breathe out, looking straight into his eyes.

And something in him just snaps.

Hearing you beg for him, how utterly desperate you sound, it’s too much, you’re too much. His feelings for you are too much. He drags you to the end of the bed and places your legs over his shoulders. He shoves your full length inside of your pussy and you cry out. He’s so big…

You barely have time to adjust before he pulls back out and slams back into you. You grip onto his back, nails scratching down the entirety of his backside. “‘Ts too much- Ah!” moan after moan fills the room, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other is basically drowned out by both your cries and his grunts.

The ruthless pace he sets makes your tits bounce against his chest, and he doesn’t fail to notice. His mouth greedily sucks on one while his hand fondles the other. “Oh my god! You feel so good ah..,” the sound of your cute little moans do downright dirty things to him. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

When he decides your right boob is marked up enough he moves to your other, spitting on it before continuing his same merciless treatment on it.

You feel like your soul left your body when one of his hands lifted your hips a bit so he could thrust deeper into you. His cock is filling every single bit of you, and your pussy is greedily sucking him in.

“Ngh..Gojo feels so good. Your cock is filling me ah! so well,” you chant out his name like a prayer.

Once he declares both of your pretty tits taken care of he wraps a hand around your throat and makes eye contact with you. “Beautiful girl..taking me so well. Perfect, you’re fucking perfect,” he praises against your lips.

Both of you are near, you can feel his cock twitching inside of you and Gojo can feel how your pretty pussy is gripping him even more tight. It’s basically calling out his name, pulsing around his dick like a needy little thing.

“Gojo!” You scream out when you cum for the second time that night. Just a few more thrusts and he releases inside of you as well, spilling his warm cum inside of you.

His pace slows as he rides out his orgasm while also helping you ride out yours. “So perfect..did so well, pretty girl, did so fucking good,” he whispers. He continues to let out sweet praises as both of you continue to catch your breath.

You weren’t sure when you closed your eyes, but when you reopened them you were now in the bath against a firm, hard chest. You close your eyes again, relishing the feeling of being relaxed against him.

Gojo on the other hand is still in awe, he can’t, will not believe that you’re here with him. Leaning against him like this has been routine for years, like you guys have been together.

He rests his cheek against your head and you softly hum. His hands gently rub incoherent shapes against your hips as the two of you seek comfort against the both of each other.

Lovestruck!Gojo who kisses the crown of your head as his arms snake around your waist. His hold tightens, and you let it.

Lovestruck! Gojo who promises himself to keep holding you like this now, and in the future. Who promises to never let you go, and you’d never dream of letting him.

[sublimitymp3]

Pray for me

Pairing ✵ Gwayne Hightower/Niece!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, littleee bit of crybaby!reader, smut (frottage, oral F receiving, fingering, and slight dacryphilia), and religious themes

Word count ✵ 2.5k

Summary ✵ Your uncle Gwayne arrives from Oldtown at your brother's call, and pays a visit to you while you pray.

"Your mother told me I might find you in here,"

You whipped your head around to see the source of the voice that disturbed you from your prayers and saw none other than your uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower. He had finally come from Oldtown, answering your brother's call for assistance in his war.

"It is the seventh day, I thought I ought to pray. Especially now..." You explain with a small smile. You stood from your kneeling position on the cold, unyielding sept floor so you may look upon him. Your face twists into a cringe as you feel the bruises from kneeling for so long begin to form on your knees, and you are sure they'll be an ugly purple color later. Relaxing your features, you finally turn on your heel to face your uncle. It has been so long since you've seen him.

Too long.

He's as handsome as you remember, with his auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and the faint freckles that dust his face. How you wished you could map kisses along those freckles, connecting them with a trail of where your lips had been. But your faith and virtue prevent you from giving in to the desire. Besides, you are sure that if he ever found out you ever thought such things, he'd look at you with such revulsion that you'd crumble to the floor in shame.

He steps closer to you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly. "You have your mother's beauty, but your father's features," he hums, tweaking your nose playfully before wrapping you in a firm hug. It is not lost on you the slight curt tone his voice took on at the mention of your late father, but you dismiss it.

"And tell me, how have you been fairing during these trying times, hm? Don't tell me you hole yourself up in this sept all day." He teases, bringing a feeling of embarrassment over you for he had guessed correctly. Recently, you do spend the brunt of your days at the sept, praying to almost every facet of the Seven for mercy, strength, wisdom, and safety. Today, you were praying at the statue of the Mother, and after you lit a candle for her altar, you prayed for mercy and protection for your family members. It is one of the few things that brings you comfort nowadays, your faith in the Seven who are One.

"Well, there isn't much I can do," you shrug, letting a small frown tug at your lips. "It's not like I can sit in on a council meeting, and mother refuses to let me on my dragon. She seems perfectly content in keeping me idle and useless," you remark with a tone of annoyance, one that draws a low laugh from your uncle.

"Your mother means well, sweet niece. You're better suited here, getting favor from the gods as opposed to being in the midst of battle. Believe me, it is a bloody, nasty affair, and you are far too delicate to join in," he grips your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, keeping your lilac gaze trained on his ocean-blue eyes.

You cannot even think of a response to his dismissing words, as you are too busy trying to push away the familiar ache you get between your thighs. It always comes at the most inconvenient of times, like when you watch the men in the training yard move, sweaty and shirtless, or when you spy on your brother coupling with a serving girl. All you know is that it persists for ages, and no amount of praying stops it.

But you can only try.

"S-Shall we pray, uncle? So that the Mother may grant us safety, of course," you propose, shifting nervously on your feet. Perhaps it is the light flush that has appeared on your face, or how you try to discreetly press your thighs together for some form of relief, but Gwayne knows. He always knows.

To save yourself some embarrassment, you resume your kneeling position before the statue and altar of the Mother, clasping your hands together in the standard praying position. You expect your uncle to kneel beside you, or just leave the sept all together, so you are quite surprised when you feel him loom behind you.

His firm chest swiftly presses against your back, and his larger and calloused hands come to rest over your softer ones, and you find yourself trapped in this embrace. Whether it is to your delight or misfortune, you cannot decide. You squeeze your eyes shut and silently beg for forgiveness for the unseemly thoughts that run through your brain at his actions. 'Who thinks such perverse things in a holy place?' you think, mentally chastising yourself.

"Well, go on then, sweet one. Pray for me," he whispers, and you can feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. Gwayne is enjoying this, enjoying this little game of denial you two play. Of course, it is wrong for him to want to take you in the lewdest positions, to have you scream his name so everyone knows who is fucking you so good, but he has restrained himself all this time. Patience is a great virtue, yes, but he wishes to reap his reward for remaining ever so patient now.

"M-Mother Above, have mercy on us all. I beg you for your protection, and for you to-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as your uncle buries his face into the crook of your neck, and gently nips at the soft skin there. He begins pressing himself against your ass, making your cheeks flush even more.

Noticing your sudden pause, he pulls back to look at your blushing face with a devilish smirk. "Well? Go on, don't mind me," he says before going right back to nipping and sucking at your neck. It is impossible for you to stay concentrated on your prayers as he continues, and you resign to praying in your head as your words fail you.

Your prayers only falter as you feel something hard poking against your backside, prodding and bumping against you relentlessly. Gwayne begins peppering kisses from your neck and to your jawline before tugging your head back gently, and letting his lips brush against yours. He only pauses as you tilt your head a little bit away in reluctance.

"U-Uncle, this is wrong. N-Not here, we cannot do this-"

"Shh, enough with that. It isn't wrong, not in the slightest. It's not wrong, not when you're meant for me. Surely even the gods will understand," he mumbles against the softness of your lips. You feel in that little moment of pause that his are a bit chapped, most likely from days of riding on horseback and camping in the wilderness. But it matters little then.

Once his lips are on yours, you cannot help the cascade of little moans that leaves you. His mouth is overwhelming and easily overpowers your rather inexperienced one, and you feel his hands move from their position over yours. One hand moves to your neck, and the other to your breast, fondling it through your dress as he continues humping you from behind.

You are thankful the sept is empty today. If word of what you do now reached your mother, of the depravity you partake in with her own brother, you're sure she'd have you sent far away to become a septa.

With a final peck to your lips, your uncle stands. He drinks in the sight of you like this; cheeks flushed, hair a bit messy, clothes rumpled, and swollen lips, all from him, of course. He swears then and there he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Up you go, princess," he mumbles, before picking you up with ease and setting you to sit on the edge of the altar. He messily pushes away the candles and various offerings left there to make room for you, and you cringe at the disrespect, disrespect born from lust and hastiness.

The new position allows for you to be relatively level with his face, and he soon hikes your dress up and stands between your parted thighs. As he begins to rub his erection against your clothed cunt, you grab onto his forearms to ground yourself.

His erection rubs against your dampened smallclothes, brushing against your bud and your folds. With each grind of his hips, you feel something like a fire burning through your bones. But with your clothes acting like a barrier, and the slightly awkward angle, it's not enough for you. Even with your unfamiliarity to such actions, you still know it is not enough.

"M-More, more. Uncle, I need more." you whine, pulling him closer by the laces of his breeches, eliciting a sly smirk from him.

"Well well, I never thought I'd see the day where my own niece was begging for me like a whore." he teases, making you frown at the crude and cruel word.

A cruel word indeed, and you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes watering, and your nose instinctively sniffling. Gwayne's smirk falters for a moment as he watches little tears spill from your eyes, but only for a moment.

"Aw, come now sweet girl, don't take offense. It was all in good fun, yes?" he coos to you, and you feel him begin to lick your tears away, catching the salty evidence of your crying on his tongue. "But oh, darling one, how pretty you look when you cry. Are you gonna cry more with what I do to you, little princess?" he asks with a mocking little pout, before kissing back down your neck.

You've always been a bit of a sensitive girl, everyone knows this. The smallest hint of frustration or anger to you, or even words spoken to you all in jest send you easily into tears. What you were not expecting was for them to be met with something other than the typical annoyed shushing you are used to receiving when you begin to cry.

Soon, Gwayne is kneeling before you, and pulling your wet smallclothes down. His lips pepper light kisses along your soft inner thighs, teasing you once more. "So wet...all for me, little princess?" he asks before nudging his nose against your bud, making you jolt with pleasure. He inhales your sweet scent. 'The scent of a wet virgin', he thinks crudely to himself.

You keep yourself propped up with your arms, and you look down at him between your thighs. Both of your legs have been thrown over his shoulders, and the instinct to wiggle your core closer to him grows. With a knowing gaze, Gwayne looks up at you with a smirk, before his tongue darts out and he dives in.

He eats you like a starved man.

His tongue licks stripes along your core, lapping up your arousal hungrily. His mouth works expertly, and all you can do is sit there helplessly and moan. Your little squeals and high-pitched whines sound adorable to him, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations, of course, make you jump again.

"My my, little niece, aren't you quite the sensitive one? Is your cunny as sensitive as your heart, hm?" he teases, as he continues to lick and suckle you. You cannot respond, too incapacitated by the pleasure his mouth brings you. It is nothing like you've ever felt before. Even your pillow or your hands don't feel as good as this.

"U-Uncle, uncle Gwayne, it feels s'good," you practically babble out as the lewd sounds of him slurping against you echoes around the sept. Your hand comes down to grip at his auburn hair, tugging him closer to your cunt. You care not anymore if this depravity is sullying a holy place, or if the gods watch with disapproval. There's always time to repent, after all.

The little pain you yanking his hair brings him makes him groan against your puffy folds, adding only to the stimulation you feel. "Yeah? Feels good? Oh, baby, you have no idea..." he murmurs, leaving you a little confused at his choice of words.

But you soon find out what exactly he means.

His mouth moves to focus only on your sensitive bud, sucking on it gently while he introduces two fingers to your wet folds. His fingers dance along your slit, dragging up and down in a slow, almost torturous manner.

You cry and squirm against him, greedily pushing his face right against your cunt. He heeds your signal, and finally pushes his fingers inside your velvety walls.

The stretch and feeling of something penetrating you are new and utterly foreign, but with the added stimulation his mouth still gives, the uncomfortableness of it all soon washes away to make room for pleasure. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, careful to not hurt you as he works you open.

Once he is sure you are ready, only then does he move his fingers faster. Your thighs squeeze around his head with the intensity of it all, and he has to wrench them back apart. "I can't move if you're trying to block me, sweetling," he chuckles, earning a sheepish "sorry" from you.

As he continues his ministrations, his fingers finally brush against and find that spongy sweet spot hidden up you. He begins to nudge against it with his fingertips, making you gush your arousal all over his face. You've never felt such an intense and yet wonderful feeling in your life, and soon you find it all beginning to build up and crescendo.

His free hand massages and strokes your hips gently, and rubs circles over your belly a little, just to soothe you. He can feel your walls tightening up, and how your thighs tremble and shake around his head. "You can do it, baby, you can do it. Go on, sweet niece," he coos, finally sending you over the edge.

With a loud cry, you tremble and feel such intense pleasure crashing over you like the waves during a tumultuous seastorm. You chant his name, worshipping him as if he were a god.

Once your peak washes over you, you slump against the base of the statue of the Mother. Gwayne promptly stands, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Perhaps I should have you every night instead of wine." he smiles, before thumbing stray tears that rest on your flushed cheeks away.

He wipes his mouth with his forearm, before kissing you once more. You can taste yourself on your tongue. "I have to go now, sweet one. Pray to the gods for me, will you? And when I come back, we can pray together again. Wouldn't you like that?" he grins, cupping your face in his hands.

A knowing smile forms on your kiss-swollen lips as you understand the insinuations of his words. As he rides off to fight your brother's war, you will remain praying in the sept, longing for the day he will return and come to pray with you again.

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[cowboylor]

gold-skinned eager baby

— the only thing that can bring charles down to earth after a race. charles leclerc x fem!reader (18+) oral (f. receiving), soft dom charles, (1) spank.

your sundress is hiked up to your waist before he sinks to his knees.

charles fists the floral pattern in his hand, snaking the other to hastily rub his fingers against you—quickly, without keeping rhythm in mind, anything to keep you whimpering into his neck.

“charles,” you’re saying between his rough kisses. “baby—”

you can't finish any thought when he gets like this. so stoic and eager to have his way with you that you can't help but abandon all words and let him spread your legs however he pleases.

when he finally trails past your navel and he's peering up at you from his knees, you're dry-mouthed and not sure where to put your hands.

“let me taste you,” he orders gruffly, using both hands to keep your dress above your panty line. your head falls back when you feel his breath waft over your clothed core. pressing his mouth against you, he murmurs, “open up for me, mon amour.”

you’re suppressing your moan through bitten lips, resisting the urge to press yourself deeper onto his face but trying to remain considerate.

“you—” you feel your eyelids involuntarily flutter when his nose nudges against your clit. “you don’t have to.”

your body shudders when you feel him chuckle against you, before moving to look you in the eye. you swallow roughly, staring back at his dark eyes that seem more blown out than usual.

“this,” his fingertips hook around the band of your underwear. “is for me.”

it becomes clear. pleasing you is always something charles has been able to control. something that he takes pride in—hearing the noise you make whenever he takes you over the edge is something he'll remember even after he forgets his own name. it's a constant. it can't be taken away by a bad qualifying session. and when would you ever deny him?

he’s quick with it; his calloused hands running up your thighs before gripping them tightly, pulling you against his mouth again. he presses a wet kiss against your swollen bud, murmuring incoherent praises into you until you’re whining and pulling his hair with nowhere to go but the wall behind you.

“charles,” you gasp his name like a prayer. “please.”

he hitches your leg over his shoulder, his mouth continuing to work against your cunt—drawing sloppy, figure eights with the tip of his tongue and glancing up at you for stolen looks at your fucked-out expression.

“right there,” you muse through bitten lips. “you’re good—you’re so good.”

your praise is met with a swift slap to the side of your thigh.

his muffled agreement against your cunt makes you stifle a smile and you have to resist the urge to tell him how good he is again. how good he is at everything he does and especially, how good he is at making you fall apart on his tongue.

“fucking—” he growls between sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. “—soaking.”

you’re mewling, arching against the wall and as he holds your thighs apart. you just about melt when he peers up at you again, eyebrows knitted in frustration from everything else and desire for you. your mouth runs dry. his face is smothered against you before you could remind him how much you love him.

“come for me,” he groans into you—the vibration sending shocks down your spine. “come all over my mouth.”

there are not enough oh god's left in you by the time the heat in your lower stomach coils and you're tugging on his hair harshly. when his nose presses harshly into your clit as he lapping at your core, your thighs begin to shake.

when he pulls your sundress back down, he’s turning you around just as quickly. pressing you against the wall from behind, you gasp as he moves to press himself into you.

“you can take more, can’t you, cherie?” he’s muttering on the cusp of your ear. your eyes roll back because yes, yes—you would take everything he gave you in this moment. “be a good girl and take more for me, yes?”

[lxclerc]

𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭 — 𝐚𝐚𝟐𝟑

summary… the leclerc twins have a reputation of messing with drivers and they’ve got their eyes set on poor alex albon request… yes. pls let me sleep laura faceclaim… char argyrou pairing… alex albon x leclerc!reader

note… because laura graduated and got her driver’s license, i caved @coffeehurricanes

note again… this was surprisingly really fun to write as someone with my own annoying twin brother so it ended up longer than i meant it to which means this will have a part 2

part 1 | part 2

masterlist

yn_leclerc

liked by lorenzotl and others

yn_leclerc serving cunt (as always) (with my 3 fav minions)

view all comments…

username yn casually and unknowingly dropping alex thirst traps

⤷ username she knows she’s feeding the alex girlies

charles_leclerc charles erasure

⤷ yn_leclerc you know youre my most fav (you have the most money)

⤷ charles_leclerc gee thanks

alex_albon i thought you’d put slime on my hair

⤷ yn_leclerc i told you i wouldn’t. i was trying to style your hair 🙄🙄🙄

⤷ alex_albon i have 0 trust in you

⤷ username alex is waiting for that mega prank like the rest of us are

⤷ username i’m fully convinced they’d make alex cry worse than lando

⤷ landonorris it was one time and they ruined my limited edition louis vuitton

⤷ yn_leclerc *accidentally*

⤷ charles_leclerc that i paid for

arthur_leclerc hanging out without me now

⤷ yn_leclerc you were too busy crying abt having no seat for next season 🤗

⤷ username one thing about yn is that she’ll always give her brothers the painful unfiltered truth

username ok but not enough people are talking abt shirtless alex

⤷ username no bc picture me this; shirtless alex, they’re alone and she’s fixing his hair

⤷ username …that does sound oddly intimate

⤷ username yall are tripping. she and arthur did the same thing to oscar and max remember, became super close with them then pranked them when they least expected it

⤷ username yes but also it’s been literal months with alex

⤷ username that just means that the prank will be spectacular

arthur_leclerc

liked by alex_albon and others

arthur_leclerc we are in badly need of your prayers for my twin sister, y/n 😓😞🙏

she’s fine. she’s just so insanely down bad for a man that she can’t say it to his face and needs me to follow them around so she can hang out with him bc she can’t look him in the eye.

view all comments…

leclerc_pascale ay, arthur! J'ai eu peur pour ta sœur ! (you had me scared for your sister!)

⤷ arthur_leclerc Tu devrais avoir peur, maman ! Elle pleure cet homme tous les soirs et il ne sait même pas qu'elle l'aime. (you should be scared, mom! she cries over this man every night and he doesn’t even know she likes him)

⤷ yn_leclerc Taisez-vous ! !! fermez votre bouche ! arrêtez de parler ! (shut up!!! keep your mouth shut! stop talking!)

yn_leclerc you’re dead to me 🙂

yn_leclerc 🖕🖕🖕

yn_leclerc j'aurais dû te manger dans le ventre de ta mère (i should have eaten you in the womb)

yn_leclerc you no longer have a sister

⤷ arthur_leclerc Comment faire autrement pour flirter avec **** ? (how else will you flirt with ****?)

⤷ yn_leclerc TAISEZ-VOUS !!! (SHUT UP!!!)

charles_leclerc a man, huh?

⤷ lorenzotl 🤔🤔🤔🤔

⤷ yn_leclerc no ❤️

⤷ username she gives no fucks 😭

username what are brothers for if not to publicly humiliate you?

username she’s so me coded actually

alex_albon prayers 🙏

⤷ arthur_leclerc thanks, mate. we appreciate it

alexandrasaintmleux and if i speak

⤷ yn_leclerc alexandra malena saint mleux don’t you dare

⤷ charles_leclerc you know too???

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux 🤐����🤐

username she’s like me bless

username for a M*N??

alex_albon

liked by yn_leclerc and others

alex_albon was just trying to buy midnight snacks and then we got lost

view all comments…

yn_leclerc we didn’t get lost bc i had a map 😁

⤷ alex_albon that you didn’t know how to use

⤷ yn_leclerc you weren’t exactly offering your map reading knowledge either, albono

⤷ alex_albon watching you struggle was adorable

⤷ username HE CALLED HER ADORABLE

⤷ username idc what anyone says, i am an ynalex truther

arthur_leclerc i was there too, guys

⤷ yn_leclerc you complained the entire time

⤷ arthur_leclerc because you woke me up to accompany you guys

charles_leclerc why is there a puddle on the floor?

⤷ yn_leclerc alex dropped one of the ten liters big water bottle

⤷ alex_albon lies. y/n dropped it and i had to say i did because she looked like she’s about to start crying.

⤷ charles_leclerc yeah, that sounds like my sister

username alex, don’t trust them or else they’ll make you cry like they did lando

⤷ username we’re looking out for you 😭

georgerussell63 mate, don’t be getting comfortable with those two

⤷ yn_leclerc slander

⤷ arthur_leclerc fake

⤷ georgerussell63 you put a rat in my cereal

⤷ arthur_leclerc *plastic* rat

⤷ georgerussell63 i dropped and cracked my phone

⤷ yn_leclerc sounds like you were being clumsy 💁‍♀️

username george is forever traumatised by that rat

username hear me out 👀

yn_leclerc

liked by alex_albon and others

yn_leclerc thirst trapping bc posting on my close friend that only has him in it isn’t enough apparently

view comments…

username she is so me!!!

username doesn’t matter how famous or pretty you are, you’ll always have an instagram close friends with only him in it

logansargeant i saw your close friends story on ****’s phone a few days ago 🤔🤔

⤷ yn_leclerc why were you looking over his phone you muppet?

⤷ logansargeant i just happened to glance by

⤷ username it’s alex. i’m fucking telling you all. ITS ALEX

⤷ username there’s literally no way it’s not alex

⤷ username it could be oscar

⤷ username bitch since when was o s c a r four letters?

⤷ username jack is four letters. they could be trying to throw us off

⤷ username JUST ACCEPT THAT ITS ALEX

charles_leclerc put a shirt on

⤷ yn_leclerc no ❤️

⤷ charles_leclerc 😡😡😡

⤷ username she’s always so unserious when it comes to charles lmao

arthur_leclerc abt to bleach my eyes brb

⤷ lorenzotl pass it over after

⤷ charles_leclerc pass it here too

⤷ yn_leclerc i could build a castle out of all the bricks they throw at me 💁‍♀️

username those leclerc genes are leclercing

username girl get the hell up 😭😭

charles_leclerc added to his story!

yn_leclerc

liked by alex_albon and others

yn_leclerc in the 1500s off in a foreign land, i was forced to marry another man (he can’t take the hint that i’ve been in love with him for years now)

view all comments…

username whoever he is, please just ask her out already 😭

username girl, i’ve said this before but for the love of god get the hell up!!! you are better than this!

⤷ yn_leclerc i fear i’m not, bff 😔

⤷ username man down 😓

logansargeant i’m telling you rn that he’s as in love with you!

⤷ yn_leclerc did he tell you that 🤨

⤷ logansargeant no but he wouldn’t have put up with for this long if he doesn’t

⤷ yn_leclerc he’s put up with you for an entire year

⤷ logansargeant yes but he’s paid to put up with me

⤷ username this is all the confirmation that i need. it’s alex

username take the goddamn hint already @alex_albon

charles_leclerc WHO IS IT

⤷ lorenzotl it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?

⤷ charles_leclerc okay but whoooooo

⤷ username charles is worse than alex 😭

arthur_leclerc this is getting pathetic. @alex_albon it’s you mate. she likes you, you like her. kiss it out 🙄

⤷ yn_leclerc ARTHURRRRRRRRR

⤷ username arthur 😭😭😭😭😭😭

⤷ charles_leclerc WHAT?

username arthur starting chaos bc hes so tired of listening to y/n mope 😭

username arthur revealing y/n’s crush and publicly embarrassing her (again), charles being shocked not having a single clue and lorenzo not caring as much is peak brother behaviors in ways i cannot explain

username i fucking told yall its alex

landonorris mate dont leave a lady waiting @alex_albon

⤷ oscarpiastri yeahhh

⤷ yn_leclerc both of you shut the hell up before i replace your shampoo with nair

⤷ landonorris how would you even have access to my shampoo-

⤷ oscarpiastri don’t ask mate. she’s done it before to dennis in f3

username paging @alex_albon

username @alex_albon dont fucking fumble a bad bitch like her come on now

alex_albon oh?

⤷ yn_leclerc public announcement that y/n y/m/n leclerc has died in a ditch and cannot be contacted at this hour. or ever.

⤷ alex_albon i know where you live

⤷ yn_leclerc locking the doors and putting salt around the property as we speak

happy birthday and congratulations to my most loved laura. i love and adore you and i can’t wait to watch you be the woman that you’re always been capable of.

[miniwheat77]

Dove. (Keegan x Virgin!Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v sex, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), virgin!reader, violence, blood, injuries, proceed with caution. No minors!

Keegan does not feel like his life is that eventful.

He does the same thing day in and day out it seems, until a group of new recruits happened to join the base he was on. He turned into a big brother pretty much. Guiding them and teaching them everything there was to know about pretty much anything on base. Keegan was pretty smart, he knew his way around a lot of things. Guns, body armor, humvee’s, military training. But one recruit really stuck out to him, because while the others didn’t know too much. She did.

When it came down to it and he was teaching, sometimes she would make comments about it. Clearly knowing her way around a few things and that’s when he took to her.

You.

You might have been new, but you knew a lot. You absorbed a lot of the information you were taught and you liked that Keegan was so able to teach, and more or less willing to. It didn’t take long for you and Keegan to start getting along, the kicker was seeing you out on the field. The way you moved, the way you never missed a shot. Your ability to sense when something didn’t feel right. Your fight to not move forward if something didn’t feel right. It helped create a friendship between you and Keegan. Not only did you get along well on the field, but you had more in common than you originally thought.

This resulted in the two of you getting sent out on missions with each other.

Neither of you had any feelings for each other. It was platonic and you had even opened up to each other about other relationships and problems you’d had. When Keegan found out you were a virgin, he made sure to tell you to keep it to yourself. That guys always had a thing about girls being virgins. He worried about you, worried about you getting taken advantage of especially.

Neither of you had any feelings for each other. Or so you thought.

Keegan has been scared. He’s been terrified before. He’s spent a lot of his adult life in the military, of course he’s had his fair share of scares. But there’s nothing he’s been through that compares to you lunging in front of him and taking a bullet to the stomach for him.

It happens in just a split second and you’re on the ground before he realizes what’s happening, raising his gun to eliminate the threat before zeroing in on you. He’s got tunnel vision.

Everything sounds muffled and he doesn’t know what’s going on around him, he sees blood. A lot of it.

It’s like an explosion went off and all he can hear is ringing and muffled sounds. He doesn’t remember much.

The most he remembers is covering your wound and lifting you up, carrying you to Medivac and praying to god to save you because he can’t live without you. The pilot glances back a couple of times, seeing the way Keegan rocks you back and forth, chanting out pleas and prayers.

On base, he sits outside the infirmary. He’s still covered in your blood but refuses to move from his spot. He’s not going anywhere until he sees you. Until he can touch your skin and still feel its warmth. Until your bright eyes are staring back into his and there’s a smile on your face.

His brain gets the best of him. It travels to dark places unknown to others, unknown to him until now. He thinks about your eyes looking back at him, like marbles. Empty, the life drained out of them. He thinks of your cold, pale skin. Lifeless as you look back at him. Your personality drained from your body until you’re gone, and all that’s left is flesh and skin.

Keegan has never had these thoughts. He’s never talked to god like this before.

“Keegan?” He looks up, hearing his name. “She’s going to be fine. Would you like to see her?” The medic asks. He nods his head, eagerly. Following her inside. He’s scared. If you look like you do in his brain, he’s going to fall apart.

He approaches slow, but can see you. Your skin is paler from your blood loss. But the color is still there. Your chest moves up and down with each breath you take, and that’s when Keegan breaks down. He rushes out of the infirmary, tears streaming down his face. He can’t take this. The medic watches him disappear, wiping his eyes. He’s trying not to make it obvious that he’s crying. But she can tell.

When you wake up later, she’s getting ready to change your bandages.

“Nice to see you awake, Y/N.” She smiles. Your lips raise just slightly. You’re weak and tired. “I’m still here.” You mumble. Your voice is hoarse and cracks when you talk. “Yeah. I think despite YOU being the one shot, you owe Keegan a huge apology.” She chuckles. You look confused. “Poor guy is just torn to pieces over this. I knew you’d be fine from the moment I saw your wound but he just sat outside. I think he’s still out there.” She laughs. You look even more confused than before. Thinking to yourself, must be survivors guilt. He didn’t want you to die since you took the bullet for him?

“You’re pretty much all patched up. There’s not much more we can do for you. You had an exit wound and you’ve been out for a while.” She laughs. “Want me to get Keegan?” She asks. “Uh.. if he’s out there. If not I’ll be alright I think.” You mumble, throwing your legs over the side of the cot. It feels foreign to move, it hurts. She makes her way over to the door, opening it up. He perks up when she comes out. “You mind helping?” She asks. He nods his head. Thinking maybe she just couldn’t get the cap off of something again. But he’s surprised when he steps inside and you’re looking back at him. He feels tears gather at his waterline.

Be tough Keegan.

“Hey.” He smiles. You can’t see it because of his mask, but the moment the medic steps out to give you two some time, he’s tugging it off. And he’s just pure Keegan.

Sharp jawline, pretty eyes. He’s a lot more handsome than you thought he’d be. He sees the way your breath hitches in your throat. Obviously at seeing him without his mask. This is raw Keegan, he can only thank god you can’t read his soul. Or his thoughts. He’s worried. He can’t love you. Not like this anyways.

“Not gonna lie, you scared the hell out of me.” His lips just barely tug up into a smile. Like he wants you to think he’s joking but clearly isn’t. You give him a lazy smile in return and he has to look away. Even with a scary low amount of blood in your body. Your pale skin, your dull eyes. Your hair that hasn’t been brushed or washed for a few days. He still thinks you’re stunning.

He takes a deep breath. “Don’t look at me like that.” He chuckles. “Like what?”

“Like this means nothing to you.” He scoffs, a smile on his face. “This means everything to me.” You give him another smile. The same as the one before. This one more mischievous than the last. “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Cause. It could be you here. But it’s not.”

“I think I’d prefer me there over you, you psychopath.” He rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch you get shot. You know that.” You look up at him. “I know.. but. You didn’t have to take a bullet for me.”

“I think maybe I did.”

He pauses. Crossing his arms. “What?”

“Cause than you’d know how much you mean to me.”

As those words leave your lips, he feels the tears again.

What the fuck is with the goddamn tears over you? You’re just a girl!

He looks down. His nose starts to flush crimson. Something that has always dammed Keegan is the way his nose turns red when he’s getting upset.

“Don’t be a sap, there’s plenty of other ways you could’ve proven that to me.” He laughs, sitting next to you on the bed. “She told me how scared you were.” You turn to look him in the eyes again. “I figured she would.” He leans back, laying back across the cot. “What does this mean Keegan?”

He sighs. “You know, being with you is what I imagine heaven is like.” He swallows hard. You’re quiet. Letting him talk. “But I think this job is hell and it will be a battle to keep you around when everytime we’re off this base we’re getting shot at and blown up.”

“Keegan.” You sigh. Grasping his hand. “I don’t think they’re going to let me stay after a wound like this.. you know?” You mumble. He nods. “They’re probably going to discharge me, it’s going to take more than a couple days healing for something like this. And.. I know that your contract is about to be up.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that.. if what you say is true. And being with me is Heaven.” You pause, looking down. “Then maybe this is your chance to see what heaven is really supposed to be like.”

You look up at him. Eyes piercing into his. He looks taken off guard. He’s shocked. Is this your admission? To tell him you feel the same as him?

Could Keegan really leave the military to be with you?

“They’re probably going to send me home within the next couple of days.” You mumble. “Think about it.” You smile. He nods his head.

So that’s what he does. He finds out they’re sending you back home within the week and he has no choice but to go on a couple missions. He realizes that without you around, they’re no longer meaningful. They no longer make him feel like the good guy, like the hero he’d always dreamt of being. The entire time, he just misses you.

Keegan a huge choice to make.

—

He’s standing outside your door. It’s been a few days since he last saw you and the longer you go without seeing him, the more it seems to hurt. It seems as if he’s already made up his mind. You know that it’s not fair for you to ask him to give up his career. Something he’d spent so much time working on. He worked so hard to be where he is now. You’d understand why he’d let you go. That doesn’t mean it’d hurt any less.

But he knocks at your door and when you open it, he mumbles a ‘fuck it’ under his breath and before you have time to react, his lips are on yours. He’s pushing you back, kicking your door closed behind him. He doesn’t even bother to lock it. He keeps his lips on yours and he kisses you like you’ll disintegrate in his arms right there. He pushes you back onto your bed and doesn’t say a word. Not a single word as he lowers himself to kneel by the edge of the bed, pulling you closer by your thighs and undressing you.

You don’t make a move to stop him, so he keeps going. When he sees you for the first time. Without any bottoms on and your shirt pushed up over your breasts. He can see the anxiety in your eyes.

He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds tight, pinning your hips to the bed. He needs you still. “You trust me?” He looks up at you. His eyes piercing right through you. You skeptically nod your head, swallowing hard. As he starts to lean in, you tilt your head back and clutch the sheets. Nerves settling into your lower stomach.

When you feel him tongue your clit, you tense up. A gasp leaving your lips. The first time anyone has ever touched you like this.

You take in a sharp breath and he nudges your clit with his nose, gliding his tongue up your opening. You suck in another jagged breath, panting almost. “Keegan-“

“Relax. If you don’t relax you’re going to overwhelm yourself, dove.” He mumbles, adjusting the way he’s sitting, he starts in more intense than before. Flicking his tongue over your clit and circling it, keeping the pressure on you. “Here.” He reaches up his hands, letting go of your thighs. He’ll just have to let you close your thighs around his head. It doesn’t sound so bad to him. He entwines his fingers in yours and gives you something to squeeze as he works you up. “Deep breaths baby. Breathe in and breathe out. Go on.” When your chest rises and falls with jagged breaths, he knows he’s good to keep going.

He lowers his face back into you, nose nudging your clit as he swipes his tongue up your entrance, sucking against your clit and hearing you desperately try to contain your cries. Only when you’re on the verge of tears does he let up just a little bit. You’re squirming hard underneath him, trying to wiggle away from his assault but he’s not letting you. “Taste so fucking good baby.” He sounds completely pussy-drunk. Eyes watery, face flushed red. He’s breathing hard, about to go feral over your body. He devours you, relishing in the taste of you. The sweet bitterness. He laps at your clit and entrance until you’re crying, begging him not to stop, that you’re so close.

You imagine he’ll pull away but instead, he pushes a finger past your folds. A gasp leaves your lips as it penetrates you, the first thing to surpass the expanse of your untouched hole. You shake when you cum, the foreign feeling of his finger inside of you pushes you over the edge. A tinge of pleasure you hadn’t ever felt before. You soak his finger, the squelch of your pussy gets louder the faster he pumps the finger. His own moans of pleasure from the sweet taste of you, he can barely contain. You’re flinching away from his touch, pushing him back and squirming out of his grasp. Looking at him like he’d just reached inside of you and touched your soul. Your doe eyes are wide as you look upon him, still covering yourself as an attempt at modesty. He can’t help but laugh at how pure you are. Despite where he’d just had his tongue. “You alright dove? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He gives a cocky grin, knowing what he’s just done to you. Knowing that there’s more to come.

You swallow hard. Nodding your head. But you’re far from alright. What he’d just given you, the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to replicate it. Your innocent mind doesn’t know, not yet.

“Come here sweetheart.” He grasps your ankle again, yanking you down to the middle of the bed. “How do you feel?” He asks. You chew on your lip nervously. “Good.” You breathe. You think this is where you’ll do it. You know not much about sex, but enough to know this is where you’d want it most. With someone like Keegan who has shown you nothing but support and kindness. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks. You shake your head. Whatever that was, you want to feel it again. And again. Until your soul is rubbed raw, until nothing but numbness and pleasure remain. “I think I’m ready now.” You look up at him. “Are you sure?” You nod your head. Moving your hips up to the edge of the bed where he stands. He chews nervously on his lip, his mind races. You can’t take this back, but you know this already. He’s gotten every answer out of you that he’s going to get. Until he’s buried inside of you.

He reaches for his cargo pants. Fingers struggling with the buttons, he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him.

Or maybe he does.

Because Keegan has been with a few women. But none of them had ever been like you.

You’re a different kind of girl. One who carries no judgement when it comes to him. One who despite having a bad day, will always greet him with a smile. The one who will jump in front of him and take a literal bullet for him. Maybe that’s why he struggles. Maybe it’s why he’s so nervous. You’re not a bitter high school girlfriend, or some random girl he met at a bar. You’re Y/N. And you mean so much more to him than he ever thought you would. His heart pounds in his chest as he lowers the waistband of his now unzipped jeans. Revealing himself to you, seeing the way your eyes widen slightly at the size of him. Wondering how your body will take him. He reassures you, kissing along your chest and collarbone. You’re ready for him.

He glides the tip of his cock over your entrance. Still wet with your orgasm and his saliva. You stare up into his eyes as he braces himself, pushing past the barrier between you and him. You cry out again, as he penetrates you once more. This time being more important, more meaningful than before. This isn’t just his hand, this is him. This is pure, raw, unfiltered Keegan. And he’s just taken your virginity.

He clamps a hand over your mouth in an attempt to conceal your cries. Your eyes are shut and you have one small tear gather at your tear duct. He kisses it away, giving you more than enough time to adjust to him. When he notices the bit of blood, he can’t imagine what you’ve just gone through. He knows the first time isn’t always the most pleasant experience for women, but he knows he’ll take his time with you and make it as painless as possible. He kisses you as he starts to draw his hips back, making an attempt at distracting you. He moves slow, back and forth.

Back and forth.

He can feel you start to relax. You’re breathing easier and your legs aren’t as tense. You’re starting to feel the pleasure from him. It’s when you know you’re in trouble. You know this is going to be far more intense than what he’s just done to you. He starts to pick up the pace when he knows you’re ready for it. His thrusts are deep and quick, tip nudging right into your sweet spot. He knows right where to make you fall apart beneath him. You lift your head up for a second, looking down between the both of you. Seeing him enter you, it’s mesmerizing. Your body is taking so much, you’ve pushed yourself so far tonight. You don’t regret it. You don’t think you ever will.

Your glossy eyes look up at him, admiring him. You don’t get to see him without his mask on very often. And you’ve never been this close to him with it off. His hair is messy. Flat in some spots because he’s sweaty. He’s got beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He’s worked himself up. You admire him as he works his hips into yours. His jawline, the stubble that lines his face. His stone gray eyes with tinges of blue in them. You think about earlier, when they’re were stone cold. Darker than you’d ever seen them. It’s how they got when he was angry. You remember what they look like full of fear too. Watery and bright blue like a lagoon. It’s comical that someone so battle hardened could be so beautiful at the same time. Everything about Keegan was stunning and pure.

He lowers his thumb to your clit and that’s what pulls you out of the trance you’re in.

You hiccup from the pleasure, holding back your cries. “You’re so beautiful like this.” He gushes. Shaking his head in disbelief that someone like you could like someone as damaged and broken as him.

Your thighs start to shake. You’re getting close and he can tell. His cock is wet from you, your arousal gathering at the base of his cock. Letting him know how good you’re feeling. It’s what he wants, what he’s dreamt of. “You can cum. Give yourself to me, dove.” Your eyebrows furrow together. The warmth spreads through your abdomen. There’s a knot in your lower stomach, each thrust he takes unravels it further and further. “Keegan?” You mewl.

“Yeah dove?”

“I love you.” You cry. Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. In the midst of your high, you wrap your legs around Keegan’s waist. His eyes widen, because he’s about to cum too. He tries to push them away, but it’s no use.

He trembles when he cums, whining out as he draws his hips away from yours, burying himself into you one last time. He collapses on top of you, head resting on your chest. He’s sweaty and hot. But you wouldn’t trade Keegan for anything.

It takes a few minutes for the both of you to come down from your highs. His mind is racing from what you had said to him. How it had sent him right into the most intense orgasm he’s ever felt. He swallows hard, lifting himself away from you. “Y/N?” He looks at you, you draw your eyes away from wherever they were before to look at him, pulling yourself out of your daydream. When he knows he’s got your full attention, he follows through with it.

“I love you too.” You smile up at him. It’s a lazy smile and he knows you’re exhausted.

“Let’s get some sleep. We can talk in the morning, dove.” He breathes. Pulling the metal line on the lamp and shutting it off.

You know you won’t sleep good. Not after this. But it gives your mind time to settle.

As Keegan lies there in the dark. No longer alone but your warmth next to him. He realizes he’s got his mind made up.

[thewulf]

Entwined Realms || Legolas

Summary: Request: So I thought about this idea with Legolas x reader where the reader is the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn (which makes her princess of Lothlorien and a very high elf) and she is nervous because its commonly known that Galadriel and Thranduil dont like each other (she is still his superior but you get the point) and the reader and Legolas have a dinner or some council or something together with their parents.

A/N: This was one of my favs to write. Just love everything LOTR... please keep them coming! Thank you for the request @lillisummers

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1k +

TW: Talks of war/death

In the timeless realm of Lothlórien, you, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, walked among the golden trees with a heavy heart filled with the weight of ancient grudges. It had been many years since you last tread upon these familiar paths, for you had spent much of your time in Rivendell, aiding in the healing of those who bore the scars of war.

As a princess of the high elves, you bore the burden of your lineage with grace. Yet the tension between your mother and Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, weighed heavily upon you. The animosity between them was no secret, and you often found yourself caught in the midst of their disagreements. You were torn between loyalty to your mother and the desire for unity among your people after the war of the ring. Your return to Lothlórien had been sudden, called back by your father during the darkest days of the war. The news of battles raging across middle earth had filled you with dread. Yet, you knew that your place was by your family's side, lending whatever aid you could in the struggle against the darkness.

Despite the discord that lingered between your realms you held onto hope, believing in the power of unity to overcome adversity. The memories of Celebrian's capture and torture haunted you still. She drove your determination to see an end to the suffering that had plagued your people for so long.

As you walked beneath the golden canopy of the trees, you found solace in the familiar sights and sounds of Lothlórien. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the branches. They spoke to you of peace and beauty, reminding you of all that was worth fighting for in this world. Your steps carried you towards a familiar spot. The quiet glade where the gravestones of those fallen in battle lay. The air was hushed. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby streams.

Stopping by the gravestones, you traced your fingers over each weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon your heart. Here, beneath the earth, lay the brave souls who had given their lives in service of a greater cause. A cause that you had fought for alongside them. Your thoughts turned to Haldir, the gallant Marchwarden who had stood by your side in the darkest of times. His laughter, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty… they were memories that you held dear, memories that would live on long after he had passed from this world. At one point you were convinced you would marry him but that was before he was taken so suddenly from you.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of silence. A moment to remember those who had been taken from you too soon. Their faces flashed before your eyes, friends, fighters, and loved ones alike. Each one leaving behind an indelible mark upon your soul. And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was also hope. Hope for a future where their sacrifices would not be in vain. Where the darkness would be banished for good and the light would shine so brightly once more. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you vowed to carry their memory with you always, to honor their legacy in all that you did.

As you stood amidst the gravestones, lost in memories and reflections, a soft voice broke through the silence. She was calling your name. You turned to see your mother, Galadriel, approaching with a gentle smile upon her lips. Her eyes, always so wise and knowing, held a depth of understanding that eased the ache in your heart.

"Y/n," she said, her voice like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, "I have been searching for you. It is good to see you home again. You look well my love."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you at the sight of her familiar face. "It is good to be home, Mother," you replied, stepping forward to embrace her.

Galadriel held you close, tight. Her arms a reassuring embrace amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "You have been missed, my dear," she said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As you pulled away, Galadriel's gaze softened. Her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and affection. "There is much to discuss," she said, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But first, I have news that I believe will bring you much joy."

Curiosity piqued, you listened as Galadriel spoke of the upcoming marriage between your niece, Arwen, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor. The news filled you with a sense of anticipation, the prospect of a wedding bringing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had shrouded middle earth for so long. "I would be honored to attend," you said. Your heart swelling with love for your family and excitement for the joyous occasion to come.

Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "I had no doubt that you would," she said, her voice tinged with warmth. "Come, let us return to Caras Galadhon and begin preparations. There is much to do, and little time to waste." She motioned you to follow her.

With a nod of agreement, you fell into step beside your mother. It felt as though the weight of grief and loss lightened by the promise of love and celebration on the horizon. As you walked the golden light of Lothlórien illuminated your path guiding you towards a future filled with possibility.

Too quickly the day of celebration arrived. The grand halls of Minas Tirith were adorned with banners and flowers, filling the air with a sense of festivity and anticipation. You, dressed in your finest elven attire, mingled with the guests. Your heart was aflutter with excitement and nerves for your niece and the King of Gondor. Amidst the bustling crowd, your eyes scanned the faces of those gathered taking in the sight of strangers and acquaintances alike. And then your gaze met that of a mysterious elven stranger across the ornate courtyard who you did not recognize.

His eyes were a captivating shade of blue. They held a warmth and kindness that drew you in, sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment it felt as though the world around you had faded away leaving only you and this enigmatic stranger in a universe of your own making. But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Broken by the sound of laughter and music drifting through the air you tore your gaze away. Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, heart racing with the memory of that brief but electrifying encounter.

Though you knew not who he was, nor what fate had in store for you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this chance meeting was somehow significant. And as you allowed yourself to be swept away by the joyous festivities you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of the mysterious elven stranger who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the celebration unfolded you found yourself standing beside Arwen, basking in the glow of her happiness as she greeted guests and well-wishers. The air was filled with laughter and music. The joyous atmosphere infectious as people celebrated the union of Arwen and Aragorn. But amidst the revelry your attention kept drifting back to the beautiful blonde elf who had caught your eye earlier. He stood amidst a group of guests, his presence commanding and his gaze holding a quiet intensity that seemed to draw you in.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer you turned to Arwen with a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Arwen," you began, pointing subtly towards the mysterious elf, "who is that?"

Arwen followed your gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she noticed your interest in the stranger. "Ah, him," she said, her tone tinged with mystery. "That is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Legolas. The name echoed in your mind. Though you knew little about him there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his eyes seemed to hold a thousand untold stories that intrigued you beyond measure. As Arwen spoke of Legolas' exploits and noble deeds you found yourself captivated by the tales of his courage and valor. And though you knew it was foolish to be so taken with a stranger, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to him. Something that called to you on a level you couldn't quite understand.

With a grateful smile you thanked Arwen for indulging your curiosity. Though your mind was already consumed with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Mirkwood. And as you turned your attention back to the festivities you couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of the captivating blonde elf who had captured your attention with a single glance.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. You found yourself drawn into the lively conversations and laughter that filled the air.

As if he had known your every thought, he had come right up to you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he offered you a goblet of wine. "Care for some wine, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and all too inviting.

Grateful for the distraction you accepted the goblet with a smile, the cool liquid soothing the nerves that had been fluttering in your stomach. "Thank you," you replied, taking a sip and relishing the taste of the rich, fruity wine.

As you savored the wine, Legolas took a seat beside you. His eyes alight with curiosity as he extended his hand in introduction. "I am Legolas," he said, his tone warm and genuine. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You felt a rush of excitement at the sound of his name, "And I am Y/n," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness that you quickly tried to mask.

Legolas smiled warmly at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he raised his own goblet in a silent toast. "Well then, Y/n, here's to new acquaintances and delightful conversations," he spoke.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Legolas. His easy charm and quick wit putting you at ease. Despite your initial nervousness you soon found yourself laughing and chatting with him as if you had known each other for years. With each passing moment you felt yourself growing more and more enchanted by Legolas. His presence filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time. Not since before your sister had set sail. And as you shared stories and laughter with the captivating Prince of Mirkwood you couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay in store for you both in the days to come.

When the topic turned to your family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension, unsure of how he would react upon learning the truth. "Your parents must be proud of you," Legolas remarked, his voice sincere as he glanced around at the grandeur of Minas Tirith. "To have a daughter as kind and courageous as you."

You smiled, touched by his words. Though a part of you hesitated to reveal your true lineage. "Thank you, Legolas," you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "My parents... they are indeed proud, though our family is not without its complexities."

Legolas cocked his head with curiosity shining bright in his eyes. "Complexities?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for his reaction. "My parents are Celeborn and Galadriel," you confessed, watching closely for any sign of recognition or judgment in his expression.

To your surprise, Legolas' eyes widened in genuine surprise, his gaze softening with understanding. "Galadriel," he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. "The Lady of Light herself. And Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlórien."

You nodded, relieved by his reaction. "Yes, though our family is not without its challenges," you admitted, your voice growing quiet. "There are... tensions between my parents and certain others in Middle-earth." You knew he knew, and he knew you knew. The two of you were dancing around your parents disdain for the other.

Legolas' expression grew somber. A shadow passing over his features. "I understand," he said, his tone tinged with empathy. "My own father, Thranduil, can be... difficult at times."

You felt a surge of empathy for Legolas knowing all too well the challenges that could arise from strained familial relationships. "It seems we are not so different after all," you said. A small smile playing at your lips.

Legolas returned your smile, his eyes warm and understanding. "Indeed," he said, his voice gentle. "But perhaps together, we can find a way to bridge the divide between our families."

Touched by his sincerity you could only keep grinning at him like a fool. "I would like that, Legolas," you replied. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the bond that was beginning to form between you.

As the night wore on into the wee hours of the morning you and Legolas found yourselves drawn deeper into each other's company. The hours quickly slipping away unnoticed as you laughed and talked beneath the starlit sky. The connection between you grew stronger with each passing moment. A bond of friendship and understanding blossoming into something deeper and more profound. Unfortunately, the celebration began to wind down. You found yourselves reluctant to part ways. The prospect of saying goodbye filling you with a sense of melancholy. "Perhaps we could extend our stay in Minas Tirith," Legolas suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of worry as if you wouldn’t accept. "There is still so much more to see and do. I have not seen this city without war disparaging it."

You nodded eagerly, the idea of spending more time with Legolas filling you with a sense of joy and excitement. "I would like that very much," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There is still so much more we have yet to see. You distracted me tonight."

And so, you and Legolas remained in Minas Tirith for longer than planned, seizing every opportunity to steal away moments alone together amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. Whether wandering the streets hand in hand or sharing quiet conversations in secluded corners. Each moment spent in Legolas' company felt like a precious treasure, a memory to be cherished for eternity.

As your extended stay in Minis Tirith came to an end the bond between you and Legolas deepened further than you could have imagined. Your hearts intertwining in a dance as old as time itself. One evening beneath the stars after your going away dinner the two of you sat together in the quiet solitude of the gardens, surrounded by the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of crickets. The words you had been longing to say spilled forth from your lips.

"Legolas," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there is something I must confess to you." It truly was now or never for you did not know the next time you would see the elf that had captured your heart so quickly.

Legolas turned to you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yes, Y/n?" he replied, his voice soft and reassuring.

"I know this is quick,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "And we tend to do this slow, but I must admit... I really like you. More than a friend would."

You glanced away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you awaited his response. But when you dared to meet his gaze once more you found Legolas looking at you with a tender smile. His eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored your own feelings.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching out to gently take your face in his hand, "your honesty means the world to me. I too have come to care for you deeply as well. As more than a friend would."

Your heart soared at his words. A sense of joy flooding through you at the knowledge that your feelings were reciprocated. And as you sat together in the quiet beauty of the gardens you knew that your bond with Legolas was something truly special. It was the beginning of a love story that was just beginning to unfold.

You didn’t want the night to end so you kept your wandering through the gardens. "Legolas," you began, your voice tinged with concern, "what do you think about... our families?"

Legolas glanced at you. His gaze thoughtful. "Ah, our esteemed parents," he replied with a wry smile. "Stubborn as ancient oaks and twice as difficult to move."

You couldn't help but laugh at his analogy, feeling a sense of relief at his lighthearted approach to the situation. "Yes, that's one way to put it," you agreed. A smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"But," Legolas continued, his tone turning more serious, "I believe they will come around in time. After all, love has a way of softening even the hardest of hearts."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope kindling within you. "I hope you're right," you replied, leaning closer to him. "I just want them to see... how much we care for each other."

Legolas placed a comforting arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. "They will, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "And until then, we'll just have to prove them wrong together."

As your time in Minas Tirith drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was time for your parents and Legolas to meet. Despite the tension between your families, you were determined to show them that love knew no bounds, and that their differences could be set aside in the name of happiness.

On the morning that both of you were to depart you knew what you had to do. "Legolas," you began. Your voice tinged with nervousness, "I know it's unconventional, but... what if you and your father were to visit Lothlórien?"

Legolas blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your suggestion. "Visit Lothlórien?" he echoed, his brow furrowing in thought. "It's an... intriguing idea, Y/n, but I'm not sure how my father would feel about it."

You nodded, understanding Legolas' reservations. "I know it's a risk," you admitted, "but I believe that if he could experience the beauty and hospitality of Lothlórien for himself, he might begin to understand... and perhaps even appreciate our way of life."

Legolas considered your words for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "You may be right, Y/n," he said, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's extend the invitation to my father and see what he says."

With a renewed sense of hope, you and Legolas set about preparing for Thranduil's visit to Lothlórien. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to show both him and your parents that love could conquer even the deepest of divides. And so, with hearts full of anticipation and determination, you bid farewell to Minas Tirith. You knew that a new chapter of your journey was about to begin.

As Legolas and an initially reluctant Thranduil arrived in Lothlórien, the tension between them was palpable. Thranduil's expression was stoic and reserved, while Legolas wore a strained smile who was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. You greeted them warmly, hoping to ease the atmosphere, but even your efforts seemed to fall flat in the face of the lingering animosity between your parents. The initial interactions were awkward only filled with polite but strained conversation and forced smiles.

But as the evening progressed and the wine flowed freely the atmosphere began to shift. Your parents, Thranduil, and Legolas found themselves gradually relaxing in each other's company. The rigid barriers between them slowly melting away under the influence of hope after the war and shared experiences. You watched with a mixture of joy and relief as the tension dissipated, replaced by laughter and genuine conversation. Thranduil who had initially been so guarded found himself opening up. He began to share stories and jokes with Celeborn and Galadriel as if they were old friends.

And Legolas, too, seemed to come alive in the warmth of his father’s acceptance. His smile growing more genuine with each passing moment. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders finally allowing him to truly be himself in their presence. He chuckled at one of Thranduil's jokes and clinked glasses with Celeborn, a genuine smile gracing his features.

In the midst of the conversation Legolas turned to you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Meleth nin," he said softly, his voice filled with utmost warmth.

As Legolas inadvertently uttered the Elvish endearment, my love, the words hung in the air laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart skipped a beat at his slip-up, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

"Really?" you exclaimed. Your eyes widened with surprise and utmost delight. For a moment you almost forgot that your parents and Legolas' father were present too caught up in the rush of emotion that swept over you.

Legolas blinked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized what he had said in front of the parents. "I... uh, I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered by your reaction.

But before he could finish, Thranduil let out a soft chuckle. The elvenking’s eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems our children are more than just friends," he remarked to your parents. His tone surprisingly light-hearted.

You turned to your parents with a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess we should have mentioned that sooner," you admitted feeling a surge of relief as you saw their understanding smiles.

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged knowing glances before Celeborn spoke up. "Love has a way of revealing itself in unexpected ways," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We are happy for you both."

Thranduil let out a small chuckle. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Young love," he said before shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems like only yesterday that Legolas was just a boy chasing after butterflies in the woods."

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully at his father's comment. "I assure you, Ada, I have grown up a bit since then," he spoke. His tone teasing but affectionate.

Celeborn chuckled softly his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice warm. "But some things never change." He motioned to you with a knowing grin.

And as the tension melted away completely, replaced by laughter, and shared understanding, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unwavering support of your parents. With their blessing and acceptance, you and Legolas knew that your love story was only just beginning. You were finally destined to have a beautiful and unforgettable journey filled with laughter, joy, and the sweet promise of a future together. You had waited a long time for this. A very long time.

As the night grew deeper and the fire crackled softly, you and Legolas found yourselves immersed in a comfortable silence. The two of you basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Legolas turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, taking your hand in his. "Well, my dear, it seems the hour grows late," he remarked, his voice soft and warm.

You nodded feeling a surge of affection for the elf beside you. "Yes, it does," you replied, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

With a gentle tug on your hand Legolas rose to his feet pulling you up with him. "Allow me to escort you to your room," he said. His voice filled with gentle sincerity.

You followed him, the touch of his hand sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you reached your door, Legolas turned to you. His eyes sparkling with mischief. "Until next time, meleth nin," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before turning to leave.

A faint blush coated your cheeks at his actions. “Until next time, meleth nin.” You repeated. You watched him go with a smile playing at your lips as you realized that no matter what adventures lay ahead, you would face them with him. Oh, what a life.

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[mothiir]

penance

the black templars discover human women. Nothing nsfw, only vaguely lewd, with canon typical violence and religious themes. Possibly will follow up with a smut if the spirit moves me

alternative summary: where is this strumpet so I might detest her with my own eyes

—

—

Isaiah takes his helm off to inhale the sweet scent of battlefield smoke. The sky is ruddy with dawn, and the last of the heretic cities is nothing more than smouldering rubble, the would-be rebels against the Emperor’s Will either dead or soon to be. Those too young, or too elderly, to have served a meaningful part in the uprising may yet find redemption as Chapter serfs or servitors — after all, there is little point to justice if there is no mercy to go alongside it. 

Sweat gilds his high cheekbones, and drips down his nape. Taking a moment away from his brothers to say his private prayer of thanks to the Emperor is one of the small ways Isaiah keeps his sanity during these long campaigns. He would fight and die beside his brethren with pride — and yet if he has to hear one more of Reuben’s jokes, he may consider —

No. No, none of that, not even in the privacy of his own head: he must be grateful, always. Mindful and grateful of the Emperor’s blessings. Reuben is a blessing. A hardship, yes, but so often blessings take the form of hardships; of lessons to learn. Reuben is an excellent soldier, and an exercise in patience. 

Perhaps it is the thought of Reuben’s damned puns that drives him further than usual, or the desire to admire the sight of a battle hard-fought. Either way, Isaiah ends up a good five hundred feet from camp before he quite realises it, crunching over charred bones and burned, unrecognisable standards.

Then: a sound. Thin, high, and vaguely organic. At once, he replaces his helmet, Captain Ezra’s words echoing in his memory: boy, there is no point prancing around like the main character in a holo — the enemy does not need to see your pretty face, and nor do I.

Anyway. The noise. His scanners alert him to a life form, hidden behind a pile of corpses. Humanoid. Rabbit-hearted, and trying very hard to remain unseen. 

He upholsters his bolter, and stalks forwards: a faceless, merciless instrument of the Emperor’s wrath. 

—

The clouds hang thick and red, like they have absorbed all the blood spilt today, and the heat is oppressive. A thunderstorm is coming; you taste it in the air. Soon, the rain will extinguish the last of the flaming rubble on this planet you once called home. It will fill the empty eye sockets of those who died for the delusions of your rulers. It will wash the land clean. 

And you doubt you will see it. 

As the Templar yanked you from the rubble, your shoulder had popped from its socket with a sick, wet crack; you had only kept yourself from crying out by biting into your tongue. Now your right arm hangs useless by your side, radiating bright veins of sheer agony. You daren’t make a move to cradle it, to ease your discomfort. 

“Your world is guilty of the crime of sedition,” intones the Templar, his voice as final as a tombstone falling into place. “Your leaders rebelled against the Divinity of the Emperor, and —“

”And I should die for it,” you manage, through lips gummed together with dried saliva and ash. “Because we let it happen.”

He pauses. The subtle tilt of his helm could be curiousity; could be an invitation to continue; could be nothing at all. But you are not dead. Not yet. Something in your chest is kindled, and you remember when you were little, at a school now nothing but ash, how your teacher would complain: that girl, she always has something to say.   

“We let it happen,” you continue, not sure if you are arguing for your life or begging for martyrdom. “We saw the upper echelons turn to Ch — the accursed powers.” Thou shalt not speak the name of the beast, you remember reading somewhere, lest thou invite it in to feast. “And we did not stop them. We worked away, heads bent and faces averted, and we obeyed orders, and the rot spread and ruined our world. I — I thank you, for your cleansing fire, for your — for His mercy. For bringing the Light of the Emperor to this place.”

You cannot curtesy, not in this shape, and so you drop straight to the ground, knees smacking into hard stone. You bare your nape, awaiting judgement, awaiting the blade, your heart singing against your ribs, that desperate song, that too-late plea: oh I want to live. Emperor above, let me live. 

—

“That is a woman,” says Reuben, like he has never seen one before. 

”Yes, Reuben, that is a woman.”

“In our dormitory.”

”Yes,” Isaiah says. ”She is in our dormitory.”

As this world lacks any proper infrastructure — due to the intensive bombing campaign needed to bring it back to the Emperor’s Grace — the Astartes have retired to their battle barge, as Marshal Ezra Rothenberg plans their next movements. 

Isaiah is honoured to consider himself part of the Edessan Crusade. There are more than two thousand of his brothers dedicated to the continued extirpation of Chaos from the Edessan system: a task that was predicted to take ten solar years, and yet is proceeding far ahead of schedule — due, in no small part, to the enthusiastic participation of the new recruits Guilliman so kindly provided them. If Guilliman hoped that the Primaris Marines would take the edge off the Black Templar’s well-known zealotry, he was swiftly disappointed. Within a few days of arriving, the only way to differentiate between the new recruits and their more seasoned brothers was size. 

Isaiah shares a barren dorm with Reuben, and three other brothers. They sleep on plain metal bunks, with a rough woollen blanket and a thin pillow. Other Chapters, Isiaiah has heard, are so decadent and spoiled as to have duvets — which are sacks of feathers — and sometimes even something called a mattress? Absurd. He pities his fellow Primaris Marines, shipped out to such degeneracy. He hopes that they can cultivate an appropriate sense of duty and decorum in the older generation. How can anyone value such petty things as comfort when the Emperor’s enemies still draw breath?

You are sitting on Isaiah’s bed, the blanket around your shoulders, your eyes wide. You have not spoken since he brought you here — barely whimpered when he popped your shoulder back into place. 

“…what is her purpose here?” Reuben says. He sits on his own bunk, opposite Isaiah, his afternoon reading (a hagiography of one of the more exciting saints) sprawled forgotten on his lap. 

“Chapter serf,” says Isaiah. 

“Do we need more serfs?”

”Yes. We do. The ones we have are — uh —very devout — “

The pair grimace. The fact that the serfs spend so long in prayer is to be admired, but it doesn’t often leave them much time to perform their duties. Isaiah is sick of doing his own mending because Serf Osric and Serf Jean are once more faint from fasting and all-night vigils to the glory of the Emperor. 

“Did the Marshal allocate her to you?”

Isaiah pulls an interesting series of expressions. ”Not…exactly,” he allows, unwilling to lie, and yet not wanting to admit the truth. “But he has been…busy, of late.”

”Yes. Busy. With crusading against the Emperor’s enemies.”

”Too busy to be concerned with this sort of thing,” Isaiah says, hesitantly, dangling the bait before Reuben, waiting for him to take it. Reuben leans forwards to better observe you. Isaiah feels a strange twist of pride when you don’t cringe from his regard, but meet his dark eyes with your own, your chin tipped up, your fingers curling into the blanket. Then you suddenly seem to remember who you are, and where you are, and drop your head in supplication. 

“Yes,” Reuben says, slowly. “Far too busy to be concerned with this. Don’t want to bother him.”

Isaiah utters a fervent prayer of thanks to the Emperor, feeling only a little guilty at thanking Him for his brother’s aid in deceiving their Marshal. But it wasn’t really deception, was it? They weren’t lying to him at all — they just weren’t telling him! Completely different. 

“Exactly! It’s beneath his concern.”

”She’s beneath his concern!”

In total accord, both Templars grin at each other, before hurriedly smoothing their faces into expressions of solemn piety. 

“Yes, brother. I am glad that the Emperor has seen fit to deliver unto us a — hang on, can you sew?” Reuben says, addressing you directly. You glance up at Isaiah, then stammer:

“Y-yes my lord —“

“Excellent.”

Reuben kicks up and off his bunk, rummages in the steel box that contains all his worldly possessions, then throws a wad of fabric at you. It unfurls into a dozen pairs of socks that look very much worse for wear.

“Start with those. Then my tunic needs restitching — the Emperor’s Most Holy Iconography is starting to get a bit tattered. Then —“

”Brother Reuben, you cannot hog the new serf —“

”I am offering her the chance to redeem the sins of her forefathers and mothers with holy labour.“

“Well, yes,” Isaiah protests. “But the holy labour cannot just be confined to your menial tasks—“

”Why — do you have menial tasks that need attending to?”

”Yes!” Isaiah says, thinking of his own increasing pile of ragged undergarments. “You can mend Brother Reuben’s socks, and then you must attend to my laundry —“

”And then she can mend my tunic —“

”No, then she must pray,” Isaiah says, belatedly remembering the importance of even the most lowly baselines in adding their voices to the Emperor’s endless praises. “And attend chapel —“

”Where Marshal Ezra may behold her?” Brother Reuben says. “The serf that we do not strictly speaking have, as she has not been allocated to us?”

Ah. Yes. He had forgotten about that.

”She must pray while she works,” Isiaih amends. “And abase herself before the Emperor’s mercy.”

”Yes. But pray quietly.”

”Do you know the appropriate psalms to recite while conducting your redemptive labour?” Isaiah says. You chew your lip.

“The correct litanies while uh…mending the socks of the Emperor’s chosen may have not been included in my education,” you say. Isaiah sighs. Truly, you came from a blighted world. 

“You will learn them,” he says. “The Emperor will guide your tongue. If you fail to learn them then it is a sign that you have not received His Grace, and in that case fear not — we will deliver unto you the Emperor’s Mercy.”

“She will learn them,” Brother Reuben says, with a fervent and touching belief in humanity’s dedication to the Emperor.

 Or, perhaps, a fervent desire to have socks without holes in them. 

—

And so it goes. The Emperor sees fit to decree that the brothers that share Reuben and Isaiah’s quarters remain on the planet to build a chapter monastery there, taking advantage of the natural resources that are now free for use. No new brothers are installed in the dormitory — a great shame, of course, but it does have the benefit of ensuring that Brother Reuben and Isiaiah do not have to face awkward questions about your presence. 

Isiaiah has never been in close contact with baseline humans before, save the serfs aboard the fleet, and he knows that it is his duty to ensure that you are free of Chaos’s taint, and suitably devoted to the God Emperor. As such, he ensures that you have the appropriate reading material, and tests you to ensure that you can recite the benedictions. The first time you stumbled over an incorrect word, he had sighed deeply and sorrowfully, reaching for his bolter. Brother Reuben had dragged him to the side and explained — in hurried whispers — that humans do not have the same eidetic memory as Astartes, and the misstep was not indicative of a lapse in faith but simply a sign of your humanity. 

Fascinating. 

There are other baseline issues that surprise both brothers. They sleep perfectly well on their hard metal bed frames, and their serfs often deliberately braid thistles into their blankets in order to better scourge their flesh for the sin of being mortal. You, however, suffer greatly for the first few days. You end up with deep purple shadows beneath your eyes, and you wince when performing even the simplest of tasks. 

“I am sorry my lords,” you stammer, when Isaiah confronts you on your constant yawning. “It is just — I am cursed to be a woman, and thus I do not have the fortitude that you have, and my body is frail and weak and cannot find rest in the blessed conditions that you enjoy.”

Reuben magnanimously permits you the use of a blanket and two of the pillows left by his brothers. Isaiah thinks that pandering to your body’s frailty could well be slowing your path to redemption, but he bows to his brother’s greater knowledge. 

He is perturbed by how much you rest — as much as six hours a night, if you are permitted to sleep continuously. Once again, Reuben explains that this is normal for the baselines. Besides, if Isaiah wants devout serfs, he is more than welcome to once more entrust his care to Osric and Jean. 

Isaiah stops questioning your rest hours swiftly. He does not want to go back to the days of having to convince a flagellant to polish his pauldrons. Without the brothers seeking them out, the old serfs seem happy to spend most of their time in the chapel, or wandering the halls while caning themselves and loudly declaring the Emperor’s benevolence to all. 

Yes, Isaiah wants to say, we know He is very benevolent and very merciful. He also wants you to do your damn jobs. 

The first real challenge occurs ten days into your time aboard the barge. You drop to your knees before Isaiah, assuming the penitential crouch you always take on when you address either of them. The sight of you prostrate at his feet — spine a neat curve, head bowed, hands clasped — always makes Isaiah’s stomach warm and twist. He enjoys seeing you so keen to atone, so eager to please the Emperor, and to receive  His mercy. 

“My lords, I humbly beg your permission to take a moment to clean myself — I have not managed to do so since leaving my accursed planet, and I fear that I dishonour your presence by performing my duties while unwashed.”

”You have washed yourself,” Isaiah says, frowning. He’s seen you wipe your face and underarms with a wet rag, and you wash your hands every time you go to the bathroom (a sensitive experience for all concerned, given that one of them has to escort you to the nearest convenience, and the other has to stand watch to ensure no one sees you).

”Yes, but — a shower, my lords, that is what I am asking for.”

Isaiah sniffs the air thoughtfully. True, you do smell a little sourer than you did previously, but he has lived with far more odiferous people; Brother Reuben during his ‘bathing too frequently is decadent and an offence to the Emperor’ phase for one.

(That particular penitence had been ended when Marshal Ezra had thrown Reuben bodily into the icy plunge pool and announced to all that the Emperor suffered enough on His golden throne — the Templars did not need to add their stench to the tribulations He endured.)

”Humans require more maintenance than Astartes,” Reuben allows. “It cannot hurt to permit her to bathe.”

Still, they do not want to risk taking you to one of the communal showers, nor do they want to send you off to the serf quarters. Several of their brothers are already suspicious of their suddenly-improved attire, and the last thing either of them want is to face questions about your presence — or, worse still, a request to share. So Isaiah fetches a large copper tub used by the medicae for those too unwell to stand upright to bathe, and fills it with water, and Brother Reuben donates one of his scraps of yellow soap. 

“Th-thank you my lords,” you say, from your usual prostrate position; then you stand, a little unsure, eyeing them almost expectantly. The tub is set in the middle of the dormitory; Reuben is reading one of his favourite scriptures, while Isiaiah tends to his bolter. ”Uh — is it okay if I —“

You gesture at your smock. Isiaiah blinks at you. 

“Are you asking permission to bathe? I have said that you may — do not waste my time with needless questions.”

He turns back to his bolter, wiping the sacred oils onto the stock, murmuring the appropriate incantations to appease the machine spirit within. A flurry of fabric; a splash; a pained squeal. 

“This water is ice,” you yell, and Isaiah, startled, looks up. 

His hand remains looped around the bolter, polishing up and down, up and down — but he finds he cannot tear his gaze from you. The water comes up to your waist, but the rest of you is bare, your flesh goosepimpled from the cold, your arms clutching your torso. Your elbows press under your breasts, pushing them up, where they glisten under the harsh dorm lighting. As you shiver, one nipple flashes.

Brother Reuben stares as well. 

“Emperor preserve me,” he mutters, and Isaiah comes to his senses, turning his eyes aside. 

“Woman!” he says, sounding only a little strangled. “Cover yourself!”

Another splash. When Isaiah peeks up — just to check that you have ceased to offend the Emperor with your naked bosom — he is gratified to see that you are neck deep in water.

”S-sorry my lords,” you say, teeth chattering.

”You are a Chapter Serf of the Black Templars,” Isiaha says hotly, his grasp tightening on the bolter, his strokes growing surer and stronger, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm. “You must act in a way that is fitting for your station! Do not flaunt yourself so! You must conduct yourself with - with decorum, and modesty. Be demure! Mindful!”

Isaiah, a little breathless after his holy vitriol, looks to Brother Reuben for moral support. Reuben is looking fixedly at his book. 

“I saw nothing,” says the other Templar. “I am blind to that which does not beatify the Emperor Himself. The nudity of a serf has no bearing on my day’s prayer. It is as insignificant as the passage of a beetle along the floor.”

”Is that why you are reading your scripture upside down?”

Reuben does not look up, even as he turns the book the right way around. 

“Brother Isaiah, if you polish that gun any harder it is liable to blast a hole in the wall.”

”It is not loaded, Brother Reuben,” Isaiah snaps. “I am conducting my daily worship to the Machine Spirit.”

”Is that what you call it?” Reuben mutters, and Isaiah elects to ignore him. 

—

“Where did you obtain the uniform for her?” Isaiah says, the next day, his voice hushed. It is just after morning prayer-drills, and the pair are walking back to their dormitory to change, before their lunchtime prayer-drills.

”I — just from the other serf’s laundry,” says Reuben, casting a quick look around. The halls of the battle barge are more akin to that of a cathedral than a space-ship, with huge domed ceilings, and statues placed at regular intervals in well-lit alcoves. Isaiah normally takes great comfort in the stern regard of his immortalised forebears, but for some reason today he feels their gaze like a brand, like he is a neophyte and they are watching him commit some secret and terrible sin. 

“They do not fit her,” Isaiah says. Reuben frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

”I mean — “ Isaiah pauses for a moment, struggling to find the words. Emperor grant him Reuben’s lack of observational skills — truly, his brother is a sterling example of blind faith. “I mean…this morning. When she bent over to pick up the scripture. Her skirt. It — moved in a way that displayed her rump in a way that is most unbecoming to a serf.”

Reuben exhales, his jaw ticking minutely. “Oh? I did not notice. I do not make a habit of looking at the serf’s rear end.”

”I was not looking at her rear end!” Isaiah whisper-shouts. “It was…just there. Wiggling.”

”Wiggling?”

”Yes, wiggling.”

”Is our serf distracting you from your duties, Brother Isaiah?” Reuben says, in a tone of concern so genuine it feels like mockery. 

“No! I just — it would bring shame upon our crusade if our serfs are not modestly attired.”

”I quite agree. However, I would argue that our serf is very well attired. Covered up almost to the throat.”

”Almost,” Isaiah says. “When she bends over to wash her face in the morning, if you stand at the incorrect place in the dormitory, and you have the misfortune to be looking for a book on the other side of the room, and then you find yourself looking downwards at the incorrect moment so you may observe the flagstones, you will be cursed with a view straight down her sleeping smock — and you will see both her breasts, exposed quite fully! It is revolting. A blight upon the Emperor.”

”How hideous! We must of course remedy this at once.”

”At once.”

”However,” says Reuben, as they round a corner, approaching their dormitory. “In order for me to avoid benighting mine eyes with such a distasteful view, I would much appreciate it if next time the serf washes her face you were to demonstrate the precise angle that I should avoid standing at. For I only wish to see what is pure and just in the eyes of the Emperor, and in order to do so we must have a full understanding of where to avoid looking.”

Isaiah pauses for a moment. After all, is it not his duty to guide his brothers when they seek to avoid sin? “Yes,” he says. “I will ensure that I show you most where you must not stand, and where to avoid casting your eyes. And — if I may make a suggestion?”

”Of course, brother Isaiah.”

”Perhaps it is not the uniform. Perhaps it is the way the serf has learned to stand and bend. Coming as she does from such a depraved world, riddled with heresy, it is natural that she does not know the right and proper way for a servant of the Emperor to move. Perhaps we should ask her to bend over a few times for us, and thus we can best advise her on how to avoid unnecessary…wiggling.”

Reuben grins at the thought of guiding a sinner onto the path of the righteous. “Yes, brother Isaiah. I do believe we should.”

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 7

artist: @/drakyutown on twt

pt 6 here

content: lots of lingering touches, more mentions of kidnapping, brief manipulation, Choso reads ur diary, he STEALLLSSSS, mentions of wine, Choso has various piercings, mention of a tattoo (a.n)...... I had to step away multiple times because I kept blushing taglist: @eristi @sunaumei @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @broccocrab @ziklope @tojicvmslut @mochipip @tojisworm-5 @animechick555 @makingtimemine @keepghostly

Obsessive!Choso who saw you yawn as he spoke. “You tired?” He asked, picking up the two plates from the table.

“Yeah-” your fingers rubbing your temple. “I haven't been able to sleep all that great these past few days.” you smiled, remembering what happened. Making the uneasy feeling form in your stomach again. Seeing him place the dishes into the sink.

You stood up, walking to the living room coffee table. Picking up the yellow envelope and placing it onto the table, seeing Choso back in his chair again.

“I got home the other day to this on the door mat.” You exhaled, sitting back down in your chair. Looking over at you as his hands reached for it. Almost asking if he could pick it up. Nodding your head yes, opening the top flap of the envelope. Pulling out the stack of photos, individually scanning each one.

Raising his eyebrows in fake surprisement. Looking over at you when you recited what he had written. “Be careful who you let into your life.” His eyes snapped to you, “He told me his wife died. And how he was always busy with work. But the time stamps on the pictures-” You defended, feeling goosebumps form on your arms.

“And I've been terrified to leave my house- I feel like I'm constantly being watched.” You smiled, trying to make it sound like no big deal. Choso’s face feigning concern. “I'm scared- that if I leave. Someone will hurt me.” you continued, ‘Someone. But not me. That's why I'm here, to protect you from the potential stalkers you could have.’ he thought, placing the photos down onto the table.

“I mean- this has to be someone close to me or to him. Close enough that they know my address and what school I go to.” you rambled, seeing his face go unchanged from the concern he plastered onto it.

“And I know it's someone nearby. This-” you picked up the yellow envelope. “It has no postage, or return address. Someone came to my house to deliver this in person.” You finished, sighing as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“I sound like a paranoid crazy person-” you laughed, seeing him crack a smile. “All I'm missing is the foil hat and I'm set.” You joked, shrinking into your seat, seeing his eyebrows furrow in thought. 

‘Intelligent, aren't you? I didn’t think you'd catch onto such small details.’ he thought, opening his mouth to speak, “No- No, you have a point.” He started, spreading the photos onto the table.

“The fact that someone-” mentally he was smiling. “Someone watched you with him.” he started, looking over at you as your face churned with anxiety.

”Watched you close enough to see your relationship with him-” his mouth let out words that made you shiver at the thought. “Someone who knows where you live, when you're not home.” confirming the thoughts you had tried so hard to push to the back of your head. 

Obsessive!Choso who hoped you remembered when he told you he worried about you getting kidnapped. You laughed, “This is like one of my worst fears.” rubbing your forehead.

“I have no idea how I'm gonna leave my house-” You smiled. Choso struggled to keep his face stern. A small grin threatened to form onto his lips when he saw you cover your head in your hands. Pulling them from your face and pressing prayer hands against your lips. Looking over at him, a smile forming on your lips in disbelief, scoffing before speaking.

“You were right.” raising your eyebrow and dropping your hands flat onto the table. “I'm going to get kidnapped and sold-” you started, half joking but trying to hide how scared you really were. “You won’t get kidnapped.” He promised, smiling and taking one of your hands into his. Looking down and seeing how large it was compared to yours, eyes catching on his chipped nail polish. 

Choso’s eyes widened, pulling away from yours and apologizing. “M’sorry- I shouldn't have-” he mumbled, feeling you reach your hand back to his. “No-” you smiled, “It's fine.” feeling his hand rest beneath yours.

“I was just looking at how your nail polish is always chipping.” His eyes looked down at his hand, squinting when he saw the polish. Feeling your fingertips drag down the top of his, gulping when you picked his hand up and examined his fingers closer. Making Choso’s cheeks flush, brushing your thumb against the nail of his pointer finger.

“It’s c-cheap-” he stuttered, feeling you brush against each finger. “It was a dollar i think-” he kept going, hearing you hum. The ridges of the chipped polish against the pads of your thumb and index finger. Grin on your face when you heard him. “I can tell.” You laughed, letting his hand go and looking at him. Now he was the one looking away from your gaze so you wouldn't see the warmth on his face. “I could redo them if you want?” you asked, seeing him pull his hands below the table.

“I just don't wanna be alone right now.” all smiles as you saw his ears turn pink.

“You're not tired?” he asked, looking to meet your gaze, seeing you nod no with a closed mouth smile. “If you want-” he murmured, seeing you exhale through your nose. Sliding the chair back and going upstairs quickly. 

Obsessive!Choso who saw a gold halo around you when you came downstairs, cotton balls, small bottle of acetone and black polish in hand. Smiling when you set everything onto the table, rolling your shoulders back when you looked at him.

Raising your eyebrows, waiting for him to present his hands. Damp cotton ball in your fingers, the other holding the palm of his hand as you rubbed the acetone in gently. Choso’s eyes going from seeing your hand hold his, to your face. Noticing how cute you looked when focusing, accidently letting his thoughts fall from his lips, quiet enough to not understand what he said, but evident enough to hear he said something.

Looking at him through your eyelashes, ‘Hm?’ you asked, stopping your motions. “Nothing.” He replied quickly, making you smile and look back down to his hand. Wincing when you reached his thumb, seeing a deep hangnail on the side.

“What happened here?” You asked, hissing as you examined it. “I get nervous sometimes-” he started, seeing you look into his eyes, “It's practically instinct now.” He smiled.

“It's gonna hurt.” You warned, holding the blackened cotton ball in your hand. “It’s okay- I’ll live.” he joked, seeing your hand hesitate to press the cotton to his thumb, eyes looking up to see if it did hurt. His face went unchanged, feeling you swipe away the cheap polish from his nail. Blowing gently onto it in hopes it wouldn't sting too much. 

For the first time in a long time, Choso didn’t think about what he'd say to you. Not conversing with you mentally, his eyes looking at you with pupils in the shape of saucers. Seeing you open the small bottle of black polish, painting it on one stroke at a time. Making sure not to get any on his skin.

Letting go of his pinkie and looking up at him, seeing he was staring. “Choso?” You murmured, eyes on his ring finger as you delicately held his hand. Hearing him hum in response. You didn't know if it was exhaustion making you speak or you just wanted to tease, “You're staring.” you hummed, not looking up from his hands but feeling him tense up.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, seeing you look up at him. His eyes unmoved from your comment. Letting go of his ring finger and dipping the brush into the bottle again.

Moving to his middle finger, a small smile on your lips as you hid the warmth that rose to your cheeks. Painting his index finger slowly as he felt your knuckles brush against the center of his palm, brushing off the excess polish into the bottle before moving onto his raw thumb.

Painting gently, making sure not to cause him any unnecessary pain. Choso let out a sharp wince, making you flinch and look up at him. “You okay?” you worried, face full of fear making him let out a stifled laugh. Your face fell when you realized he was messing with you. Mumbling a quiet, ‘jerk’ before finishing his thumb and blowing gently onto the tips of his fingers making him grin. 

Moving to his other hand, picking up his pinkie before speaking, “When you told me you've seen me walking home-” you started, making Choso look at your face, to see if your expression changed.

If you were interrogating him or just trying to make conversation. Finishing his pinkie and dipping the brush once again, “It really made me think.” You hummed, coating his ring finger and moving to his middle.

“About?” he asked, gulping his nerves as he felt your breath against his hand. Smiling as you swiped down his nail, “Made me rethink walking home alone.” You grinned, playing coy to what you were insinuating. “Oh?” he hummed, seeing you flash a toothy grin, ‘Mhm’ You smiled, looking at him and pursing your lips as you waited for him to say something.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he'd stutter if he asked you what you wanted to hear. “How dangerous it is-” you smiled, painting his pointer finger.

“You-” he started, feeling his heart thump in his chest, “You want me to walk you home?” He asked, making you look at his face. He let out his internal monologue for the first time.

Letting out a stifled sigh, looking back down to avoid the eyes he was looking at you with. “Only if you want to.” Making sure to keep a playful tone, painting his thumb before looking back up to see him. Blowing at them gently while he struggled to find the words to use, dark circles under your eyes as you fought off the need to go to sleep.

Knowing that when you woke up you could blame your insistent flirting on how tired you were. Placing his hand flat on the table, mouthing a quiet, ‘All done.’ keeping your eyes on him while you waited for him to reply.

“If it makes you feel safer-” he started, “And if you'll let me. I will.” Seeing his bottom lip tremble the tiniest bit, cheeks flushed and his hands turning clammy against the table. Thankful you weren’t holding them anymore.

Batting your eyelashes at him, smiling before telling him ‘thank you’. The fatigue eating away at you, feeling your brain pound in your skull. Not knowing if it was from how hard you were blushing or if it was from how nervous you were asking that of him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” You asked your voice daring to slur the words, resting your head in your hand and seeing him blink rapidly.

“Cause you're nice to me.” He smiled, feeling like he could die at any moment from how hard his heart was beating.

“No- I mean.” You started, scanning his face. “Anyone else wouldn't have come here. And I don't know anyone who would cook me something to make me feel better.” you smiled, seeing him scoff playfully, trying to look away from you.

You laughed, realizing what you were saying aloud, “I don't know- What I'm trying to say is- you're different.” You smiled, seeing him nod his head and grin as he heard you slur your words. “In a- in a good way-” you sighed, noticing your eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. 

“I don’t even know what I’m sayin'- please say something.” You smiled, feeling like you had just confessed your feelings to him even if you didn't know what feelings you were confessing.

“I think- you're exhausted. And you need to sleep.” He smiled, making you sigh at his words. Nodding your head slowly, knowing if you had to sleep it would mean being home alone again.

“I don't wanna be alone.” you hummed, sounding like you were already half asleep.

“I could stay. If you want.” Choso started, hearing you exhale in relief. “I'll clean up.” He continued, seeing you nod your head.

“You don't have to-” You started, feeling embarrassed.

“I want to.” He retorted, reaching for your hand. Making you sigh as you felt more at ease, mouthing a quiet, ‘Thank you.’ before standing.

“Wake me when you wanna leave- okay?” You asked, walking towards the stairs, hearing him mumble a small ‘Mhm’, seeing you left the nail polish at the table. Smiling before standing up and walking to the kitchen sink.

Choso wasn't going to make you wake up simply because he wanted to leave. He would stay here for as long as you'd let him. ‘I will be here when you wake,’ he smiled to himself, washing the dirty dishes. Picturing a future where this was your life. He was your life.

Obsessive!Choso who finished washing the dishes, walked around your house to see if there was anything he could find.

Pocketing the black nail polish on the table, finding himself standing at the end of the staircase that led up to you. Debating on whether or not he should go up there. Thinking up excuses if you caught him snooping.

Before he knew it, he was taking quiet steps up the stairs. Noticing most of the doors were closed, walking to the one that was slightly cracked open.

Pushing the door handle slightly. Seeing you in your bed, sleeping.

‘You feel so safe around me that you leave your door open. So comfortable that you let yourself be vulnerable.’

Quietly taking a step inside. Eyes scanning the walls of your room, finally being able to see the bedroom he's pictured you in for so long. His eyes noticed you left your curtain open- again.

Closing it quickly, mentally scolding you for that bad habit. His eyes trailing down at your desk. All your small trinkets.

Taking his freshly painted fingers and moving the curtain slightly to look outside, seeing the usual spot he'd stand at when he would come see you. Smiling at how if you ever did look outside, you wouldn't see him from this view.

Looking to the wall where your bed was. A large painting hangs above it. Noticing it was crooked, taking a step closer and seeing it was slightly pushed off of the wall.

Looking down to see you sleeping soundly, taking a minute to look at your sleeping form. The urge to brush the hair from your face was strong, but the regret he'd feel if he invaded your personal space, and you woke from it; was too great. S

canning your wrist that was adorned by the bracelet he had given you earlier, almost clutching his heart at the sight. Eyes looking back to the painting, scanning the side of it and seeing the spine of a notebook. ‘A diary? I didn't take you for a person who had a diary.’ he thought, gently lifting the side of it and taking the notebook. Opening the first page and seeing the date, two years ago.

First day of college. Reading how excited you were- the first few entries were like that. Full of excitement and passion for going to school. Standing above you as he flipped the pages, finding one 5 months after starting school. ‘

I left home to start over.- but I could stand in a room filled with these so-called ‘friends’ and feel more alone than I've ever felt in my entire life-’

He read, looking down at your face, ‘I understand. I know how hard living the life you live must be’ Spending the next 20 minutes silently skimming through the pages.

Eyes snapping to you anytime you sighed in your sleep. His fingers grazed on the small wrinkled circles of smeared ink. Showing him you were crying whilst writing. 

Seeing the date of the day when he first saw you, scanning your messy writing trying to find himself in your words. ‘

There was only one person who looked interesting.’ He read, with a smile on his face when he read that you were describing what he wore that day.

‘This is fate. I know it is. Love at first sight.’ he thought, turning the page and seeing you continue to mention him more often. The last entry you wrote was a week after they had paired you together.

The words he read almost made him jump in excitement. ‘I've never met anyone like him, he's different. I think we met for a reason.’ Choso wanted to desperately take your notebook, scan each and every page before returning it to you.

He wondered why you hadn't written in so long- thinking that his friendship was so important to you, you didn't need to write anymore. That you already knew you could talk to him about anything. No judgements or need for embarrassment. 

Obsessive!Choso who got caught up in his own string of delusions that he began to mumble to himself, letting out the questions he thinks of when you'd talk.

Almost carrying out a conversation with you. Seeing you start to shift under a throw blanket, freezing still when you turned to face away from him. Closing the notebook and sliding it back behind the large canvas, making sure to straighten the painting before he left.

He was one step away from the door when he heard you stir awake, mumbling his name when you cracked your eyes open to see a Choso shaped blob at your door.

Freezing when you asked him what he was doing, “I came to see if you were sleeping; I know you told me to wake you.” He smiled, seeing you rest back into the pillows with a small sigh.

“You leavin?” you asked, voice groggy as you tried not to fall asleep again.

“Nope. It's okay. Go back to sleep.” he whispered, hearing you hum in response. He was mentally scolding himself for almost being caught. Stepping out of your bedroom and silently closing the door. Feeling like his search wasn't enough, he walked down the hall to the door at the end. Wanting to see who you lived with.

Opening the door knowing there wouldn't be anyone behind it. Scanning the bedroom, seeing their photos of their families. ‘Boring.’ he thought, his eyes catching a frame of you, and what he assumed was the rest of your roommates.

Smiling at how you stood out in the photo. How everyone looked so fucking boring next to you.  His fingers grazed against your face as he admired the photo behind the glass. 

Placing the frame face down onto their desk. Closing the door to the bedroom before making his way to the other rooms, not finding anything of interest.

But in the last bedroom he checked, Choso found they had a huge frame on their wall filled with polaroids. Scanning each row trying to find you.

His eyes catching a photo of you, smile on your face as someone kissed your cheek. Written at the bottom was ‘New Years 2021’ in red ink.

He felt a certain pain in his heart when he saw how happy your face was. Remembering back to every time he's made you laugh- not once making you smile as hard as you were in that photo.

Not being able to see this person's face clearly, the flash from the camera hid their identity well. ‘You haven't brought this person up. And they're not on your social media.’ He thought, scanning the other photos to see if they had any more of you.

But not seeing any, turning around and looking at their tv stand, a small stack of multicolored polaroids wrapped in rope sat at the corner. Thinking how this was fate, picking up the hefty stack and untying the bow that held them together. Noticing the tops of them were dusty, showing him that they didn't go through them recently. 

Obsessive!Choso who slowly went through them; mostly photos that were taken with the wrong exposure or blurry ones.

But he saw how there were 5 of you. On your birthday, of you in your pajamas in the morning, of you petting a stray cat. He smiled looking at them, thinking of how destiny put these photos in his hands.

Taking out all 5 photos of you and wrapping up the stack again, placing it in the same corner he found them in.

Taking out his wallet and sliding in the polaroids into one of the card holders. Smiling knowing he'd have actual polaroids of you to show off to his brothers the next time he saw them again.

Walking back downstairs and seeing that the sun had fully set. Opening your fridge to see what you had, nothing but an old rotisserie chicken and ketchup.

Opening the freezer and seeing the pizza you had told him about previously. All he found were just frozen meals, scolding your roommates for not leaving you decent ingredients to cook for yourself. 

Sitting down on the sofa, not wanting to turn the tv on incase he woke you. So he sat in silence, thinking about all the times you had interacted with him, replaying them in his mind.

Watching every smile, every word you mispronounced, everytime you muted yourself on FaceTime- like a movie.

You know in those movies where the spouse dies and they remember them laughing the whole time, in white bedsheets or at the beach? Yeah, that's how he was thinking of you. If anyone peeked inside the window they'd just see him sitting on the couch in dim lighting, hands on his knees as he waited for you to wake up.

Trying to remember what he'd do in his spare time before he met you. Furrowing his eyebrows when he realized he genuinely couldn't remember, ‘Study? No that's not it.’ he thought.

Hearing light footsteps above him, signaling you were awake. Smile on his face when he heard you close the door to your bedroom. Straightening his back when he saw you come down the stairs, grinning when he saw you.

Lips puffy and eyes squinty when you laid eyes on him. “Hiii” you croaked, walking to the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on. “What were you doin?” you asked, seeing him look over to you and think of his answer.

“Nothing…?” he asked, his face grimacing as he looked at you. Causing you to let out a stifled laugh.

“Totally not suspicious at all.” you joked, folding your legs onto the couch to face him. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt the need to actually tell you about what he was thinking. “I was trying to remember what I used to do with my spare time.” he murmured, so quiet you could hear crickets outside.

“What do you mean?” You asked, brain still muddy from your sleepy state.

“Before I-” he started, knowing he was saying too much. “Never mind.” he murmured, leaning back into the couch.

“No, tell me.” You smiled, scooching over the tiniest bit to convince him. Seeing him nod his head no, “Before you…?” The tone you took made Choso crack a smile.

“Before we were friends.” he mumbled, looking away from you in hopes you didn't see the blushy look on his face. Making you laugh,

Choso knew what he did before he was friends with you. He'd watch you, and scroll through your social media. Find old middle school pictures of you. Scroll through the abandoned twitter account from sophmore year of highschool.

What he was referring to was what he did before he saw you, what he did before he fell in love with you.

“I didn't think I took so much of your time-” you joked, seeing him turn back to you with a smile.

“No- that's not what I meant.” he laughed, seeing you smile at him. “I mean I don't think I have any hobbies or anything like that.” seeing your smile fall.

“Any? At all?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Not even like regular guy stuff?” you laughed, seeing him exhale with a smile.

“What is ‘regular guy stuff’?” he turned his head seeing you laugh through your nose.

“I don’t know-” you looked away from him, looking up trying to think about it. “Video games, sports, parties, pot…” You started, looking back at him. “A partner.” seeing his face go unchanged.

“Well let's see-” he started holding five fingers in front of him, “I don't like games-” putting down his thumb, “i'm not a jock- parties are stupid- “ putting down two fingers looking over at you smiling.

“-and pot makes me anxious.” He smiled, seeing you look down to see he still had his pinkie out.

“And… ?” You smiled, seeing his eyes flicker back down to his hand.

“Nope. Not that either.” he let out, almost making you fall back against the couch in relief.

“I'd be a little concerned if you did have a partner and you were here with me-” you grinned, “It being so late and all.” seeing his eyebrows wriggle at your words.

Looking away from you to face the black tv in front of the couch, silence filling the air as his hands fiddled with each other, seeing his pointer finger pick at the already raw gash on his thumb, “You wanna watch a movie..? Or something?” you asked, trying to make him less nervous. Not knowing this would only make his heart beat faster. Seeing him nod his head yes and let out a small ‘Mhm’ 

Now standing in the kitchen waiting for popcorn to finish popping, leaning against the counter as he stared at you.

“Wine?” he asked, seeing you walk to a specific cupboard above the stove, “You read my mind.” You mumbled, standing on your tiptoes and opening the cabinet door.

Seeing the tips of your fingers barely reach the dark green bottle. Hearing him take a step to help you but mumbling a quick, “I got it-” with a sigh when your hand wrapped around the bottom of it. Holding it in both your hands in triumph with a smile on your face. Placing two glasses onto the counter and telling him to say when. Seeing him open the bag of popcorn and dump them into a light blue bowl, taking a sip from your glass.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, tossing popcorn into your mouth.

“I don't know- action?” he asked, seeing you nod your head no.

“Horror?” you asked, seeing him nod his head no quickly. 

Obsessive!Choso knew that if you put a horror movie on; you'd see just how much he hated them. He knew the whole ‘watch a horror movie to comfort you when you're scared’ wouldn't work. In the end he'd be the one asking you to tell him when the scary part is over.

“Comedy?” he asked, seeing you grimace.

“So called ‘comedy’ films are never funny.” You smiled, looking up to think.

“You into superhero movies?” you asked, seeing him look down with a smirk.

“God no-” he laughed.

“Oh I know-” You smiled, making him look back up at you. “Ratatouille!” You smiled, making him laugh.

“Phenomenal movie-” he started, making you grin. “One of my-” he said, placing his hand on his chest. “Personal favorite movies.” His tone was full of sarcasm as you picked up your glass, muttering ‘Shut up-’ with a smile with the bowl in hand.

Walking back to the couch. Sitting at the end, turning the tv on and scrolling to find the streaming service. Seeing Choso eye the couch before sitting. Looking at the opposite end and over to you, looking up at his face.

“What?” you asked, seeing indecision smeared on his face.

“Nothin.” he smiled, sitting at the opposite end and feeling how tense his shoulders were. Hearing you let out a laugh before taking a sip from your glass. Placing the popcorn bowl between you, knowing you’d have to reach over quite far if you wanted to get a handful. Pressing play onto the movie and feeling his eyes flicker to you. 

It didn't take long for you to pause the movie to tell him about a memory you remembered from your childhood.

Wine in hand seeing him take in every word you spoke with a smile. Soon the film became annoying background noise as you heard him speak about how the red haired guy reminded him of his brother, his glass becoming more and more empty with every time he spoke.

Telling you stories of how he would have to pry them from each other growing up, and much they'd fight with each other. Soon the tv dimmed, eventually turning off from how long it had been paused. Showing you a scar one of his brothers made on his forearm.

“Growing up- Kechizu was a biter.” He smiled, seeing you move the bowl onto the coffee table and scooch closer to him. Noticing the light veins on his arm as you scanned the scar.

“And this one?” you asked, seeing a light scratch between his knuckles, “I was trying to break up a fight- and they dragged me into it. I don't even know who scratched me. But from then on I made sure that they all had short nails.” he smiled, noticing every time you asked him about another one you'd scooch closer to him.

Now sitting a few inches away from him, smiling while you reached your fingers out, grazing the light scars that littered his upper forearm, Choso’s cheeks now light pink as he watched you.

Both wine glasses now empty as your eyes flickered up to look at him. His short sleeve rose, making you notice the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep. Sliding the tips of your fingers up slightly, pushing the hem of the sleeve up. Making a chill run down his spine.

“Did it hurt?” you asked, looking at the tattoo on his pale skin. Looking up to his face, eyes half lidded as he nodded no.

Pushing his hair behind his ears with his other hand, your eyes now scanning his heavily pierced ears.

“And your ears?” you whispered, “Those hurt a little more.” He whispered back, seeing your hand hesitate to rise to his ear before pulling it back down.

Eyes locked onto each other as Choso felt his brain empty. Moving your eyes to look at his eyebrow.

“Did the ones on your face hurt?” you whispered. Scanning his face piercings.

“Some of them.” he whispered back. 

Taking his free hand and grazing the barbell on his eyebrow. “This one hurt a lot-” he mumbled, his lips curling into a small smile. Dragging the tips of his fingers down to the hoop on his nostril, “And this one felt like a pinch-” he whispered, seeing your eyes follow his unchipped nails.

Dragging his middle and ring finger down to his snake bites, “And these only hurt after.” he smiled, seeing you look at his bottom lip. Humming in response, eyes blinking back up to look into his.

“I never noticed you had a scar there.” you whispered.

Looking at two small bumps on either side of his nose bridge. “That one-” he started, “Felt like I combined every piercing and every tattoo ive ever gotten, into one.” he smiled, seeing how dilated your pupils were.

“Why’d you take it out?” you whispered, your thumb rubbing circles on his forearm made his brain fuzzy and found it difficult to think of what he was saying.

Obsessive!Choso who thought you were leaning in closer to him, thinking he was going crazy. “I didn't like it as much as I thought I would.” he breathed. Feeling his cheeks tingle at how close you were. Dragging your hand down to the top of his.

“Scary huh?” he asked, making you exhale and lean back. Nodding your head no and smile.

“Nope. Not at all.” you grinned, fingers grazing the bumps of his knuckles. Inhaling sharply when he felt your fingers brush against his palm.

“Wh-” he started, seeing you look to him with a tilted head, “Where do we meet on monday?” He asked, referring to walking you home.

Hearing you hum, “Coffee shop?” you asked, pulling your hand away from him, making his heart break.

“Okay.” he whispered sternly, trying his hardest to not sound pathetic.

Seeing you rest your hand on your knee, “Okay.” you mimicked his tone with a smile. 

-

pt 8 here

this was like 5.5k words Jesus Christ. lmk if u wanna be tagged continuously!!!!

[thegleamingmoon]

Beloved.

Chapter 1 - Meeting you.

🪷✨ ❛ In every world, my heart would bloom for you. In every moment, in every lifetime, amidst the stars and the endless ocean, in every heartbeat and whispered breeze, I would choose you always and forever. ❜ ✨🪷

*********

The golden rays of the early morning sun filtered through the intricate carvings of the Padmanabhaswamy Temple, casting a divine glow upon its magnificent structure. And there she was, draped in a simple yet elegant saree as she walked through the temple's corridors, her footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone floors and like every other day, the air was fragrant with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, as the devotees murmured their prayers, lost in their own worlds of devotion as the girl walked into the inner sanctum, where the majestic form of Lord Padmanabhan lay in eternal slumber.

"Dear lord, please look after the world like you always do. I pray for the good health of my family and dear ones. May you always be with them and keep them happy." This was what she usually prayed for. Nothing more, nothing less. But today was different, she had come here to seek solace in the divine presence of her beloved deity but she still felt restless for reasons unknown.

The strange sensation grew as she moved out from the sanctum to the temple premises, she felt as if someone was watching her. Turning around, her eyes met those of a man standing a few feet away. He was tall and handsome, with an aura of mystery surrounding him. His complexion, very much like the clouds filled with rain and eyes, deep and penetrating that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

"Namaskaram", he greeted her with a warm smile, his voice gentle and calming.

"Namaskaram," she replied, curiosity piqued by this stranger. "Are you new to the this place? I haven't seen you here before."

"Yes, I am new to this city." he said, his eyes twinkling with hidden knowledge. "I’m Aravind. May I know your name?"

"Bhadra. It's nice to meet you, sir", she replied and saw his smile grow wider, making his eyes twinkle with an emotion she couldn't comprehend.

"It's nice to meet you too, Bhadra. And we can drop the formalness." He said as she shyly giggled. It was sweet to hear her name in his beautiful voice. She thought, mentally facepalming to bring herself out of her mind. Something was really wrong with her today.

As they walked through the temple grounds, Bhadra found herself more intrigued, drawn into a conversation with Aravind. They talked about the temple, the city of Thiruvananthapuram, its history, and the legends that surrounded it. He spoke with a depth of understanding that left Bhadra in awe. Hours passed like minutes, and soon the sun began to set, casting an orange hue hue over the temple.

"What brings you here? And how do you know so much about this place?", Bhadra asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Aravind smiled mysteriously. "Well, I have always been connected to this temple."

"Tell me about it." She looked deeper into his eyes, only to find a glimpse of her own secrets that were kept away from the world.

Bhadra lived a simple life, tending to the temple and helping those in need. She didn't remember a time when she was not insanely drawn to the deity. She had always looked up to the blue-hued god who slept on a thousand hooded serpent. She saw him in the vast sky, in her delusional thoughts, in the poetries she wrote, in the songs she sang and in almost everything she did.

She would dream of peacock feathers, moonlit nights and beautiful dense forests where gleamingly blurry visions of her beloved flute player would greet her with bliss and confusion. She would hold on to them to this day and maybe forever, without any expectations but just pure, boundless love that she had.

"Maybe those visions are trying to tell you something? You still get them don't you?"

That deep voice of Aravind broke her chain of thoughts as she looked up at him perplexed and maybe a little annoyed.

"Did you just read my mind?"

He just replied with a cheeky smile as he brought himself dangerously close to her, "Perhaps I just understand you better than anyone else, Bhadra. I have always done so." he gently whispered, only making her confusion grow.

"And I have always wanted to tell you that I love to hear you sing, even though you don't sing often. Your voice melts like honey into my ears. I can listen to it everyday." He looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"How do you say that when you have never heard me sing? Who are you, Aravind?", she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "You seem to know me in ways that no one else does."

He chuckled even as his eyes were moist, "Oh I have heard you countless times. You, my dearest, are much more than you think of yourself to be."

"What do you mean?"

"As much as I want to explain, I can't. He sighed wistfully. "It's sad, but I have to leave now. I will return soon, Bhadra. Until then, promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"Why?" She clearly didn't understand a thing. It didn't seem fair, or so she thought. This man had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, mysterious but familiar, only to say he’d disappear again, leaving her with countless questions. Yet, somehow, it all felt right. Despite not wanting him to leave, she could only hope that he would come back.

Adoring the curls that framed her soft features one last time, Aravind stepped back. "Until next time," he voiced, extending his hand. Bhadra grasped it firmly, losing herself in his eyes as she tearfully bid him goodbye.

"Moley," she heard her father's call and turned around. "I'm here, Appa," she yelled back, hearing his hasty steps as he reached her.

"I knew you'd be here," he said with a warm smile lighting up his kind eyes. "It will be dark soon. I want you to come home with me." He gently caressed her head, and she nodded in agreement.

"Are you okay, kanne? Were you talking to someone here?" He asked, concerned.

Bhadra turned to her side, only to find nobody there and smiled in despair and surprise. It all felt too real to be one of her delusions and too elusive to be reality. She wanted to tell her father about the mysterious person she met but she knew that it would be difficult for him or anyone to believe. So she chose to remain silent about everything that happened today.

"No, Appa. Let's go home" She replied as she followed her father on their way back home.

Today was different indeed.

**********

Moley/Kanne - a way to address a daughter or a little girl in Malayalam.

A/N - Wanted to write something like this for the longest time. This may have some cliche moments but this work by far, is the closest to my heart. And I may turn this into a series if y'all wish. So let's see. I hope you enjoy reading it <3

Tags- @krsnaradhika @houseofbreadpakoda @harinishivaa @achyutapriya @kaal-naagin @sambaridli @sambhavami @yehsahihai @ramayantika @khushireadsandrambles

[aishangotome]

Chevalier Michel: Even If You Die

From A Hidden Oath: King of the BEAST (2024 Election) - Collection Event

Thank you @dark-frosted-heart for providing the SE video!

—

All was dyed crimson in the evening–

???: ...Excuse me.

The setting sun mercilessly illuminated the figure that entered the room soundlessly.

It was the secret agent who was always assigned to guard Emma.

Lucien: Lady Emma has returned.

Chevalier: ...You may leave.

Lucien: Yes, sir.

The secret agent bowed and left the room.

Chevalier: .............

With a light sigh, he gathered the documents he had spread out on his desk and stood up.

-

Emma: Prince Chevalier...!

As soon as she entered the room, Emma opened her eyes wide, which she had been wiping with linen.

Emma was dressed in black - mourning clothes.

Emma: I'll make tea now.

Emma, with her tear-stained eyes, put on her usual smile.

(It's not a situation where you can force a smile.)

Chevalier: There's no need.

Emma: But... ah.

I grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her to sit on the sofa.

I sat next to her and embraced her shoulders, and Emma quietly leaned against me.

Emma: ...I apologize for my unsightly appearance.

Chevalier: Did someone say you looked unsightly?

Emma: No, no one...

Chevalier: Then there is no need to worry.

(Those tears are not the kind that should be forcibly stopped.)

Emma: ...Y-yes...

Her small shoulders trembled with a sniffle.

(It's been a while since I've seen Emma cry this much.)

(You cry like this even for the death of someone who isn't even your family.)

Today, Emma attended a funeral.

The deceased was an elderly man in town who Emma had known since she was a child.

When attending the funerals of nobles and knights as the next queen, Emma maintains a resolute demeanor, but it seems she cannot do so at the funerals of old acquaintances.

(In the past, I would have dismissed it as trivial...)

Suddenly, a memory from the past flashed through my mind.

*flashback*

Clavis: Chev, if you're heartbroken, shall I offer you a word of comfort?

Clavis: The death of your mother must have affected even you.

Chevalier: ...No?

Chevalier: I have knowledge of human emotions from books. I thought I might feel something...

Chevalier: I feel "nothing."

*flashback over*

(I still feel nothing about that woman's death.)

(But... if you were to die before me...)

( ............ )

An indescribable discomfort ran through my chest, and I pushed away any further thoughts.

Chevalier: ––Speak.

Emma: Huh...?

Chevalier: About the deceased.

Chevalier: He must have been someone you cared deeply about, to make you cry so much?

Emma looked at me with a slightly surprised expression, then awkwardly smiled and began to speak haltingly.

Emma: ...He was a lively old man who everyone in town knew.

Emma: He was baking sweets until just before he passed away, and took his last breath surrounded by his family.

Emma: He woke up at 4 a.m. every morning to bake sweets, and if you went early in the morning, he would always give you extra.

Emma: The other day, I went to buy some secretly, and he remembered me and said, "I'm glad..."

Instead of words, large tears fell from her reddened eyes.

Emma: I'm sorry...

Chevalier: There is no need to apologize.

Emma: But... even though Prince Chevalier is by my side, I'm showing you such a pathetic sight...

I lifted her chin as she tried to look down.

No matter how much she wiped them away, tears kept spilling from her wet eyes.

Chevalier: I do not think your current appearance is pathetic.

Emma: ...

I placed my hand on her cheek, and Emma placed her hand on top of mine.

The sight of Emma, her eyes closed as if feeling the warmth, seemed incredibly endearing.

Emma: Being pampered by Prince Chevalier makes me happy and cry even more.

Emma: But please, just for today, let me indulge in your kindness.

Emma: If I keep being sad, the old man in heaven will worry.

(Heaven, huh?)

(Prayers for the deceased are usually a waste of time. No matter how much you pray, that person is no longer in this world.)

(It would be far more rational to carry on the will of the deceased and move towards the future, rather than wasting time praying.)

(But... if it were you, I would also dwell on my thoughts.)

(It may be meaningless, but I don't think it's worthless.)

(Because you taught me that loving someone, like being loved, has meaning.)

Chevalier: Emma.

(Even if you die, I probably won't shed any tears.)

(But... I swear I will continue to love you for the rest of my life.)

Emma: Mmm...

I kissed her tear-stained lips.

As if to envelop her heart, shaken by loneliness, I continued to hold Emma until the curtain of night fell.

FIN

[sleepnowmychild]

Ok but my worship is very lazy.

Don’t think you need to have a massive altar or a million offerings to be a ‘good’ devotee. Just do your best, do what you can, it’s the thought and thanks that counts.

I’m a very routine stuck person (thanks autism), so I can’t change my routines without immense stress. If I want to go out of my way to do a big offering or something alike, I need to plan and prepare for weeks and have it scheduled and be mentally prepared for my routine to change even if it’s only for an hour or two. So my worship is mainly documenting my dreams when I remember them, going to bed on time and keeping good sleep hygiene, making sure the altar is clean and lighting the candles and incense when I remember. Talking to him, quick and easy prayers, things I can do before bed really.

Would it be super fun to have like a whole festival sleepover party? Absolutely. But I couldn’t do it 24/7.

Just do what you can, what your mind and body allows. If you’re chronically ill or neurodiverce etc, don’t push yourself too hard. Again, it’s the thought that counts. Do what you can and make sure you say thank you when you can. And to be fair, Hypnos is the perfect deity for the always tired and forgetful gang.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Prologue\?)

(summarry: the second daughter of king Viserys caught the hearts of many, but none more than her dear uncle. and daemon will do everything in his power to make sure no one takes his sweet niece.)

this is my first fic and I have dylexia so do be kind and give constructive criticism! thank you!

106 ac

 Viserys POV

I stood outside the room hearing my wife scream as she gave birth to our newest child. Aemma had gone into labor that night and now it is midday. I keep praying to the gods to keep my wife and babe safe. I'm not sure which ones anymore, the seven, the fourteen, or the old gods, I suppose any that will hear me and answer. Otto walked up to me and cringed at my wife’s screams. “Your grace, your brother has arrived just now. His dragon was seen landing at the pits.” Otto says tensely. He never has liked my brother, always thought him too rash and chaotic.

“Thank you, Otto. Do be sure to get him and my daughter when the babe is born.” I say as I flinch at the bloodcurdling scream my wife makes. Otto nods and walks off to continue his duties as I wait for my newest child. After thirty minutes I hear my wife’s screams stop and a babes cries. A midwife opens the door and turns to me. “Another girl, your grace.” she says as she curtys and holds the door open to me.

“She’s perfect Viserys. Oh so perfect.” Aemma says as she looks down at the bundle in her arms. “Would you like to meet her?” She asks once she notices I’m frozen at the door. At her words I rushed over to sit next to her and kiss her sweaty brow. I reach out and take our new daughter and look down at her. “Isn’t she perfect, Viserys?” Aemma says as she touches our daughter's nose and we laugh as she scrunches her face at the action. 

“Yes, the most perfect thing I've ever seen.” I say smiling. I then remember all of the others we’ve lost and look up at the maester. “Healthy?” I asked fearfully. “Kicking like a goat, your grace.” he says and I can't help but laugh from relief. “Good, good.” I say smiling. Myself and Aemma sit there just looking at this beautiful creature we made, we’re so enthralled we don’t notice the midwives and maesters cleaning my wife, the room, the bedding or them leaving. 

When our eldest enters I smile at her. Rhaenyra rushes over to me and Aemma and climbs into the bed sitting between us. “I got my sister? Is that her? Can I hold her? What’s her name?” Rhaenyra asks us so quickly we hardly understand her, We both can't help but laugh. “Yes this is your sister, yes you can hold her, and no we haven’t picked a name yet.” Aemma responds as she strokes her hair affectionately and I set our newest in Rhaenyra’s lap.

Once Rhaenyra looks down she scrunches up her face in disgust. “She’s so boring! How am I supposed to play with her when she’s boring?” Rhaenyra says furiously as she pushes the babe off her lap, gets off the bed and storms out. Aemma thankfully had quick reflexes as she picked up our youngest before she got hurt. Aemma and I sigh in disappointment at our eldest’s attitude. “She’ll come around.” I say but from the look I’m given we both know I don't believe my own words. Nonetheless Aemma nods and smiles at my effort. 

We sit there for the next hour brainstorming names till Aemma says your name, and it’s perfect. That is when we hear a knock at the door “Come!” I say and see that it’s my brother wishing to meet his new niece. “Ah, Daemon come, come.'' I say as Aemma holds out our babe for Daemon to take. Once he does I can’t believe my eyes, it’s like he’s finally calm. I watch as my brother’s shoulders drop like all the weight has been lifted from them. And that’s when he asks your name to which we tell him, when he says your name it”s like a prayer, like he can finally breathe. This reaction is so contradictory to when he met Rhaenyra, he wanted nothing to do with her and avoided her like the plague. Although I suppose when Rhaenyra was born he was only a boy of eight, but still this reaction feels more than just him being older and wiser.

That night I went to check on my newest, but when I was about to enter the nursery I heard Daemon singing a song of old Valyrian as he held her close. “Drakari pykiros tikummo jemiros, yn lantyz bartossa saelot vāedis. Hen ñuhā elēnī, perzyssy vestretis se gēlȳn irūdaks ānogrose. Perzyro  udrȳssi ezīmptos laehossi, hārossa letagon aōt vāedan. Hae mērot gierūli, se hāros bartossi prūmȳsa sōvīli gevī dāerī.” I listen and watch, I’ve never seen my brother this way, not ever. I keep telling myself it’s cause he’s older and wiser and wishes for children of his own, but somewhere deep inside, I know I’m wrong.

Special thanks to my lovely friend @sugutoad for making the header! I am personally in love done know about you guys!

[sugar-omi]

Thought about accidentally sending a nude to Cove (or anyone of your choice) 👀

Like MC was trying to send him a picture of something else but accidentally tapped on a nude they took the night before and WHOOPS! Now Cove is going back and forth with himself between typing up a reply and deleting what he wrote and just screaming into his pillow because he just saw his best friend/crush naked and it’s still on his phone screen and he has to see them tomorrow because they always do but he doesn’t know if it’ll be better to see each other tomorrow or wait a bit until things are “less awkward” and he is BURSTING at the seams

Bonus if he feels guilty because he saves the photo anyways for………….. research purposes 👀

MY EYES ARE WIDE OPEN. I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO GO THAT WAY....

that's such a good thought, though... especially if while he's fumbling, you're freaking out, but also way too curious to know what he'll say so you don't delete it...

and in a moment of bravery, text him before he can say anything to your apology or about the image.. "although.. you can keep it if you like"

his eyes FALL out his head. what do you mean he can keep the image?!?;!^!

he probably doesn't even respond. and if he does, it's just a "it's okay" because he's too shaken to say anything else. doesn't know what to say. "you look pretty", "you're so sexy", "thanks for the nude"????

which.. is probably worse than any of those options if you're already nervous n floundering over te accident.

if you want a bit more satisfaction, are genuinely worried you made him uncomfortable, or just reassurance for what you already know... go ahead and ask if he's uncomfortable, or mad at you, or whatever.

it takes a minute but eventually you get a "...no, im not upset.. or uncomfortable..."

please move on after that because if you linger on the topic anymore, he'll be on life support 🙏

and he does hold onto that image... can't bring himself to download it, that's too much for his poor heart. and even though it'd only be proper to delete the message.. he doesn’t. he tries, his finger hovering over the button.

even though you said he could... keep it. he shouldn't, right? no matter how long he sits in turmoil, his respect for you and his teenage hormones raging against each other...

eventually one wins, because he's been so restless all day. his stomach twisting with something foreign. his eyes wandered to your body when he saw you at the beach that day, and he remembered the picture, trying to ignore how his sex throbbed and the subsequent tightening of his shorts...

really, he has more control than this usually. his voice of reason, more like selfconsciousness, too strong.

but his fingers flicker across his phone, and they find the way back to that image, that damn image that's been haunting him. his brain begging him to remember every curve and dip, freckle, and scar on your body.

he knows what your body looks like, you grew up together. he knows where most of your beauty marks are, your freckles, your scars, knows if your skin is seamless, and he's sleepily traced any acne scars on your biceps.

he knows the shape of you, the leanness and the cords of muscle in your arms and thighs. recognizes you just by looking at your back.

so it's not hard for him to imagine your nude body after that, especially since he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen fast enough when you sent it.

and even now, he's finding any of those hidden treasures right now as his eyes rake over your body, his hand wrapping around his cock as he shamefully imagines you with him. touching him. touching you.

imagines his lips on your hip bones, kissing your body like it's a prayer.

your voice is always so clear in his ears, he can't help but imagine the way you'd call his name... thinks back to all the times you've laughed happily or groaned tiredly, or moaned in pain...

his mind twists the knowledge of you, your lovely voice, and your heavenly touch. imagines you calling his name, gasping at his touch...

finally spills his cum all over his hand, his head collapsing on his pillow, covers his face, sparks of pleasure still running through him...

realizes post nut clarity is fucking real, and he doesn't know how he's gonna be able to look at you tomorrow...

[rockatanskette]

Semi-related to my post on how human conservation practices, but I have a cold today, and it's got me thinking about biological altruism—the biological imperative to put other creatures ahead of yourself, to benefit the group.

When talking about possible interactions with other species, we talk a lot about humans being crazy and thrill-seeking and impossible to kill. Never use a warning shot as an incentive to keep humans out of a fight; it'll just make them angry. And that's true. But a valid criticism I've seen in the "Earth is a death world" community is that according to our understanding of evolution, every planet must be some form of death world. Competition fosters evolution—the wolf with sharper claws survives when its litter mates die. You can't reach space travel without some casualties along the way.

But the dog survives because it makes friends with the strange ape carrying a sharp stick. And the strange ape survives because it befriends the wolf. Underneath the death world is an inextricable and undeniable layer of the bond world; the love world; the world, together.

I imagine some worlds are not death worlds. They're peaceful and tranquil. I suspect there are worlds far more deadly than Earth, where the skies rain diamonds, harder than any substance we know with the species to match. And I imagine that they are united in their confusion at the duality of humankind.

Today is a great example: I have a cold, and I want someone to take care of me, but the people who would are immunocompromised, also sick, or live 8 hours away, respectfully. I also want no one within the walls of my apartment or I will eat them. I feel gross, I feel tired, and I don't want a single human being anywhere near me, even if they did bring soup.

In my constant scrolling through my phone today, I decided to look up why the hell I feel so bad—why everyone feels so bad when they're ill. And the answer surprised me. I always thought it was because your immune system is active, so it's using a lot of your energy. That is part of it. Another part is that your brain and body are communicating across the blood-brain barrier to fight the infection, which is rare and energetically expensive.

But that doesn't explain everything, and according to more current research, it could also be what's called the Eyam Hypothesis: that we feel so gross, so we instinctively isolate from other people. We're too tired to deal with others, and so we don't infect them. Misanthropy for the good of the species. Of course, it can also backfire: one of the criticisms of the Eyam Hypothesis is that humans also instinctively care for each other. If my brother has a headache, I drive to the store for Advil.

Personally, I think it's a little bit of both: biological altruism. Either way, the majority live on. The first thought I had this morning when I woke up wasn't "I feel gross" it was "there's no way I'm going to work today." And while that might not be everyone's first thought, you don't even have to be a particularly altruistic person to not want to leave your home or your bed when you're sick. It's inborn.

And so when the human named Ismail comes down with a case of the interstellar common cold, his alien friend Dyos grows very concerned. Ismail is usually intensely social, almost off-puttingly so. Some crew members joke about how his quarters are for sleeping and prayer only; if he's home alone? You should be worried. But when Dyos demands an answer to the severity of Ismail's malady, the other humans just nod knowingly.

"Nah, he's okay, the medics already cleared him. It's not a severe infection."

"But there are so many...fluids. And his body has changed color."

There is a moment of confusion there until they remember that Dyos's species can see in the infrared color spectrum.

"Nah, that's just a low-grade fever. It should break in the next couple days."

"But he doesn’t want to play chess today," Dyos insists.

"Ohhhh," says human Claudia, finally understanding. "No, that's normal. Humans don't like being around other people when they're sick, it's supposed to be one of the major evolutionary advantages. Protect your community from your illness and the genes live on."

"So we're just going to leave him alone?" Dyos is troubled by this. He can go for weeks without speaking to another life form, but he has seen Ismail grow despondent when unable to participate in social gathering.

"Oh, no," human Claudia says, laughing. "We're going to employ one of the other most longstanding human evolutionary advantages."

There are many to choose from and Dyos settles on, "middle age?"

"Sort of," human Claudia opens up a small shipping container and holds up a brown paper bag tied with a colorful ribbon. It glows brightly in Dyos's vision, almost as brightly as human Claudia's smile. "His nanni's hot soup, express delivery."

[gaypirate420]

Feeding and Control// Jasper Hale

Jasper Hale x male!reader.

Inspiration.

Smut. Sub!Jasper. Edging. Bondage. Vibrators. Blood. Overstimulation. Oh vampire stamina.

A/N: First time writing for Jasper so it might be ooc. Also please reblog and comment. Requests are open (only male and gender neutral)!

Jasper looked so pretty.

His head hanged low and those blonde curls hide his pale face, his scarred arms covered with that beautiful red rope that tie them back to the chair, his legs spread nicely for you.

Those ropes were basically decorations. Jasper could break them with ease, but he doesn't.

It was heartwarming really.

"P—please." He whimpered, he looked up, his precious golden eyes meet yours.

Your lips leaves a tender kiss on his forehead and your hand cups his cold cheek, his body relaxes almost immediately under you touch.

"We haven't even started, dear." You whispered against his ear, he whines and looks at you, you wrapped your an arm around his shoulder.

His dick twitches, you stopped pumping his member right before he was about to come.

"You know what you get if you behave. Your reward for being a good boy." You whispered seductively while brushing your neck.

Jasper's eyes look at your exposed neck, he nods slowly.

"Y—yes, sir. I'll be a good boy, sir." He whispers and looks at you, you smile and kiss him on the lips, he kisses back desperate, his arms shuffle under the ropes.

Jasper wanted to touch you.

He needed to touch you, it didn't help the fact that you were sitting on his lap and every so minutes you rub yourself onto his thigh.

You grabbed a little egg shaped toy next.

Jasper's eyes widen as you place it on his cock.

"Sir?" He asked curious and slightly nervous, you smile and stroke his cheek, he melts against your palm, rubbing his face against your hand like a cat.

"It's a new toy I got for you, cowboy." You revealed softly. Jasper nods slowly feeling flustered, if he could blush he would, you always find a new way to make him feel so loved.

The toy started to vibrate against his member and Jasper moaned loudly.

This was a hole new experience for him and it felt amazing.

The toy was so powerful, he felt like his body was alive again for a moment.

You looked at him, whimpering, moaning and his body twitching in pleasure. You moved the toy from the tip to the bottom, and from the bottom to the tip.

His legs started to shake, he moaned and rolled his eyes slightly.

The vampire called your name over and over again, like a prayer, a mantra, a plea.

He was about to come.

You turn it off.

Jasper whimpered loudly, chest rising with his deep breaths and his head collapses against your shoulder.

"Please! Please! I need to come." He whispered against you, begging for release, your hand teased his member.

"One more, darling." You proposed kindly while your other hand stroke his blonde hair.

"I— can't." He whimpered against your neck, breathing your scent and feeling the blood pumping through your veins, he wanted another thing now. His lust clouded mind suddenly got fixated on his strongest desire.

Jasper needed to taste your sweet blood.

Bite your soft neck and seeing your blood paint your clothes red, he licks his lips at the mere thought of you getting weak under his arms.

He hissed against your neck and showed his fangs. You didn't have time to move because the hissing ceased as fast as it came.

Jasper placed clumsy kisses on your neck, as if apologizing for his behavior.

"You will get your reward, remember? Control yourself for me, pretty boy." You spoke while looking at him, his golden eyes look at yours again.

"Y—yes, sir." He whispered so softly it was almost inaudible, you smiled and kissed his forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"One more." You whispered and stroke his hair, he whines and cries your name, you keep stroking his hair while his head is buried on the crook of your neck.

You have said this five times, one time with the toy, another with your hand, it was torturous.

The vampire doesn't know how much time has passed, his mind only thinks of the pleasure, your hands, your voice and the sweet scent of your blood.

Jasper is an uncontrollable vampire, blinded by his bloodlust and hunger.

"Look at you, tsk.." You started talking, he looks at you with curiousity, he can't think straight anymore.

"Panting and crying for me, a mere human. You, a strong and powerful vampire getting reduced to a needy whimpering mess. How?" You say while starting to pump his dick again.

His member twitches against your palm at the mocking and degradation.

Jasper whimpers against your neck, he couldn't speak anymore, he was completely blinded by lust.

His nature wanted your blood and his hearth wanted to touch you and to please you.

"B—b—because, I—I love you a—a—and you— h—help me c—control m—myself." He whispered breathlessly, almost slurring his words.

You looked at him with loving eyes, his yellow eyes rolled back and he moaned against you as you kept pumping his member.

"Oh pretty cowboy, I love you too." You whispered and kiss his forehead, he smiled faintly and nodded.

Your strokes got faster, he cried against you, begged you and moaned your name.

He could break the ropes and just throw you into the bed and let you dry.

But Jasper doesn't want to, he wants to be good for you, he loves giving up control because he feels so pleased and loved.

The vampire loves your hands on him, he loves your sweet voice telling him what to do, he loves being in this position.

You spit on your hand and keep stroking him, he moans your name again.

His legs shake and you stop stroking immediately, he moaned and trust his hips.

"Ngh! N-no, please, sir, sir, sir." Jasper begged against you, you looked at him.

"Please, sir. It hurts so much, I need to come, please, please, please." He whispered breathless, you nod and kiss his lips.

"Where do you want to come?" You ask him softly, he thinks for a moment, trying to make some sense to his mind.

"Inside you, please, sir, please— I've been so good, please. It hurts so much— ngh!—hungry." He begged you.

Your fingers brushed his shoulder, his back arched as he felt shivers down his spine. Your fingers tracing a path down his arm and then at the ropes.

You look at him, he swallows nothing, he looks like his throat is completely dry.

Now that's the sing to stop.

He looks at you, you wink with a mischievous smile.

Jasper is quick to breake the ropes and throws you gently on the bed, getting on top of you.

His cold hands desperately touched your body, getting rid of your clothes, ripping them and tossing to the side.

Jasper leaned down and kissed you with an intense passion and hunger, you groan against him as his lips locked with yours.

His cold lips travel down your jaw.

It was like a cube of ice sliding down your throat.

"Do it." You whispered.

Jasper thinks for a moment, he doubts of his control over his hunger for a moment. His cold hand holds the back of your neck.

He hissed and showed his fangs, you blushed and felt your body react. He quickly buried his sharp fangs on your neck.

It didn't hurt.

Instead you were met with a wave of bliss, of pure pleasure that made you moan.

He groans against you while sucking your blood. Jasper's is hand making soothing movements on your neck plus his gift ceasing any pain or uncomfortable feeling.

Jasper pulls away, you blush even more when you see him.

His chin was covered with your blood, his golden eyes meeting yours, he licked his lips.

You tasted so delicious, like the finest of wines. He can't get enough off you, he is truly addicted.

Jasper leans and kisses you again, you taste the iron flavor of your own blood, he groans against you.

"I love you— I love you— I love you." He whispered over and over while his hand explore your body, he spread your legs gently and his aching member met your folds slowly.

He became weak in an instant, moaning against your ear.

Jasper starts to move, giving some sloppy trusts before getting faster.

The faster the trust, the louder his moans became against your ear, his whimpering always makes you melt.

The sounds of your skin clashing together mixed with your moans were loud and absolutely pornographic.

Jasper moans your name and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

"Jasper! F—faster!" You shouted. He nodded and spread your legs wider, his hands on your hips as he trust you deeper and faster.

Your eyes fill with tears, your legs start to shake and Jasper moves even faster.

Feeling his cock twitching, Jasper comes inside you. Your own climax coming next.

He buried his face on your shoulder, your hand grips those golden locks.

He tries to speak, he calls your name softly between pants and whimpers.

"S—sir, please, please, please— One more." He whispered against your ear as his hands caressed your hips.

You meet his eyes not sure what of the two things he wants one more off, still, you agreed without hesitation.

"Thank you— Thank you— Thank you." He kissed your lips before his own lips traveled down your neck again.

Jasper throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you in a way you didn't know you were able to.

His hips start to move again at the same time his fangs show up, he bites you again.

"OH! J—JASPER!" You moaned loudly, he keeps feeding off you while his trusts became more erratic and deeper.

Your orgasm comes faster than you thought, his own too, filling you with his cum.

He pants and give a couple of slow and sloppy trust, he lick the drops of blood that fall down your chest, not wasting a drop.

His golden eyes look at you with a pleading gaze.

"O—one more, sir, please."

---------------------------

A/N: Hey. Whatcha doing? So yeah first time writing for Jasper, I was planning on a non smut fic for the grand debut but oh well.

[polarisjisung]

tw: nth room talk— sa, cp, generally dark + heavy themes

I'm not going to go into detail about what the nth room is, but if you don't know and would like to this post is a good place to start. This is more a reminder about how much misinformation is really going around with this topic.

First things first, this is absolutely terrifying. These people are sons, brothers, fathers and husbands, the very people who you'd think would protect the women in their lives are the ones ruining them. It's sickening and it's hurtful. My heart goes out to the victims. Truly I wish nothing but the worst on these men.

With the whole 'list of celebrities' that's allegedly coming out tomorrow— I get that this is a difficult situation, especially to find out that someone you have admired for so long is nothing like the person you imagined them to be, but this is not about us.

If you're a fan you have the right to be sad, but it's the same whether this is about taeil, other idols, actors, celebrities, etc— there are victims at the centre of it all. The victims deserve justice and support. Not continuing to support the perpetrators will always be part of that.

So while you might think your fave would never, remember that you don't know these people.

When and if a confirmed list does come out, which it hasn't yet, please support the right people.

If, and I truly hope this isn't the case, but if you see the name of someone you support on that list, and you think "he would never" then the harsh truth is that you seriously need to revaluate your parasocial relationships. Because we do not know these people.

There's lists of suspected idols circulating tiktok/twitter already, which is disgusting. To accuse someone of something with no basis, of something so heinous and sickening is real fucking low just because you don't like them. Just because someone is morally flawed in one area/certain areas does not immediately mean that they're sick enough to commit these crimes. And by no means am I defending these idols because yes they've done some real fucked up things, but that does not equate to them being involved in sexual crimes.

You can have a hunch, intuition, or whatever it is you'd like to call it, but falsely accusing people of sa will never be okay. Keep these thoughts to yourself. Don't spread them by making videos, posts, or comments.

Thoughts and prayers to the victims and their families.