#;NO ESCAPING WHEN I START ONCE I'M IN I OWN YOUR HEART. (desires)

[dspirmic]

tag dump

[noe-pri08]

Miguel O'Hara

Heat

Summary: Miguel is in heat

I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, English isn't my first language

You've been without seeing Miguel nearly one week, you are worried so you decide to do something. He gave a key to his house some time ago so you take it and go see him.

When you get there you look for him but don't find, you go to his room and an odd smell fills your nostrils. It's like vanilla or something similar

"Miguel?" you ask, but the only thing you hear are muffled sounds. You open the door and see his room

It is all messy, there are clothes everywhere and the smell of arousal hanging on the air. It was so strange, he has always had his room annoyingly cleaned up, he was obsessed with tidiness

"Go away" you heard him say. His under the blankets of his bed, curled up in himself

"Why? What happens?" you start walking towards him to get a better look of him

"Don't you see? I'm in heat, leave me alone please" he groans

You forrow your brows, confused "Heat? Like...animals? What do you mean?"

He lets a frustrated sigh "Kind of. Is like a biological urge, a primal instinct. You can think of this like an amplified version of lust"

Your eyes widened in realization as you finally understood. Miguel was in a sexual heat, a heightened state of desire that he couldn't resist. Suddenly, the scent in the room made sense. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Umm, okay...is there anything I can help with?" you say doubtly, not knowing what to do

Miguel's gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of desperation and longing in his eyes. His voice came out in a husky tone, filled with desire. "Yes, please. I... I need relief. The heat is unbearable."

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of hesitance and a growing heat of your own. You had a deep bond with Miguel, you were just friends but the thought of helping him in this vulnerable state sparked a primal desire within you.

Cautiously, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Okay, Miguel. I'll help you," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of care and uncertainty. "But we have to establish some ground rules. This is only to help you through your heat, and once it's over, we'll go back to being friends, alright?"

He nodded, an intense longing evident on his face. "I understand. Anything, anything you want, but help me."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own nerves. "Alright, let's start by getting you more comfortable," you said, moving towards the tangled blankets covering him. Miguel eagerly helped you remove the layers, exposing his clothed body.

Then you started to take his clothes off, slowly and carefully. His muscular chest, defined abs amd strong arms at your sight. The sight of his muscular body sent a jolt of desire through you, fueling your own arousal. But in this moment, all that mattered was providing him the relief he desperately needed.

Miguel watched you intently, his red eyes burning with desire. His breathing grew heavier, and a low growl escaped his lips as his body responded to the touch of air on his bare skin.

Once his clothes were fully discarded, his naked body lay before you, his arousal evident and throbbing. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and arousal yourself, your gaze lingering on his well-endowed form.

He shifted on the bed, his movements filled with a primal restlessness. "Please... touch me," he pleaded, his voice raw with need.

Temptation coursed through your veins as heard his request "Wait just a moment" you say while you take your own clothes off, first your shirt and bra, then your trousers and panties, your naked body in front of him to admire.

Miguel's eyes wandered over your form, his gaze filled with hunger and appreciation. His red eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and relief, knowing that his needs would finally be met. The sight of you undressing only fueled his desire further, making his need for contact more urgent.

Reaching out to trace your fingertips along his sculpted abdomen, following the trail of soft hairs leading to his lower regions. You felt a surge of desire welling up within you as you continued to explore his body, teasingly tracing circles on his sensitive skin.

Miguel's breath hitched, a low moan escaping his lips as he arched his back, craving more. The room filled with the scent of desire and the sound of your shared breaths, intensifying the electric atmosphere between you.

You walk to the bed and climb up, ending up on him. You kiss while your hands roam over his abs and arms. You get up feeling excited, your core throbbing in anticipation.

You take Miguel's cock on your hands, touching him, you align with your center and sink down, your pussy getting filled.

Miguel's hands found their way to your waist, holding you tightly against him. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel his heated breath against your skin. The intimacy between you intensified, as your bodies connected in a primal dance of raw desire.

It was in this moment that you both lost yourselves in the fire of your shared attraction, succumbing to the overwhelming need for release. The room echoed with the passionate sounds of your entangled bodies as you found solace and relief in each other's embrace, giving in to the primal instinct that drove you both in this heated encounter.

As the intensity of your connection grew, your desire for Miguel became undeniable. You straddled him, allowing yourself to take control, as the heat in the room reached its peak. Miguel's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and anticipation, his breathing becoming ragged. The moans and sticky sounds of both bodies crashing together making the room become more intimate

You began to move faster, your hips grinding against him and made your body tremble with every thrust while he puts your tits in his mouth sucking your nipples. Miguel's hands grasped your hips tightly, urging you to go faster. The pleasure intensified, and the air brimmed with the scent of sweat and arousal.

Miguel's grip on you tightened as he met your movements with his own, the intensity building between you

With the momentum building between you and Miguel, your desire and hunger for each other only grew more fervent. You increased the pace of your movements even more, riding him with a desperate need for release. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the wet, rhythmic slaps ringing out in the air.

Miguel's hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he met your every thrust with his own. The intensity of your connection pushed you both to the brink, pleasure coursing through your veins like a wildfire.

Your moans mingled with the sound of his growls, creating a symphony of passion and urgency. As you rode him faster and harder, the sensations became overwhelming. Waves of pleasure washed over you, coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach, ready to explode into blissful release.

Driven by your shared desire, you and Miguel found solace in each other's bodies, lost in the rhythm and intensity of your union. The room became a haze of pleasure, heat, and pure ecstasy as you both raced towards that elusive moment of climax.

With one final thrust, your body tensed, a surge of pleasure coursing through you like an electric shock. You let out a moan of ecstasy as your walls clenched around Miguel, drawing out his own climax. The room seemed to blur as you both reached the peak of pleasure, your bodies trembling in unison.

Intense waves of pleasure washed over you, making your toes curl and your body shudder. You clung to Miguel, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you rode out the waves of your orgasms together.

As the aftershocks of pleasure began to subside, you collapsed into each other's arms, your bodies still entwined. Both of you were soaked in sweat, gasping for breath, and yet a sense of relief washed over you, mingled with a lingering connection and contentment.

Panting heavily, you lay tangled in each other's arms, basking in the euphoria of your shared experience. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your breaths and the gentle rising and falling of your chests.

Miguel's fingers lovingly traced patterns along your back as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His voice was filled with a mix of sincerity and gratitude as he whispered, "Thank you... for helping me through this, for being here for me."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you shifted to meet his gaze. "I'm glad I could be here for you, Miguel," you replied, your voice filled with a warm tenderness. "We'll get through this together."

Wrapped in each other's arms, you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, finding solace and comfort in each other's embrace.

[highdefhoetry]

little prey.

summary: sylus finds out about your kink.

cw: nsfw!! lee!reader, female reader, tickle kink, chase/capture, pinning, pussy spanking, vaginal fingering, post orgasm tickling

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself. this fic is for me and like 3 other people who are actually into this lmaodlkfsdl. got inspired from sylus' level 25 affinity memory, and the fact that he can literally see a person's greatest desires by looking into their eyes. which means.... you know. pls enjoy dskjfhs

It was your own fault you ended up in this familiar predicament. Wrists pinned above your head, hips stuck in place, red eyes leering down at you with hands ready to attack. You had found yourself in a similar situation during the struggle to steal his crow brooch, but this was different. This time, he knew what you were playing at.

Messing with Sylus was like waving a red flag in front of a charging bull, and you had made an unhealthy habit out of doing it. For all the times he tormented you with sickly sweet pet names and unfair mind games with promising “deals” too good to be true, you made sure to pay him back in full, in your own little way. However, there wasn’t much you could really do with the massive strength difference between the two of you. Nothing besides being really, really annoying. And that was something you were very good at doing.

The current situation started off as a small touch. A brush of the hand against his stomach when you walked by him in the study, just to test the waters. He barely flinched when your fingers traced a gentle path across his abs, but he definitely took notice.

“What are you up to now?” he asked in an indignant tone. 

“Nothing.”

You put forth your best nonchalant persona, mimicking his attitude as best as you could.

“Seeking out the weak spots of your enemy?” he smirked. “Smart girl. You’re finally starting to use your brain for once.”

“Excuse you. Rude.”

At first aloof, he suddenly turned his attention to you and followed behind closely as you began to head into the hallway.

“Smart prey usually attack predators in areas they are weak to themselves.”

A jolt of fear struck through your heart, but you maintained your cool demeanor as best as you could.

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” he suddenly appeared in front of you, reaching out his hand to hover it over your belly. “Is this one of your weak spots?”

“No…!!” you wrap your arms around your stomach protectively.

“Oh, really? Then let’s prove it through actions rather than words.”

Shit.

You turned tail and started to scurry away, but he quickly caught you before you could gain any distance. With one long, strong arm looped around your waist, he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, where he tossed you onto his bed like a sack of potatoes. You landed with a soft thump, too dazed by how fast it happened to try and get up. He crawled over you as if preparing to devour you whole, and now here you were. Immobile and helpless, at the mercy of the leader of Onychinus. 

“You’re pretty good at running away,” he croons, grinning down at you victoriously. “But I'm even better. Especially when it comes to catching little prey that thinks it can escape from me."

“Wait, Sylus-!”

“Now, let’s take a look…” he grabs your chin with his free hand and forces you to address him, leaning down so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. His crimson eyes intensify, emitting a strange otherworldly glow that compels your hidden fantasies to come forth, yanking them from the recesses of your mind. 

Images of Sylus’s hands fill your vision. Strong, elegant fingers tracing every nerve ending in your skin. Caressing your neck, ears, and collarbone before trailing down your chest. Fluttering over your taut ribcage and helpless sides before moving down to your hips, and then…

“Stop!” you cry out, trying to force the damning picture from your mind. Damn it! He was the last person you wanted to know about this little “oddity” of yours… now you would never hear the end of it.

“How interesting…” his grin widens as he runs a finger across your cheek. “So that’s what your plan was all along. I suppose I’d be a real bad guy if I didn’t go along with it, hmm?”

“Wait, hold on…!”

Your sentence is lost when you suddenly burst out laughing. A giant hand clamps onto your ribcage, pinching the soft spots in between each one with a surprising amount of gentleness. You lurch your body to the opposite side, trying to worm away, but he follows your movements effortlessly. He spiders his fingers down your side, hovering at your waist to feather it lightly. It’s like he instinctively knows where to touch and what technique to use to make it as torturous as possible. You would be screaming at him to stop if you weren’t so busy laughing.

He explores you further, dancing his fingertips over your stomach expertly, right where you had touched him earlier. The sensation is so electric that you actually squeal; he chuckles darkly while watching you buck your hips, trying in vain to get away.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he taunts you with faux sympathy. “Can’t handle a few light touches?”

“Fuck off!” you manage to splutter out in between giggles. He responds to your impolite words by rapidly tickling your underarms. Your laughs are starting to sound more like shrieks now. 

He holds you down like this, tormenting you without mercy, for quite some time. His attacks are calculated and brutal; he’ll tickle you softly in one spot for a minute or so before suddenly jumping to another, tickling harder just to throw you off. He pays special attention to your stomach, where light spidering seems to have the biggest effect, and your underarms, which garner more cackles from you when he digs in a bit. Once in a while, he strokes the length of your sides, relishing in your muted giggles and light squirming as you try and fail to shake him off. 

But the worst is when he touches your neck. Just a few light caresses there, and you’re begging hard. You try to block out his wiggling fingers by scrunching your shoulders and turning your head, doing anything at this point to escape from the intense sensation, but that only spurs him on. When you squirm to one side, he simply jumps to the other. Back and forth, until you feel like your mind is starting to unravel.

He pauses for a moment, for reasons unknown, and you take the opportunity to swallow as much air as you can before he decides to start up again. When you open your eyes that you’d squeezed shut, you see him gazing down at you strangely. Like he’s looking for something. It dawns on you that he’s mapping out his next strike, but by the time you open your mouth to protest, it’s too late.

His fingers take hold of your ear and rub it softly, tracing the shell and lobe with an uncharacteristic gentleness that makes you feel like you’re slowly losing it. It’s such a sensitive spot, and one that’s rarely touched. He elicits giggles and squeals by tickling both of them, one after the other. It’s mortifying. You let out tittered pleas in a weak effort to appeal to his sense of mercy. They go ignored.

He’s about to let out, you can feel his hand pinning your wrists loosen slightly. But something stops him before he does. His eyes drift down to your shorts, honing in on the small wet spot that’s appeared in between your thighs.

Shit.

“What have we here…?” he spanks your pussy, running his fingers over your swollen clit to feel the wetness for himself. You yelp at the unexpected impact, then moan when his hand rubs the length of your mound. He spanks it again, grinning as he watches you writhe beneath him. Then, without a word, he slips his fingers under your waistband and gives you what you want.

You moan as his expert hands get to work. His thumb presses against the hood of your clit, his thin fingers slip into your hole. His index and middle finger enter first, curling against your walls as they pump in and out in a steady rhythm. His thumb massages your clit, letting the sounds of your fluttery cries guide him towards your pleasure. He studies you carefully, observing your facial expressions and vocalizations with utmost focus. Each time you’re brave enough to meet his gaze, you find him staring right at you, crimson eyes boring into your soul. 

He takes his time building you up, and when you’re on the edge, he pushes you over. The orgasm wracks your body, sends shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve while your back arches and your hips thrust forward. Your vision grows fuzzy, then returns as the ecstatic feeling settles down. He pulls out his fingers, licking your juices from the tips with a demented smirk. 

But just when you think it’s over, he strikes again. He still hasn’t let go of your arms, so you’re helpless when he starts tickling you again. This time, he hones in on your sensitive hips and thighs, stroking the crease of your hip and skittering his nails on the tops of your legs. The orgasm has made you a million times more ticklish, and what he’s doing now is pure torture. You scream and kick your legs and beg him to stop, saying you’ll do anything, saying you’ll stop being a nuisance, only for him to ignore you once more. 

Fortunately, this round doesn’t last as long. He stops for good when your breathing is ragged and your voice is hoarse. He finally lets go of your arms, chuckling when you yank your arms down at your sides to protect them as you couldn’t before. You want to curse him out and hurl a plethora of profanities at him, but you’re too damn tired to even get a word out. 

“That was fun,” he teases while watching you try to compose yourself. “But just so you know, it’s pretty dangerous to reveal what you like so easily.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… ugh, screw you!”

He scoffs, then climbs off the bed and frees you for good. With his back now turned, he heads out of the room and leaves you with one last snarky comment.

“Next time you want to get the jump on your enemy,” he says, voice dripping with arrogance. “Come up with a better plan.”

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (1/?)

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat. Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation.

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.” Or the one where you fall in love with the widow of an ex-lover you never knew was married.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6k+ | Warnings: None for now | A/N: I wrote about 30k words of the Succession Wanda but hit a wall in terms of plot progression. So that's on hold. Allow me to apologize with this two-shot. P.S. I've always wanted to write for Leigh, and this idea came out of nowhere. Loosely based on canon.

Masterlist | Next Part

-

Leigh wakes up in a bed that’s not hers for the first time in months, and the unfamiliar scent of freshly cut grass and cedarwood almost immediately overwhelms her senses, suffocating her with its cloying sweetness.

“Jules?” she croaks out, her mind clawing its way through the fog. When it lifts a few seconds later, Leigh realizes where she is and what she’s done.

And how she’s very, very naked underneath the sheets. 

The person lying next to her in the bed starts to move. Right away, she knows it's not her sister, unless she's somehow caught up in a prank she doesn't find amusing at all. And so, she braces herself for her dead husband’s brother's voice to shatter the silence.

But it never comes. Instead, an arm drapes itself across her stomach, pulling her towards warmth. Leigh gets the sudden urge to vomit, except she skipped dinner and there isn’t anything to bring up. Last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Matt's absence, she had reached out to someone she shouldn't have. Someone Leigh didn’t even like to begin with. A knot tightens further in her stomach as she considers what her husband’s ghost would think. 

Would he approve? Would he feel betrayed or disgusted as she does?

Careful not to disturb Danny, who still sleeps soundly beside her, Leigh slips out of bed with the grace of a cat. She gathers her clothes from the floor and dresses herself with heavy limbs, each garment reminding her of how Danny had taken them off her body. 

As messed up as it sounds, Leigh can't help but draw parallels between him and Matt. They share the same blood, but there's not a single trait in Danny that triggers memories of Matt. With Danny, it's all about his own desires, his movements reflecting his wants. But with Matt, it's like he's always bending to Leigh’s will, submitting to her.

It tears Leigh’s heart anew. 

As she finishes dressing, Leigh glances around searching for her watch. She second-guesses whether she even wore it last night, the disarray of her thoughts mirrored in the disarray of the room. Her eyes scan the bedside table, the floor, and the dresser, but there's no sign of the timepiece.

A sudden sound from Danny startles her, and she freezes in place. She doesn't believe she can prevent herself from literally bolting out of the house if he so much as breathes her name. She’s rooted in her spot however, waiting for his breathing to steady, her heart pounding in her ears. Only when she's certain he's in a deep slumber does she release a pent-up breath, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. In that moment, she mentally curses herself once more, acutely aware of the mess she's created, before tiptoeing towards the bedroom door and abandoning the search for her watch altogether.

As she considers her options, she entertains the idea of escaping town altogether. Maybe if she leaves, she can avoid Danny for the coming days, possibly forever. Leigh wonders if she ever made Matt feel this trapped, inadvertently pushing him to leave in the only way he knew she could never follow.

-

Several days after ignoring Danny’s calls and attempts to talk to her, he retaliates by telling her the most absurd thing about his brother.

He tells Leigh she wasn’t the only one. There had been two others in the last year. 

And the last one, he fell for hard. Or at least that’s what Danny believes.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, her eyes beginning to sting a little. “If you think making me hate Matt would change my mind about us, then—”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Leigh,” Danny interrupts calmly, shaking his head. “I just believe you deserve to know the truth. Maybe it'll help you stop blaming yourself and move on.”

“It just seems a little too convenient that this 'truth' works in your favor to tarnish Matt's reputation, doesn't it?” Leigh points out with a humorless smile. She’s always thought the worst of Danny, but she never imagined he’d go as far as fabricating a story just to get her on his side.

“I understand your skepticism, I do. I couldn’t believe it at first either,” he says, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the transgression he’s confessing were his own, not Matt’s. “But think about it. Have you ever walked in on Matt just as he's ending a call? Noticed how he's suddenly started spending more time at work, consistently twice a week? And what about his sudden interest in going to the gym and being conscious about what he eats? These are all signs, Leigh.”

His words push her to think about it, even though she doesn't want to. Leigh starts to reflect on how Matt had stopped leaving his phone unattended during showers, how he had suddenly logged off his social media accounts from her laptop, or the noticeable enhancement of his physique—all juxtaposed against a lingering decrease in his appetite for intimacy with his wife.

“I…” Leigh hesitates, searching for a rebuttal but finding none. Then Danny gives her a look—one of pity and longing that makes her want to crawl out of her skin—and suddenly she finds herself vehemently denying all of it.

“I still don’t believe you,” she says, desperately clinging to the last shreds of the illusion she had crafted around her marriage.

Danny's expression remains unreadable and it drives her further up the wall. “Fine. Believe what you want, Leigh. I'm just trying to look out for you.”

Leigh's jaw tightens. “Regardless of what you say—whether it’s real or not—I know what I want, and it's not to be with you.”

He keeps up the stony facade, opting instead to pull a card out of his wallet and hand it to her. Leigh accepts the card, her fingers quivering, as a solitary tear finally breaks free and trails down her cheek.

Danny begins to reach out, intending to brush away her tear, but hesitates at the last moment, withdrawing his hand. 

“See for yourself. Goodbye, Leigh.”

-

Just two days later, Leigh finds herself in front of the small animal clinic you own, situated a short walk away from Beautiful Beast—the fitness studio her mom owns and where she works. 

Though the sun hangs low in the sky, she's been awake long before it began to rise. She waits for the receptionist to flip the sign from “Sorry, we’re closed” to “Come in, we’re open,” ignoring the curious glance directed her way when the receptionist notices she isn’t accompanied by a furry companion. With a determined smile on her lips, Leigh pushes open the door and steps into the clinic knowing she'll leave it with answers—whatever they might be.

The receptionist looks up from her computer, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern when she sees the look on Leigh's face. “Can I help you?” 

Leigh clears her throat, trying to steady her voice. She tells her she’s looking for you, her words coming out in a rush.

The receptionist furrows her brow. “Do you have an appointment?”

Leigh shakes her head, blinking rapidly as she comes up with an excuse. “No, it's... it's urgent,” she stammers. “I need to speak to her right away.”

The receptionist appears mildly annoyed, but it doesn’t faze Leigh in the slightest. “I'll check if she's available. Please take a seat,” she says.

Leigh nods mutely and sinks into one of the chairs. She clasps her hands together tightly in her lap, trying to quell the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She imagines Matt’s ghost watching her this very second, frowning at her doubts about their relationship by coming here in the first place. 

And what if she’s wrong? What if Matt wasn’t cheating on her after all? But Leigh had to come here to put the issue to rest. Matt would understand why she needs to do this. He always did. 

A few moments later, the door behind the reception desk opens and the receptionist emerges from it, motioning for Leigh to enter. 

Leigh finds you standing behind your desk, your back to her, arranging a stack of medical records on the shelf.

“Dr. Y/N?” Leigh calls out softly.

You turn around at the sound of her voice, and when she sees you for the first time, Leigh immediately knows.

Danny was telling the truth. It takes everything in her not to break down in front of a stranger her husband fell in love with.

You, however, don’t recognize the woman standing before you, thinking perhaps she's simply one of your past clients. You offer Leigh a contrite smile. “You wanted to see me? Miss…?”

“Leigh Shaw.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell either, but you keep a friendly smile on your face. 

Leigh hesitates for a moment before continuing, her voice sounding fragile. “I need to talk to you about my husband,” she says, studying your clueless face. You're stunning and accomplished—a doctor and a businesswoman. You have a smile that could brighten even the darkest room.

Matt never stood a chance, did he?

“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand,” you say, hands retreating into the pockets of your white coat.

Leigh takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows will be a difficult conversation. 

“I recently found out that my husband was cheating on me,” she says, her green eyes boring into yours. “With you.”

-

After leaving your clinic, Leigh heads straight to Matt’s grave, stomping angrily on the sparse sheet of grass that has begun to sprout from his resting place.

“You're such a fucking liar!” she spits out at the unsusceptible headstone, the heat of fury spreading through her veins and to every molecule in her body. The cold wind lashes through her hair as Leigh drops to her knees, feeling like the entire world is bearing down on her. She reaches out to touch the cold marble of the headstone, still seeking solace from the one who caused her so much hurt.

“Why, Matt?”

She knows there will be no answers—only the cold silence of death.

Leigh feels a surge of anger rise within her once more as she recalls the way you looked at her—the pain in your eyes when she revealed to you that Matt had died. What you two had was real, as real as what she had with him. She had been hoping it was at least just a fling, but alas, she couldn’t be further from her assumptions.

“I can't believe I ever loved you,” Leigh mutters bitterly. She wants to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all. But all she can do is clutch at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the earth as if trying to anchor herself against the torrent of pain crippling her chest. Tears stream down her face as she finally collapses to the ground, assuming a fetal position, whispering, “I can't believe I still do.”

-

You continue to stare at the space that Leigh previously occupied for a good ten minutes, not moving an inch from where you stood—shocked, hurt, confused. Matt, the man you had been seeing, was dead. And not just dead, but married. Married to someone else, someone named Leigh Shaw, a name so important but he managed to hide from you for weeks. 

Matt had never mentioned a wife, never wore a ring, never hinted at the existence of someone waiting for him at home. If he had, you would never have let him get as close to you like he did. You've always respected boundaries and families—and now you've discovered that unwittingly, you've destroyed one.

Leigh's departure was swift, just as soon as you confessed to having feelings for her husband and how Matt reciprocated those same feelings. Leigh, ruthless in her questioning, demanded to know if you had slept with Matt. You swore you never did, detailing how Matt abruptly ghosted you after your first kiss, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and missed calls. 

You wanted so badly for Leigh to believe you, and you think she did. However, none of it mattered in the end. He cheated all the same. He hurt the woman he made a promise to love and stay faithful to. 

Because of you.

You feel sickened by your own naivety; by the way you have allowed yourself to be fooled by his lies. And yet, amidst the anger and self-recrimination, there is a profound sense of loss. Despite the circumstances of your relationship, you had cared for Matt deeply. Maybe even loved him.

But how much of it was real? How much of it was not about him running from his problems with his wife and using you as a distraction? The ease with which he slipped out of your life suddenly fits into place.

While his passing deeply rattled you, it's now largely overshadowed by thoughts of his widow.

Leigh Shaw.

Earlier, even though you said sorry over and over, it felt like it wasn't enough, and you wanted to do more to make her feel better. What stopped you was the realization that you're likely the last person she would want comfort from. A sense of helplessness washes over you as you come to the conclusion that there's nothing you can do to undo the damage that's been done. Matt is gone, and Leigh's world has been shattered in ways you can't even begin to imagine. 

Moving on from Matt is something you know you could do. He wasn’t the first person to break your heart, be it through deceit or demise. But the situation with Leigh is unfamiliar territory.

How do you fix this for her? 

Will she even let you?

-

When Leigh tells Jules about Matt’s infidelity, her sister fixates on the detail that she slept with Danny. It’s not the response Leigh expected. She anticipated shock, and maybe even a bit of outrage on her behalf. But instead, Jules latches onto the one detail that seems to pale in comparison to the enormity of Matt's betrayal.

“But how could you?” Jules asks, her voice incredulous as she chews on a dumpling. “How could you sleep with Danny?”

Faced with her sister's disapproval, Leigh finds herself clamming up. “Are you kidding? I just told you that Matt was cheating on me, and your response is to judge me for hooking up with a single guy while I'm single?” Leigh retorts, hastily wiping her lips with a napkin.

Jules just shakes her head, putting down her chopsticks. “Leigh, I get it. Matt’s betrayal is awful, and you have every right to be angry. But the ‘single guy’ you hooked up with isn't just any guy, and you know it. You don't think it's weird? What would people think? That all this time, sleeping with your husband’s brother has always been an option?”

Leigh's eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, she's speechless. She hadn't—didn't want to entertain the idea of what sleeping with Danny would imply. She was chasing a feeling; any feeling that wasn’t emptiness. And with Danny, she did feel something, even if it was regret and shame. At least it proved she was still capable of feeling at all.

“It… just happened,” Leigh murmurs, rubbing her temples. Hollowness and migraines, she's almost forgotten.

“And? Is it going to be a ‘thing’?” Jules probes, eyebrows raised.

Leigh lifts her gaze, biting back a defensive retort. Instead she simply says, “Absolutely not.”

Jules seems satisfied with that, knocking back the rest of her beer. “Good.”

But as Jules moves on, Leigh’s left stewing in her own thoughts. Telling Jules felt like yelling into a void—exhausting and utterly pointless. Now she’s dreading the thought of breaking the news to Drew. If Jules’ reaction was any indication, she’s in for another round of disappointment. 

Being a young widow already sets her apart, but nothing makes her feel more alone than her family's inability to truly grasp her grief. She guesses she's been feeling alone for years, long before Matt came into her life and subsequently left it.

Jules, catching the tail end of Leigh's distant look, leans in and asks, “So, what's the plan now? You still going to that grief counseling group? Danny's been showing up there, right?”

Leigh's gaze sharpens, a bit taken aback by the sudden shift back to practicalities. “Are you asking about my plans with Danny? Because I already told you, that's over. I'm never seeing him again.”

Jules raises her hands in a placating gesture, mindful that one wrong move could tip Leigh over the edge for good. “Not really, no. I'm asking if you're still keen on processing your grief. Now that it turns out Matt was... well, a snake.”

Jules calling Matt a snake doesn't sit well with Leigh even with his cheating coming to light. But she supposes it's Jules' way of being on her side every once in a while. It's a clumsy attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm still going,” Leigh finally says, her gaze dropping to her lap before meeting Jules' eyes again. “Not for Danny, not for anyone else, but for me. Turns out, finding out your rotting husband was living a double life does a number on you. Who knew, right?”

Jules cracks a small, rueful smile at that and says, “Who knew indeed.”

Leigh thinks back to the time when she believed she knew Matt inside and out, a belief so deeply ingrained it felt like a cornerstone of her identity as his wife. She prided herself on their connection, convinced that they shared everything—every thought, every fear, every dream. It was a pride rooted in the belief that she knew him better than anyone else could, and he, her, in the same intimate manner.

It was the kind of recognition that’s not only about knowing his favorite color or the way he took his coffee. It’s deeper and more layered. She knew the exact tone of voice he'd use when he was about to apologize, the look in his eyes when he was holding back tears, the subtle shift in his posture when he was trying to be braver than he felt. And she thought he knew her just as intricately—the silent language of her sighs, the meaning behind her quietest smiles, the small, everyday details that they believed only they could understand about each other.

“It's hard, you know? Feeling like you're mourning someone who never really existed,” Leigh mumbles after a long pause.

“Yeah, I can't even imagine,” Jules responds, reaching across the table to give Leigh's hand a brief squeeze. “But I'm here, okay? Even if I don't always get it right.”

Jules, Drew, Danny, her mom—all of them—rarely get it right. It has always been Matt. 

He has always been all she has and needed. 

Even if Leigh wasn't aware that she was probably just getting his scraps.

-

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps thinking over the next several days. Maybe I pushed him to it.

It doesn’t help that there’s a new member who has also been widowed, and she’s sharing about her late husband who had quite a number of mistresses throughout their eighteen years of marriage.

Leigh listens, her fingers twisted together in her lap, as the woman talks about the signs she missed, the lies she believed.

“I just keep thinking,” the woman's voice breaks, “if I'd been more attentive, more... I don't know, less demanding, maybe things would've been different.”

Maybe it was me, Leigh keeps screaming inside. Maybe I pushed him to it.

-

It took Leigh a long time to return to the apartment she shared with Matt after his passing. 

Mostly, it's because Leigh found it difficult to confront the scattered remnants of him that would remain untouched in his absence. No longer would he be picking up his favorite shirt or completing another page of his crossword puzzle book. Yet, these belongings would remain his, just as Leigh felt she still belonged to him.

So it’s ironic that now, surrounded by the same belongings in her bedroom at her mother’s home, she's being overwhelmed by the impulse to turn them all into ashes. In a sudden frenzy, Leigh grabs a box and begins to throw everything inside. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, only matched by the soft thuds of objects landing in the cardboard. 

“Stupid fucking toys!” she shouts, tossing a figurine with more force than necessary.

“And this shirt—what were you thinking?” She grabs a garishly patterned fabric, shaking it at the empty air as if expecting an answer.

Her voice cracks, “You're not even here, and you're driving me crazy!”

As Leigh's wrath burns through the remnants of Matt’s life, her thoughts take a dark turn. The things he owned, the pieces of his life flying from her hand—it all leads her back to the one person who had a piece of him, a piece that was never hers.

The thought of your face, the one that belonged to him too at one point, flashes in her mind, and she's on the edge of losing all control. 

If only Leigh could throw you into the box too.

Finally, she finds the book he gave her for her last birthday, the one she never read, and for a moment, her movements pause. Then, with a cry of anguish, she tosses it in as well. When the box is full, she kicks it. Once, twice, thrice—each kick releasing a burst of pent-up fury until she's gasping for breath.

A knock at the door startles her. It's soft but persistent, making it obvious that whoever is outside has heard the commotion in her room. “Leigh, honey, are you done in there?” Amy's voice seeps through the wood.

Leigh wipes at her eyes. “Almost. I, uh… just give me a minute,” she calls back. She’s not done—not really. But she’ll probably set the house on fire if she doesn’t stop here.

Pushing herself up, Leigh opens the door. She knows the sight she presents isn't pretty—eyes swollen red, nose a mess, and those dark circles. But her mom has seen this look more times than either would care to count.

“You okay?” her mom asks, though the answer's written all over Leigh's face.

Leigh shakes her head, no energy to pretend.

“Want some breakfast?”

Again, “No,” slips out.

Then, “Need a ride to the studio?” her mom tries again.

“Yes,” Leigh finds herself saying, clinging to the offer like a lifeline, a small acknowledgment that life, somehow, must go on.

-

The following day, Leigh looks at the box, then at everything around her. She mutters, “Screw this,” and starts pulling everything out of the box, putting it all back where it came from.

-

Leigh's back at running, not because she loves it, but because the sun insists on poking her awake before the rest of the world stirs. It's an old hobby, dusted off to fill the gaping mornings before her first yoga class. 

It’s easy to do because she realizes she’s good at it. Leigh’s only been at it for just a couple of weeks and already she's feeling fitter, faster. She likes the pain too, not being aware before that there are different kinds of pain, and some of them do feel good—addicting even. 

Mid-thought, her routine jog takes a wild left turn: stranded in the middle of the bustling traffic is a French Bulldog, looking decidedly out of place. Ignoring the honks and the near misses, Leigh bolts across the street. It's a bit of a mad dash, dodging cars that are swerving and braking hard. She scoops him up in her arms and doesn’t stop to think about the close calls. 

It hits her then—she's surprised at her own gutsiness, not even pausing to think that she could've been clipped by a car not paying attention. Maybe all this time spent wrestling with thoughts of death has brought her to a strange peace with it and is no longer scared of it. It's like she's danced with death so much, it's just another shadow she passes by—not something that paralyzes her in place anymore.

Leigh’s not sure if being this fearless is actually a good thing though.

After cooling her heels on the sidewalk for half an hour, with no owner in sight, she shrugs and decides he’s coming home with her.

Jules gives her a scrutinizing look the moment she walks in. “What, you went out for a run and decided to get a dog?”

“Rescue mission,” Leigh shoots back, setting the dog down. “Found him in the middle of Second Street. Seems he’s lost.”

Jules doesn't miss a beat, heading straight for the newcomer. She kneels, her hands gently petting the dog, her eyes softening in a way that Leigh rarely sees. The dog, clearly pleased with the attention, wags its tail vigorously. Her eyes are practically giving her away, so it sounds almost funny when she looks up at Leigh and says, “Just don't get too attached, okay?”

“I won’t, which is why I named him Visitor. It’s temporary,” Leigh says with a smile, looking very proud of the name she came up with.

Jules chuckles, standing up and brushing off her knees. “Nerd. Matt would've gotten a kick out of that.”

The room just freezes at the mention of his name. Talking about Matt is like walking into a glass door you didn't see.

Jules tries to backpedal, “Hey, sorry, I—” But Leigh's quick to brush it off with a shrug. 

“Don't worry about it. Let's just figure out where Visitor here belongs, okay?”

As they refocus on Visitor, Jules can't help but notice the way the dog favors one leg as he trots over to sit snugly between Leigh's legs, looking up at her with those big, trusting eyes. “Looks like he's got a bit of a limp,” Jules points out.

Leigh frowns and leans down to get a closer look, her fingers gently probing around Visitor's leg until she finds a tender spot. The moment she applies a little pressure, Visitor yelps, pulling away sharply and retreating a few steps.

Jules winces at the reaction. “Yeah, that's not good. Maybe we should take him to a vet?”

Leigh can barely hold back a grimace as her brain immediately links you to the situation.

“What's wrong?” Jules notices the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood. “There's St. Mary's Animal Clinic nearby. I heard they're great.”

That's your clinic. Leigh's throat tightens at the thought, the memories of her visit flooding back. “Are there others around here?”

Jules looks puzzled at the question. “I mean, I can look it up, but what's wrong with St. Mary's?”

Leigh considers whether she should tell Jules about meeting you. Part of her really knows it’s unfair to dislike you, especially if you genuinely didn't know Matt was married. But she knows Jules too well—tell her, and it'll turn into a whole thing. Leigh's not sure she's up for that drama.

Despite her reservations, Leigh decides to bite the bullet, her curiosity getting the better of her. Besides, if she can’t be brave enough to talk about this in her counseling group, she should probably at least tell Jules.

“Actually, Jules,” Leigh begins, “St. Mary's Animal Clinic is where... where she works.”

Jules's eyes widen in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait, you mean... you mean her, as in…?” she stammers, disbelief written all over her face.

“Yup,” Leigh confirms, smacking her lips forcefully. 

“Oh my god—that bitch,” Jules spits out, her voice dripping with disdain before Leigh can even brace for impact.

“She didn’t know Matt’s married,” Leigh clarifies quickly.

“And you bought that?”

“I had a feeling she was telling the truth. Besides, I can’t imagine Matt being that brazen to pursue someone while married. He can be a little self-righteous sometimes,” Leigh says, only half-sure of her statement. Recently, she has to remind herself that maybe she never really knew him at all.

Then, an idea sparks in Jules's mind. “You know what?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe this is a good opportunity. After all, she owes you one, right? Maybe she'll treat Visitor for free, to make up for being... well, you know.”

Leigh rubs her nose, skeptical of the idea. “I don't know, Jules. I don't want to impose…”

Jules leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if she's the reason you're hurting, maybe she should make it right?”

She isn't hurting because of you, not directly. That's why Jules’ suggestion hangs in the air, unappealing. Leigh remembers the pity in your eyes from that morning, and she doesn't want it. She doesn't want anything from you at all. Her resolve instantly hardens like ice. 

“No,” Leigh finally says. “I don't want her charity. I'll pay for Visitor's bills myself. And I'll keep the receipts for when his real owners show up.” It's a decision that feels surprisingly empowering, a small reclaiming of control in a world that's felt off-kilter for too long.

Jules merely sighs; she knows better than to push Leigh when her mind’s made up. 

“Have it your way.”

-

Leigh brings Visitor to St. Mary’s the very next day.

There's a certain set to her jaw, a readiness for something less than pleasant. She doesn’t need to go through reception this time because she spots you right away, escorting a client to the door, cradling their puppy in your arms. Seeing you with a pet makes Leigh realize why you’ve chosen this profession. You fit right in among the animals, she muses bitterly.

It's with a sense of satisfaction that she watches your smile dissipate as soon as your eyes land on hers. 

She strides confidently towards you, dog in arms, forcing you to quickly hand off the puppy back to its owner. Yet, you recover with a swiftness that's begrudgingly admirable as you give her a look that’s equal parts professional and friendly—like you were actually looking forward to seeing her again.

“Good morning, Leigh. How can I help you?”

Without a word, Leigh extends the dog she’s carrying towards you, a silent transfer of trust, or perhaps, necessity. You gesture towards the consultation room, an invitation she accepts with a terse nod, following you into the space where you effortlessly shift into doctor mode.

As you begin to charm her dog, she can't help but narrow her eyes. It irks her, watching Visitor take to you instantly, as if you were old friends. “What's his name?” you ask, looking up at Leigh.

“Visitor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the name, just in time for your irises to capture the light seeping through the office blinds. They glow a hazel-brown, disarmingly so. Leigh forces herself to focus back on the purpose of her visit. 

Leigh continues, “He’s limping on his left hind leg. I’d appreciate it if you can prescribe him something. I'll try not to take up too much of your time.”

Ignoring the undercurrent of Leigh's insinuation, your attention remains undividedly on Visitor. The well-being of the dog before you eclipses any personal sentiments, as it always does. 

“I'm sorry, but before we can consider any medication, I need to examine him thoroughly. It's possible he might require some lab tests to rule out anything serious,” you tell her. Despite sounding apologetic, Leigh interprets it as your polite way of telling her to fuck off and let you do your job.

As you palpate the dog's leg carefully, you begin your routine questions. “Can you tell me his birthday? Any vaccination history?”

They’re basic, but they seem to catch Leigh off guard anyway. “He’s not mine. I found him on the street yesterday,” she reveals with a reluctant sigh.

The news prompts a more detailed response from you. 

“I see. In that case, we should definitely line up some tests for Visitor. We need to ensure he doesn't have distemper or any other airborne virus that could be affecting his mobility,” you suggest, already mentally cataloging the necessary procedures.

You start detailing the tests you intend to perform, explaining their purposes and associated costs. Leigh is clearly deluged by it all and you decide to take pity on the poor woman by adding that it’s still up to her which tests to proceed with, if any at all.

“Your call, Leigh,” you tell her.

Leigh can't shake off the vibe that you're throwing a gauntlet down in front of her. It's like her inner competitor wakes up, refusing to back down. “Do all of them,” she declares, tipping her chin up towards you. “Whatever you think is best.”

“That’s a good decision. We’ll take care of it right away,” you say, already picking up the phone to call the reception for assistance. 

Leigh's still trying to get a read on you. Was her arm twisted into this choice, or did you genuinely have Visitor's best interest at heart? She's not about to hand out trust like free samples, especially when she could end up misjudging you. It’s a tricky spot, especially because she’s clearly been wrong before.

-

The tests take their time, roughly an hour, after which Leigh finds herself pacing the lobby. An additional quarter-hour trickles by before the receptionist finally calls her back into the consultation room.

“Good news,” you start, making sure to catch her eye. She meets your look briefly before her attention shifts to Visitor. “It's only a sprain. The X-ray revealed no breaks or other issues. But,” you pause, checking to see if she's still fully engaged, “his blood tests indicated a low platelet count and evidence of an infection.”

Leigh listens intently, nodding along.

You explain what this means in a clear, concise manner, avoiding medical jargon as much as possible. “It's something we can manage with medication. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for the infection and pain medication to help with his discomfort. It's important that he completes the course of antibiotics to clear the infection completely.”

You watch Leigh closely, gauging her reaction and ready to answer any questions she might have. “We'll need to keep an eye on his platelet count, so I'd like to schedule a follow-up visit next week. This will also give us a chance to check how his leg is healing.”

“Will he be okay?” she asks without looking up from Visitor, busy scratching behind his ears.

“He'll be just fine,” you reassure her, adding, “Any questions about what we discussed?”

Leigh stays silent and you take it as your cue that she doesn’t have any thoughts on the matter. As she wraps up without saying much more, you realize it's time to wrap things up too. But there's something niggling at you, something that's been on your mind since the last time she was here. You're about to let her go, but then, out of nowhere, you feel this urge to clear the air about that whole mess with Matt. 

“So, uhm, about the other week when you…” you trail off, suddenly feeling like you're balancing on a tightrope without a net. You’re not so easily spooked by confrontations, but Leigh makes you nervous in a way you can’t explain. “I guess I just wanted to say sorry… for your loss, and for—”

“Does he really need to take pain medication for seven days?” Leigh cuts you off suddenly. It’s sharp enough for you to shut your mouth and abandon your attempt to get personal.

“Yes, the full course is important to ensure he's comfortable and that the inflammation goes down properly. It's just as crucial as the antibiotics for his recovery…”

Leigh nods, carefully scooping Visitor into her arms, preparing to leave.

You try one last time. “Leigh, I really am sorry–”

“I’ll see you next week, Dr. Y/L/N,” she says dismissively and then she’s gone.

[madschiavelique]

So I thought up a smutty request last night for romanced Gale! Gale makes use of an invisibility spell:

Tav and Gale are on a stealth mission and Gale casts invisibility. During the mission they duck into a narrow alcove to escape the notice of a few guards on patrol.

“Wait. Why are we hiding?” Tav asks, hyper aware of how closely they’re pressed together.

“Instinct I suppose.” Gale says, grateful for the spell that hides his amorous blushing. “Eh-hem. I did just have an idea though.” He continues in low voice.

Tav stares into the darkness, confused. Realization dawns as they feel his excitement growing against their thigh.

“Oh! But… now?!” They whisper.

“Perhaps not now, perhaps at some point back at camp… if you’re amenable to… surprises.”

Now it’s Tav’s turn to blush without being seen.

“Yes.” They breathe, trying to reign in their own excitement and anticipation.

What do you think would happen when they get back to camp😏?

omg i'm sorry i took so long for this but i cooked harder than i thought for it and it's good (i think ?) ; a special thank u to @gracethyomen for proofreading me <333

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : gale x fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : smut (mdni), use of spells for sex (hold person, blindness, mage hand, enthral), soft dom gale, finger fucking, gale is a teasing fuck, female/afab reader, if i forgot any other do tell pls !

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 5,5k

It was supposed to be simple. Some kind of artefact retrieval without eyes or ears to witness about it. Scrolls and spells were ready, potions were about to be drunk, and your tools to disarm and lockpick anything were all properly arranged in your purse.

Gale was travelling lightly with no staff. Simply a belt with a few scrolls of Dimensional Door and Misty Step attached to it, ready to be used.

You had managed to get up some vines on the side of the manor containing the desired artefact, shushing Gale as he huffed and puffed upon arriving at the top of it.

“We could have just used a scroll to travel such heights,” he whispered.

“Who knows,” you murmured back, “we might need those soon.” You’d continued your way, silent as a shadow while Gale tried his very best not to trip on his robes as he knelt every now and then.

After following the instructions that had been given to you, you arrived at the room where the artefact was - fortunately enough for you - its current owner deemed it insufficiently important enough for it to be displayed at the very centre of the room. But rather it was placed on one of the shelves.. 

You lock-picked the balcony’s door linked to the room with sufficient ease, and once in it Gale made sure to point out to you that the stand on which the artefact was placed was trapped. 

You observed the mechanism and how you were supposed to take care of it, but during your meticulous contemplation, the gaze of your companion lingered on you with an intensity which you felt didn’t communicate any kind of danger.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you whispered as you started dismembering the trap.

“Just admiring your concentration. As the days pass I understand how an artist never grows tired of his muse’s profile.” he hummed, his voice low.

You almost missed the proper sensitive screw of the trapped base, a hiccup of your heart making your hand tremble as your cheeks warmed.

After disarming it properly and placing the artefact in a bag, you left by the same way you had both entered. You were a bit less worried about being crouched and properly hidden now. You had retrieved the artefact without a problem, and now if you had to escape you could just use some scrolls or potions of Feather Fall to jump from wherever you were.

You simply walked on an outside balcony, listening to any new sounds in the night that could mean the approach of a guard.

“You surprised me before, you know.” you ended up whispering as you walked. 

“I am the one surprised you haven’t had such words spoken to you before, does it seem that unusual to you ?” he questioned.

“It’s not about that, although… whatever it’s just that it came out of nowh-”

But your words were cut as he grabbed your waist and pulled you in an alcove, murmuring the invisibility spell and allowing you both to disappear in the night. You were about to question him but he simply pressed his pointer finger to his lips, shushing you.

The resonating sounds of clicketing armour came to your ears, two guards walking next to one another in the far distance speaking about how boring the reception was at the manor tonight. Your heart was beating so hard you were certain Gale could hear it. You were so close to him, his hand firmly placed on your waist, your eyes unable to decipher where his own were.

He hummed, a shiver running down your spine as he moved his hand from your waist to the small of your back.

However, one thing struck you in the silence: the guards had not continued past you both. It seemed that they had chosen to patrol one section of the many corridors throughout the area… It seems you and Gale had grossly overestimated their dedication to the job.

“Wait,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “Why are we hiding ?”

“Instinct I suppose.” His voice was low, yet filled with a sort of surprise. As if he had been pulled out of a dream, content with the idea that his furious blush was hidden. “I…” he was searching for his words and you could feel his breath crash on your cheek and ear, hanging on his lips in the waiting of what he was about to say. “I have an idea though.”

You couldn’t read his mind, from all the scrolls and potions you had to pick this one was the spell you wished you had with you. It wasn’t long before you understood. He sighed as the hand on your lower back pulled you slowly towards him, and he hummed. Your chest swelled when you inhaled, your mouth agape as you felt the hardness that was pressing against your thigh, and the realisation dawned on you.

“Oh…” you whispered, feeling the insistence of his gaze on you. “But… now ?”

“Perhaps not now,” he breathed, his forehead pressing against yours, “perhaps at some point back at camp, if you’re amenable to… surprises.”

You felt the way his lips curled in a small smile as he whispered the last word, and you felt your cheeks warming up. You tilted your head slightly, feeling your nose brushing against his as you opened your lips, feeling his own sigh fall onto them.

“Yes,” you murmured, trying to contain your excitement like it was about to overflow.

His chuckle was low, his hand finding yours, his thumb painting circular motions on the back of it.

“Then we better get back.”

You felt his forehead leave yours, and you supposed that he was checking if the guards were still there, whom you had completely forgotten about in your intimate haze. They had disappeared behind the corner, and Gale took no further minute before murmuring : 

“Non fit injura,” the featherfall spell. 

In but a second you were both imbued with a feeling of lightness, and if you thought your heart was about to fly out of your chest just mere minutes ago, you were now positively sure that if you excitement could grow wings you’d fly higher than any dragon.

You both took your impetus before dashing and jumping. You repressed the giggle that bubbled up your chest while falling. You reached the ground in perfect shape, hearing the slightest grunt somewhere on your left side from Gale. 

Sooner than you had expected, the invisibility spell vanished and you saw him. The moon’s light was shining on his earring as his eyes caught yours. There was a gleam of which even the stars could not match, a darkness filling his eyes like two onyx pearls.

“Shall we ?” he smiled, offering you his hand.

You felt like your smile would crack your face, and you took his hand in yours as you made your way to the camp.

You were received by the rest of the group, cheered on by the companions as they pointed to the artefact in question. Your first task at the start of the next day was to give this artefact to an apothecary, but the next day could wait: your thoughts were focused on Gale's words.

Surprises... What specifically did he mean by that?

Dinner came, and your companions asked you about the progress of your mission. Gale was the obvious narrator. He, who had so much love for recounting his anecdotes, began to describe at length the beauty of the building you had been in, slipping in here and there that Astarion would have appreciated the debauched party the hosts were having. Pointing out to Wyll that an acquaintance of the Blade’s father was apparently involved in all these celebrations, all the while occasionally making the group laugh.

"Are you perfectly certain that nobody saw you?" asked Shadowheart.

Gale's eyes rested on you for what seemed like an eternity. He had intentionally omitted to mention your slight pause on the way out. "Definitely safe," he assured.

Bedtime came and everyone went back to their tents. You passed Gale, his eyes roaming up and down your body before returning to your face, and his gaze moved from yours to your lips before he entered his tent.

Your own tent was a little way from the group's, and as leader of said group, they'd let you have a corner to yourself to let you breathe. Most of them were aware that you were trying as hard as you could to maintain a band of adventurers who were all comically different, and that this was no easy task. So they agreed you were entitled to a slightly more secluded corner for your peace and quiet.

But your peace and quiet did not give you rest from your whirling thoughts. As you finished taking off your day gear, a constant stream of questions took over your thoughts. 

Should you wait for Gale to come and see you? Should you go to him? At some point back at camp... What if he hadn't designated today? What if, after all, the adrenalin had worn off and his desires were no longer present? You didn't know what to do.

All your doubts were put aside, however, when one of the sides of your tent was raised and Gale stepped into it. His eyes were just as dark as when you landed outside the manor. You faced him, motionless, your heart fluttering between your ribs as he moved slowly towards you.

It wasn't long before he was as close to you as he had been in the alcove of the manor - a deep sigh echoing in his chest as his breath hit your ear and his beard scratched your cheek.

You tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your eyes going from his eyes to his lips and trying not to look too desperate. He came to cup your face with his hand, and you leaned into his touch. His thumb softly grazed your skin, his second hand placing itself on your hip.

"I never thought waiting would be such a torment, yet this evening has proved to me otherwise." He murmured, his hand on your hip moving again to the small of your back to press you against him.

You brushed your nose against his, feeling his warmth and the weight of his words.

"Then why not end it now ?" you whispered back.

"Because I want to appreciate you," he murmured, his lips barely brushing yours, "delight in the sight of you, ink you in my mind..."

He didn't go on with his sentence, just let his lips touch yours, both your bodies relaxing instantly. Both of your hands came to his shoulder, one of them venturing to cup his face. He was gentle at first, almost hesitant, before revealing his hunger.

The hand that was cupping your cheek travelled to the back of your neck to kiss you harder, bring you closer to him, a surprised moan vibrating from your lips as his fingers combed their way in your hair.

As you leaned your head back from the slight pull he made, his lips lowered on your jaw, kissing your pulse point, your neck was to be his, now. He’d been sorely displeased when finding out you’d allowed Astarion to drink from it. From you. He came back to take your lips, his hands coming to unlace your shirt.

You lowered yours to mirror his intentions, but he gently took both of your wrists in his and brought them up to your head. 

“Hm hm,” he hummed like a softened tutting of a scolding parent, and through the haze you saw a glint of mischief in his eyes.

His fingers continued to take care in removing your shirt, but you couldn’t help the feeling, the need to touch him and be touched by him. 

You had waited enough, and so hadhe. He had no right to tease you so, to caress you with sweet words all evening and not let you have your fingers brush on his own skin.

Your arms lowered again, a hand placed on his shoulder as the other one rested on the back of his neck to bring him into another kiss, hungry, devouring his lips as he hummed and sighed in relief.

But in his chest rumbled a dark sound, vibrating on your lips before he whispered into them : 

“Non movere.” In an instant, lilac glyphs and squares grew on the ground, and soon enough your body wasn’t yours to command anymore. 

Unable to move byyour own will, you stood there, certain that whatever breeze coming over you would not be able to make even a single hair on your head move. Your wrists and ankles were stiffened, it was as if you had been blocked in a mould that you had yet to come out of… the new masterpiece of your creator.

You knew this feeling, knew the shape of it, the metallic smell of magic it left in the air once it was spoken.

You couldn’t do anything other than blink and let your lips part in complete surprise as your eyes fell on the glint of mischief his gaze held: he had just cast the Hold Person spell. On you.

He took a step back, observing you up and down his work, tilting his head to the side in his contemplation.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as the thrill of all kinds of possibilities electrified every limb of your body in anticipation.

His eyes set back to yours, and for once looking into Gale’s eyes gave you no response as to what was about to come.

“I mentioned earlier tonight,” he took a step forward you again, his pointer finger hooking under your chin to make sure your eyes wouldn’t leave his, “That I had a few surprises for you. Didn’t I, my little muse?”

His eyes did not leave yours as the back of his hooked finger traced the skin down your neck, brushing your pulse point. His stare darkened atthe feel of your rapid heartbeat.

His touch woke goosebumps in its path, blossoming on your skin as a warm shiver ran down your spine, arching your back as much as you could with the spell holding your body. Your breath hitched with a sharp inhale.

“You plant such ideas in my mind…” his finger traced your collarbone in a measured and agonising unhurriedness, “the driest of lands would flourish back to life by the thought of you.”

His voice had gone low, his words slow. His eyes searched for every reaction your body could provide by the single brush of his fingers on your skin. You tried pushing forward, tried moving to feel more than his fingertips on you, but the spell was holding you tight in place.

He hovered over the curve of your chest, your clothes suddenly feeling like they were becoming unnecessary. He finally reached the laces he had left to tie you in the air, continuing to untie them with the same ease.

“So impatient, what am I to do with you?” he said, his fingers untying the last remaining string.

His hands left it, your eyebrows furrowing as you let out an annoyed sigh. Your body was hot, your clothes now unwanted on your skin. The only thing covering you that could bring you satisfaction was Gale's touch covering your entire body.

He took a step to the side, then another, until he was no longer in your line of vision. But you felt his presence, felt his breath on the back of your neck as both his hands settled on your waist.

“Do you have a single idea…” he murmured, his mouth lowered to your ear as his hands moved up your waist to reach your arms and manipulate them to raise them above your head with incredible ease, “How hard you make it for me to keep my hands off you?”

His hands brushed against yours for a moment, making you shiver as your breath hitched in your chest, pushing it taught like a sail in the wind. His lips brushing against your ear made you want to turn your head to kiss him, to reach him, but the spell was binding you.

His hands went down following the curves of your body until they reached the sides of your shirt. He pinched them with both hands before whispering: “Caecus te.”

Your next blink left you in absolute darkness, your vision having been momentarily robbed by the incantation of the Blinding spell.

All the sensations were completely different, as if amplified. The warmth of Gale's breath on the back of your neck made you shudder and let out a soft moan, his scent of parchment and warm velvet perfumed your air, and his voice echoed in your soul like a white light as you felt his hands brush against your bare skin while removing your shirt. 

“Feeling you in the alcove bewitched me.”

Sparks burst beneath your skin as his fingertips barely grazed your waist, passing like a feather over your ribs before gently pulling your shirt over your head until the night air enveloped your upper body.

The distinct sound of your shirt falling to the floor in a heap of fabric almost made you jump. Gale's breath was no longer at the back of your neck, and the rustle of his clothes somewhere around you was your only indicator that he was still there.

Your breathing quickened, the uncertainty of what he was going to do to you making your heart and body race.

You gasped as the warmth of his hand touched the bare skin on your waist, suddenly inhaling. Its twin came to rest on your hip, the warmth of his palm spreading to your bones.

‘Your body is one I shall worship till my last breath is stolen from me,’ he whispered, his breath landing on your face, and you drank in his words through parted lips.

His fingers ran up your body like ivy over a statue in an abandoned garden, so that it would never be left alone. His fingertips brushed against the flesh of your breasts, covered by your underclothes, his touch tinting your skin with a warm light as it passed over the landscape of your body.

You wanted to press your body against his, to nestle your face in the nape of his neck as you embraced him, wishing you were no longer covered by anything and letting him roam every inch of your body.

His hands went down to the leather lace of your trousers, pulling on a single string to undo the buckle you made every morning. Your trousers had always been too big for you, with the last few weeks of emaciated food in camp and the constant fighting and walking making the loop to be tightened a little more every time. 

So it came as no surprise when the garment fell to the ground with a thump, revealing the remnant of skin that he had yet to see.

A low rumble vibrated in his chest and echoed on your skin, breathing in his air and all you could catch of him in the darkness you inhabited.

“Gods…” his voice had come closer, and the air seemed less cool as your cheeks heated.

His fingers hovered over your hip, running down your thigh as the other hand traced from below your navel to the edge of your underwear.

You heard him swallow, his breath landing on your chest and the beginning of your stomach. His head was down, his concentration complete. Your body was boiling, waiting for his every move.

“But before I can enjoy touching you, I want to look at you.”

And then his fingers left you cold, the sensation of freshness returning as you felt him no longer beside you. The contrast of the absence of contact was sudden, completely disorientating.

“Gale?” you called,

You chased him with your ears, looking for him in everything you could hear, everything you could smell, everything your body could feel. And just when you thought he had vanished into thin air or left, you heard: 

"Veni et iuva me."

You felt nothing on the spot. There was no physical change, nothing was blocked, nothing was new. But you shuddered at the thought of what he had just said: the Mage Hand spell.

"I won't touch you," you heard him say as you could make out the stool in your tent being moved "just yet, at least."

The legs of the stool were put down, and the rustle of clothes suggested that Gale had just taken his seat, ready to enjoy the spectacle of which he was the creator.

The cool, strange touch of his mage hand delicately grasped your chin. The touch felt icy in the moment, and you wondered whether the nature of the spell made it cool, or whether anything else in the moment would have offered a chilling contrast to the warmth of your desire spread across your body.

The finger followed the same path as Gale had just moments before as it passed from your throat to your collarbone, gently making its way to the valley of your breasts. The tip of his index finger grasped the small strip of fabric running around your torso, pulling it slightly upwards.

The fabric slid over, pressing on the roundness of your tits and making them fuller until they were free. The hand stopped pulling on the strap when it was above your bust.

His finger curved into a hook, tracing the roundness of your breast with the back of it, slipping under the little crease of warm skin where your breasts and torso met. Then he spread out his hand, putting his whole palm on it to embrace it.

His thumb went around the halo of your nipple, gradually approaching your hardened peak. The skin of his thumb came to rest on it, a moan passing your lips.

He made circular movements, sometimes returning to follow the contour of your areola before returning to the central point that had become so sensitive. His index finger joined it to squeeze it, causing you to inhale sharply.

"Do you like the way that feels?"

The hand kept pressing, brushing and caressing with a delicacy and skill that were second to none.

"Mhm," you hummed in response, all your thoughts turned to the delicious sensations you were being given.

"Use your words, my love. Your voice is way too pretty for me not to hear it."

His fingers pressed a little harder on your nipple, an additional moan rising in your throat.

"Yes, I like it." you managed to pronounce in the haze.

"Good," he replied, his voice low, "it would pain me to know you're not enjoying this as much as I am."

You imagined him sitting there, facing you, his hand caressing the air and guiding the blue silhouette against your curves. He was the real master of your desire at that moment, and although you loved the sensation he was giving you, you would have preferred it if it had been his own hand touching you.

You felt the warmth of the knot in your belly building, and your slightly half-open thighs couldn't move to stick together and give you any friction to ease the desire burning inside you. Two words echoed through you: 

"Touch me," expelled your voice.

"Isn't it what I am doing dearest?" he replied as his hand left your breast and moved down your rib.

"I want you to be the one touching me."

His digits ran down your bust, following the curve of your belly until they reached your navel.

"All in due time, my little muse."

His fingers went down to the fabric of your underwear, skimming over the elastic before continuing down your thigh. He took hold of it, gripping it firmly before loosening his grasp, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

His hand ventured to the warm inside of your thigh, and no matter how hard you tried to move your hips forward or press your thighs together, you were getting nowhere, a frustrated sigh rising in your chest.

He caressed the tender skin there, moving up slightly but never reaching the core of your desires.

"Gale," you pleaded with a ragged breath, "I'll let you do anything if you just touch me right now."

You heard him laugh lightly, taking pleasure in the fact that you wanted him so badly.

"Let's not get hasty in promising anything when you're in such a state," he replied. “Besides,” He crooned teasingly. “Whatever I want is already within my reach.”

What other spells could he possibly use? Your thoughts wandered for a few moments over various possibilities as the fingers of the mage's hand made your veins feel like they were made of electricity.

Command to order you to get to your knees or approach him without you having a grasp on your body ? Enlarge to make himself bigger and dominate you better ? Conjure a Myrmidon to join him in seeking your pleasure ?

But all concentration on the subject flew away in a shower of sparks as the fingers of the mage's hand landed on your covered cunt.

A deep whimper of pleasure echoed through the tent as his fingers moved slowly back and forth, caressing you as they moved from your lips to your clit with a cruel slowness. His thumb pressed gently against it, and the heat in your lower belly grew as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip to keep another moan from escaping.

"Don't loweryour voice my dear, no one but me will hear you tonight."

How could he be so sure? How could he say with such certainty that-

A silence spell over the sleeping camp.

Intelligent fucker.

Your teeth loosened the grip they had on your bottom lip, letting your voice rise in the air with every calculated movement the magician made on your pussy.

"I had no idea you were so sensitive," he remarked as he pressed his thumb a little harder, the fabric of your underwear moistening by the second and ruining under his touch.

Eventually, his fingers came to grip the side of the fabric covering you, pulling it aside. The chill of the night air slammed into the damp warmth of your cunt, your cheeks heating at the thought of Gale's gaze on the mess he'd made of you.

He said nothing, but you could feel his stare on you. You imagined the intensity of it, his lust-darkened eyes beneath his furrowed brows, his hand raised to guide Mage's hand. Did he have as much trouble containing himself as you had staying grounded?

The middle and index fingers of the hand came together before resting on your folds, your breath coming in short gasps. He let them press lightly between your lips, letting your wetness coat his fingers.

His thumb went back to your clit, the difference in sensation without any fabric to cover you making you tremble. It wasn't long before one of his fingers was inside you, caressing the heat that was making you ache.

You wanted to move your hips, look for more friction, more movement, but Gale had calculated his move so that you would end up like this: at his mercy, your pleasure controlled by his every move.

His movements were slow, measured, but of unrivalled delight. Your tongue flicked over your lips before moaning as he pushed a second finger in, making hooking movements, as if he were trying to guide your body and your desire towards him and him alone.

Your belly was hot, your lower back burning. Your breath hitched as his fingers found the spot that made you see stars. You felt the knot tighten, like a warm summer cloud spreading across your hips.

You felt close, and you dreamt that your deliverance would end on his fingers. Then you realised that, maybe, all he was waiting for was the magic word.

"Gale," you managed to say between groans, "please."

You heard him rise suddenly, walking towards you as the mage's hand slipped away from you. A whimper of complaint escaped your lips as you felt so close to climax with nothing to reach it anymore.

"Te absolvo" he said, sounding short of breath and eager.

As your eyes took in the dark light of the room again, you saw him from an angle that set your body ablaze.

Gale's face was close to yours, the violet light of the Hold Person spell illuminating his utterly mesmerised features, his pupils dilated almost to pitch black as he breathed heavily through parted lips.

You realised that, although you had been restrained and tormented by his spells, he was the one who was bewitched.

Breathless, regaining your senses, your eyes moved from his eyes to his lips for a moment before returning to his gaze, in which the amethyst sparkle glowed of magic. 

"Please," you repeated in a whisper, "touch me."

Gale tilted his head to one side, his eyes falling on your lips for a moment as he chewed the inside of his cheek, as if he himself were holding back capturing your lips in a kiss, or more...

His hand came to rest on your thigh as his hot breath spread over your skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the cold of the mage's hand. He moved slowly up your skin, gripping the elastic of your panties, his eyes never leaving yours. He ran his thumb underneath it, his second hand grasping the other side and gently pulling your underwear down to mid-thigh.

His fingers brushed the inside of your thigh, and your breath hitched as you tilted your gaze down to watch, the use of your body seeming to return to you as the spell gradually lessened its hold. But the Mage hand came to grip your chin, raising your face so that your gaze didn't leave Gale's.

"Don't look away."

He wanted to see every detail of your face, every reaction, the beauty of what his fingers could awaken in you. Yes, he wanted to see this spectacle.

His fingers came to cup your cunt, a sigh of relief escaping from between your lips

"Oculi tui solum volunt," he murmured.

You hadn't heard him say that spell before, but a sudden feeling came over you: you couldn't take your eyes off him.

No matter how hard you tried to look away, you couldn't. Turning your head, looking at another part of his face, nothing seemed to work. Enthralled, that's what you were.

One of his fingers sank into you, its thickness wider than a mage's hand and warmer. He tilted his head back slightly, his eyes thin and dark as he watched your every reaction.

The feeling of your warm walls closing on his fingers was something he was addicted to, knowing he was the orchestrator of your pleasure made him want to let this vision of paradise last forever. His thumb caressed your clit, your body reacting immediately by tightening around his finger as you moaned.

Gale's free hand moved up to your breast, gripping it gently as his thumb pressed lightly against your skin. 

"You wanted me that much, little love?" he asked, the realisation of how wet you were satisfying him beyond measure.

"Yes," you replied, your breath catching as he thrust a second finger in.

His two thumbs made circular movements over your nipple and you clit, his fingers inside you moving perfectly and touching the perfect spot again without effort.

You felt you were near, and so did Gale. The knot was getting tighter and tighter, your lower belly as if lit up by a marble-sized sun. His eyes shone for a moment, a glint of mischief that you now knew all too well.

The mage's hand gently let go of your chin, moving down a little until it was around your neck, and squeezing on each side.

"Come for me," he breathed, his eyes fixed on yours.

The world shattered into a thousand pieces as everything turned to the white warm light. Vibrating waves beat through your body like a second heart, pulsing until your thighs shook and your walls squeezed Gale's fingers spasmodically and the pressure on your neck made you see stars.

Gale whispered something you couldn't hear, and the purple glyphs disappeared as you fell into his arms, still shaking from your orgasm. He lifted his head and kissed your temple, stroking your hair.

"That's it, good," he murmured. Then your breath stilled, nestling your face in the hollow of his neck for a moment before returning to his eyes.

"You have a way with surprises," you said in your haze as he laughed softly.

"I think the most pleasant surprises come with the inspiration you bring me," he admitted as his hand cupped your cheek. "But I do think your thoughts have suggested a few ideas that I simply can't wait to try out."

You frowned for a second, "My thoughts?"

He raised an eyebrow, a sneer stretching his lips as the realisation dawned on you: a mind-reading potion. What you couldn't say in words, your body and mind had been shouting at him all this time.

"How are you feeling?" he asked anyway, for the politeness of the gesture.

"Good," you confirmed as your head fell on his shoulder. "So good."

"Excellent, because you won't get an ounce of sleep tonight."

[nightmarist]

Some Zevlor Things —

EDIT 12/2/23: Added a few more things

A fellow Tiefling Hellrider, Tilses, is with him in the caves acting as his bodyguard. He sometimes calls her Tilly.

There is one bedroll in the caves shoved off in the far corner with a book titled "The Devil You Know: An Autobiography" - not sure if it's his personal writing or if he's reading it, either way it adds to the flavor of his of his tiefling pride (and/or anguish).

It reads:

Have you ever had a god change your blood? It is a horrifying thing, even for those who may desire it. Yet few tieflings wished for Asmodeus to claim their bodies, only be given no choice in the matter. It is not as if we were well-loved before the archdevil's gambit. Our people have always struggled against the notion of 'devilkin', as if a single drop of infernal ichor inescapably corrupts. How amusing, when so many others willingly sell their souls to fiends, yet their culture as a whole escapes the blame. By what method can we redeem ourselves, when the crime is not ours? I would drive a blade into every warlock that aided Asmodeus' damned ritual, but personal vengeance cannot undo the will of a god, much less one as slippery as the Lord of Lies. When every passerby thinks you a thief and heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one. (cut off) The only thing that has stopped me is knowing Asmodeus wants nothing more than for all of us to fall from grace.

Around the his table are Invasion Plans for Elturgard, Traveler's Guide to Baldur's Gate, Traveler's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol IV: The Risen Road (which aligns when he tells you earlier there are gnolls on the road), and "Front and Center: a Thespian's Memoir" that reads:

"... in fact, the greatest joy of my life hasn't been acting, but becoming. When you choose a character to play, you don't just wear a mask - you take a little bit of their soul for your own. Whoever you are in your heart of hearts, if only by the faintest note."

Zevlor aside I think this is a sweet quote for the player and player character relationship <3

Dialogue in the Caves:

Zevlor: I Hardly need a bodyguard, Tilses. This isn't Avernus. Tilses: No sir. At least the monsters there looked like monsters.

—

Tilses: Commander— Zevlor: Just Zevlor, Tilly. We're civilians now, remember? Tilses: With respect, sir — being a Hellrider is for life. They can't take — Zevlor: They can, and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that. Tilses: ... Yes, Zevlor

—

Tilses: The Watch or the Flaming Fist? Zevlor: Pardon? Tilses: When we get to Baldur's Gate. Where are we enlisting? Zevlor: I'm done soldiering, Tilly. I'd like a clean start. But go with the Watch. You're too honest to be a mercenary.

—

Zevlor: No word from the scouts, yet? Tilses: No sir. But if there's a clear path past the goblins, they'll find it. Zevlor: Yes, of course.

ITEMS —

in the Chest there is a bronze goblet, 46 gold, and a battle-worn blade. On his person he has his gloves (Hellrider's Pride), an apple, a camp supply pack, and the key to his chest.

The blade says:

A fine by well-used sword. It seemed to have once belonged to a holy order, but the indication of rank and patron deity at the hilt have recently been filed down.

The gloves' flavor text says:

A waft of sulphur emanates from this proudly-kept piece.

Celebration at the Camp:

"I should be out there, talking with them. In... Just a moment, maybe." "Is this everyone? Our numbers have grown so few..." "No more. I can't afford to lose any more of them." "No. Let them have fun. I'll be ruining it come morning anyway."

Mindfayer Colony:

Things he mumbles in the Pod:

The pod will show you his memories of Elturel:

After saving Zevlor, I forced myself to pick the "mean" options just to see how it goes.

If you tell him its his fault tieflings were imprisoned in moonrise, he says:

If you tell him "Do yo have a right to ask?" when he asks about the tieflings:

He doesn't argue with any of your remarks except one, when he says "For a moment I welcomed it" and you tell him "For a moment until you realized your reward would be a tadpole" he corrects you:

If you tell him if he wanted power he should live up to his own ideal:

If you tell him to get out of your sight:

When you tell him it's not his fault he was enthralled:

If you tell him "Fine. Good luck, Zevlor."

If you say you could use another blade in the fight to come:

At the Netherbrain:

(smiling <3)

"The journey has been brutal, but I stand here a Hellrider once more, and I would die a proud man if I died this day."

I know it's a Soldier thing to be proud to die for a cause but it still makes me worry for him given his background so far <:]

If you click on him, he has two unvoiced lines:

if you pickpocket him at this point, he'll have the same items on him as before (in this save he has a carrot instead of an apple for me).

His stats at this time: (Steeped in Bliss is from one of my items)

Post Game (Patch 5)

I don't know if there are other permutations of this letter, yet, but this is what I received:

I hope my penmanship has improved somewhat in the past months. When I first stumbled into this city, I shook so badly that I could scarcely hold the soup the priests pressed into my hands - let alone write and thank you as you deserve. It is only when the city itself began to shake that I felt my hands grow still. Along with the other veterans sheltering at the temple - discards of Elturel's 'unworthy' legions - I watched that monstrosity rise over the city. We felt no fear. Only anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power. I do not know what oath we cling to now, or how long it will last - but we shall use it to ensure that this city will not suffer as Elturel did. Whether it wants us or not. It is more than thanks alone I owe. No words can make amends for what I did to my people, but that is as it should be. More come to the temple every day to aid in the relief efforts, and if I am permitted to work alongside them, then I am content. Come and see us, when you can. Zevlor

It's interesting — if not bitterswet, tragic, and inspiring — to hear that Zevlor and other Paladins regained their Oaths via pure, stubborn devotion to saving people when it began to look as bad as Elturel.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 143 }

arise.

jinwoo sung x shadow!fem.reader

warnings: unedited; dark themes like stalking, obsession, and m*rder; read with caution.

“arise.”

there was a voice pulling you out of the dark depths, dragging your soul back to the surface as you let out a soft gasp in response.

you felt the wisps of shadows surrounding your form, covering your body in complete and total darkness. your eyes were blank, and you felt a strange… emptiness deep inside of you.

your eyes were suddenly drawn to a handsome young man standing in front of you. he was bathed in complete darkness, seeming to meld with the darkness itself as he was dressed in a black trench coat. his eyes were glowing a startling purple hue, and you found yourself becoming mesmerized by the mere sight of him.

as your eyes take him in, you were dimly aware of the translucent screen that somewhat hinders your vision. you take a moment to read what the screen says.

[ shadow extraction has been completed. would you like to give her a name? ]

a new name? even your own thoughts sounded fuzzy, like there was static settled within your head

"no, she shall forever remain..." the young man then says a series of syllables, one that fills you with nostalgia as you finally realized that it was probably your name that he had spoken out loud.

"..." you open your mouth and softly call out to him.

"who are you...?” your own voice takes on a softer quality, and you felt as though you had somehow become one with the night itself.

a pained expression fills the young man when he brings you closer to him.

"my name is jinwoo... and you don't have to worry about a single thing. just... just stay by my side from now on."

despite how empty you once felt after being reborn, there was a strange warmth felt spreading across your chest, making you smile as you fell into his embrace.

this was going to be a strange, new life for you, with you being resurrected as sung jinwoo's shadow soldier.

{ ... }

happiness was felt coursing through your veins the moment you decided to meet with your boyfriend.

he was the best man for you, and you loved him so much-

you could not picture a life without him.

as you looked through your chat logs with him, you burned each and every loving word into your memories. you were simply exploring the city, making your way toward the plaza- the planned meeting place of your boyfriend.

suddenly, as you were walking, you felt the hairs stick up from the back of your neck.

huff huff huff…

heavy pants were heard coming from behind you, and you glance back to see a tall man dressed in a hoodie. desire was seen flooding his gaze, and you could feel your heart clenching with fear in response.

you were ready to run, lips already open wide in a gape as a scream was ready to escape from them-

only to feel your screams die against your throat when you felt a comforting embrace around you.

"hey babe, i saw you and decided to meet you anyways."

you smile and look back up at him, only to scream when the entirety of his features was covered in static.

{ ... }

you woke up with a start, feeling the puddle of shadows surrounding you as you slept on the floor next to jinwoo's bed. your shadowy form looked back up at him, and you were happy to see that he was still sleeping soundly.

"is something the matter, my comrade?"

beru was looking down at you, keeping watch over your king while lazily gazing at you.

"you look like you have just woken up from a nightmare. our king will be upset if you are troubled, my dear."

you end up curling up against the floor, feeling your hair hiding your features.

"i think i'm starting to remember something..." your voice was soft, and you felt your heart pounding with anticipation.

"hm, is that so? and just what do you recall?"

you close your eyes and begin to explain, "i think... i was in love... i had a lover who i cherished deeply."

"but, there was someone else, someone tall, someone who was always watching me-"

"that is enough, thy comrade of mine." beru ends up stopping you from explaining any further. "our king still sleeps, and if he knows how much of a turmoil you are in, then he will cease to rest."

you shiver in response, giving the former ant king a nod. you had been a part of jinwoo's shadow army for a few months now, yet you had never once faced combat or joined him in any of his raids. so when igris and beru told you that you were special to their king-

you couldn't help but believe them.

"rest, go back to sleep and keep our king company when the morning comes. i assure you that nothing will make him happier."

you nod and gently fall back within the pool of darkness, sinking into it. with your thoughts now in a limbo, you felt the exhaustion coursing through you. you close your eyes then, feeling like you were falling asleep within the gentle depths of the ocean as darkness surrounded you. basking in such a tranquil feeling, you closed your eyes and began to dream once more.

{ ... }

your stalker had been following you for close to a year now.

it was scary how he was always there, waiting for his next move.

it happened when you began working at the hunter's association within the city of seoul, being known as an a-rank healer as you were placed on missions against high leveled gates.

you were a highly efficient healer, yet you caught the attention of two men who became infatuated with you.

one man became your kind and loving boyfriend,

while the other man became your stalker.

their presence were constantly revolving around you, with one bringing you immense joy-

while the other gave you hell.

you had to suffer through your stalker's constant harassment, yet was too kind to try and alert your boyfriend to the mounting problems.

after all, you figured you could deal with it.

from unhinged love letters sent to your mailbox-

to the constant calls made to your cellphone-

and the thousands upon thousands of texts-

it was enough to make you incredibly anxious.

yet there was little you could do about it.

because when your stalker sent you the same message through a letter, text, and a phone call, his deep voice whispering in your ear

"no one is going to believe you, my precious heart. if you say a word to anyone about my obsession with you, then i'll make sure to have your precious little boyfriend killed with a bullet to his chest."

you knew that you were trapped.

not wanting to endanger the man that you loved, you kept quiet and continued to suffer in silence.

{ ... }

your memories were getting stronger now, with you recalling bits and pieces of your life when you were still alive and well.

you knew that you had a boyfriend that you loved dearly-

and you also knew that you had a stalker that followed your every move, casting a dark shadow within your life.

but what was perhaps most frustrating was how you could never figure out what their faces looked like, or even what their names were.

each time you try to remember a specific detail about their features, your hazy mind would seem to block out their faces from the confines of your mind.

and it was frustrating, to say the least.

however, as you began dwelling on your memories, you couldn't help but have a sneaking suspicion that jinwoo was at the center of it all.

from hearing the discussion amongst the other shadow soldiers, you knew that jinwoo had the ability to call forth the souls of the monsters he had slain.

"arise."

you remember it vividly now, hearing that same, singular line as you were brought back from your death. you felt no pain when he extracted your soul from what you assumed was your decaying body.

which brought you to one conclusion that made the most sense to you:

did jinwoo kill you out of spite and brought you back so that you could stay with him?

was he your stalker?

and did he do this so that you were given no choice but to stay with him forever?

the mere thought of it all was enough to make your stomach churn.

as these thoughts continued to swirl within the depths of your mind, and the more you thought about it, the more it made sense to you.

why else did his other soldiers like beru and igris try to prevent you from remembering certain details of your memories?

why did they constantly change the subject and tell you 'not to worry about it' each time you unlocked a new memory.

it had to be jinwoo-

he had to be your stalker.

so you spent several days ignoring him, not even responding or coming out of his shadow even when he called out your name. instead, you kept quiet and lay in wait while in his shadow, searching for the perfect moment to strike-

waiting for him to be at his most vulnerable.

with his shadow seen lengthening against the hardwood floors of his room, you appear out of it, eyes glowing a deep shade of purple, further displaying your anger for the man who was currently sleeping.

you allow your nails to lengthen in response to your anger, turning into claws as you hovered over jinwoo's body, hands wrapped around his neck as your nails dug into his skin.

he awakens with a start, but does nothing to stop you. his own eyes glowed as well, however, his expression remains calm. as if sensing the scent of his blood, igris, beru, and tusk all surround you, their weapons pointed at your shadowy figure, ready to decapitate you if you dared to hurt their king.

"return." jinwoo's voice was calm and steady, eyes flashing with anger as he hones in his gaze on his three most loyal fighters.

"my king, she has an intent to harm you, we cannot-"

"then i'll die by her hands, RETURN. NOW."

jinwoo's angry voice echoes throughout the room, and all three of his soldiers went back into his shadow without wasting another second. his words make you hesitate, eyes filled with confusion for a brief moment before you went back to choking him.

your nails were felt digging into the base of his throat, "be honest with me, did you kill me?"

he closes his eyes, not even moving an inch when your nails drew even more blood from his neck.

"no." was his simple answer.

you were filled with a red hot vexation, squeezing his neck ever so slightly in response. "bullshit... it was you who brought me back... you were the one that had slain me, so why are you pretending that it wasn't you?"

"why would i ever wish to kill the woman i love?"

his question makes you falter, but you hung on to your determination.

"you don't love me, what you hold is an obsession over me. that's why you killed me; so that i could always remain by your side."

a look of pain crosses jinwoo's features when he lifts up a hand to gently frame at your face.

"it's true... i always wanted you to remain by my side, but while you were still alive and well."

a sudden wave of nausea hits you, making you feel a sharp pain against your head as you let go of jinwoo's neck, feeling something shattering from deep inside of you as your heart began to pulse.

"sarang, hey... i was so eager to see you again that i decided to meet you."

and there it was, your memories were filled with such clarity now, as you could see jinwoo smiling down at you. he was donned in his usual black turtleneck and dress pants, and seeing his handsome smile was enough to make your heart ache in response, momentarily forgetting about the fear he had given you.

but your relief was short lived when you came face to face with the hooded man, your stalker looking at you with jealousy and hatred shining within his black eyes.

"if i can't have you, no one can."

baek jun, the name of your stalker-

and the man that killed you...

{ ... }

you were walking back from the grocery store, buying ingredients to make jinwoo's favorite dinner consisting of kimchi stew and bulgogi beef with rice.

jinwoo had sent you a series of texts, asking you to be careful and to come home soon without 'dawdling around the city.'

but you simply brushed off his concern, feeling safe and sound the moment jinwoo had placed the strongest of his shadow soldiers within your shadow.

however, such protection didn't make you immune to a bullet.

you were dimly aware of what sounded like fireworks when a sudden impact was felt at the back of your head. no pain was felt as you immediately lost your life, your brain bleeding in response to the bullet that was still lodged into your skull, your blood seeming to mix in with the shadows as the same hooded man pocketed his gun.

"fucking whore... leading me around the nose like that... looking down at me for bein' a b-class hunter. that's what you get for not choosin' me."

but you were unable to respond, your lifeless body laid completely still as your eyes remained empty and unseeing. your killer had already left the moment jinwoo appears next to you, using his shadow exchange ability, immediately warping to where you were.

"no, fuck don't do this to me, NO!"

jinwoo's screams of anguish echoes throughout the night as he held your lifeless body closer to him. sobs wracked through his chest, and it felt like his whole world was ending the moment your blood seeped into the fabric of his clothes.

his whole body was shaking when he lays you back down on the ground, whispering i love you, i love you, i love you over and over again.

he loses his senses for a few moments until finally calming down, eyes no longer shedding tears as they glowed a vibrant purple once more.

jinwoo stands back to his full height, placing a hand over your lifeless body before speaking a single word, one that would change your destiny forever.

"arise."

{ ... }

"i remember everything."

you could feel painful gasps escape from your parted lips, but no tears could come out. you were in so much pain-

but more so than your own pain was jinwoo's.

he holds your shadowy form closer to him, with tears streaming down his face as he presses a kiss against your parted lips.

"i'm pathetic, i know, unable to let you go as i turned you into a shadow soldier- so that i will always have you with me."

you nod and continue to cling to him, shaking when you ask him, "and... what happened to that bastard, jun?"

you feel jinwoo press a kiss against your forehead. "i left him for you to handle... as a gift for when you remembered."

your eyes were felt widening in response, yet you were given little time to react when jinwoo hangs on to you, surrounding you with shadows as he used his abilities once more, warping you to an unknown location...

{ ... }

baek jun was a selfish man who believed that he had suffered long enough when he was a mere kid.

his dad was an abusive fucker, always drinking while beating up his mom. he hated how weak he was, sustaining new bruises and black eyes each time he tried to protect his mom.

so when he realized he had gained a newfound strength with regenerative abilities the moment these gates appeared all around south korea-

he took advantage of it and killed his deadbeat dad.

his mom was so grateful to him, and when realized how he could make money off of his abilities, he took that chance and joined the hunter’s association. as he rose up the ranks while working as a hunter, he found that it was easy for him to rake in some easy cash with each raid.

he figured he could keep working as a hunter all while messing around with some of the females he worked with, getting drunk with them while taking advantage of their drunken state-

but that all changed the moment this pretty little a-rank healer arrived.

and damn, was she a sight for sore eyes.

he had never seen a lovelier woman before, becoming mesmerized by her beauty.

but what perhaps made his obsession grow for her was when she healed him during one of their raids.

the healer had joined his team, and when he sustained a nasty burn from one of those fire breathing beasts, she had came to him with a sweet smile on her face, telling him how everything was going to be okay while the warmth of her healing aura surrounds him.

so it wasn't his fault that he became obsessed with her-

it was her fault for flirting with him to begin with. she was the one who flashed him that sexy smile, pressing her breast up against his arm all while smiling sweetly at him-

(damn, he was getting hard all over again at the thought).

how else did she think he was going to react when she began dating that s-rank fucker? the asshole already had everything that jun didn't have-

good looks-

money-

power.

and now, he had taken his woman, too.

he saw nothing wrong with killing a whore like her. if she wanted to fuck around, then so be it.

jun would gladly teach her a lesson-

and if he could do it all over again, then he would.

feeling happy now that the source of his pain and obsession was gone, jun spends the whole night bar hopping, using the entirety of his earnings on bitter alcohol that was powerful enough to make his head spin and forget.

feeling tired of all the shitty whisky and soju, jun drunkenly enters a convenience store, stealing a whole case of ice cold beer while cracking each can open and gulping down the liquid with a content sigh, burping before moving on to the next can.

in his drunken stupor, he recognizes a pretty woman standing right in front of him. his black eyes look up at her, and he swore that he felt his heart jump out of his chest in complete and utter fear.

the mere sight of her was enough to make him believe that perhaps ghosts do exist.

she smiled sweetly at him, giggling as he watches her nails lengthen to sharp claws-

his screams were cut short when she slashes through his vocal chords, filling him with pain as his eyes were suddenly basked in a darkness while his body was ripped to shreds-

baek jun never stood a chance against jinwoo's shadow lover.

{ ... }

jinwoo was simply at his desk, reading the news when he felt your shadowy arms wrapping around his neck.

"thank you, my liege."

he chuckles and moves his lips so that he could press a kiss against your cheek. "don't mention it, and please, call me jinwoo, like you've always done."

you could feel the embarrassment paint your features as you press your lips against his cheek.

"i know but... the fact that you held back your own anger, giving me the chance to rip that bastard to shreds- it... it makes me happy."

he simply hums in response, bringing you into his arms while tossing the newspaper in the bin, where the headlines read:

CORRUPT HUNTER FOUND DEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY.

as jinwoo carried your wispy form back to his bed, he held on tightly to you, promising to be with you forever as he keeps you by his side.

and despite how your future had been altered drastically due to both jun and jinwoo's actions, you found yourself not regretting it...

because now, you knew that you would forever remain by his side... no matter what...

{ epilogue }

jinwoo had defeated the last of the monarchs, but was somewhat saved when the rulers intervened.

they commended him on his powers and sheer tenacity, happy to have witnessed such a victorious occasion when jinwoo stops their praise.

"i don't know if this could be called showing your appreciation, but i do have a request."

"i will do everything within my powers to aid you." the ruler states while standing before jinwoo.

"just once more... could i use the cup of reincarnation just once more?" jinwoo's eyes were glowing purple as he sat before the ruler, the wind blowing through his hair as a soft expression paints his features.

the ruler seems to consider his words for a moment.

"did you just ask whether you could use the 'cup of reincarnation' to turn back time?"

"that's right." jinwoo answers without a hint of hesitation.

"even if you were to turn back time using god's gadget, the consciousness of the higher beings will still remain. you'd still do it even though the deceased monarchs would come back to life with their memories from this life intact?"

"that's right. and once you turn back time, i want you to not send anyone to earth. i will take care of the monarchs and their armies by myself in the dimensional gap."

the ruler shakes their head in response. "you're willingly taking on the entire war all by yourself. what's your reasoning for doing this? we've used the cup of reincarnation many times, but this is the best result we've gotten yet."

jinwoo stabs his dagger down into the ground with his head bowed, thinking about those he had lost-

thinking about you.

"i lost too many people in this battle." a tiny smile decorates his features when he looks back up at the ruler. "and i want to bring them back."

the ruler takes flight while looking down at jinwoo, "the durability of the cup of reincarnation has almost been exhausted. if you are to fail this time, you won't be able to turn back time again."

they try to reason with him, "if you stop now, you could be remembered as the hero who stopped the invasion of the monarchs, and forever be remembered by the people. however... no one will remember the fight you are getting into now. if you are to lose, the fragments will be waiting for you, and even if you are to win, no one will be there to congratulate you. and you still wish to turn back time?"

jinwoo takes a moment to consider the ruler's words before smiling and standing back to his full height, his shadow lengthening from beneath the radiance of the ruler's light.

"i will go back in time."

"... so you want to save not just a portion of the world, but the entire world, with your own hands. your will to carry on everything by yourself... reminds me of ashborn, your predecessor."

the ruler stands proudly before jinwoo. "i understand. i wish you the best of luck."

"wait." jinwoo then hesitates for a moment, taking a second to look back at his shadow, all while swearing that he could see your own kind eyes looking back at him.

"what would happen to the shadow soldiers which didn't exist in the past?" jinwoo asks while keeping an eye on the hundreds of eyes that peek back at him from his shadow.

"the beings which overlap with the past would perish. and the beings which do not, will remain."

the ruler's words bring a great comfort to jinwoo when he smiles, giving them a nod before stating with confidence, "got it. i'm ready now."

“may your courage save your world.”

and with those final words, the world was suddenly bathed in a bright, blinding light...

{ ... }

you are 14 again, and you had just woken up late.

your hair was a mess as you wolfed down the breakfast sandwich your mother had made for you. your school uniform was wrinkled, along with some of the buttons of your blouse a bit mismatched due to your hurried state-

but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"i'm late i'm late i'm late!"

you were mentally berating yourself, but... something about your dream had kept you in a deep sleep for much longer than usual. despite not remembering it at all, you knew that you felt comforted by it.

which was why you didn't hear your mother calling out your name when she tried to wake you up, making you sleep in for an extra 30 minutes-

and now, you were in a panic.

as you made a sharp right turn, your face immediately ran into a chest, causing you to gasp as you fell back.

"ouch!" you rub at the tip of your nose, eyes slightly watering as you looked up to see a familiar boy looking down at you.

he calls out your name, grey eyes shining with amusement as he offered a hand for you to take.

it was that strange boy that transferred to your school recently due to his parents and little sister moving to this part of the city. and despite not knowing him too well, he had this strange desire to be your best friend.

"jinwoo..." you softly call out his name and take his hand, allowing him to help you back up to your feet. "w-what are you doing out here? i thought you were in class?"

he hums and ends up interlocking his fingertips together with yours. "i had a hunch that you would be late, so i waited right here for you."

"geez, okay, weirdo." you pout at him, fighting back the urge to call him out on all these weird 'hunches' he had ever since he first met you. you were about to say something when you realized that jinwoo was walking in the opposite direction of where your school was.

"uhm, where are you going? our school is that way, unless your brain was so filled with games that you forgot?"

jinwoo begins to laugh, the sound sending another wave of nostalgia to course through you when he pulls your form even closer to him. "i know, but i figured since we're both already so late, why not skip?"

you gasp, already feeling the protest fall from your lips when he inches closer to you, eyes now glowing a strange, purple hue.

"come on, i just want to spend some time with you. if it makes you feel better, i'll take all the blame."

your eyes were shining with happiness now, "really? you'd risk getting grounded for me?"

he rolls his eyes, but suddenly, his gaze takes on a more solemn shade of grey, no longer glowing at you. "you have no idea the lengths i would go through for you."

you were caught off guard by the severity of his words, trembling slightly when he smiles at you once more.

"let's get some ice cream! my treat!"

and with his promises of ice cream, you immediately forget about the strange feelings of nostalgia and the seriousness of his words, laughing with him as he takes you on a fun little adventure-

just as a small example of how far he would go to make you happy as he swore to better protect you in this life.

a.n. - so i heard aleks le say jinwoo's iconic arise phrase and had to write a story for it. i am strangely proud of this fic, writing a total of 4.5k words 🥹 this is currently unedited because i'm too eager to post this, but please, i hope you all enjoy this.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 15 (Gun Play)

Albert Wesker x FTM!reader

You let out a soft moan as you feel the cold of the metal against your cunt. Wesker was watching your face for your reactions as the orange glow of his eyes seemed to seep into your mind.

With slow precision, he raised the weapon ever so slightly before pressing it gently against your moist folds. You bite your lip and instinctively try closing your legs. Wekser lets out a chuckle and grasps your thighs to keep them open.

"Do you like where I'm aiming?" he whispered huskily.

"yes...I do," You mutter as you keep your gaze on his trigger finger.

Wesker smirked at your answer, pleased with the effect he was having on you. "Good," Wesker purred, his fingers curling around the trigger of the gun.

To your frustration, he keeps the gun still, causing you to let out a whimper. It seems he wants you to put on a show for him. You oblige.

As you begin to grind against the cool steel of the gun, a fierce hunger flashes in Albert Wesker's eyes. He watches intently as your wetness coats the metal, making it slippery beneath your eager movements. The muscles in his arms tense as he begins to breathe heavily.

"Good boy," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Such a good boy, obeying his master so perfectly..."

His heart raced as he watched you stroke your own clit with the tip of his gun, moans escaping your lips as you neared orgasm. Without warning, he pulled the gun away abruptly, startling you.

He watched as confusion clouded your features, wondering what had driven him to end things so suddenly. But then, he smiled darkly. Leaning close once again, he lowered his voice to a husky growl. "Not so fast," he purred. "We aren't done here quite yet."

You make a pout, frustrated that he pulled away from your aching heat. Albert reaches over and laughs as he kisses your cheek, the sound vibrating against your skin where his lips touched. "Now now," he chided gently, "no need to pout. We'll get there soon enough."

Wesker once again presses the tip of his gun to your wet pussy, but this time he gently pushes in. Your body tenses up in fear and excitement at the thought of him gun-fucking you. You let out a small hiss as your pussy squeezes around the first inch of the barrel.

His hand moved to cup your face tenderly, his thumb tracing gentle circles around your lower lip. "There now, don't worry," he murmured soothingly. "It might sting a little at first...but soon enough, we'll get you used to it."

With slow, steady pressure, Wesker pushed the gun further inside you. You gasped as pain shot through your most sensitive spot, followed immediately by a feeling of fullness. He watched carefully, waiting for signs of discomfort.

Wesker continued pushing the gun deeper inside you, watching as your expression changed from pain to pleasure.

Leaning in closer, he whispered hoarsely against your ear, "That's it...feel me filling you up. Know that this is mine...my gun." He whispered before adding, "And remember who taught you to love it."

As you adjusted to the intrusion, Wesker started moving the gun steadily in and out of your sopping pussy. Your walls began to pulse rhythmically around the gun as your body began to tremble, urging him onward.

Wesker's hand thrust his gun inside you at a steady pace, driving the gun deeper into your aching pussy with each thrust. You cried out in ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Your fingers dug into the sheets with a death grip that made your knuckles white.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Wesker purred, his words sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. "Just imagine how much better it would feel to have my real cock buried deep inside you."

You let out a soft whine.

Wesker smirked at your response, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. "Oh, don't worry, my pet," he said, his voice dripping with promise. "When I'm ready for that, believe me, you'll know." Without warning, he increased the speed of his thrusts, driving his gun deeper into your quivering cunt.

With a devious glint in his eye, Wesker leaned forward, his mouth seeking out your swollen clit. His tongue teased and tormented the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands fly to his head and you grip his blond hair tight. At the same time, he continued his relentless assault on your tight pussy, his gun sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm that sent shockwaves of delight through your entire being.

Wesker's gaze locked onto yours as he pressed his hand harder against the gun lodged deep within your pussy. He watched closely for any sign of impending climax.

"Come for me," he whispered, his hot breath tickling the underside of your thighs. "Let go, baby. Show me how much you want it."

You arched your back, groaning loudly as the pleasurable sensations washed over you. Your inner muscles began to spasm erratically around the now warm metal, signaling your imminent release.

"Yes," Wesker growled, taking hold of your face roughly. "Cum for me, you filthy little slut. Cum hard on my gun!"

You screamed out his name as the combination of stimulation from his tongue and gun on your cunt. Your body shook violently, your orgasm wracking your very core.

"Such a good boy," Wesker praised you, using his free hand to grab hold of your hip and pull you against him. "So fucking needy. This is exactly why I love you."

You managed to catch those last few words through your hazy, postorgasmic state. You give him a dazed smile as you lean on him limply. "I love you too, Albert," You say weakly, exhausted and tired.

A slow smile spread across Wesker's face as he heard those three little words fall from your lips.

Without warning, he yanked the gun forcefully out of your pussy, causing you to cry out in surprise. Unphased, he placed the wet tip of the gun against his own lips and slowly drew it in, sucking softly on the metallic surface. His eyes never left yours.

"Mmm," he hummed, closing his eyes in appreciation. "Delicious." Reaching down, he grabbed a nearby towel and began wiping his gun clean. You fall back onto the mattress.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt a warm weight settle beside you. Opening your eyes lazily, you saw Wesker slide into bed alongside you. Without a word, he wrapped his arm protectively around your waist, drawing you closer to his chest. "My good boy," he whispered softly, stroking a hand through your hair. "You're such a good boy for me." He said lovingly, running his fingers down your cheek before closing his eyes once more. You shift closer to him as you close your eyes too.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[peachesandcreames]

Look What I Found?!

A/N : Slight spoilers so if you haven't seen the movie yet enter at your own risk (and go see the movie!) Reader Beware: angst, fluff, A Little bit of spice 😉. Mention of scars/scaring. Self defense against 3 would be assailants. Y/N is basically a badass 😎. As always read at your own discretion and hearts, likes, reblogs and constructive criticism is always welcome. All mistakes are solely my own. Happy reading 📚 everyone!!! 💞💕

You'd been hesitantly working with Tyler and his ragtag team of Tornado chasers for about 6 months, traveling all over the country gathering data and trying to help the people stuck in the path of death and destruction. Tyler drove as you stared out the passenger window not really seeing the passing scenery, you were beyond exhausted and you could see Tyler taking glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You wanted to let him know that you were ok but you didn't have it in you. He took his phone and started looking for something and when he found whatever he was looking for he smiled. A megawatt smile that made his dimples pop and you felt your heart stutter in your chest.

He really is handsome you found yourself thinking as he turned to face you in the seat, those green eyes and dimples are starting to make you feel things, things like desire and lust. It's been five years and a girl definitely has needs and Tyler definitely could help you out with those needs. You found yourself staring at his lips as they moved but you had no idea what he was saying to you. You found yourself imagining what his lips and rough, calloused hands could do to you. You felt your body heating up and you slid down in your seat and cracked the window for some fresh evening air.

The humid southern air hit you like a ton of bricks and you took a deep breath, hoping to bring yourself back to the here and now. "How's that sound?" You turned your head to glance at him ever so briefly, hoping that he didn't notice your self induced agitation. Tyler was looking at you with those green eyes and you found yourself getting lost in them. You shook your head, trying to clear out the cobwebs and said, "I'm sorry?"

His eyes filled with sympathy and his smile faltered. "I said that there's a Target not to far away from us. You want to go and look around while I fill up on gas? You can look at books and candles. Maybe some snacks?" Tyler stuck out his bottom lip in an attempt to garner sympathy but it had the opposite effect on you. You wanted to kiss it, maybe suck on it while you rode him like a wild horse in one of his rodeos.

You didn't want to be alone even if you couldn't express how you felt. You shook your head no and you could see that he was disappointed but tried to mask it. You reached across the center console and placed your hand over his, which might have been a mistake. His skin was warm like the setting Oklahoma sun and tan from working outside. You locked eyes with each other and Tyler glanced down at your hand barely covering his.

He watched as your thumb moved over his knuckles in an attempt to soothe him. He got lost in the sensation of your cool skin on his and didn't want to break the spell of you coming out of your shell and opening up to him. He was more than willing to wait you out until you felt comfortable. You glanced up at him and took a deep breath, it was now or never and if he's told you once he's told you a million times that you have to face what scares you. The words tumbled from your lips in a jumble "I just don't want to be alone."

A single tear escaped and Tyler caught it with his thumb as his hand came up to cradle your face and you leaned into the warmth of him. You needed comfort and Tyler was more than willing to offer whatever it was you needed. "New plan. We'll both go together but you're not getting out of the truck while I get the gas. Understood?" His whole demeanor changed and the air inside felt as heavy and hot as the air outside.

In an attempt at levity, you saluted him and said " Sir, yes Sir". The look in his eyes turned a different kind of darkness. The kind that spoke of twisted sheets and untold hours of passion and pleasure. You visibly and audibly gulped and Tyler shot a smirk your way as you pulled into a nearly empty gas station except for a group of men standing on the outskirts. You felt uneasy seeing them standing in the dwindling sunset and rapidly approaching darkness as their cigarette smoke wafted above their heads and they started laughing at something one of them had said.

Tyler must have sensed your uneasiness as he unbuckled his seat belt. You turned to look at him and then back at the group of men who looked like they were looking at you but you couldn't be sure. "Hey," he nudged your shoulder with his and you brought your attention back to him. You gave him a small smile and he nodded as he got out of the truck. He locked the doors behind him as he started to pump the gas and you watched the numbers go up as the smell of gasoline filled the country night air. You forgot about the possible threat that the men could pose as you watched the way Tyler's muscles rippled under his white t shirt.

It was a welcome distraction as you watched him walk away and you cranked the AC and turned the radio on, a Luke Combs song filtered through the speakers as you watched through the glass window as Tyler sauntered up to the counter and waited his turn in line. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, one of the men threw his cigarette butt in a nearby puddle and you watched as the water extinguished the already dying light. You felt your anxiety start to rise as one of the truckers pointed in your general direction and they started to haphazardly make their way across the broken pavement. You watched as they stumbled and their silhouettes started getting closer and closer. Your suspicion was confirmed when they finally got under one of the street lights, they all carried bottles wrapped in brown bags.

Tyler finally made it to the counter to pay as soon as the trio of drunken truckers reached your window. You felt frozen with fear and didn't know what to do. You wanted to get Tyler's attention and thought about laying on the car horn but changed your mind at the last second. One of them knocked on the glass with what you thought was his hand but turns out it was the really sharp tip of a hunting knife. You could barely hear him through the glass, you think that he either called you pretty girl or city girl and you weren't sure if you couldn't understand him because of the ice cold fear gripping you by the throat or if it was because of the window separating you two.

Then it hit you. The perfect way to scare off them off. Before you and Tyler hit the road he had you refill the fireworks launchers on his truck. It was a good thing that he left the keys in the ignition, you cranked the engine to life and let the fireworks fly high into the sky. It had the desired effect of startling the men into leaving you alone.

The second the fireworks went off it caused the man to drop his knife and you saw your moment and you took it. You opened the car door with as much force as you could muster and slammed the door into him causing him to lose his footing and stumble backwards. Before he could recover his balance you struck his nose with your open palm and you felt the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking and warm blood came gushing out and he dropped at your feet. You saw the glint of the knife blade at your feet and you quickly snapped it up and held it loosely at your side. The remaining two men saw their friend writhing in agony and looked between him and you, you who was holding a knife and covered in blood from your wrist down.

They put their hands up and slowly got their friend on his feet. "You stupid bitch. You broke my nose." It looked like he was going to come after you again so you braced yourself. He stumbled as he pushed himself away from his buddies and you reacted on pure instinct.

You met him halfway and used his momentum against him and punched him in his already broken nose. He bellowed out in pain and as he bent over you brought your knee into his face for a third time and it thankfully knocked him out. You threw the knife at him in disgust as you looked up and saw that Tyler had joined the commotion. The two buddies saw that the odds weren't in their favor and took off running into the night. Tyler looked from the bloody man at his feet to see you standing in the harsh lighting of the parking lot, sweaty and covered in the man's blood.

He could see that you were visibly shaken but not hurt. "You look so incredibly hot right now." Tyler said with awe and pride in his voice. That got a smile and a laugh out of you and he took your hand in his and led you towards the gas station bathrooms to get cleaned up. He gave you a change of clothing and left you to it.

15 minutes later you came out of the bathroom and it brought a gentle smile to your face to see that he was waiting for you right outside. You cleared your throat and he turned to face you, he looked you up and down appreciatively. "Are you ready to get out of here?" You nodded and he offered you his arm and you walked towards his truck together and he opened the door for you and made sure that you were buckled in before he locked and shut your door. You rode in comfortable silence towards the store and Tyler jumped out and had your door open before you could even unbuckle yourself. You laughed quietly at his antics and let him help you down.

Once inside, Tyler snagged a cart and followed you throughout the store. He definitely enjoyed the view as you stopped by the candles and tried to find the best smelling ones. You held out a candle for him to smell and laughed as he crinkled his nose. You both decided on Strawberry and lemons and you put them in the cart.

You wandered around the store and felt yourself relaxing. It felt oddly right, doing domestic activities with him. Something so ordinary as shopping with this man had butterflies dancing in your belly. After checking out and Tyler refusing to let you pay, he helped you back into the truck and loaded the bags in the back. He slid into next to you and looked at you expectantly.

You had a standing reservation at a local hotel on the outskirts of town and you watched as Tyler's attention was on entering the location on his GPS system. Bone tired you leaned against the leather seat and felt your eyes drifting shut and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew was that you were being shook awake by Tyler. You lifted your head off of his shoulder and realized that you had drooled a little bit. "Oh my God, " you muttered in mortification. Tyler laughed quietly as he got out and grabbed the luggage bags and slung them over his shoulder and with his other hand he grabbed the bags from your shopping trip.

You jumped down from the passenger seat and met him in front of his truck. You slid your arm through his and led him towards the nearly vacant hotel. You checked yourselves in and took the key from the hotel clerk. Tyler followed you down the dimly lit hall and you stopped to open the door. He nudged you out of the way gently and his big frame filled the door way, you heard more than saw him set the duffle bags on the floor.

You slipped into the room besides him and shut the door and slid the lock into place. You turned to see Tyler looking at the only bed in the room, you risked a glance up at him and he was frantically rubbing the back of his neck and he shot you a sheepish glance, "I can take the floor. You can take the bed." You took the shopping bags from him and pulled out two fluffy blue towels and pushed him in the general direction of the bathroom. "Go and wash the road off of you and when you get out I'll have the sleeping arrangements settled."

Tyler shot you an incredulous look and did as he was told. "Yes, ma'am." You watched appreciatively as he ducked his head and and closed the bathroom door behind him. You heard the shower turn on and you got to work, stripping the bed and putting your own fresh bedding on after you sprayed everything down with lysol. You lit the candles hoping that would mask the lysol spray.

The bathroom door opened and you turned in time to see him drying his damp hair, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. Just enough to show off his prominent v line. He tossed the wet towel into the corner and looked at the freshly made bed. "So, how's this going to work?" Tyler looked at you expectantly and you pretended to mull it over. You shrugged and started digging through your bag for your pajamas.

You felt his warmth as he stood behind you. "Did you even save me any hot water?" You looked over your shoulder at him. "Yes, ma'am. I surely did." He was laying it on kind of thick and you stood up and walked in front of him. You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him. "And they said that chivalry was dead, clearly they haven't met the infamous Tyler Owens."

He winked at you as you grabbed your pajamas and made your way into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and leaned against it just long enough to slow your rapidly beating heart. You wiped the steam off of the mirror and looked at your reflection. You looked ten kinds of tired as you set your clean clothes on the toilet seat and quickly stripped and stepped under the warm water. You let the water work its magic as the knots in your shoulders loosened.

You let the water run cold before you stepped out, wrapping a fluffy purple towel under your arms. You dried off and put on a pair of blue pajama shorts and a matching t shirt. You took a long breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before you stepped into the room. You opened the door and saw Tyler sprawled out on the bedside nearest the door. You attempted to make yourself busy with picking up the dirty laundry.

He muted the weather report that he was watching and looked over at you pretending to be busy in an attempt to delay the inevitable. "Hey, Y/N. It's really OK, I have no problem taking the floor. Hell, it's a step up from some of my previous sleeping arrangements." You put the dirty laundry in a garment bag and turned to look at him.

"Am I that obvious?" You asked with your hands on your hips. Your righteous indignation was enough to amuse Tyler and he patted the empty space next to him. He smirked at you as he held his thumb and finger so that they were almost touching. "Lil bit, come here. I promise you that I don't bite. Unless you ask me too."

Groaning you shut off the overhead light and crawled into the bed but didn't get under the covers. You attempted to get comfortable as Tyler blew out the candles and turned to face you. You copied his movements and slid your hands under your pillow. The movement caused the strap of your shirt to slide down your arm and Tyler's rough fingers chased the slip of fabric and continued down, gently pausing to toy with the hem of your tank top. He paused to let his knuckles lightly graze your lower abdomen and looked at you with hesitation and you nodded slightly as he continued even lower to the prominent scar on your upper thigh.

"Where'd you get this from, pretty girl?" He asked you quietly and you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, "nobody goes through life unscathed. It's not possible but I fought and I survived." Tyler risked a glance up at you and saw that you were smiling at him. "What are you smiling at?"

"You. I'm smiling at you, Tyler Owens. You make me happy." He reached out for you and pulled you towards him, his large warm palm cupped your cheek and his thumb gently traced your lower lip. "Is this ok?" You nodded and leaned into him.

With zero hesitation Tyler claimed your lips with his, they were surprisingly soft and he smelled like sandalwood and sunshine and he tasted even better. He rolled with you under him and you deepened the kiss and moaned against his lips. You writhed underneath him, desperate for his skin on yours. You could feel him growing hard against your soft center and it brought another smile to your face. You brought your hand to his face and peppered small kisses over him.

Tyler looked down at you with adoration in his eyes. "You're doing it again, Lil' bit." He nudged his nose with yours and you pointed to your face. "What? Oh, this little ol thing. I couldn't find it for the longest time."

"Yeah? Where'd you find it?" You pretended to contemplate his question. "It was the weirdest thing, I found it where I least expected it to be." Tyler waited for you to finish what you were saying, eyebrows raised expectantly. You smiled up at him and kissed him lovingly. "I found it in the heart of Oklahoma."

~Fin~

❤❤

[pinchofhoney]

Sorry I'm invading your inbox again but I wanna see what you do with this song. Can be with any character. I just wanna see what amazing thing you come up with (when you have the time of course)

the broken self

carlisle cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warning: esme simply does not exist in this one, mention of the tough past, our reader is not a vampire and i don't think she's aware of what carlisle is

summary: If I could start again, I would find a way. Now, you've been given the chance, so what's your next move?

a/n: hey, hello!!<33 thank you so much for your request, as always! in case you don't like what i have prepared, i'm sorry. in my defence, i didn't know from the very beginning which way it was going to go and i've always been pretty terrible at interpreting things (me writing for twilight was not on my bingo list for this year, but the autumn weather outside the window has made me do so. happy hua hua hua hua huooooaaa season!!)

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

also, my requests are open!

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The Cullen house was bathed in the soft, fading light of the setting sun, casting long, amber shadows that stretched across the polished wooden floors. It was a striking contrast to the usual vitality that filled the grand halls and spacious rooms, typically bustling with the presence of the vampire family. But on this particular evening, the house felt still and serene, as if time had momentarily paused.

With each step down the wooden stairs, you could feel the texture of the handrail beneath your fingertips. You ran your hand gently along its length, a small ritual to dispel the dust that had managed to settle on it in the absence of bustling activity. The house seemed to sigh in response, as if it too welcomed your presence in the calmness.

As you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, you reached the doorway of Carlisle's study. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated the room, casting a warm and inviting aura within. There, in the center of the study, sat Carlisle, his slender frame framed by the golden light.

Carlisle looked up from the book he had been leafing through. He welcomed you with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but held the warmth of familiarity.

As you stood in the entrance of the room, bathed in the warm, inviting glow, your mind churned with thoughts that had plagued you for far too long. You couldn't help but contrast the serenity of this moment with the turmoil that had defined your past. In this peaceful space, it was easy to forget the chaos you once reveled in, the empire of dirt you had built brick by brick.

Your eyes met Carlisle's, his gaze always so kind and understanding, yet you couldn't escape the unease gnawing at your heart. You had come so far since those dark days of your past, but the shadows of your former self still clung to you like an unshakable curse. You'd worked hard to change, to become someone unrecognizable even to yourself, but the weight of your past sins still weighed heavily on your conscience.

As you gazed into Carlisle's warm eyes, you couldn't help but remember who you used to be. A master of deception, a manipulator of hearts, you had once reveled in the power you held over others. Lies had flowed from your lips like sweet poison, carefully crafted to serve your own desires. You had toyed with people's emotions, played with their feelings as if they were nothing more than pawns in your game.

The memories of your past self weighed on you like an anchor, threatening to drag you back into the abyss you had fought so hard to escape. You had come to Carlisle seeking redemption, seeking a chance to be better, but a gnawing fear lingered in the depths of your soul. What if you were incapable of truly loving someone? What if your capacity to hurt ran deeper than you dared to admit?

These doubts, these insecurities, they clawed at your heart, and you couldn't help but wonder if Carlisle would eventually become another casualty of your brokenness. In his presence, you felt a warmth you had never known before, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from his very being. It was a stark contrast to the false facades you had once worn so effortlessly, a reminder of the person you aspired to become.

“Y/N?” the sound of your name suddenly pierced the cocoon of your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. You blinked a few times, returning your focus to Carlisle, who had been regarding you all along with his gentle, unwavering gaze. “Is everything all right?” he inquired, genuine concern evident in his voice. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, underscoring the authenticity of his worry.

You quickly composed yourself, as if slipping into a familiar role. “Oh, yes,” you responded swiftly, putting on a mask of laughter. With a gentle smile, you began to make your way toward Carlisle's desk. “I just got lost in my thoughts,” you added, your tone light and carefree.

The last thing you wanted was for Carlisle to glimpse the chaos within you, to see the shards of your past self that still clung to your soul. The fear that he might stop caring about you if he knew who you used to be was a heavy burden to bear.

As you continued your charade of nonchalance, a wave of hypocrisy washed over you. It was absurd, really, that you, who had always been the one to leave others when you grew bored, now found yourself terrified of abandonment.

“What are you reading?” you asked, your voice casual and genuinely curious as you circled Carlisle's desk and stood behind him, placing your hands gently on his cold shoulders. You were truly interested in the lecture he had been engrossed in, hoping to engage him in conversation and keep him from delving too deeply into your own thoughts.

Carlisle looked up from the pages of the book, a warm smile gracing his lips. “Just some recent research on rare genetic disorders,” he replied, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. “It's fascinating how people's understanding of these conditions continues to evolve.”

You smiled in response to Carlisle's passion. His love for his work was one of the many things that drew you to him, a stark contrast to your past life where you had feigned interest for the sake of appearances.

“That does sound fascinating,” you said genuinely, your hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. “You always manage to make the things I don’t even understand intriguing," you laughed softly.

Carlisle's smile widened at your compliment, and he leaned back slightly in his chair, allowing your hands to linger on his shoulders. “Thank you,” he replied warmly.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the weight of unspoken words and fears still present but momentarily pushed aside by the connection you shared. There was this strange, unexplainable attraction to this man, an irresistible force that dragged you closer to him, just like when a magnet pulls things together.

After a moment, you broke the silence, your tone casual. “You know,” you began, “if you're not too busy, maybe we could go for a walk later. It’s already dark outside, but I think the weather is lovely, and it's been a while since we had some quality time together.”

Carlisle's eyes brightened at the suggestion, and he nodded eagerly. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he agreed. “I'd love to.”

[senualothbrok]

Hello friend!! I have been thinking about undiagnosed sorcerer Gale a lot lately, so I am making it your problem too.

You only gradually become aware of it, and once you are you wonder how you hadn't noticed. Maybe it's the passage of time, each day one step away from the nautiloid and the Netherbrain and all of it--each day that much more distance from Gale's last audience with Mystra. The burden of the Orb hadn't been yours, but it had been heavy enough that you felt lighter when you saw his face as he stepped out that portal. Maybe, like the wounds you both bring back with you to Waterdeep, your mind needed the chance to heal before it could process even more.

More in this case is living with Gale. It had been one thing being on the road, chased from danger to danger; all you'd been able to think those nights you'd collapsed into his tent with him was we made it, with a fervent hope he'd be next to you when you woke and still next to you the night following. Now, you lie down with him night after night and wake up to him morning after morning, and as you let yourself accept that this is how things will be, you start to notice.

The tower is suffused with magic.

It's not only the spells and wards that Gale has woven into the very heart of it, or the numerous enchantments he's created to make life easier, or the artifacts and books you've brought home with you. It's Gale himself.

Surrounded by magic and slow to shed the exhaustion that's clung to you since Baldur's Gate, you need some time to sense the difference, but once you do it's there, a touch on your sleeve or a whisper to catch your attention. When you search for it you can't see it, there's no breeze to stir the curtains or the profusion of flowers Gale brings home day after day. You don't smell that dreaded rosewater or taste cloying honey-sweetness on your tongue. It's a sense that goes beyond sense, speaking to the parts of you that lie under your bones and between your nerves--it's something that escapes your words just as you think you've found the ones to describe it. The sense of him wraps around you like a comforting memory, smoothing its unfelt fingers across your unquiet spirit; the happiness you feel, the life that suffuses you, doesn't compel you but invites you just to be.

It's different when you're in bed together, like tonight, when Gale is salting your skin with kisses. Tonight he's all around you, flowing into and filling every part of you like water, Gale himself spilling over at the edges. He's not glowing but you feel alight with him, woven into him, his threads twisting around yours to draw you close. You're not in one of his illusions--the world around you is very real, if hazy and distant, and Gale's body is hungry, solid flesh and bone against yours. The sensation doesn't vanish even when Gale pauses to ask you what's wrong and you realize you're staring at him.

"I can feel you," you say awkwardly.

"I'd hope so," Gale says laughingly, though he notices your uncertainty and sits up, bracing himself back on his haunches. "What is it?"

You explain as best you can, though every word out of your mouth sounds more foolish and inaccurate than the last. You find yourself tangled in a thicket of your own making and are just about to panic your way out of it when Gale says, faintly embarrassed, "Oh. That--that hasn't happened in quite some time. Years."

I'm so sorry, friend, that it's taken me so long to reply to your once again beautiful piece. I feel like my writing is pretty awful at the moment so I do apologise. I just wanted to get it out though (despite being in a weird creative space and putting off writing a little bit!)

Thank you so much, as always, for your exquisite work <3 ---

You do not need to ask. There is an intuition that exists between you, so that you often know his intentions before he speaks, and he senses your desire before you tell him. You know that part of this comes from the joining of your souls, sealed by your love. But you suspect the other part comes from something altogether different, that sensation that you cannot yet name.

“Admittedly, it wasn’t as innocuous as what you’ve described, back then.”

He pulls you closer, as if he needs your skin on his, even though you feel his being like a flame inside you.

“By all accounts, there was more force to it. It was more of an explosion, if you would.”

You arch an eyebrow. He flashes you that languid half smirk that drives you wild. You wonder if he feels your arousal as his own, like two rivers flowing into each other. He watches you with dancing eyes, savouring your reaction.

“Not that kind of explosion.”

You laugh a little. His lips are smooth and warm as they graze the tips of your fingers. For a while, you fumble for words to explain, ever grateful for his patience.

“It feels like a spell,” you manage eventually. “Even when you’re not casting. Like I’m floating in the Weave, except that you’re the Weave. You’re all around me, inside me, everywhere.”

He gazes at you, fingering this chin absently. And then he nods. There is a kind of solemnity in the gesture, the slight gathering of Gale’s brow. You wonder how long Gale has hidden this part of his nature, or shied away from examining it too closely.

“When I was a child, I learned to control it. But with you…”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, the heat of his sigh blazing like your pulse. There is a force to it, then, an ache to his longing. You feel it like a flood.

“I want all of you,” he rasps. “And I want to give you all of me. Perhaps that’s why.”

Your open mouth finds his, wet and desperate. His breaths are ragged, swirling into yours like a clouds swallowing clouds. He is a warm bath, lapping at every inch of you. You are about to drown yourself in him when he draws back, so abruptly you feel bereft.

“Does it disturb you?”

The wavering in his eyes almost makes you wince. Traces of his uncertainty, the measure against which he still judges himself. You shake your head sharply, immediately.

“No.” You press yourself against him, swelling with tenderness and desire. “The more I find out about you, the more I love you. Nothing could make me love you less.”

He hesitates for a moment. You feel, as well as see, the last of his doubt fading. His smile is a ripple of light through you, a pleasure almost as intense as pain.

“That’s a relief,” he whispers, as his fingers flutter downwards, and his taste becomes your own.

[woahiwrite]

Hi 👋🙂

I saw that you're taking requests and that you write for Tomas. There just isn't enough of him on this site and I am down BAD for this Smokey Bear ❤️. Could you maybe write about him having a partner who doesn't know how to fight so he teaches her some basic moves? Could go a bit NSFW if you feel it, could be fem or GN reader. Obviously feel free to ignore too!

Tomas Teaching Reader How To Fight (18+)

Warnings: NSFW after a certain point! Minors leave or I'm calling Liu Kang to reset your timeline. The NSFW will be marked with -----. The HCs switch to more oneshot style writing once it reaches the NSFW section. Reader is loosely described as just being smaller than Tomas and is female!

Hello Anon! You're so right, Tomas needs more love. I will feed the Tomas tag as much as your heart desires.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

• Tomas definitely asked you if you knew how to fight

• He was all for protecting you, he loved the thought of it

• Though he wasn't naive enough to think he would always be there to do so

• One thing led to another, and you had set up your own training schedule

• It was flexible, working off of Tomas' own schedule, and depending on how much you were feeling it

• He wouldn't push you to pick up some rough and tumble training regiment, he wanted you to be comfortable

• But he also wanted you to be safe

• Tomas would start out very simple, punches and kicks, blocks and dodges

• You may have asked to learn how to use the karambit like he had, but he turned that offer down

▪︎ "Basics first, then, we can talk about you learning the karambit."

• You were excited to spend more time with Tomas either way, so you were pleased

• As agile and strong as he was, you could tell Tomas was slowing down a lot to help you understand

• Allowing you to see the form, to see how his body curves, and to replicate it yourself

• Ask questions, he will break it down as much as you need him to

• He's quite happy to, actually

• It's about two months of learning the basics at a consistent rate before you start to do anything together

• Of course, he would let you practice on him, but this was a little different

• From now on, you would add some grappling to your training

• What good was knowing the basics if the moment the opponent got you to the ground, you had no idea what to do?

• The first few lessons were simply you watching while Tomas broke it down with another ninja of the Lin Kuei

• Going from showing you what it would be like at more fast speeds, before slowing it down so you could actually see what the hell he was doing

• It excited you to think of getting to learn how to get out of tricky situations

• Also the thought of eventually learning how to flip Tomas was an entertaining one

------(NSFW content: dry humping, almost getting caught)-----

• Though you couldn't say you expected to notice how...different it was to actually be the one performing the different escape techniques

• Watching was one thing, but you wouldn't deny that you could barely focus when it was you participating

• Tomas was saying something

• Definitely important with how his hands were moving as he talked, probably running through the motions

• All you could focus on was the feeling of his thighs on either side of your waist

• The way he seemed so much bigger than he already was from this angle

▪︎ "Are you listening?"

   Bringing your gaze back up to Tomas', you felt your face grow hot at being caught. He seemed amused but also a little shy at your shameless staring, either way he didn't make any comments on it. "Yes, I'm listening." You stated, your hands resting on his thighs as you tried to focus back in on the lesson at hand. Though really, you just focused in on his face the moment he had finished explaining what you had to do to escape from him. The scar that ran over his left eye, the one that ran across his forehead, the most prominent beauty mark that resided just a bit above his lips. It almost felt like they were begging for your own lips to press against them. Which you had before, multiple times, in scenarios not too different from this.

  Slightly adjusting his sitting, Tomas brought one hand down to press against your neck, reaching down to his belt, he pulled out a karambit. "Don't worry, this one is dull." He stated, before positioning his hand as if ready to attack you with it. You swallowed thickly, tongue briefly darting out to wet your lips, and you didn't miss the way his eyes followed the motion. "Try to escape." The slight strain in Tomas' voice almost made you grin, though instead, you decided you should probably actually try your best. You'd been learning this, hands on, for a week, and you'd always fallen short. Needing him to go easy on you so you could successfully get him off.

  You didn't want that this time though. You wanted to show him how much you've trained on your own time. Planting your feet, the moment he began to flex his arm to bring it in for a slash, you drove your knee up into his back. He fell forward, letting out a grunt at the force of it, his hand landing beside your head. Keeping your foot braced on your other leg, you restricted him the best you could from being able to sit back up. Bringing your hands in to bend and push down the arm of the hand that was on your neck, you kept your hands secured around it. Then came the hardest part, Tomas wasn't holding his weight up, keeping you pinned moreso with that than anything else, so you struggled to displace him enough to flip him off of you.

  You kept his arm in place so he couldn't disengage, breaking away your leg positioning quick enough so you could hook your leg over his and try to swipe his foot inward. At first, he simply readjusted his foot, and he began to pull your body up with his as he got the opportunity to sit back up. You huffed, and swiped at his foot harder, causing it to slip and shift his bodyweight to one side. Using that to your advantage, you used all the strength you had left to push him over. You felt excitement rush through your veins when his back hit the mat with a thud, letting out an excited exclamation and completely forgetting you hadn't truly gotten away from him yet.

  "You didn't have to go easy o-" His hand that you had released came up to grab your arm and pull you back down onto him, but instead of being met with further trial, you were met with a kiss. Despite all the built up energy, his lips against yours was soft, the kiss passionate. You relaxed against his hold, eyes closing as you brought your arms down to wrap around his shoulders. When he pulled away, you were left breathless, and when your eyes opened, you were met with a look of pure adoration. You smiled, "Was that my reward?"

  Tomas laughed, pulling your body up with ease to assist with you both untangling your legs from the awkward position you had ended in. "You almost sound disappointed." He grinned, putting down the dull karambit he had been holding, sliding it aside so he could have you in both his arms. Straddling his waist, you didn't fail to feel the press of his erection against you. Taking a gamble, you pulled your hips up before slowly pushing them back down, grinding against him. A shaky breath fell from Tomas' lips, and you felt pleased feeling his hands press against your back, trying to pull you closer.

"Not disappointed..never disappointed." You brought your hands forward to cup his face, pressing your lips to his as you began to cant your hips at a more steady pace. Your shared moans were muffled by the kiss, to be briefly heard by the both of your ears and your ears only. You had almost forgotten you were in the training room, almost.

  The first to hear the sound of approaching footsteps and the voices of a small group, Tomas pulled away quickly. At first, you were confused, thinking you had done too much in a space like this, then you noticed the wide eyed glance Tomas sent towards the closed doors. You had quickly stood up, then, working to adjust your ruffled clothes and just hoped whoever came in wouldn't have an inkling of an idea as to what had happened. Tomas mimicked your behavior, wiping his sleeve over his mouth to rid the lingering glisten of saliva, adjusting his clothes because now you had him almost painfully hard.

  Door sliding open, you were greeted with a few Lin Kuei, stretching their arms as they prepared to practice for the day. "Tomas." They bowed to him as they walked passed, grabbing training weapons of their choice. Tomas nodded his head, bending down to pick up the karambit he had slid aside and place it back on the weapons table. You decided to make your departure quick, lips pursed and trying not to laugh at the struggle of your boyfriend. Tomas was not far behind you, letting out a relieved sigh once out of the suddenly suffocating practice room.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't expect us-"

  "Don't worry about it, you did good today."

  You smiled at his kindness, and gently nudged his arm with your shoulder, "We can stop by your room for a bit..can't we?"

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "A Cottage by the Sea"

This 7 chapter MC was written for the @cssns20 event, and I have always been pretty proud of how it turned out. This one pulls a bit from Pirates of the Caribbean and a bit from 1989's The Little Mermaid, and then throws in the happy ending vision that came into my head that I just needed to find a story to help them reach. I've been travelling back through all my @cssns entries recently, and I hope you'll enjoy this one if you didn't see it then - or if you decide you might want to revisit it!

**Beautiful cover art is by @searchingwardrobes! I'm still in love with it and grateful to have it to put with my story.

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

**Also available on AO3, if that's your preference**

By: @snowbellewells

Prologue

The land around her parents’ castle had always called to Princess Emma. The open spaces and craggy cliffs she could see in the distance as they plummeted into the churning sea, were windswept and wild much like herself. Though she had always been cared for and beloved, the sole heir to the kingdom of Queen Snow White, Emma also felt the desire to run free, as if she were destined for more than curtsies, crown fittings, and learning to smile demurely. Naturally, she adored her happily devoted, perfectly paired father and mother - just more so when they were teaching her to ride or aim a bow than when they were reminding her once again that she must exude patience and diplomacy at even the most interminable state dinners. She valued her kingdom and its people, understood the honor of her role in it, but that knowledge and affection failed to negate the fact that she often wished just as strongly to rip the fancy curled updos and jeweled tiaras from her head and run streaking like a loosed cannon along the wet sand at the ocean shore she could see from her chamber window, hair streaming behind her and cool, salty air on her face. All the proper princess etiquette and worries left behind.

The easiest - and her most favored - cure for that feeling of wanderlust and burning energy within was for either her mother or her father, or both whenever possible, to take her walking along the water’s edge in the evening. Emma would almost swear the Queen and King enjoyed the calming getaways almost as much as she did, both as a moment to be free of so many fussing, crowding, obsequious attendants and hangers-on, as well as to feel the open air of the world outside their palace cleansing them. She knew - though from nothing more than history and bedtime stories - that her parents had once lived and thrived out of doors, falling in love on the run as rebels before her mother regained the kingdom she had been born to lead. Both her mother, once a legendary bandit, and her father, who had started life as a humble shepherd, seemed to appreciate the chance to escape the castle walls of stone and venture out on their own with their adored and wild-hearted little girl. It concerned neither of them that Emma was bold and adventurous, bucking the traditional prim and dainty image of feminine royalty; in fact, they might have treasured those traits in her even more for how they harkened to what each loved most in the other.

One such evening, however, Queen Snow had been kept well into the twilight hour in a council meeting over trade routes and revenue, along with Emma’s father, and even Red, her godmother. Waiting impatiently, Emma fretted that she wouldn’t get outdoors and down to the shore at all, as she sat in the wide, cozy window seat of her tower room, looking out over the waves crashing up on the sands. She took in the lights of ships in their harbor, the mist and waves, and she longed to be closer - to be part of it all. In fact, she was mischievously contemplating whether or not she could scale down the outer walls in her nightdress and robe, and get to her usual walking course alone without being detected, when the door to her room opened behind her.

Snow White entered in a pleasantly flushed bluster of activity. Charming followed her with an indulgent smile, happily sweeping his daughter up into his arms as she ran to him in an excited blonde blur. She might be nearly 10-years-old, but he could still swing her up in his arms and twirl her through the air and all around the room as easily as he did when she was but a babe. Giggling happily, Emma threw her arms around her Papa’s neck and revelled in the exuberant joy of his affection.

When he put her down again, she immediately hopped around him excitedly tugging on his hand. “Can we go out for our walk now, please? Down by the shore… can we? Can we, pleeease?”

The King shook his head with a rueful chuckle, having known this would be her request the moment they set foot in their daughter’s room. She was made for the out-of-doors, an enchanting sprite of waves and sky, and he found it nigh as impossible as ever to disappoint her if her wish was within his power. “You’ll have to ask your mother this time, Sweetheart. I have more meetings, stores to check for the winter, applicants for aid to hear, a few more hours of work this evening yet.”

Snow smiled at him over Emma’s tousled blond head, nodded her agreement to a short jaunt while there was still light, Emma squealed with glee and danced an excited little jig before scampering toward the door, pulling at her mother’s hand impatiently, determined to hurry her along, Queen or no.

“You and Granny had better have cocoa and biscuits waiting for us when we return, Charming,” the dark-haired monarch grumbled, appearing stern, but the playful spark in her eyes told her husband she wasn’t really that upset. He was assuring they had what was needed for charitable giving to those less fortunate throughout the kingdom once harvests were over for the season; it would take but a moment to let the head palace cook know his wife’s wishes before continuing with his tasks.

“Anything for you, Dear,” he playfully mock-bowed before happily accepting a sweet kiss on the cheek and following his wife and daughter from the room. He was off in one direction; Marco and Jiminy both waiting down the hall to help him judge numbers, ask questions, and take notes, while Emma and Snow went in the other, headed down the stairs to the first floor side entrance and quickest path to the shore Emma was so anxious to reach. Charming supposed that many might think it strange he was not more troubled by letting his beloved and his only child wander outside the grounds alone, but his Queen could more than take care of herself. And if he knew Snow’s trusted bodyguard at all, the Huntsman they had long ago freed from Snow’s stepmother’s control, he would not be far if they had need of him when David could not accompany them - whether he was in view or not.

~~***~~

They were hand in hand, Emma’s shoes in her mother’s grip, as she skipped with exuberant satisfaction at her side, toes squidging with the exquisite feel of the wet grains of sand as she did. It was all Emma had wanted all day, from the moment she’d gotten dressed and shared breakfast with her parents and godmother, informal as they had no visitors in the warm, cozy castle kitchens. Throughout her interminable etiquette lessons with the Blue Fairy, and studying with her tutors, she had wanted nothing more than to be carefree by the water like this, and she was beside herself with excitement to be there at last.

Ruffling her daughter’s hair, Snow let the worries and concerns of meetings, treaties, budgets, and protocols slide from her shoulders while the evening breeze caressed her face. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment and laughed into the wind right along with her precious child. Perhaps she had needed the escape just as much.

Then, with a sharp jerk, Emma’s smaller hand tugged from hers with a cry of surprise. “Mama, look there!” she called, her fingers slipping from her mother’s grasp as she began to pelt across the sand in alarm. “A boy! A boy just came out of the water!  He’s hurt!”

Immediately, Snow White’s focus was sharp, snapping back into full awareness, scanning ahead of them to where she saw a dark, bedraggled shape, not much larger than Emma, lying on the lighter colored beach. Emma had run forward in such concern that she had already almost reached the small shape, and her mother quickly gathered up her skirts and jogged forward to catch her, not sure yet what to expect. “Emma! Wait! Be careful!” she warned, though she already knew the caution would fall on deaf ears. Emma was fearless for her own safety, and had a soft spot for any person or thing injured or in need; she wouldn’t be stopping if she thought she could help.

Nearing the indeed soaked, disheveled, and unconscious child, Emma had already fallen to her knees, trying to shake and urge the unknown person back to awareness. The queen’s concern for her daughter’s safety instantly melted into compassion for the waif who didn’t move, didn’t speak, and barely seemed to breathe. For a child of his seeming height, he was frighteningly thin, his clothing threadbare and torn, hair too long, nearly hiding his closed eyes as soaked to his skin as it was. The Queen’s maternal heart ached for him, wondering how he came to be in such a state, alone and washed up from the sea. Taking Emma’s hand to stop her jostling him, Queen Snow could only hope they weren’t too late to save this mere boy’s life. It was only just beginning.

She looked up, wondering how they could get him back to the castle and trying to gauge how far they had traveled from the gates. Just as she was vaguely considering whether or not she could call one of the birds she was able to use as messengers - a gift that had served her often throughout life - when a tall shadow materialized from the woods bordering the shore, before she even needed to call out. Her long time bodyguard, Graham, Snow realized with easy relief; she should have known he would not be far, and regardless of the necessity - or lack thereof - in this moment she was glad he was there. This child needed help, and they needed to get him to a physician as soon as possible.

The Huntsman scooped the still-motionless boy up easily and began to carry him back the way they had come. Snow and Emma hovered on either side in anxious worry. As soon as they got him home to safety, they would bring him around. They had to. They had to have found him for a reason.

~~***~~

Once the unknown boy had been carried back to the castle, his slight form hardly causing the Huntsman to strain himself, bundled down before the warm hearthfire of the kitchens, boneless still, but changed from his wet rags into a old castoff tunic of the King’s (long enough to be a nightshirt on the lanky youth) and covered in numerous blankets, it took little time for the youth to come back to himself. 

Emma hovered anxiously next to the little stranger she had found, feeling oddly protective of “her boy” as she was already thinking of him in her head. She only paused in her agitated fidgeting to briefly take a cup of cocoa for herself and return the supportive hand squeeze offered her by their friend Red, Granny’s actual granddaughter and Emma’s frequent babysitter and playmate as well as her godmother.

Of course, Doc, the castle’s rather unofficial physician, had been sent for upon their return, but as the child before them began to stir of his own accord, Emma let herself hope that it would prove a mere precaution and their charge would be just fine. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked open slowly, as if still weary and reluctant to revive. When finally the thick, dark lashes parted to reveal rather stunning, unbelievably sea-blue eyes, Emma gasped at the shock that ran through her. Even as the boy’s widened in equal surprise and alarm, his eyes fixed on her gaze for several endless moments before darting around his surroundings, clearly unsure where he was or what had happened.

“Shh…. sh… hush now…” Emma felt her own tense muscles loosen as her mother’s voice calmly bathed the scene in gentle comfort. The Queen, soft and careful, and looking for all the world in that moment just like any other mother hoping to reassure her frightened child, stooped down to eye level with the boy they had propped up in a heaping nest of pillows and quilts by the fire. She reached out to softly brush his dark hair off his forehead, but froze when the boy flinched back like a startled animal. Instead, she only added in the same low, sweet croon. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you… It’s alright now.”

The youngster’s eyes continued to cast about him for several tense moments, but then he seemed to finally register the calm surrounding him and accept that he would be alright. The tentatively crooked smile he offered back to the Queen sparked a bit of hope in all who were gathered around him. And when a steaming cup of cocoa was pressed into his hands by Granny with a brusque but concerned admonishment to “drink up, it’ll warm your insides” before the cook bustled off again, he seemed to come back to himself even more at the scent which wafted up into his face of chocolate and their family’s customary hint of cinnamon.

Emma could practically see interest light up those expressive eyes, but the child hesitated rather than bringing the cup to his lips for a taste. Darting from Queen to Princess uncertainly, he seemed to be gauging whether or not it was truly acceptable for him to take a drink.

“Go ahead,” Emma urged, smiling in what she hoped was reassurance. She wasn’t known for her patience, and she couldn’t know that this youth had never experienced hot cocoa, nor many pleasant treats at all, in his young life. Hoping to encourage him, she lifted her own mug to drink and then smacked her lips at the delightful taste, making Ruby laugh and her mother shake her head at her dreadful table manners. The boy’s face, however, lit with a bit of humor and happiness that it had not yet held. “It’s good, I promise,” Emma added with a grin. “You’ll like it.”

Almost as if he could resist no longer, the boy tipped his cup and took a sip of the warm, rich beverage at last. Then, it seemed he discovered the powers of liquid chocolate that everyone else in the room well knew. His eyes widened in delight, and he tipped his head back to get every last drop as he quickly guzzled down the rest, making Emma giggle, and him startle guiltily as if he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Emma assured, reaching out innocently to lay her hand on his, “You can have some more, right Mama?”

Queen Snow White’s eyes were a bit misty with unshed tears, having already met Granny’s gaze over Emma’s head and Ruby’s as well, the three women piecing together things Emma in her sheltered, loving world could not yet know about what this youngster must have gone through. His reactions and his guardedness spoke volumes, even in silence. Nodding simply, not sure at first that she could speak around the painful lump in her throat, Snow finally managed to agree, “Yes, for tonight at least, our new friend may have all the hot cocoa his heart desires.”

~~***~~

The boy’s name, it turned out, was Killian Jones. He did recall that much once he regained his bearings, as well as the fact that he had possessed a father, mother, and older brother in a happy little house before his mother had seemingly vanished from his young life, and they had sent sail on the boat he had been on before washing ashore. No matter how many questions they asked or how he tried to call more forth, he remembered little else of what happened to his mother or father. He knew he had been told she fell ill and died, but all he could bring forth in his mind’s eye was that one morning he had awakened and she had vanished from his life as if she never existed at all - just a pleasant dream. His elder brother Liam had been on the boat with him, and Killian had shed tears that broke all their hearts when he recalled the day his brother had been swept overboard and lost to him forever. But as to what had become of his father, and how he had been sentenced to the life of hard labor he had clearly endured afterward, there was nothing but a blank and questions.

 As days and weeks, then months, and finally years went by, he remained with them at Misthaven castle.  Though far from a young prince, Killian was raised as a member of the royal household, growing up side-by-side with Princess Emma. They appeared to be quite close in age, and joined by the fact that she had found him and seemed to take Killian on as her own, he and Emma were quite inseparable - the best of friends and as “thick as thieves” as Granny always lamented when they were underfoot or stealing berries meant for tarts and pies on the royal dinner table.

As they reached adolescence, the King and Queen began to wonder where Kilian would be happiest as he came of age. The young man they had come to adore almost as a son had several skills: he was invaluable in the stables, exuding a calming force over the horses and evincing a knack for their training and care; he was quite good as an extra hand in the kitchen when Granny was understaffed or had more visiting mouths than usual to feed (for all her tough talk the aging widow had a soft spot for the boy and would no doubt have mentored him as a cook). Killian was bright; genuine knowledge and curiosity made him a voracious reader and student, honestly gaining more from the princess’ many esteemed tutors than Emma ever had and enjoying the study much more. He would have been easy to train as a page or diplomat, but none of those options seemed quite right.

It was not until his fifteenth birthday that the way Killian hoped to take became clear. It might have seemed improbable to most, knowing that the sea had once nearly swallowed him whole and claimed his life, but to Emma who knew him better than anyone else, it made sense. Those restless, wandering waves held an appeal, a mystery and adventure, and perhaps even still some bit of himself that her friend needed to claim. He stated his intention to join her father’s Navy with a proud certainty. And Emma’s heart swelled with equal gratification, but also fear. The sea had given him to her, but it wanted to take him back again…

It had taken them all such a long time to show Killian that he was welcome there, truly a part of their loving extended family. At first, Killian had shrunk back - shoulders hunched, head bowed, breath coming quickly in frightened pants - any time he might accidentally drop and break a dish or he reached for a second roll at the table, making it clear was that he had been punished and berated, to the point that he cowered like a whipped dog whenever he feared he might have put even a toe out of line. Princess Emma knew that her parents suspected beatings and physical abuse; it was clear in the concerned way their eyes met in silent communication whenever Killian reacted with the intense fear and apology he often showed in his bearing; she sadly had to agree that they were quite probably correct. She shuddered to think of how he might still be suffering under some cruel captain’s mistreatment, miserable, stranded and helpless to change his situation if it had not been for the shipwreck which brought him to Misthaven instead. There had been no question for any of them that he must stay, when they had learned of his indenture and how he had been orphaned and abandoned. She couldn’t have been more glad that all in the castle were in agreement; Emma had already decided that “her boy” needed to stay there with them, where he was safe and she could be sure he was happy and free. Neither of them were small children anymore, but Emma’s care and affection for him had never changed.

For so long before Killian’s arrival, she had been the only child in a palace of grown-ups: rulers, dignitaries, staff - a whole caravan of people who doted and adored, but very few who could be peers, to play with, talk to, and simply understand her. As the days had flowed into one another, turning into months and years until most people could hardly remember when she and Killian were not linked, they  were practically siblings in every way that mattered. The princess knew that she didn’t intend to live - not could she imagine - her life without him ever again.

And then, seemingly in the mere blink of an eye, they were fifteen and moving from playing tag amongst the grape arbors and lilac bushes in her mother’s gardens and slipping out of the interminable poise and etiquette lessons which Emma detested yet was never allowed to miss, to the stage where Killian was serving as her partner while she learned the waltz and other ballroom dances she would need to master for formal balls and ceremonies. Not only that, but as they edged into adolescence, Emma’s heart thumped against her chest differently than it used to as Killian led her gracefully through the steps. Even as her heart seemed ready to ricochet from her body, the warmth of Killian’s skin where they touched and the utter safety she felt in his hold half intoxicated her. As awareness spun her head round, uncertain what to do with it or how to proceed with these strange new feelings suddenly flooding her, all Emma could be certain of was the pang of loss she felt at knowing that Killian’s desire was to soon join her father’s naval fleet. At fifteen, he was at last of age to sail as a cabin boy and begin to work his way up in a ship’s ranks. Though she knew that had long been her friend’s desired course, Emma’s heart still ached to see him go.

However, her parents could not deny him the chance to seek such a worthy ambition. Indeed, they were proud of Killian, happy to help him secure a place on one of their finest vessels and make certain he knew their confidence in him and their faith that he would succeed. All too soon, after years with him at her side, it was the day Emma’s confidant and companion was set to sail on his first voyage. Though she knew in her head that the kingdom was in a time of peace and that it was a mere routine mission, her heart could not ignore the fact that sea travel always came with risk. Not only that, but she would miss Killian terribly.

Still, goodbyes had been said, all was made ready, and she was left on the dock, waving goodbye as the best friend she had ever known met her eyes and waved back. His pretty blue eyes, that had long since begun to speak to her as ardently as his actual words, expressed a potent blend of pained anxiety at leaving his adopted family and the life he had known and excitement for the adventure ahead on the waves that stirred his blood. She stood there long after the rest of the crowd seeing him off had dispersed and gone back to the castle, watching as the naval ship bearing “her boy” (as she sometimes still in the deepest and most secret depths  of her heart thought of him) became a small dot on the horizon before fading from view entirely. 

And only then had the journey truly begun...

Part One

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[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Eighteen

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.4k

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Shanks stands in front of you, his hazel eyes burning into yours with a mixture of intensity and tenderness that makes your heart race. The air between you crackles with electricity, the connection palpable and profound. He reaches out, cupping your face in his large, calloused hands, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks.

"You're so beautiful, treasure,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe. "I could look at you forever."

"I bet you could," you respond with a playful smile, feeling a surge of confidence at the intensity of his gaze. "But I think it's my turn to look at you now."

Shanks lets you pull his shirt from his body, revealing his toned and rippling physique. You can't help but admire the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the perfect balance of strength and agility that makes him the fierce pirate he is. Your fingers trace the lines of his chest and abdomen, exploring the terrain of his body with a mixture of curiosity and wonder.

Your hands tremble slightly, but with determination, you reach for the fastenings of his trousers. Sliding each button through its hole, you feel the tension in the air grow even thicker. Once the trousers are undone, you delicately tug them down, revealing his underwear beneath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his hip bones, and you pause to truly appreciate how magnificent Shanks is.

Shanks watches you with a mixture of amusement and desire, his hazel eyes burning with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Like what you see?" he teases, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyes barely flicker up to his and your own lips twitch. "If you are expecting me to faint over a cock, I hate to break it to you but I've read medical journals and seen pictures,” you state, eyes remaining locked with his as your fingers jerk his underwear down.

"Whoever has been teaching you those words is in for an earful," Shanks chuckles, his voice filled with warmth and amusement. He watches you intently as you slowly kneel and pull his underwear down, revealing the full extent of his arousal. Shanks quickly kicks his underwear away.

Your eyes travel down his body, taking in every inch of him. The sight of him, fully exposed, sends a thrill through your body. You wrap your hand around his length, feeling the heat and hardness of him. Shanks' breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "Let's see how clever you are when I'm done with you." You almost want to laugh at his half-hearted threat, for anything he threatened you with is now something to look forward to.

You begin to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate, watching his reactions closely. Shanks' breathing grows more ragged, his hazel eyes darkening with desire. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer as his head falls back in pleasure.

"Aria," he groans, his voice thick with need. "You're driving me mad."

You lean in, pressing soft kisses to his hip bones, your tongue trailing over his skin as you continue to stroke him. Shanks' hand tangles in your hair, his grip tightening as he lets out another deep moan. You love the tugs on your scalp; it makes you feel confident in your actions and inspires you to do more. Just as you feel him begin to shake, Shanks' grasp on your hair disappears, and he stops you by the wrist. "Wait," he gasps, his voice hoarse. "Not yet."

You look up at him, your eyes wide with confusion and a hint of disappointment. "Why?" you ask, your voice a mixture of curiosity and frustration. "You are right where I want you!" you protest. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot.

Shanks' eyes burn with intensity, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He looks like he's on the edge, struggling to maintain control. For a moment, you think he will give in, that he will let go and let you take him over the edge as you want. But then, his expression changes. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he reaches out to gently stroke your hair. "Because, treasure,” he says, his voice low and husky, "I want to savor this moment. I want to make it last."

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way he looks at you. This isn't just about desire, about scratching an itch. This is about connection, about intimacy, about something deeper. Something you both want. "Up," he commands, tugging on your wrist. You rise from your kneeling position and are immediately pulled against his chest.

Flames ripple up your neck as your body presses against his. You feel every ridge of his muscles against you, and the apex of your messy thighs throbs when his cock presses against your stomach. It feels so hard, and you wonder if it will even fit. Yet the sensation is intoxicating, sending waves of heat through your entire body. Shanks wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer.

"I want to feel your skin against mine," he whispers, his voice a seductive murmur. You nearly moan at the idea. "I want to taste your lips, to feel your heart beating against mine."

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away, and you can't help but stretch upwards, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Shanks responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matches your own.

Shanks kisses you erotically, his lips moving against yours with a fierce possessiveness that leaves you breathless. His kiss is demanding, yet filled with an underlying tenderness that makes your heart race. He claims your mouth with a hunger that matches your own, his tongue teasing yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a deliberate intensity.

His hand moves to cup your face, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair. Shanks' tongue dances with yours, the sensation sending waves of heat through your entire body. Each stroke, each movement, is a promise of the passion and desire he holds for you. You feel like you are drowning in his taste.

Without breaking the kiss, Shanks deftly shifts his weight, his strong arm wrapping securely around your waist. With an effortless movement, he lifts you off the ground, holding you against his chest. The feeling of being held so securely, so possessively, makes your heart race even faster.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, your arms clinging to his neck as he carries you towards the bed. The world around you seems to blur, the only thing that matters is the heat of his body pressed against yours, the intoxicating feel of his lips on yours.

Shanks walks with a steady, confident stride, his eyes never leaving yours, even as he navigates the room with ease. His gaze is intense, filled with a burning desire that makes your breath hitch. The way he looks at you, like you are the most precious thing in the world, sends shivers down your spine.

With a nimble movement, Shanks sets you down on the soft bed, positioning you on your back. His intense gaze never leaves your face as he hovers over you, his breath hot against your lips. Your heart races in anticipation as you wait for his next move. As your eyelashes flutter, the world seems to tilt, only to steady itself again when you find yourself perched on Shanks, his erect cock pressing against your swollen cunt.

"I don't want to hurt you, Aria," he whispers, his voice filled with concern and tenderness. His eyes search yours, looking for any sign of discomfort. "Tell me if it's too much, if you want me to stop."

You see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine care he has for you. It makes your heart swell with emotion, and you reach out to caress his cheek.

"I'm okay," you reassure him, your voice soft but firm. "I want this, Shanks. I want you."

He nods, his expression a mixture of relief and focus. Slowly, he guides you down, allowing you to adjust to his size. The sensation is intense, a blend of pleasure and a slight sting as your body accommodates him. Unconsciously, you wince.

Shanks immediately pauses, concern flooding his features. "Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?" A scowl appears on your face, and you glare at him, catching him off guard.

"I swear to the All Blue, Shanks, if you don't fuck me right now, I am going to go find the next man I find remotely attractive and ask him." You hiss at him, done with being treated like a piece of porcelain.

Shanks' eyes flare with possessive darkness and an appreciative smirk spreads across his face. "Alright, treasure,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "If that's what you want."

"It is, captain," you state, a challenge.

"If you insist," he replies, his tone filled with a newfound intensity. Shanks' grip on your hip tightens as you bring yourself up, holding back a wince as the withdrawal of his cock is raw against your walls.

The sensation is intense, a raw blend of pleasure and lingering discomfort that only seems to heighten the moment. Shanks' eyes lock onto yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them.

With deliberate slowness, you lower yourself back down, feeling him fill you completely once more. You bite your lip, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you adjust to the sensation. You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Shanks inside of you, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

The world seems to narrow down to just the two of you, your bodies moving in sync as you ride him, slowly finding a rhythm that feels natural and right. With every thrust, you feel yourself growing closer to something you can't quite name, a sensation that builds deep within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each movement.

Shanks' hand moves to your hips, guiding your motions, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he matches your pace. His eyes never leave your face, his gaze intense and focused, as if he is trying to memorize every moment, every expression that crosses your features.

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and something within you shifts. There is a connection there, a spark of understanding and trust that makes your heart beat faster. You truly feel safe with him, protected and cherished, and that knowledge only serves to heighten the sensations coursing through your body.

As the tension within you builds, you feel yourself growing closer to the edge, the urge to move faster becoming almost overwhelming. Shanks must sense it too, because his grip on your hip tightens, his thrusts growing more urgent, more demanding.

"Shanks," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I'm... I'm going to..."

His response is a low, almost primal growl, spurring you on. You move faster, more desperately, the world narrowing down to just the two of you, the feelings coursing through your body, the heat and passion that consume you both.

With a final, shuddering gasp, you feel the release wash over you, a wave of pleasure so intense it threatens to consume you whole. Your body arches, your nails dig into Shanks' shoulders as you cry out his name. Even as your body spasms and your fingers claw at the sheets beneath Shanks, you notice how he makes sure his cock slides free of your rippling cunt before he comes.

In a split second that feels like an eternity, you feel Shanks' release wash over you, his hot seed spilling against your cunt. Your body still trembles from the intensity of your own orgasm, your mind caught in a haze of pleasure and satisfaction. The room is filled with a heavy, contented silence, broken only by the sound of your intertwined breathing. Shanks gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and affectionate.

"Are you alright?" he murmurs, his voice husky and filled with concern.

You nod slowly, resting your head against his chest. "I'm okay. More than okay, actually."

Shanks chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. "Good. I just wanted to make sure..."

His words trail off, but you understand the unspoken sentiment. He cares deeply for you, and that concern extends to every aspect of your well-being. The knowledge that he took precautions reassures you, though it doesn't diminish the intimacy of what you've just shared.

"This isn't going…" You struggle to find the right words and tilt your head back to look at his face. "Change anything, is it?"

He gives you his lazy smile and rubs your back. "Well, I was hoping that I would be able to sleep in my bed again," he answers cheekily. "Unless you are opposed to sharing, that is."

"No, not really," you tell him, working to move your body off of his so you aren't completely on top of him. "This bed is a bit big for me."

You receive a blinding grin and a quick kiss on your lips. Too short of a kiss, in your opinion. Scrunching your nose, you wiggle yourself into a comfortable position next to his body and close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the lingering echoes of pleasure.

After a while, Shanks shifts slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. You crack your eyes open. His eyes are filled with a mixture of affection and amusement. "You know," he says with a teasing smile, "you look absolutely beautiful right now."

You laugh softly, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. Naked, sweaty, and with his seed and your release clinging to your thighs? A thought you don't understand but nonetheless smile for. "And you, Captain, are quite the charmer."

He grins, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Only for you," he whispers.

Date Published: 6/14/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[eris-snow]

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, quirk accident, angst

I haven't written for Bakugou for awhile, so go easy on me. "The quirk is called 'Numb'. It basically cuts off any feelings of the person that got hit."

It feels almost numb now, when you think about him.

It's scary, because when you look at Bakugou, ready to feel a pang of desire and aching yearning for the blond...

you feel as if you're grasping at straws.

It seems like Bakugou can sense it too, because he doesn't seem to accept it either.

"What the fuck did this villain do to my Dumbass?" He demanded, placing a protective hand on your shoulder as Aizawa stood at the doorway of the infirmary.

On a good day, you'd feel touched. Feelings would be bubbling in your throat at the simple gesture because you were always a little bit more emotionally sensitive than others. Too bad you felt nothing from that usually touching gesture.

"We just interrogated the guy. And, no Bakugou, this was not caused by you." Aizawa runs a hand down his face, continuing without missing a beat. "The quirk is called 'Numb'. It basically cuts off any feelings of the person that got hit."

Bakugou draws his hand away from your shoulder as if it touched a hot pan. "What?" His voice is barely over a whisper. Bakugou squats down at your eye level, face losing all blood and starting to colour in dread. "Is this true?"

You swallow, biting your lip harshly. You wish you could feel some form of guilt, but it's scarily faint. Still, you have an answer to give.

"I'm sorry." You rasp.

Sensing the teenage hormones, Aizawa stiffens visibly and launches himself out of the room. "I'll give you some privacy. Once Recovery Girl is done treating your wounds, I expect both of you to head back to the dorms immediately. No detours. No buts. Judging by your injuries, I will allow a day off from school. Midoriya will hand you your notes for tomorrow after school."

With that, the sleep-deprived teacher escapes from the ward.

Bakugou's eyes snap from the doors to yours, and you blink back blankly, trying for a sheepish smile. It didn't feel right.

Part of you knew what you felt for the blond. You knew you were supposed to love him because you always did. He treated you right, was faithful to you and even protected you from that blast today.

And now look where that got you.

You could barely feel grateful for what he did.

--

Bakugou was having the time of his fucking life right now. His lover has stopped feeling and it was all his fault. If he'd moved a little quicker, a little faster, you wouldn't have to deal with this shitty situation

The moment he stepped foot into the living room and lock eyes with you, there's a sense of wrongness that swallows him whole. There was always something in your eyes whenever you looked at him. Love, adoration and soft contentment as a smile graces your lips.

That look needs to be there.

He needs it to be there.

Instead, all he's greeted with is rapid blinking and a hesitant wave. "H-Hi?" You voice, and it makes Bakugou's hard heart crack.

"Hi," He repeats to you curtly, clambering over to the fridge and yanking the door open. He really hopes that this was over soon.

--

Bakugou tries to skirt around you for most of today, but his plans are thrown out of the window the minute lunch rolls around. Without thinking, he'd made double portions because he's so used to cooking for two ever since he got with you.

He contemplates leaving you alone and starting on his own, but the blond knows how you are. You're almost as bad of a workaholic as himself. Before Bakugou knows it, he finds himself standing in front of your door with a plate of your favourite meal in hand, knocking on the door and hoping for an answer.

"Dumbass!" He calls when you don't answer, knocking on the door again. "I have food."

He's replied with frustrated sniffles.

Fuck.

Bakugou knows he fucked up. But seeing you, curled up on your bed while hugging your knees shakes his entire body to the core. He let's himself in and places your plate of food on your table, immediately rushing to your bedside.

"Y/n?" He inhales, taking you into his arms as he pulls your head to his chest. "What is it? What happened?"

He keeps his questions minimal and tone-leveled because your tears just keep flowing and he has no idea how to stop it. You'd know, he reminds himself bitterly. You'd know how to comfort people, it's practically your second quirk. He can barely talk to preschoolers without scaring them away.

"Katsuki," Your voice is shaky, as if it could break back into sobs anytime. You clench his shirt tighter, eyes pearling with tears.

"I'm scared."

Bakugou's heart shrivels up even more as you continue talking. "I can't feel anything. It's fading away and I don't know how to make it stop-please make it stop just-" You look up to him shaking your head as you burst into sobs. "I don't wanna stop loving you."

You're scrapping at the bottom of the barrel, looking for love that is draining fast. And Bakugou sees all of it.

"You're not going to stop loving me," He soothes, hugging you tighter. He doesn't know if he's reassuring you or himself. "I love you." He says firmly. "We're going to get through this."

You want to nod your head. To trust his words because, isn't Bakugou always right? He is, isn't he? It's a universal law.

But it only makes you want to cry harder because when you hear those words, the words that cause you to feel all kinds of colourful emotions that you'd gladly let on display...

Your tears dry and your heart slows.

You feel nothing at all.

---

So...I'm back :)

[doumadono]

So this is sort of an emergency comfort request if I'm reading the thing right

So I'm a schizophrenic by diagnosis and recently and would like an emergency comfort for Hitoshi Shinsou comforting his agender partner ( please they them pronouns) after they have a bad dissociation fit + paranoia attack

So essentially what happed was I found out a friend was talking about me online. I had to go to them. A potential friendship was ruined with someone they were friends with. It set me into a fit of " who can I trust. Do I ha e real friends? Is everyone out to get me?? If they're talking about me I'm never going to get new friends. " and I just generally got very very uneasy and paranoid about how many people are currently talking about me. If I can trust people. Then I started to dissociate in my chair, couldn't get up to take my mental health meds nor could I even speak/sing ( a major coping skill for me ) for a solid hour.

So if you could write a drabble or a fic where Shinsou calms the reader down during an attack like mine I'd so kindly appreciate it. Bonus points if they've been together for a long time and he reassures them time and time again he won't live just because people and they themselves think they're a "monster".

A/N: hiya, my dear. I'm truly sorry to hear that you went through such a difficult and distressing experience. It's completely understandable to feel shaken and paranoid in the aftermath of discovering your friend's actions. Remember that you are not alone, and there are people who care about you, including me. Take your time to heal, and please don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone to talk to or just a listening ear. You are strong, and you will find your way through this challenging time, I'm sure about that ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Hitoshi Shinsou had known their struggles well. The two of them had been together for years, and while life had its ups and downs, their love had remained unwavering. He understood the intricacies of their condition, the unpredictable nature of dissociation and paranoia attacks. So, when the shadows of despair crept in, he was always there to shine a guiding light.

On a particularly tough evening, they found themselves lost in the labyrinth of their own mind, grappling with disorienting dissociation and suffocating paranoia. Shinsou was immediately at their side, his touch gentle as he guided them to the safety of their shared apartment.

Shinsou watched them with a mixture of concern and determination in his eyes. He knew that this was a battle they fought many times before, but each time was its own unique struggle. He saw the turmoil in their gaze, the desperation, and the desire to break free from the prison of their own mind.

The attack had begun like a quiet whisper, a subtle shift in their perception that grew louder and more chaotic with each passing moment. As they sat on the couch, the world around them seemed to blur and distort. The room that was once familiar now felt like a maze of shadows and uncertainties.

Dissociation was a cruel trickster. It stole away their connection to reality, leaving them adrift in a sea of disjointed thoughts and fragmented sensations. They felt detached from their own body, as though they were a mere observer in a world that was no longer theirs.

Paranoia crept in, like tendrils of darkness winding around their mind. Every sound, every shadow, and every thought seemed to conspire against them. Whispers of doubt became roaring cacophonies, and they couldn't escape the feeling that they were being watched, judged, and condemned.

Their heart raced, its beats like the drums of an impending storm. Their breath quickened, and the walls seemed to close in around them. It was as though the world had become a twisted funhouse, where mirrors distorted their reflection into monstrous shapes, and every corner concealed lurking threats. "I can't, I can't…" They were whispering, on and on.

They sat together with Shinsou on the couch, his partner's heart racing, and their thoughts spiraling. Shinsou, calm and unwavering, cupped their face in his hands, ensuring they made eye contact with him. "Hey, it's me," he said softly, his violet eyes locking onto theirs. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not going anywhere. You're not a monster, and you're not alone in this."

Their breaths trembled, but they held onto his presence like an anchor. "I just… I can't stop these thoughts. They're like a storm, tearing me apart." Their hands trembled, clutching onto the fabric of their clothes as if it were their only anchor to reality. "I'm nothing but a freaking monster. People see me as one, as well..."

Shinsou could see the silent plea in their eyes, a plea for help, for reassurance, for someone to guide them back to sanity. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead. "I know, love. I know it feels overwhelming, but you're stronger than you think. You've fought through this before, and you'll do it again, and I'll be right here by your side every step of the way."

With a tenderness that only he possessed, Shinsou wrapped his arms around them, pulling them close. He felt the tension in their body slowly ease as he continued to speak soothingly, "You're not a monster, not to me, not to anyone who truly knows you. These moments don't define you, they're just a part of you, and I love all of you, every single part." With great care, he reached out, taking their hands in his, grounding them with his touch. "You're safe," he repeated, his voice unwavering.

His words were a lifeline, and you clung to them as if your life depended on it. Shinsou's voice was a melody of reassurance, drowning out the dissonance in your mind. "Remember, you have the power to break through this darkness. We'll do it together, just like we always have."

As minutes turned to hours, Shinsou remained by their side, patiently guiding them through the storm of their thoughts. He shared stories of the happier moments they'd experienced together, reminding them of the strength within them, and the love that surrounded them.

With time, the panic receded, and the dissociation loosened its grip. The sharp edges of paranoia softened, and the disorienting fog of dissociation started to lift. The attack raged on, but Shinsou remained steadfast, unwavering in his support. He whispered calming words and loving affirmations, reminding them that they were not alone, that they were not a monster, and that he loved them for everything they were.

Shinsou held them close, pressing another loving kiss to their forehead. "I'm proud of you, every single day," he whispered, as they lay in his comforting embrace. "You're never alone in this battle, and you'll always have me to hold you, even in your darkest moments."

In that moment, they knew that no matter how stormy the sea of their mind became, Shinsou would be their lighthouse, guiding them safely back to the shores of serenity and love.